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storiesforallfandoms · 5 months

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alone on christmas ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 2253

request?: no

description: in which the two members of the team who are alone on christmas eve decide to spend the night together

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

The elevator dinged, signaling that you had arrived on the floor of your office. Well, "office" was a generous word. It was a small, open space in a super old building (MM claimed it was "historic") with a couple of desks that were rarely used. The room was dimly lit by the multi-colored Christmas lights strung around the room, as well as from the small tree in the corner of the room. Kimiko had gotten the idea to decorate the office and everyone else was on board, even grumpy Billy Butcher.

It was Christmas Eve and everyone else was home with their families. Your families lived a state over, and normally you would've gone home for the holidays, but your parents had gone on a Christmas cruise and agreed to do your celebrations when they got home. Since you had no one else to celebrate Christmas with, you decided to pick up some paperwork you had at the office and work on it at home while some Christmas movie played in the background.

You approached your desk, unaware of anyone else in the room until a voice said, "Evening, love."

"Jesus!" you hissed as you jumped.

Butcher chuckled. "Nope, just me."

He was sat at his desk, mostly covered in darkness. You could only make out the outline of him through the Christmas lights.

"What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark like a fucking creep?" you asked as you turned back to flick on the lights. The two of you winced as the dark room suddenly became very bright.

"I was just finishing up some work and liked the mood lighting better," he explained. "What are you doin' here on Christmas Eve?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I don't celebrate Christmas anymore. Not since..." He trailed off, his eyes dropping back to whatever he had been working on. "Just not in a long time."

He didn't have to specify. You knew exactlu what made him give up on Christmas.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out.

"My parents are gone on a cruise for Christmas, so I won't be going home till sometime around New Years. I came to get something I was working on to finish it at home."

"You're not celebrating with anyone else?"

"Who else would I celebrate with? My siblings have their own families, and the only friends I have are you cunts."

This earned a low chuckle from Butcher. You couldn't help but smile. You returned to your desk to collect the papers when a thought crossed your mind.

"Hey Butcher?" he looked up at you. "Do you want to come over? Maybe we could have our own Christmas Eve celebration."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "What did you have in mind?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I could make us something to eat. Pour up a few drinks. Watch a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie."

You weren't sure if he'd agree. It didn't seem like his scene. Butcher was probably the exact opposite of holiday cheer. Sitting in a dark office doing paperwork about taking down Supes was probably a much more appealing offer to him than Hallmark Christmas movies. But you wouldn't feel right if you didn't at least offer. Billy Butcher may have been a cynical prick that got on everyone's nerves, but no one deserved to spend Christmas alone.

To your surprise, he closed up the file he had been working on and stood. "Text me the address, I'll meet you there."

About ten minutes later, you were pulling into your driveway while Butcher was parking on the side of the road. He followed you up to your door and stepped inside as you opened it for him. He looked around, taking in your space as you kicked off your boots and hung up your coat.

"What are you feeling for drinks?" you asked.

"Do you have any bourbon?" he asked.

You opened your fridge and pulled out a full bottle of bourbon. "Want it straight or mixed with some eggnog?"

He made a face of disgust that made you laugh. You grabbed a glass and poured him a glass of straight bourbon, adding a few ice cubes before passing him the glass. You opted for the spiked eggnog approach for something a little more festive. You pulled a frozen pizza from the freezer and pre-heated the oven.

"Not exactly a Christmas feast," Butcher commented.

"If you're going to be ungrateful, you can go back to the office by yourself," you retorted. "Oh, since you're here, I do have a gift for you."

He watched as you walked to your living room where your tree was shining with yellow lights. The presents underneath were mainly for your family, but you had gotten a gift for each member of The Boys too, since they were like your second family.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he said.

"Shut the fuck up and take the gift," you teased, thrusting the gift bag into his hands.

He shook his head, playfully smiling. He sat down on the ouch and you sat next to him. He pulled the tissue paper from the bag and discarded it onto the floor. You would've been a little annoyed if you weren't waiting to see his reaction to the gift.

The first thing he pulled out was a Spice Girls CD. You couldn't hold back your giggles as he gave you a dirty look. "Your favorite band."

"This is the worst insult you could've ever given me," he said.

"There's something else in there that might make it up to you."

Butcher pulled out a bundle of white tissue paper. Wrapped in it was an ornament you had gotten custom made. It was a gingerbread wearing a black trench coat and black boots, and had a black beard on its face. He held it in his hand for a while. You studied his face, trying to gauge some reaction to the gift.

"You're kind of an enigma," you explained. "And I guess I understand why, but it makes it incredibly impossible to buy you a Christmas gift. So I went with the Spice Girls CD as a gag gift, and then I found this lady who makes custom made Christmas ornaments that are gingerbread men made to look like certain people. I thought it was better than nothing."

"You had this made for me?" he asked. "That must've cost ya a fortune."

"It doesn't matter what it cost."

He was still holding it, looking at it. When he looked up at you, you were captured by his eyes. There was something warm bubbling inside of you. You figured it was the eggnog, but a little voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn't.

"It's very thoughtful," Butcher said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas, Butcher."

You were so close to him. You hadn't noticed just how close you were sitting. Your noses were inches away from touching.

And then the pre-heat on the oven went off.

You quickly got up to go put the pizza in the oven. You stood in the kitchen afterwards, trying to talk yourself down from whatever just happened. You were sure it was just the alcohol mixed with the holiday feelings. There was no way you were getting all fuzzy and lightheaded for Billy Butcher of all people. Not that you had any ill feelings towards Butcher. He could be an annoying asshole that pushed your patience levels, but you didn't hate him by any means. On the other hand, you didn't think you could've had those kind of feelings for him. He was your team leader and that was it.

But he was also very handsome. In a rugged type of way anyways. You couldn't deny that.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of all those thoughts. You went to the fridge to pour up another drink.

Once the pizza was ready, you brought the pan to your living room and placed it on the coffee table with a dish towel under it, and two plates along the side for both of you. You topped up Butcher's drink before sitting next to him.

"Let me guess, your favorite Christmas movie is Die Hard?" you asked.

He chuckled. "And you said I'm an enigma."

"Not so much so that I'd think you would want to watch cheesy Christmas movies."

"Eh, don't write me off from all Christmas movies. I would love watching National Lampoons Christmas Vacation every year."

"Okay, we're starting with that one then. That is a classic."

You turned on the movie and settled into the couch. You pulled a fuzzy blanket over your lap and started eating away at the pizza. You initially started on separate ends of the couch, but you found yourself inching closer to Butcher. First it was offering him some of the blanket. He agreed and you shuffled close enough that he could throw a corner of it over his lap. Then it was him reaching for a slice of pizza, scooting a little closer because he "couldn't reach the food" (his words). At one point, you both just shifted closer for no reason at all. When Butcher put his arm along the back of the couch, you leaned into him.

It almost felt normal; cuddled up on the couch, laughing at the hijinks of the Griswold family during Christmas, the only thing lighting the room being the Christmas tree. This is what you imagined Christmas would be like if you were actually in a relationship, not just tipsy and getting a little too close to your team leader.

"See, this movie just cements why I am okay with not celebrating Christmas," Butcher commented. "All the bullshit with family stressing you out and annoying the living shit out of ya. I don't know why anyone ever puts up with it."

"Because despite the chaos, it's time together with family," you said. "Most people love time together with family, even if sometimes family members know how to get on your last nerve."

Butcher shook his head. "Not me. Even when Becca was around, her family..."

He trailed off. You lifted your head to look at him. You couldn't read the expression on his face, so you couldn't tell if mentioning Becca had hit a nerve for him, or if he regretted bringing her up given your current...closeness.

"You can talk about her you know," you told him. "If you feel up to it, I mean. I know it's hard."

"It's easier now that I finally have a definitive answer," he said. "I went years not knowing if I should believe that she was alive or dead. It's fucked up to say, but knowing now that she's gone is a bit of closure for me at least."

"And you still have Ryan," you added. "Even if he's the spawn of Supe Satan himself, that kid is still a part of Becca."

"Thank God he's more like his mother than his father."

"You have us too," you said, playfully nudging his shoulder to try and lighten the mood. "The Boys, I mean. We're like a family now."

He chuckled. "That doesn't exactly help with your point. You lot annoy the fuck out of me too."

"And you annoy the fuck out of us, so we're all even then."

He turned to look at you, finally smiling again. You smiled back at him. There was a brief pause before suddenly he was leaning forward to press his lips against yours. It took you by surprise, but it didn't take long for your muddled brain to have you moving in response, kissing him back.

He pulled away just as quickly as he had moved in. "Sorry. That was, uh...I shouldn't have done that."

Instead of saying anything, you leaned in to kiss him again. He was receptive, which told you he didn't actually regret kissing you first. He gently cupped your face while you wrapped your arms around his neck. The blanket fell to the floor as you sat up on your knees to try and deepen the kiss.

"Whoa, slow down," Butcher said, pulling away slightly but still resting his head against yours. "You've had a few drinks."

"I'm fine," you responded, although you were now more aware of the fact that the lightheadedness you were feeling was from more than just the kiss.

"Either way, I'm not pushing things further when you're not sober," he said.

"Will you stay the night?" you asked him. "I have a guest bedroom...or you can stay in my bed."

He chuckled and kissed your forehead, pulling you in so you were cuddled up against his side again. "I have a feeling if I sleep in your bed I will have a harder time restraining myself."

"Maybe that's my plan."

He shook his head, a smile on his face. "I'll stay the night. If this is how you're feeling in the morning, we can try again then."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from his words. You weren't sure how you were going to be able to wait another 12 hours for him to make good on his promise. You appreciated him respecting you enough to wait till you were sober, but also you wished he wouldn't be so respectful.

"Merry Christmas, Billy," you said.

He kissed you on top of your head and said, "Merry Christmas, love."

#billy butcher #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher x reader #karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban imagine #the boys #the boys imagine #imagine #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #christmas #christmas imagine

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thelucyverse · 7 months

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Keep fandoms alive, comment on more fanfics!

The do‘s and don’ts of fic reviews

Because a friend told me she never knows what to write and then never comments, but wants to learn how to do better, I thought I’d compile a list, and maybe it will help someone else as well!

As always, this is unofficial and just from my personal experience writing and reading fic, and talking with other fic authors.

My posts on beta reading | ao3 bookmarks

What to comment

Honestly, authors love friendly comments, no matter how small. Here are some ideas for short comments you can write to pretty much any fic you enjoyed:

I loved it!

Great fic!

Thanks for writing this!

Thanks for sharing your fic with the fandom :)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 10/10 perfection

So happy I found this!

Reading this made my day

I had fun reading this

You’re a great writer!

Love your writing style

<3<3<3

Amazing!

Kudos!

If you want to write something a bit longer, you can for example

Tell the author where you have been reading the fic or what you were doing while reading it

Tell the author what you should have been doing instead of reading fanfic (and that it was worth it to read the fic)

Copy a passage (or several) from the fic you particularly enjoyed

Did the author write a note at the end or beginning of the fic? Maybe even ask a question? Sometimes you can reply to author’s notes in your comment

How did the fic make you feel? Happy, made you cry, made you laugh, made you jealous of a character, or made you want to punch an antagonistic character’s nose in? Write it in the comment!

Is it your first fic in a fandom or with a ship? Your favorite fic in a fandom, or with a specific character? Did you read it in one go? Did you savour it slowly reading over days or weeks? Have you enjoyed every update of a multi-chapter? Do you wish you could read it again for the first time? Write anything you want to let the author know about your reading experience!

Is there a character you particularly enjoyed in that fic/chapter? Tell the author you think they wrote xy character really well!

You can always start or finish your comment with one of the suggestions from the short comments to make sure the author knows you liked it :)

If you really don’t know what to write, or are reading fic in a language not your own (though authors usually don’t mind you commenting in your native language) and aren’t comfortable commenting in either language, you can also leave emojis as comments, for example variations of:

for any fics:❤️💕💜💗💞💓💖💟🤩😍🥰

for humor fics: 😂😆🤣🤪💯

for shippy fics/getting together: 🎉💖🥳💋💘💏👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨💑👩‍❤️‍👩👨‍❤️‍👨🫶

for angst or hurt no comort: 🥹😭🤯😱🫣😢💔❣️❤️‍🩹🖤 maybe still include a ❤️heart in there so the author can be sure you still liked it!

for smut/pwp: ❤️‍🔥💯🫣😋🤩🥵😈🤯🫦

There are even some stickers you can comment by copying the html! A few tumblr posts with stickers to copy can be found here & here!

Don’ts

There isn’t much you can do wrong when writing comments on fic, but there are a few things you should keep in mind:

don’t criticize (unless negative critics/what they can do better has been specifically asked for by the author, and then stick to the kind of criticism asked for, and best try to include something positive too to soften the blow)

don’t demand more/ask for updates - you can tell the author you’d read it if they wrote more, but don’t put pressure on them, you don’t know what’s happening in their lives right now and for what reason new entries might have slowed down, and they don’t owe you regular or any updates!

don’t tell them what to write (unless the author is taking prompts, and in most cases the comment section is not the right place for prompts, check what the author specified)

Remember: Fan fiction are free, from fans for fans, so etiquette is a bit different than in the Amazon reviews of books you paid good money for! Fic authors don’t have to cater to you, just enjoy that there are fics shared with the fandom :) If you don’t like something, or don’t like a part of something, either close the tab or quietly ignore the issue and just enjoy the parts you do like.

And in general, to end this on a positive note:

Yes, you can comment on older fanfics!

Yes, comment on several fics in a row if you’re reading through fics by one author!

Yes, comment on as many chapters of the same fic as you like!

Yes, you can make art for the fic and tell the author about it!

Yes, absolutely tell the author if you’re still thinking about a fic hours/days/years… after reading it!

Yes, send authors asks on tumblr/other sites talking about how you love their fics, if they link these sites in the author’s notes! (But also comment on Ao3)

Yes, you can comment/review even if you don’t have an account (at least on Ao3 and ffnet)!

Yes, please let the author know if you’re reading a fic for a second time, even if you just write ‘re-read kudos!’

The best comments are also written directly on the site the fanfiction got posted on (so usually ao3/ffnet and not tumblr/discord), both because it makes the note count higher, and because then the comment won’t quickly get buried under unrelated messages or posts.

If you want to leave long comments about different parts of a fic or chapter, you can also make use of the floating Ao3 comment box! It allows you to type your comment while you're still reading, without having to leave the page!

Some more kinds of comments on another post

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vampwritesstuff · 10 months

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TMNT Brothers when Reader is Sick.

Type: Headcannons

Request?: not a request

TMNT Version: not specified, although I wrote this imagining the 2012 version, this could fit with most other versions.

CW: it’s mentioned that reader stays with Leo in his room and Raph puts reader in his bed, nothing nsfw tho (idk if that’s counts but I’m adding it anyway), Reader’s gender is not specified ! Each character’s part differs in length cause it’s hard to write for some of these boys lol.

if you wanna see more of my writing, checkout my Multi-Fandom Masterlist !

LEO

bro does not know what is wrong with you until you actually tell him you’re sick.

Once he knows that you’re sick, he’s spending every waking moment making sure that you’re properly taken care of.

Won’t let his brothers near you within a 20ft radius. (Not only because you are sick but also doesn’t want his brothers getting sick. He also has to prioritize their health as well :((. )

He gets a little more anxious when you’re sick, he has no idea if your common cold could turn into some life threatening illness.

Refuses to let you out of his sight, which consequently ends up with you rooming with him while you recover.

Is ready to wait on you hand and foot, you want a thicker blanket? A tissue box? You’re not moving from that spot on his bed cause he’s already out the door and dragging whatever you need back into the room.

Have schoolwork/work reports to do? He’s forcing a begrudging Donnie to do it for you.

Overall he’s just an anxious, caring boyfriend who wants to make sure his sick s/o is as comfortable as possible.

RAPH

Unlike Leo, he can tell you’re getting sick as soon as you start taking naps when you normally don’t nap.

Is pulling your sleeping form off the couch and is laying you down on his bed, going to get a cool wet washcloth and some medicine to help your fever.

Once you wake up, he’s scolding you and calling you an idiot for letting yourself get sick.

Acts like he doesn’t really care much but is actually very worried about your health. What has you stressing yourself out so much that you make yourself sick? Is all he can ask himself.

Of course he won’t actually ask you, gotta keep up the tough guy act.

However, once you’re feeling better, he’s keeping a closer eye on you to make sure you don’t overwork yourself.

“Quit doing that.” “Doing what?” “Ignoring your own health just to help others out.” “Oh.”

MIKEY

Basically turns into your personal chef.

He’s not great at actually doing anything to really help you get better, he asks Donnie to help him out with your medicine.

However, mans will make sure you’re eating good.

Like, he actually has a meal plan for all of his brothers for when they get sick, why would you be any different?

You want something to eat but food upsets your stomach? He’s finding the perfect food for you that will taste good and not upset your stomach.

Tired of water? He’s finding you a different drink that’s just as hydrating.

Hates forcing you to eat when your sick, but you gotta eat something to keep your body functioning :((

Will happily cook anything for you if you ask him for it, doesn’t care if it might upset your stomach, he’s just happy you have enough of an appetite to ask him for food instead of him feeding you on a schedule.

He gets super cuddly when you’re sick, he doesn’t care if you don’t want him getting sick, he just wants to comfort you and he thinks cuddling is a great way to do that.

Mikey basically turns into a malewife.

DONNIE

The only brother that knows how to treat you symptomatically.

I mean, cmon he’s smart and this is definitely not his first go around with someone he cares about being sick.

Unlike the others, he’ll avoid getting extremely close to you cause he’s a little germaphobic.

Not to the point though that he won’t consider even being in the same room as you, man just doesn’t wanna get sick either.

He’ll have you try random home remedies that he finds on the internet. But if those don’t work, he’ll just treat you with regular medicine.

He feels sorry if you have to take that nasty tasting medicine though, and in his words (and Mary Poppins’) “A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.”

Yes, he will make you eat a spoonful of sugar after taking any gross tasting medicine.

It’s the thought that counts right?

Even though he’s not physically affectionate with you when you’re sick, he will do little acts of service and gift giving.

Tried making a robot that would do things for you when him and his brothers were on missions, but it malfunctioned and would’ve started a fire if he hadn’t come back in time.

Found one of those microwaveable lavender scented rice stuffed animals and gave it to you, he’s actually very proud of himself for that gift.

Overall just really sweet when your sick.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x you #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2018 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo

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irisintheafterglow · 10 months

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More Than It Seams (Chapter 1)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 3k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader

note: aaaaa ok first chapter of my first series. hope you enjoy!! i'm planning on this to be five chapters, and the second chapter I'm planning to release this friday. i <3 shoto todoroki

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!!!

She couldn’t be serious. You shake your head as if to reset your eyeballs and read over the two scribbled cursive sentences over and over until the reality of your situation set in.

Hey, not gonna be in starting today for maternity leave. Don’t disappoint me. Xo, M

You counted the days on your fingers and groaned, dragging a palm down the front of your face. 7:00 A.M was too early to find out you had to run a multi-million dollar business that wouldn’t hesitate to fire you if you disappointed at the most important fashion event of the year. The coffee maker beeped its readiness right on cue, and you debated making two cups instead of just one. You settled for one but left out a cup with your name on it for a possible second, and plopped down at your station. The sun was just starting to shine through the glass walls of the building you called your office, an odd combination of exposed brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. Crooked rows of work tables lined up on one side of the expansive area, with several dozen mannequins and rolls of fabric occupying the other side. A long counter separated the work area from the sitting area, where clients waited for their fittings on plush couches and sipped on complimentary sparkling drinks that M paid for instead of giving her workers a raise.

“G’morning!” The other designer for the company swung open the gate allowing access between the work area and the sitting area, deflating when he saw you throw your head down on your desk in frustration and slam it a few times for good measure. “Or not…” A loud gasp of shock indicated to you that he had read the note, and a long string of expletives left his mouth as you lifted your head and nodded. “She has to be joking.”

You clicked your tongue in agreement. “She is not.”

“HB’s in two weeks, and she decides now is a good time to have her baby?”

“If it were up to me, she wouldn’t even be the head of this place, or having another baby. God knows we don’t need any more of her.” Your coworker scoffs in disbelief, throwing his bag down on his desk and wheeling over a mannequin. “Hey, did you finish working up that fabric design for Cellophane’s suit? He’s supposed to come in on Friday and I think it’d be smart to have a sample of the fabric ready so he can tell us if he doesn’t like it.”

“Yep, I’ll have that over to you ASAP. You don’t need to remind me what happened last year with Dynamight two days before the Ball.”

You cringed at the memory of the Number Two Hero burning your work to ashes right in front of you and telling you to get a color that matched his eyes better. To be fair, the color that his stylist had chosen clashed with his skin tone and you respected Bakugo for recognizing that, but he could have given you back the suit to use as scrap fabric. “It’s the price of working with the best.”

“You mean for the best,” he corrects, giving you a grouchy look before switching on his machine and beginning to hem the miles of fabric for Creati’s dress. You’d asked him if he wanted you to hem the fabric since your quirk would have it done by lunch, but he declined and said that you should focus on designing the remaining heroes’ pieces. The rest of your seamstresses trickled in as the morning progressed, filing into their stations with a polite “good morning” and picking up their scissors. Soon, the office milled with the familiar sounds of cutting fabric, sewing machines, and rolling mannequins, and you spaced out as you sketched your idea for Pinky’s updated costume.

At 11:30, your receptionist sitting at the counter slammed down the phone in alarm, startling the entire room into silence. Her face was nothing short of panic, and you rose quickly from your station to pull her into a corner and figure out why she looked like she had received a bomb threat.

“What’s going on?”

“Shoto is here.”

“Who?”

“Shoto. The pro hero. Is here,” she hisses at you through her teeth, her hands shaking with uncontrollable anxiety.

You blinked at her. “Okay… and?” Pros showing up to the office themselves rather than sending assistants was uncommon but had been done numerous times before. Deku and Creati tended to visit a few times a month, and Pinky liked to stop by on Fridays to treat her favorite staff to ice cream. It was Shoto’s first time appearing in person, as he usually sent an assistant to drop off what was essentially his laundry; you’d always assumed that being a top-ranked hero controlling large sums of inheritance was just too busy to worry about his costume. Still, a customer visiting the office in person, no matter how attractive they were, was the least of your laundry list of problems.

Your receptionist stares at you like you’ve sprouted three heads, and addresses you with an attitude that would have had her fired if M was in office. “What the hell do you mean ‘and’? It’s Shoto… the Number Three Hero. ProMagazine’s #1 ranked hottie.”

“I’m aware,” you state a little impatiently, annoyed by her insistence that this was much more significant than it actually was. “I’m struggling to understand the fuss over just another client–”

A chorus of shocked excitement washed over your staff as the elevator doors dinged and a lean, well-dressed silhouette entered the office. Several of your seamstresses had stood from their chairs and huddled together for moral support, whispering to each other about the stranger who had exited the elevator. Your receptionist’s eyes widen to the size of dollar coins, her hands coming up to your shoulders to push you toward the counter as she disappeared behind rolls of fabric. You rolled your eyes and took a breath, adjusting the measuring tape around your neck and meeting Shoto as he approached the vacant receptionist’s computer. His voice was polite and soft when he spoke, and you swear you hear your workers swooning behind you.

“Hello, I’m here to drop these items off for repair,” he states, gently placing a small stack of folded fabric on the counter in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his hands were, and how one ran through his two-toned hair, combing it with elegant fingers. His eyes were each an enchanting shade of blue and grey, and you found it hard to break eye contact with him. ProMagazine was definitely correct.

“Great, I’ll, uh, have this ready in just a bit,” you reply, gesturing towards the waiting area and encouraging Shoto to have a seat. Taking a deep breath in and out and shooting your staff a stern look to get back to work, you unfold the tattered costume on a nearby station behind the counter. His suit wasn’t in the worst condition, but the tears on the arms and chest area posed a significant safety hazard, especially if they continued to open. As hot as it would be to have muscle windows in Shoto’s suit, it’d reflect badly on you if you’d refused to repair the costume for the sake of professionally shot ab photos.

After another steadying breath, you visualize a sewing machine dial in your mind, picking up a spool of strong nylon thread and running your thumb over the torn pieces of fabric; like clockwork, it repaired itself with a neat straight stitch wherever you touched. Your quirk is why M hired you in the first place since you could assemble three pieces in the time it took a machine to do one. You couldn’t send sheets of fabric flying like Best Jeanist, but your ability to telekinetically manipulate thread into stitches proved useful for a career in fashion design. With a few more reinforcement stitches to some worn edges and a quick polish of the suit’s buckles, Shoto’s costume was good as new.

“Here you go; you’re all set.” He turns to look at you, surprised and preoccupied with examining the large posters of costumes M’s company had designed. Frames of initial sketches for his first professional costume were flanked by life-size prints of Pinky, Deku, and Red Riot’s attire. A plaque engraved with Creati’s endorsement message for the company hung in the center, surrounded by fabric swatches and Post-It notes scribbled with measurements. It looked like he had just finished reading through Creati’s statement when you informed him that his suit was ready. “I went ahead and cleaned off some of the grime from the suit’s hardware and sprayed it with anti-rust so it shouldn’t be tarnishing any time soon.”

Shoto looks at you with an expression that you can’t read, gazes down at the repaired suit in front of him, and then back up at you. “Oh. That’s it?”

You release a slightly nervous chuckle to try to ease some of the awkwardness that had settled between you two. “Uh, yep. That’s it.” After another painfully quiet beat, your customer service persona finally kicks back into gear. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it was a pleasure working with you today–”

“How does your quirk work?” His question arrives completely out of left field, and your brain short-circuits at his genuine expression of interest in your abilities.

“Well, um, I can manipulate thread to follow certain stitch patterns, like the stitch selection on a sewing machine. See, like, here.” You point at one of the newly repaired tears in his costume, running a finger over the fresh seam. You’re keenly aware of how his eyes follow your finger and you attempt to keep your voice even. “I mended this panel of fabric torn down the middle with a straight stitch, which is the sturdiest stitch I can create.”

“So you wave your hands and the threads start moving?” The boyish cluelessness on his face makes your heart flutter. A smile breaks its way into your expression.

“I wish, but I actually have to be touching the fabric.”

“I suppose it’s very useful for a fashion designer, then.” His face is carefully put together, but the tiniest hint of sarcasm bleeds its way into his voice. Was he… joking with you?

“Definitely. I’m essentially a human sewing machine but without needles sprouting from my thumbs.” Your thumb pops up on its own accord for added effect, but then you realize what you just said and shove your hand back in an apron pocket. It was meant as a joke, but the macabre nature of your last quip slips your mind and a part of you dies inside when Shoto physically cringes at the grotesque image. Before you have the chance to apologize for such a distressing remark, he politely nods his head in farewell and gives you a soft “thank you” before returning to the elevator.

Releasing a frustrated noise from your throat at the fact that you just scared off Todoroki Shoto, you lay your forehead on the counter between your elbows. The elevator button dings, and to your horror, you realize that he hadn’t left the office yet. Instead, he was looking at you amusedly over his toned shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirks up the tiniest bit as he watches your burning face attempt to regain its composure, and then he’s gone.

“That was a shit show,” your other designer mutters under his breath, handing you another cup of coffee.

Tuesday morning at 11:30 on the dot, Shoto visits again and catches your receptionist off guard, reducing her to a puddle of “How can I help you?” and “Can I get you a sparkling drink?” With your back turned to the doors, you don’t notice him immediately as you concentrate on draping expensive maroon fabric around Creati’s mannequin. Eyebrows drawn in concentration and holding a pin between your teeth, your hands work meticulously to create perfect pleats under the waistline of the bodice. It isn’t until your receptionist nervously calls out your name that you abruptly drop the fabric, Shoto’s mouth twitching as he watches you hurriedly place your box of pins on a nearby station and approach the counter. You lightly tap your receptionist’s shoulder, snapping her out of her daze to find Shoto a drink that you knew was out of stock and leaving you two alone again.

“Shoto, it’s a pleasure to see you.” You try to mask the unease in your voice with a forced smile. “What can I help you with today?”

His face is blank, but his eyes shine like he’s analyzing you. “I ripped the suit again.”

Your face falls in comical disbelief. “Again?”

He shrugs. “I guess I need stronger stitches.” His heterochromatic eyes stare into yours, and you meet his challenge with a slight squint.

“Guess you do.” You take the folded suit from his hands and drop the volume of your voice. “Or maybe you need to stop tearing my work.”

He huffs out a breath that sounds like a choked laugh and you smile innocently at him, hoping this interaction replaced the awkwardness of yesterday. Your hand gestures to the seating area again, but he shakes his head, instead crossing his muscular arms and watching you intently as you work. The damage to his suit could barely be considered a tear, and you don’t even bother using your quirk to repair it. You feel him staring at you as you easily patch up the suit with a backstitch, and you swear you could hear him hum thoughtfully behind you. Minutes after he entered the office, you slide the garment back to him with a satisfied smile.

He does that thing again, looking at you, down at his suit, then back at you. “You didn’t use your quirk.”

It was your turn to shrug. “Didn’t need to.” As entertaining as his presence was, it would have taken longer to repair it with your quirk, and you had three mannequins of patterns demanding your immediate attention. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

Shoto dodges your question, instead scanning the seamstresses at their work areas trying not to stare at him. “You’re awfully good at getting people in and out.” One eyebrow quirks in question. He’s testing you, silently asking whether you were trying to get rid of him quickly.

“With all due respect, a rip on a Pro’s suit is the least of my worries right now.”

“What are the most of your worries?” You direct his attention to the three mannequins behind you, covered in multi-colored pins and beige pattern panels. “Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane’s Ball outfits. Need to have them done by next Friday, and I was just in the middle of pleating the skirt of Momo’s dress. It’s taking a lot longer than expected because I tragically only have two hands.”

Shoto’s mouth opens in an ah of realization, taking in the elaborate construction plan of the layered asymmetrical gown. You couldn’t have predicted his reply to save your life.

“May I help you?”

Your mind halts the production of coherent thoughts. “Oh, no, really. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your job.”

“But there is something I can help with.”

“I mean, yes, but–”

“Then please, show me what to do.” You decide that it would be pointless to fight his stubborn determination, so you try not to notice the gasps from your staff as Shoto pushes open the gate into the work area and stands beside Creati’s mannequin. You knelt into the same position as before, sitting back on your heels as you searched for the last pleat you made.

“So I just need you to hold the fabric in place so that it doesn’t unfold, like this,” you direct, scrunching the edge into a carefully measured fold. He watches you diligently, allowing you to reposition his hands so that you could effectively create a seam. His hands were soft beneath your fingers as you brushed veins and lean muscle. You push away the thought of what else he could do with his hands, refocusing on your work and delicately rotating the mannequin as you made your way around its waist. To your surprise, Shoto made soft conversation with you, asking about other Pros’ looks and the design inspiration behind them. Small talk flowed easily as you worked, and he proved to be much more witty than interviews captured.

When you finished, Shoto ran his finger over the pleats you had just made in admiration. A glance at the rest of the mannequins leads to his expression becoming puzzled. “Where is mine?” He offers an open hand to you as you rise from the floor, and you revel in the cool touch of his palm against your tired thumb.

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth was, his stylist had ordered a simple black suit for him, barely different than the suit he wore the previous year and all of the years prior. Shoto’s media reputation had him notorious for attending as few public events as possible, and donning safe solid-colored suits when he did appear. His eyebrows rise in anticipation of your answer, still holding your hand, and you finally conjure up an explanation. “Well, technically, your look is already finished. It was one of the first looks we finished because of its simplicity.”

“Simplicity?” He releases your hand, flexing his fingers like he was squeezing a stress ball. Shit, were your hands sweaty?

“Yeah, your stylist tends to request subdued designs for public appearances.”

A low hum is all you receive in acknowledgment, and a look of deep thought washes over his handsome expression.

“Maybe I will aim for a different design this year, then.”

And just the same as Monday, he nods farewell before heading back to the elevator, leaving you frozen by the mannequin. A split second before the doors slide open, he gives you a mischievous look and a single thumbs-up, a reminder of the embarrassing interaction from the day before. You roll your eyes at him and are delighted to see the corner of his mouth turn up again.

The elevator doors shut, and you can’t help hoping he creates another tear in his suit for tomorrow.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x you #bnha #mha #shoto x you #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto #my hero academia

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booksanddarkchocolate · 3 months

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Anyway here are my live reactions on episode 6:

- Did they- did they cast Kronos already?

- Iris messages!!

- Luke what are you doing in Chirons office 🤨

- They really do act like an old married couple 😭

- “Everyone is picking sides” SO YOU BETTER PICK A SIDE (live, love, laugh tlt musical)

- Nooo they didn’t have the “because I’m your friend, Seaweed Brain, any more stupid questions?” interaction 😭

- And they’re not showing that Percy can talk to horses yet? I wonder why they put that off and when we’re gonna see it

- Okay I love book!Grover, but show!Grover is toptier, Aryan is so amazing and Grover is such a mood

- Especially the ‘oh yeah people.. but the animals are safe!’ part

- Percabeth 🥹 I love their friend era so much too

- Levitating is not what I was expecting to hear, I don’t know what I did expect, but it’s not that lol

- No but why do they suddenly have to know everything before they experience it? I understood it with the other monsters, but why here? Like surely they would know about the loti (lotuses?) in the Odyssey but the connection is not that obvious here

- WISE GIRL

- Wait so is Sally a Seer too? Or will they specify the difference between seeing through the Mist and seeing the future?

- Grover seeing another Satyr getting sidetracked on the Pan quest 😭

- Oh I’m not sure if I trust Augustus

- Percy being so perplexed when Annabeth admitted she didn’t know lol

- LIN LIN LIN

- Smooth location transition

- What was that 😳

- Sad baby Percy in a police car 🥺

- Annabeth pickpocketing Hermes is such a slay

- “I’m multi-talented” love that

- Is it my delusion or was Percy lowkey in awe with Annabeth for stealing Hermes car keys

- “Is it dangerous? Not a dealbreaker, just curious” 😂

- “Are we late because of me?” 🥺🥺 Grover better get his memories back soon >:(

- Also Augustus did nothing wrong lol he was just playing a video game 😂

- What’s smarter, giving a random cabdriver a creditcard with infinite money and letting him keep it or driving a cab themselves? I’m not sure honestly lol

- Did they just get hit by a truck?

- Right it’s a magic car

- They are so cute ugh

- Wait why did they pick this chapter title as the title and not show a zebra 😭

- I’m intrigued by the Nereid’s design, not sure if it’s in a good or bad way

- Wait they changed it so that the deadline is already over? Okay 🤨

- “What belongs to the sea will always return to the sea” it’s a seAshell

- Ngl I’m not sure if that was a book quote (it probably is), but the musical will always be the first thing that comes to mind

- Huhhhh four pearls? Sally is allowed to come with them?

- What are they gonna do with the “and you’ll fail to save what matters most” line in the prophecy? This is a change that does actually keep me on my toes lol

Preview:

- THEY DIDNT CUT CRUSTYS THEY DIDNT CUT CRUSTYS THEY DIDNT CUT CRUSTYS

- I WAS SO CONVINCED THEY WERE GONNA CUT IT AND IM SO HAPPY THEY DIDNT

- Next episode is gonna be wiiiild

- Someone has a theory that the sandy place in Percy’s dreams is a time turner and I’m so convinced that’s true

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squintyeyedjoel · 1 year

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Through Your Eyes | Part 1 - Hit the Ground Running (Joel x Reader)

A/N: Ahhhh! This is here!!! So. This is just an idea that I had, and I literally texted my friends screaming about it, and it’s been nonstop for the last few days, it just kept developing. It’ll be multi-part, unsure yet how long, it keeps growing. I’ve always loved Jackson Joel, his relationship with Ellie, and I’ve wanted more of their dynamic since day one. So here is a weird hybrid of both the game and show universe, but mostly game. I haven’t decided where exactly this will or will not deviate from canon yet, so bear with me. Here we go!

I do not own The Last of Us or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, and Joel is a warning in and of himself in this one. Canon typical swearing. No specific age specified for reader, aside from her remembering life before the outbreak, so I leave that up to you. No use of Y/N. Mention of loss. (Spoilers if you haven’t watched the show/played the game.) Ellie is a menace and having a Hard Time™️. Arguing? Banter. Some of Joel’s Texan accent. (You’ve been warned.) I guess kinda sorta spoilers for TLoU 2? Like if you squint? And not really???

Word count: 8,885

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex and @grippingbeskar for your endless hours helping me over goodness knows how long since I started this, for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy, and screaming with me about this man that captured our hearts first in the form of pixels.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Next

Xxx

The door slamming below made some trinkets on your shelf rattle. That’s the third time today. A soft groan drifted up to you through the floorboards, coated in frustration and anger.

When you’d arrived in Jackson, the only new, private space available had been a spot above somebody else’s house. Technically in somebody else’s house. And technically it wasn’t even a place. When you arrived, you realized someone had literally volunteered their attic, spacious as it was, with several windows and a private doorway leading down through the home.

A mattress had been tossed in the middle of the floor, and it’d been so long since you’d seen a real, honest to goodness mattress, you didn’t care about the rest of the place. It suddenly felt like a castle.

That first night you’d flopped down on the fluffy padding on the floor, smiling as your body bounced a few times from the impact, the springs inside whining in protest, before you promptly fell asleep.

Sunlight streaming in through one of the windows early the next morning woke you up, making you blink bleary eyes open when it danced across your peaceful features.

With a stretch and heavy sigh, you didn’t move a muscle, but simply darted your eyes around your new small space, fully taking in the barren walls and the pile of junk leftover from whoever owned this house before the world went to hell. Curiosity got the better of you, pulling you to the pile like a magnet, on a search for something, you weren’t quite sure what yet.

Several hours later, you were lost deep in thought, the tip of your tongue sticking between your teeth in concentration when someone clearing their throat just off to your side made you jump. “Fuck!” You hissed, tossing the little metal toy you had in one hand in surprise, the screwdriver from your other hand being clutched in your grip like a vice, reared back and ready to be thrown at the intruder.

“Just me,” the man from downstairs mumbled. What was his name again? “Sorry.”

Sighing, you deflated, letting your hands fall to the mattress below you with a thump, your face scrunched in pain. “Shit, I bit my tongue.” Reaching up to rub your jaw, you glared at the man. “Maybe knock next time?”

He stared at you for a long minute, his eyes watching as you cradled your face, mumbling forlornly about your tongue. “I did,” he finally said lowly. “Twice.”

“Oh.” You heaved another sigh, this one heavier than the last, before plopping back on the mattress behind you, wincing and reaching under your back to pull out the plastic action figure that had poked you in the back. Looking at it, you grinned softly. “Was that your gun, or were you just happy to see me?”

Something between a scoff and a snort left the man still standing awkwardly by your door, pulling your attention back to him.

Everything had been so rushed when you’d moved in, something about a patrol spotting clickers nearby and the lack of space giving everyone a headache, you’d barely caught a glimpse of your housemates as someone ushered you past them, up into the attic late last night. You’d also made a point to stare at the floor as you walked past, not wanting to see the ire of the people who’d been woken up to open their home to you.

With no desire to dwell on your time before Jackson, you focused on the man in front of you, taking in his curious eyes and weathered features. The tilt of his brow told you people tended to run from him, his jaw set in a stern angle as his eyes darted around the room.

“Sorry, I know it’s a mess, I’ll clean it up.” Pushing up onto your elbows, you tossed the action figure to the side. “I assumed that pile was from before the outbreak, I hope I didn’t-”

“It was. All that was here b’fore Ellie and I moved in. Seemed a shame to waste it, and didn’t bother me none to sit in a corner, so….” Taking a few steps, he picked up the little metal car you’d been scraping at when he walked in, smiling fondly. “I had one’f these.” His expression darkened. “‘till my brother broke it.” After staring at it a moment, he looked up at you, handing it back to you gently. “What were you doin’ with it?”

“Oh.” Flustering a bit, being caught out for something you usually kept relegated to your home wherever that happened to be, you took a minute to think, staring at the chipped blue paint on the little car. “I…. I like to restore things. Bring little pieces of what we lost back. Especially toys. I remember as a kid…. As a kid the joy of just one new toy was….”

“Nothin’ like it,” he agreed softly.

You nodded, meeting his eyes, the kindness you saw hidden there catching you off guard. You’d expected judgment. In this world nowadays frivolous things weren’t usually accepted so readily.

“That yours?” He pointed to the little fanny pack overflowing with various tools, the contents spilling over the mattress.

Eyes darting over to the bag, you nodded again before looking at him with a soft smile. “Yes it is, kind stranger.”

This time his scoff was decidedly amused, and he rolled his eyes, making you grin.

“Joel.”

“That’s right!” Setting the car down, you got to your feet, dusting the back of your pants off, then your hands, before you extended one for him to shake. “Nice to finally meet you more than a passing face in the ‘welcome to Jackson’ shuffle.” He nodded as he shook your hand, his grip firm and warm. “Thank you. Again. For your attic, I mean.” Dropping his hand after holding it longer than you should have, you turned to look around at the space.

“Tommy said you needed your privacy. Didn’t say why, but I can respect the need.”

You turned back to him, hands on your hips where they had settled as you’d looked around. “That’s not by choice.”

His features darkened. “What’d’ya mean?”

“Oh! Nothing like that.” You waved your hands in front of you. “Nothing weird, I swear!” Chuckling nervously, you shifted your weight to one side. “Because I tinker, I often…. People don’t like the noises…. The smells….”

He just stared at you, silently waiting.

You looked down to your feet. “I’ll just pack up. I’m sorry, I’ll be out of your-”

“No,” he cut you off, reaching for your elbow gently but firmly. “No,” he said again, a bit softer. “Just explain a little less…. Vaguely, please.”

“It’s very hands-on. Lots of tools like hammers and whatnot, sanding…. And then if I can find it, paint thinner for some, or just paint for others…. And it doesn’t always help, despite all the windows being open, but I try to keep the place ventilated…..”

“People complain about a day job?” He sounded upset for you.

“They get upset when I do it when I can’t sleep.”

He hesitated. “How often is that?”

“Whenever the nightmares come.”

Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Well people are stupid.”

You blinked before a laugh burst out of your mouth.

“I used to be a contractor, and I’ve been doing some odds and ends here since moving into town. I don’t mind some smelly noise.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. “Let’s just try to come up with a schedule of some sort, maybe nothing too loud after nine at night or somethin’. Not for me, I don’t mind, but the neighbors might, and I dunno about Ellie. Girl sleeps like the dead, so probably….”

“Ellie?”

His smile grew brighter. “Come downstairs for breakfast.” He gestured behind him with a tilt of his head toward the stairs, his body beginning that way. “Maybe she’ll say hello between bites.”

Xxx

Walking down the stairs, you looked around in the daylight, trying to discern what was your host’s and what was left behind twenty odd years ago.

Outlines where pictures once sat on the wall, faded by years in the sun now decorated the outdated wallpaper, a layer of dust along a line of decorative trim halfway up. A fancy carpet was tacked to the stairs, worn in the middle most of the way up, zagging to the sides near the top, and you watched as Joel carefully stepped in the threadbare bits without thought, one of the steps squeaking under your weight when you didn’t follow suit.

Noted.

Once you were at the bottom, an open door down the hall showed a small little workshop, tools strewn everywhere. You smiled, glancing up at Joel to see him follow your gaze, realization dawning on him as a hand came up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Stay here,” he mumbled softly, holding up one finger before he jogged toward the door, pulling it shut. “Sorry about that. Had a, uh…. Last minute request.”

“My ears are burning. Are you talking about me again?” A young female voice yelled amusedly from around the corner behind you, a girl in her early teens stepping out with a plate full of food in one hand, a fork loaded in the other, and a mouthful as she continued. “Yeah, you were. It’s me. He’s talking about me. I asked him to fix the hole in the ceiling,” she looked at him pointedly, before turning back to you, “like fifty thousand times-”

“Since yesterday,” Joel murmured, making you chuckle.

“It only showed up yesterday,” the girl said unamused.

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel held up his hands in surrender before walking around the girl and into what you assumed was the kitchen. “Point was, I got right on it.”

Rolling her eyes, the girl set her plate down before wiping her hands on the front of her jeans, coming over and introducing herself. “Hi, I’m Ellie,” she spoke pointedly over her shoulder, “since grumpy in there didn’t feel the need to introduce us.”

Some dishes clattered and quiet grumbles were heard as you smiled at the girl, introducing yourself. “If you ever need any help around here, just ask. I’m pretty handy, if I do say so myself.”

“Finally,” Ellie groaned, “Someone besides that lug who can help me out!”

You leaned in closer to her. “Why, you got bodies to hide, or somethin’?”

She leaned in as well. “You have no idea.”

“Time for food!” Joel called loudly, placing a steaming pile of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table. “Ellie made ‘em so I’m not makin’ any promises-”

“Hey!” You smiled at her protest.

“-but it’s nourishment, so…. Good as any.”

“I’ll have you know,” Ellie began, looking down her nose at Joel as you all sat at the table. “Tommy’s been teaching me how to cook.”

“Then we’re all doomed,” Joel deadpanned.

“Tommy, I met him last night. He’s….”

Joel and Ellie spoke at the same time.

“Oh no, what’d he do now?”

“His baby brother.”

Silence hung between you as you looked back and forth between the two of them, Joel’s eyes shut as he let out a sigh.

“He’s my brother,” he amended, adding quietly, “so you can tell me what idiotic thing he’s done now.”

“Joel,” Ellie warned.

“I’ve heard it all, just lay it on me.”

You shook your head. “Nothin’. Was just asking how he knew you two.” You gestured between them with your fork.

Joel tucked into his food after a moment of silence, staring down at his plate.

“I tried to tell you,” Ellie muttered, shaking her head as she cleaned the crumbs off her dish.

“That accent I keep hearing pop through, is that…. Texas?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel kept his eyes down, slowing his eating just a bit.

“I thought it sounded like home,” you smiled, the corners of your mouth pulling higher when his head shot up to look at you.

“You’re from….”

You nodded. “Born and raised. Ain’t nothin’ quite like the Lone Star State, is there?”

“No, ma’am,” Joel grinned.

“What do you miss the most?” It was an honest enough question, you expected something like barbecue, late night drives down country roads, or the smell of bluebonnets each Spring….

But the joy on Joel’s face fell ever so slightly, just enough that you could see, the light in his eyes dimming, as his shoulders rounded forward just a bit. He stared at the table top for only a moment, lost in thought. You could have sworn his eyes flitted to the watch on his wrist briefly before he shook his head, lifting it back up, his gaze meeting yours and smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Too many things to mention. What about you?”

Holding his gaze for a moment longer than you should, you smiled softly before turning back to look at your plate. “Gotta say I feel the same.” Stabbing a bite of egg, you brought it to your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as you pondered what had just happened. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“Please do,” he said softly.

More silence filled the space, Ellie heaving a sigh after a few minutes. “Well this has been fucking amazing-”

“Ellie,” Joel chastised.

“But I’m gonna go-”

“Sit,” Joel said in the most authoritative voice you’d heard yet. Gesturing with his fork, you caught the smallest smirk crawl up his face when Ellie groaned before plopping back into her chair in a graceless heap.

She stared at him in some sort of bored challenge before grumbling, “What?”

“I need your help before you go and skedaddle-”

“‘Skedaddle’? Is that even a fucking word?”

“Yes,” you answered before biting into a piece of bacon, smiling sweetly at her when her eyes flew up to meet yours.

“Just checking,” she grumbled, slumping further back into her chair as she heaved a world weary sigh.

“As I was sayin’,” Joel pushed back from the table with both hands, leaning back in his chair so that the front legs left the floor slightly, balancing on the back two. “I need your help gettin’ a bed frame upstairs for her, and a few other pieces. Tommy’s droppin’ them by in a few here.” He checked a clock hanging on the wall, making you knit your brows in confusion as you glanced to the watch on his wrist. Closer inspection showed it was shattered with what looked like a bullet hole, making your eyes widen slightly. Suddenly his reservations about missing something in Texas made a bit more sense.

“Joel,” Ellie whined, going practically boneless in her seat, limbs draping behind her like a broken starfish.

“We should be able to handle that without her, don’t you think?” You mused, pushing your empty plate away and settling into your seat with a satisfied sigh, arms crossed over your chest.

“Yes, totally, bye!” Ellie sat up so fast you got whiplash. But she didn’t make it completely out of the seat before Joel was saying her name again, and motioning her back down with just his eyes.

“Sorry. I tried,” you shrugged, giving her a sad smile. “You should just listen to your dad and-”

The two of them interrupted you in tandem.

“I’m not her father.”

“He’s not my dad.”

Joel cleared his throat. “Now, I’ve asked you to stay and help- nicely, I might add- and unlike you, I don’t ask twice, let alone fifty thousand times,” he looked at her pointedly.

“Ugh, fine!” She threw her hands up, letting them slap back down on her thighs before pushing her chair back all the way, the scrape of the feet against the floor making you cringe. She finally got to her feet before she froze, looking at Joel with an exaggerated look you couldn’t quite place.

“What?” He asked after a long silence in a tone that said ‘why did I ask’.

She pointed to the other room. “Can I go this time? I mean….” Joel sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Every other time I’ve tried to execute my rights as a human being and leave this fucking dining room, you’ve stopped me. So, before I get too far and have to backtrack again, I wanted to-”

“Just go,” he waved a hand.

“Thank you,” she called, climbing the stairs, expertly missing the squeaks, a door slamming shut a few seconds later.

“But be ready to help in-”

“Yeah, yeah,” her muffled voice came through the door before some 80’s song began playing softly.

You chuckled, Joel picking his head up from where he’d cradled it in his palm to look at you with a raised brow. “I got food and a show.” His head fell back into his hand. “I’m teasing.” He grumbled something unintelligible into his palm. After the chorus of the song played, you stood up, taking the empty dishes over to the sink.

“You don’t have to-” Joel protested from his seat.

“I’ll never get used to hearin’ music again,” you changed the subject as you turned on the water, running it over the plates as you wiped them clean. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. I’ve always loved music. It’s just…. After so long in the silence, coming here and having a teenager drown you out with a synthesizer, it’s so….”

“Normal?”

Looking over your shoulder, you smiled at him. “Yeah. And after everything, that’s just….”

“Not normal?”

You snorted. “Exactly.” After you turned the water off, you flung the stray droplets from the tips of your fingers before drying your hands on a dish towel. “I appreciate all the help, I really do. But, you don’t have to go outta your way for me.”

“It’s not outta the way. It’s just upstairs.” He looked proud of himself, the pleased grin pulling higher when you made a face of disbelief at him.

“None of that allowed up there.” You pointed toward the ceiling where the attic extended to. “That is a bad pun free zone.”

Joel shook his head ruefully, leaning his chair back even further on the rear legs, propping his boots up on the corner of the table, one ankle crossed over the other as his hands slowly came behind his head. “Darlin’, this whole house is one giant pun.”

You arched a brow, leaning back against the counter, your hands braced on its top at your sides.

“Ellie tries, she loves her joke books…. But me….”

“Bad dad jokes without being a dad?”

His whole demeanor deflated, just slightly, but enough for you to see. The light behind his eyes dimmed, his smile faded, and his arms dropped almost imperceptibly. “Something like that,” he mumbled, before the smile renewed, just a bit too tightly. After a brief moment, he dropped his feet back to the floor with a clatter, the chair coming back onto all fours with surprising delicacy. “Well, let’s get up there and take some measurements before the furniture gets here.”

Xxx

Joel had followed you up the steps, mumbling a “Lady’s first,” as he stepped out of the way, gesturing forward with one hand.

You arched a brow. “Oh, fancy.” He pulled a face, making you laugh softly. “Nice to know chivalry didn’t also die on outbreak day.” Starting up the stairs, he sighed as he fell in behind you.

“Oh, it did. I’m bringing it back.” Glancing over your shoulder you saw a smug look on his face, making you roll your eyes as you turned back to the task at hand, making sure to avoid the squeaky parts of the steps, sticking to the worn tread of the carpet. An amused hum buzzed out of Joel’s chest when he noticed, making you smirk. “Fast learner.”

Pushing open the door to the attic, it let out a mighty squeak.

You grimaced. “Not quite fast ‘nough, it seems.”

Joel knit his eyebrows at the door as he reached out, swinging it back and forth, the hinges protesting loudly each time. “It just needs to be tightened up.” Stepping closer, he examined the brackets with a more studious eye. “This takes a….” He turned to you, before glancing at your pile of tools still on the bed where you’d left them. “It’s a specialized screw head. Used to use them all the time before the world went to shit. Surprised they already started complainin’. Normally they last twice as long-”

“Everything complains around you, Joel,” Ellie grumbled as she walked past him, going straight for one of the windows, her forehead falling against it with a dramatic thump before she just stared at the city below.

Joel scoffed, staring at the teenager for a moment before rolling his eyes. “I have one down in my shop in the garage. I’ll go grab it.”

“You got a screwdriver that can turn that musty old shop of yours into a kick ass room for me?” Ellie called after him as he took the steps two at a time. As his heavy footfalls disappeared below, she turned back to look out the window.

“What do you mean?” You asked against your better judgment. “Don’t like your room?”

She sighed. “I just want my own space. Why does he need a room for just his tools? They don’t need privacy! They don’t go through at least one crisis a week, or have to deal with him, or have music they want to play super loud. They’re fucking tools.”

“Well, hey, we could trade? I could take your room, share the garage and tools with Joel, and you could be up he-”

“No,” Joel’s tone was final. You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Ellie started. “I mean, she’s offering, and-”

“I said no, Ellie.”

“Joel-”

“No!” His grip on the door handle tightened. “We aren’t having this conversation again. Drop it.”

The two of them stared at each other with loaded looks, an unspoken conversation being exchanged between them.

“We’ll compromise.” Joel’s attention snapped to you, Ellie’s following soon after. “You ever need a place to ‘get away’? You can come up here and keep me company.” Ellie smiled. “That goes for you, too, Joel.”

“Why you gotta be like that?” Ellie mumbled, smiling when you arched a brow at her.

“There’s a catch.”

“Fuck,” the teenager moaned, turning back to look out the window, her head thumping against the frame.

“You have to help me with my projects while you’re up here.” Your eyes flicked between them. “Deal?” When neither of them agreed, but neither of them protested, you moved on. “Good. Now,” stooping down to pick up the various toys and tools that had taken over the floor the night before, you turned to Ellie. “I noticed during breakfast that you like to draw.”

“How-”

“Sketchbook on the counter by the oven. Next time wait until after the bacon is done. You got grease stains all over the pages.”

“I had an idea, I couldn’t wait….”

“How are you with paint?”

She shrugged. “Never…. Never really had the opportunity to use it. I’m sorry. What the fuck is that?” She pointed to the bag around your waist.

Looking down at the fanny pack you’d zipped your tools back into before putting it on, you lifted your gaze back up to her. “My fanny pack?”

“Ellie….” Joel warned, seeing the girl’s face begin to morph in a way he knew all too well.

“It’s called a….” She started snickering before she cleared her throat. “I’ve never seen one before.” Ellie’s eyes shot over to Joel, her features schooled into something almost professional, but it quickly melted into something more sarcastic.

“Very handy,” you said slowly, watching her through narrowed eyes. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’ll get my hands on some paints, and you can help me finish some pieces.” You turned to Joel, brows raised expectantly.

“I’ll ask Tommy when he brings the stuff,” he mumbled, leaning on the door and causing it to squeak again, pulling his attention back to the traitorous hinges.

“For now,” you focused back on the teenager, hands on your hips, “help me clean this place up a little before they get here? Maybe go grab the towel off the kitchen counter to dust off the windowsills?”

Ellie nodded with a small, sweet smile, but you didn’t miss how it twisted into a smirk as she walked past you toward the door. “On it, Miss Fanny.”

You stared after her with wide eyes, noting she had waited until she was a few steps down the stairs before saying it so you were less likely to retaliate. Smart.

Flicking your eyes over to Joel, an amused expression pulled at his features as he pointed toward the bag on your hip with his screwdriver. “It’s because of the….”

“Yeah, I got that,” you snarked. “What I don’t get is why she called you grumpy.”

“It’s kinda obvious,” he drawled, turning the screws on the top hinge.

“You don’t seem grumpy to me.”

“Give it time.”

Xxx

After the door no longer moaned, the hinges good as new, Joel took some measurements around the space while he talked about how he’d been meaning to build some shelves and stuff for storage up here anyway. It’d take a day or two, but he’d have them up and be out of your hair in no time. He also stepped out of one of the windows onto the roof, making you and Ellie exchange a confused glance.

“Joel? Last I checked, the attic was strictly inside the house,” Ellie asked cautiously.

His head appeared around the open window frame, scowling at the both of you. “I’m looking to see if I could put a doorway in here for a private entrance.”

“That’s not-” but he doesn’t let you finish.

Disappearing back around the window frame, his voice drifted back somewhat muffled as he turned away. “It’ll just make things easier. Once you get tired of the two of us, you can come in without having to look at our ugly mugs.” Ellie shot a sideways look at you, making you stifle a small laugh, tucking it into your hand as you looked away. “Could even make a little deck up here at the top of the stairs, good sun, you could plant somethin’ for eatin’. Plus it’s a good spot to,” his feet shuffled on the roof before stopping again. “It’s a good vantage point if things go sideways…. Again.”

Stepping up to the window, you went to poke your head out but had to step back as he hopped back in. “Joel, you don’t have to do all that. It’s-”

“It’s my house, and I want that vantage point,” he huffed, dusting off his hands before turning to close the window.

“The Contractor,” Ellie hissed in an eerie voice with a smirk, drawing out the words in a ridiculous way.

“Knock knock,” a voice said behind you, making you jump slightly, turning to find Tommy. “Sorry,” he said quietly, having the decency to look sheepish. As he pushed the door open a bit wider, it squeaked softly, pulling his focus to the hinges. “You need to fix that, Joel-”

“I-” The older brother looked at the younger, dumbfounded. It quickly melted into annoyce as he whispered an exasperated, “What did you do?” Stepping quickly toward the door.

Tommy stepped back slightly. “Nothin’! I just got here, big brother! So just hold your horses and don’t jump-”

“He just fixed those a few minutes ago,” you offered softly, understanding dawning on Tommy’s face.

His eyes shifted to his brother, wide and somewhat worried. “Now, Joel, I didn’t do nothin’. They’re old, like you, and-” he turned his eyes down to the floor when Joel’s head snapped up to level him with a menacing gaze. “-and,” he repeated pointedly, “before you jump up my ass about somethin’ I didn’t do….” He lifted his head just enough to look at his brother again. “Can we please talk about this like the grown men we sometimes are now?”

Joel simply stared at his brother for a loaded moment before turning back to the door, wiggling it back and forth, making a sour face as it squeaked again softly. “You had to’ve done somethin’….”

“I guess not then,” Tommy sighed, hands that had been held up in surrender falling down to his sides in defeat as he sent an unimpressed glare toward his brother. “You’ve gotten meaner as your hair’s gotten greyer.”

Joel rolled his eyes, turning to inspect the hinges more closely, but reached up a hand to run through his hair after a moment, bringing it down to rub at the back of his neck in what looked like embarrassment as he kept his back to the room.

Ellie strolled over easily toward the two men. “You’re an old man, Joel. That’s how it’s supposed to happen…. I think. I mean, look at Santa Claus….”

Joel slowly looked at her over his shoulder before he let out a strangled grunt of frustration, cleaning his throat to try and cover it up as he shook his head, turning back to his task in an attempt to hide.

Ellie went on as if nothing had happened. “I mean I think that’s how it works.”

Tommy snickered, tucking the lower half of his face into his hand, pointedly ignoring Joel looking at him through the crack of the door by the hinges.

The teen turned to Tommy. “You’re an old man, you tell me. Am I right?”

The hand fell from his face, and Tommy immediately stopped laughing, glowering at Ellie while Joel lost it, a series of growing snickers falling from his mouth as he turned his face into the wall to try and subdue the sound.

You looked on, watching the whole exchange with a smile. Joel may not be her father, but these three were every bit a family unit. They teased and called each other names, but it was all in fun. All from love. You had no doubt that when push came to shove, they’d be there for one another in a heartbeat, and probably be willing to sacrifice close to anything in the name of that bond, that thing they shared but they didn’t dare put that name to. For family.

Joel was still chuckling into the wall, his forehead pressed against it as he rocked it side to side in disbelief. “I swear I didn’t tell her to say that.”

“Fuck you, Joel. I say what I want,” Ellie proclaimed.

“Ellie,” Joel groaned, finally turning to face the room with a sigh, as Tommy snapped a, “Language!”

“Oh, bite me,” she mumbled, turning and meandering slowly to the window to begin dusting again.

“So, Tommy,” you began, clasping your hands in front of yourself. “I hear you have furniture for me?”

His eyes widened in recognition. “Shit! Yeah.”

“Language!” Ellie mocked him from her spot across the room.

“It’s downstairs. Why don’t you come with me, take a look and see what all you wanna bring up while Joel finishes on this door.” He turned to his brother, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Come down when you’re done, we should know by then.”

He nodded, fiddling with the screwdriver in his hand. “Give me five minutes.”

“I used to work with you, Joel,” Tommy called, starting down the stairs. “We both know it’ll take you ten.”

Joel laughed humorously. “Fuck you, Tommy!”

“Language!” Ellie yelled again.

Following the younger Miller, you smiled. He stepped on every squeak in the steps, almost like it was on purpose.

Once the two of you were downstairs, Tommy stepped out onto the front porch, showing you a small array of furniture leaning up against the outside of the house.

You were about to start pointing to some of the pieces when he began talking to you about something else altogether.

“So how’s it been today? They been treating you okay?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilted your head back to look up at him, holding his serious gaze. His eyes were kind, and you realized he was asking just as much from a place of worry for them as for you.

“Yeah. It’s been great so far.” He looked relieved. “Ellie cooked eggs and bacon for breakfast.”

He smiled proudly. “You have me to thank for that.”

You couldn’t help the grimace tugging on your features. “So I hear.”

Tommy scoffed, hands going to his hips, making you chuckle.

“Ellie called him grumpy earlier, but I haven’t seen any particular reason why.” His eyebrows shot up near his hairline. “I asked him about it and he said to ‘give it time’.”

He rolled his eyes with a muttered, “Sounds like him.”

You lowered your voice, taking a step closer. “Am I missing something? If he’s not always sunshine and rainbows, that’s fine, I get it. This world we live in now ain’t always deserving of it. But still, I’d like to know what I’m getting into.”

Tommy took a deep breath, but before he could speak, Joel stepped out the front door.

“What should I take up first?”

Turning and pointing at the bed frame you knew for sure needed to go up, you smiled. “Definitely that, please.”

Joel nodded, grabbing the headboard and footboard. “Tommy, will you grab the rest of the frame? The girls can be putting it together while we take up the rest.”

The man beside you nodded, staying silent until his brother disappeared back in the house.

“Joel’s not always the easiest to get to know.” You scoffed. “It’s true. I’ve known him my whole life, and I still have days where I wonder why he’s so prickly. He has his reasons,” Tommy looked up toward the attic windows before looking back down at you. “And I’m sure he’ll tell you them eventually, I can already tell he trusts you more than most others here in Jackson.”

With a shake of your head, you chuckled. “You’re crazy. He just met me. I’m sure he-”

“You saw a side of Joel right out the gate some wait a lifetime to miss.”

Staring up into his eyes, your own wide, you saw nothing but sincerity.

“Tommy! Come on, man!” Shaking his head, Joel picked up the rest of the pieces of the bed. “And you say I’m slow.”

The younger Miller held your gaze as he spoke. “That’s because you are slow, big brother.” Lifting his eyes to follow the older man, they narrowed playfully. “Come on, come on, lift those feet!”

“I’m gonna hit you,” Joel grumbled as he passed back over the threshold of the house, Tommy hot on his heels. As Joel continued to complain, Tommy stopped, looking back at you pointedly before turning and heading inside, shouting something you couldn’t make out up at his brother.

Xxx

Once a few of the pieces were set up around the attic, you dug some things out of your backpack to put out, get settled in. Pulling a chair up to the small dining table, you got your screwdriver out of the pack on your hip and began scraping at the paint on the blue metal car from that morning.

“What’cha doin’?” Tommy asked, pulling another chair up and swinging his leg over it, sitting on it backwards. He rested his chin on his wrists on the back of the chair as he stared at the toy in your hands.

Not stopping, you answered him. “I restore things, especially toys.”

Your eyes flicked up to find his face twisted in confusion before darting back to what you were doing.

After a moment he asked in a quieter voice, “Why?”

You shrugged. “Why not?” Pausing in your efforts, you looked up at him. “It makes me happy, and it makes others happy. And if there’s something people need more of these days, I’d say that’s it.” You turned back to your project.

“Toys?”

You froze, your hands flopping onto the table as you lifted your gaze to look at him flatly.

“Happiness, dumbass,” Joel grumbled lowly from across the room, tightening the screws on one of the window sills.

“How would you know?” Tommy sat up straight in the chair, glaring over at his brother. “You wouldn’t know happiness if it bit you on the ass.”

“Oh, I think I’d be plenty happy if someone bit me on the ass-”

“That’s not-” Joel’s chuckle cut his brother off. “I like how Ellie said it earlier. Bite me.”

“Okay. But not on the ass.”

“You know what….” Tommy pushed away from the table, turning toward his brother.

“Even if I don't, I know you never do.” Joel turned to face his brother, screwdriver once again in his hand. “You’re not the brightest-”

“Boys!” They both turned to look at you, startled, Ellie jerking awake from her spot on your bed where she’d been napping for the last hour. “Enough!”

“Yeah, shut up,” Ellie grumbled, rubbing her eye with the palm of her hand. “I don’t even know what you were arguing about, but I know it was stupid.”

“How would you know?” Joel turned his head slowly to look at his brother, his eyebrows knit in disbelief that he was arguing with a teenager.

She stilled, her hand falling to her lap with a plop. “Because I know you.” She turned to you, speaking over a yawn. “What were they arguing about?”

“That toys and happiness aren’t necessarily important nowadays, and that devolved into name calling.”

Ellie nodded. “Sounds right.” She looked at the two men. “Grow up.” She arched a brow right back at them when they lifted theirs at her. “I babysit for the kids across the street, and if it’s one thing they are severely lacking, it’s toys. We watch the movies down at the town center or a video Joel brings back from a run, and they won’t shut up about all the toys and stuff. They don’t care about the animals or the songs, I mean they do, to an annoying degree, please, somebody, explain how giving children that age singalongs was a good idea, but I digress-” she took a big breath, the corner of her mouth twitching up when you failed to suppress a snort of laughter. “Anyway. Some toys around here wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“I’d be more than happy to restore toys for the kids here in Jackson. But up here there isn’t really enough space for that type of output, plus the noise and smell would eventually bother you, despite what you say, Joel.”

Tommy looked at his brother who shrugged. “We talked about this earlier. Briefly.”

“I see,” Tommy mused quietly, turning back to you with a smirk.

“Would you mind sharin’ your garage?”

Joel grimaced.

“Come on, Joel,” Tommy teased. “Be a big boy, and-”

Joel rounded on his brother, getting close to his face. “You don’t stop talkin’, I’m going to-”

“Okay, so that’s a no,” you chuckled.

“The old book store,” Joel’s voice had calmed, and he turned to look at you. “It’s empty, is filled with shelves to display stuff, and has a wide showroom in the middle you could convert into a workshop.”

“Are you sayin’ she opens a toy shop?” Tommy asked, his voice tight with disbelief.

“Why not?” Joel looked at his brother before turning to Ellie for her input. “Like she said, it’s a need in the town, would boost morale-”

“How?” Tommy scoffed.

“Happy kids, happy parents.”

Joel made a gesture after Ellie spoke, like a ‘there you go’ as he turned his attention back on his brother, smiling as understanding softened the other man’s features.

“A need, morale,” Joel turned to look at you, a playful curl of his upper lip as he went on, “and I get to keep my garage.” The mock disdain melted into a smile and a wink before he turned back to his brother.

“For now,” Ellie muttered under her breath, her face instantly schooling into something sweet and innocent when Joel whipped his head her way.

Xxx

With a sigh, you set one of the things on your shelf back upright, looking at the blue metal car that sat beside it, fully painted and restored. It was one you weren’t willing to get rid of, and it held pride of placement on one of the shelves Joel had built not long after that conversation about the shop.

You’d opted to stay out of these arguments, letting them sort their differences out on their own, but something felt different this time. The weight of Joel’s sigh hurt just a little bit more, felt a little bit heavier, and at breakfast this morning, his eyes seemed…. Sad.

Walking to the door that led downstairs through the house, you opened it, smiling when it swung without a sound. Making sure to step on the proper parts of the steps to stay silent, you walked almost all the way up to Joel before you finally cleared your throat to get his attention.

He’d been cradling his head in his hand, but he snapped up to look at you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

He stared at you for a long moment before shaking his head, looking at the floor. “No, no, don’t worry. Am I in your way? I’ll move, just let me-”

“Joel.”

At the sound of his name, he relaxed, slumping back against the wall with a sigh, scrubbing his hand down his face as he looked up at the ceiling. “I know.” He shrugged slightly, tilting his head back into the wall with a soft thump, rocking it back and forth. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t….” He looked back down at the floor for a second before his face screwed up. “Goddamnit!” His hand moved up to thread through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “I don’t know what I’m doing. It was so much easier with-” Joel stopped with a shuddering breath, his eyes wide and frantic as they flew to you.

He’d done this a few times, started down a train of thought about someone or something in his past, but always stopped just before actually naming them. You couldn’t tell if it was a decision made out of pain or a desire to maintain privacy. Either way, you didn’t push it.

“She’s just being a teenager, Joel. That’s what they do. They drive you crazy, it’s kind of their job.” The corner of his mouth twitched up just slightly, but just as quickly fell back into the frown that twisted his face so painfully. “Didn’t you have teenaged girls in your family? Nieces? Distant cousins?”

He let out a wet laugh, swallowing roughly before he answered in a raspy voice, “Somethin’ like that.”

You leaned on the wall across from him, sliding down to sit on the floor, knees pulled tightly to your chest.

“Did you need something?”

His question pulled your focus back up to his face from the pattern of the weave of your jeans you’d been staring at.

“Yeah. I mean no.” He tilted his head in question. “I needed to come down and check on you two.”

He swallowed again, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Want me to go after her? We’re still learning each other, but we get along well enough. She’d probably listen to me. Maybe.” You grimaced. “I mean I hope so.”

Joel laughed softly. “Don’t do it on my behalf, you don’t need to villainize yourself, too. She needs to trust ‘least one of us.”

“She doesn’t think you’re a villain, Joel,” you groaned, getting back to your feet, taking his outstretched hand he offered in help.

“She sure don’t think I’m a hero,” he said lowly, his hand holding yours longer than it should, his thumb tracing your knuckles as he held your gaze.

As you studied his face, eyes tracing the laugh lines by his eyes, the scars here and there, the strong angle of his jaw and light smattering of facial hair, you found yourself wishing he never actually had to let go. “I think you’d be surprised what people see when they look at you, Joel.”

He let go of your hand, taking a step back. Somehow you’d both gotten nearly toe to toe as you talked.

“I just need to get my jacket from upstairs then I’ll go look for her.”

He nodded, leaning back against the wall as you went back up to the attic.

Once you were back inside, you spotted Ellie at your desk, painting a little model plane you’d been working on. Looking over at the private entrance Joel had installed, you saw the door was not quite shut all the way. Smiling softly, you set your jacket you’d taken off the hook on the back of a nearby chair, then you walked over, shutting the door softly, clicking the lock into place. Closing the last few feet left between you, you leaned your hip against the edge of the desk as you watched her detail the left wing.

It was weird to see her so subdued. Normally she was such a spitfire, something sarcastic or sassy coming out of her mouth at all times. You laughed every time she opened her mouth.

Keeping your voice quiet, you finally asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

She didn’t answer at first, but when she did it was as quiet as you had been. “Not really.”

You studied the way she painted the lines meticulously. “That’s fine.”

Pulling up a chair, you sat beside her, arm braced on the desk, head cradled in your palm as you continued to watch her in silence.

The sounds of the town below you slowly drifted up through the open window. A songbird flitted by. Crickets began to chirp as the sun went down, and a lone owl hooted across the valley as the stars began to shine. One by one they started their march across the sky, twinkling in their dance with the moon, a slow procession of light for those of you left down below.

After a few minutes, you handed her the cup of water to rinse the brush. “He’s trying, you know.”

She rinsed and dried the brush, switching to the next color. A few more minutes passed before she answered. “I know.”

After the wing was done, she rinsed the brush again and spoke while she dried it on the towel. “We need more paint. We’re running low on these basic colors. I could mix some of the others to make more, but they wouldn’t be quite right.”

“Okay,” you agreed softly. “I’ll see what I can do. There’s not much here in town, but I know there’s a lot out there left over from before.”

She whipped her head toward you, eyes wide in excitement. “Maybe you and I could go together to find some?!”

“No, no,” you didn’t even let her finish before you began objecting. “It’s not safe out there for you. You’re too young.”

She looked back down at the plane, her features immediately turning sour. “You sound like Joel.”

“Well, he and I agree on this.” Picking up the paintbrushes and moving them to the side, you leaned forward on both forearms, trying to catch her eye. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Leaning back a little bit, you sighed. “You always have a choice, Ellie. You know that.”

“I know,” she grumbled. “I just…. Yes, okay? Yes, I trust you. Why?”

Pushing the chair back, you got to your feet, going to the door back downstairs. “Because I have a plan.”

“What is-”

Turning back to her, you raised one finger and wagged it at her. “Ah ah ah! You said you trusted me. Now do it.”

Opening the door, you stepped through, laughing when you heard Ellie’s muffled voice call through as you shut it, “This sucks!”

Making your way back downstairs, you found Joel at the dining room table, nursing a whiskey.

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do, why?”

Smiling, you sat in the chair beside him. “Ellie’s doing really well with her painting, isn’t she?”

His brows narrowed in question, but he answered. “Yeah….”

“Problem is, there isn’t a lot of paint here in Jackson, and she’s already running low on some of the basic colors.”

“I noticed. She was complainin’ about it last week. I was gonna look for some on my next run for her.”

Sitting forward in your chair like you had at the desk with Ellie, you leaned on your forearms as you started in on your idea. “Well, where I stayed before coming here is about a week out. I had a stockpile. All different colors, types, whatever she could want for a long, long time, it’s all there.” Joel’s eyes were wide, you could see his wheels turning. “If we could each take a horse, maybe even a small cart or something, we’d cut that time in half, be there in a few days, and we could go raid my old supply. I had some real specialty stuff, stuff she’d love. Craft brushes…. I just need someone to come with me to keep me safe. I know what I’m doing, but once everything is loaded, the horses will be slower and I need someone to watch my back. Whaddya say?”

He started to smile. “You had me at ‘stuff she’d love’.”

Xxx

The day to leave had come. You’d be leaving tomorrow to get your old stash while Joel watched your back.

You were about to close up the shop for the night when someone came in.

Smiling up at the woman, your features softened when you saw the tired expression on her face. “Can I help you?”

The woman sighed, the most exhausted sound you’d heard in a while. “Yes! My daughter is sick, and I want to give her something to cheer her up. I can trade you some bread for it. Fresh made this morning.” Flipping a towel back on the small bundle in her left hand, a golden loaf of bread came into view, making your mouth water, the shop filling with the yeasty aroma and making your stomach growl softly.

You would have done it for free, given the circumstances, but since you were leaving the next day, the bread would be handy. And damn did it smell good. “Sure! How about something soft for her to hold while she’s laid up in bed?”

She smiled gratefully. “Sounds perfect.”

Pulling a basket down from a shelf that was filled with a few teddy bears Tommy and Joel had found on supply runs and you’d cleaned up, you set it on a table in front of the woman.

“Beautiful day today,” you said offhandedly, looking out the front window and smiling, your grin growing when you saw Joel appear across the street and wave at you through the window. You waved back, making the woman in front of you look over her shoulder to see what was going on.

She heaved another sigh, rolling her eyes before turning back to the basket. “Don’t bother. That one’s never gonna crack.”

Your smile faltered, hand falling down to rest beside the basket as you looked at the woman in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “He’s a tough ass. I don’t think he’s ever smiled in his life. Probably made his mom cry when he was born. Something is just off about him.”

Snorting a laugh, you shook your head. “That’s crazy. I live with him.” You paused, ignoring her raised brows as she looked at you through her lashes. “Well, above him. In his attic.” Turning your head just slightly, your face twisted at the way that sounded, too. “But not, like, in a creepy way. His brother set it up.” You tilted your head to the side, staring out the front window, before turning to look at the woman point blank. “I’m renting a room from him.”

The woman looked up at you in pity. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, reaching out to straighten the ear of one of the bears.

Resting her hand on your forearm, she gave it a gentle pat. “That’s the right attitude.”

After she picked her bear and you had the bread, you locked up and walked across the street to meet Joel. “Got some extra food for the trip.” You held up the loaf with a grin.

“Good. We’re gonna need it,” he grumbled, his face a sour expression, hands in his pockets as you both turned toward the house.

“What bit your ass?”

“Tommy mentioned to Maria about our little trip. The council didn’t want to lend us the horses for ‘just paint’.”

“Okay. So now what? We walk?”

“No,” he ground out. Turning the corner by the stables, you found a group of people buzzing around, preparing bags and supplies for them and their horses. When you looked back up at Joel, he sighed, speaking lowly. “We have company.”

Xxx

Tags: @dilf-din, @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker, @what-the-heckin-heck, @telarnidaniela, @kalea-bane, @morgaussy, @enjoythelittlethings, @paleidiot, @telepathay Wanna be tagged if/when I write any future Joel stuff? Here’s how to sign up!

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

Note

For Multi-May!!

I so desperately wanted to think of a really great request or suggestion but know that I have the opportunity all of my ideas have vanished.

So instead, I want to ask for Stu & Billy poly!ghostface with a plot or idea that you've always wanted to write but never got around to. It could also be any other poly!ship you have That One Idea for that you just never had the perfect opportunity to write.

I'm essentially giving you a wildcard! I'm super curious if you have any ideas like that - Ideas that for some reason you just never get around to even though they plague your mind. Because I sure do.

- 🦇

Well Batty! This is such a fun one! I have gotten in the habit of always writing whatever I want for myself all the time now but still, I have had this idea for a long ass time and have never gotten around to it so thanks for the excuse! Your request is the second entry for Multi-May, Billy loving lingerie and my assorted thoughts about that, so let’s go!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Poly!Ghostface. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Established Poly! Relationship. Could Be Read As TBABTO Compliant. Fear Play. Knife Play. Banter. Dirty Talk. Spanking. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Softness. Feelings. Mid-Sex Introspection Kind Of. Domesticness. Creampie. Slight Overstim. Sloppy Seconds.

—

I Love You Best In…

—

Billy Loomis has always loved lingerie, ever since the first time he found out it was a thing when saw something lacy and pretty and soft in a catalogue. The thing was, he wasn’t picky, he loved it all, whether it was cotton candy pink and fluffy, almost like a cupcake; or something tight, with straps on straps, criss-crossing over each other and black, as if ripped right out of a trashy goth themed porno.

He didn’t care, it was all good. He even preferred you leaving it on, would love to just displace it, pull particular parts aside to reach what he wanted to, something about that made it feel better, rushed, hotter for him. He loved you naked, naturally, but there was something so appealing with the lingerie worn askew, and framing your best assets as he fucked into you.

As soon as you found out that he had this weakness you of course exploited it at every single turn. You would wear just about anything, matching sets, thigh high stockings, once you found an obscenely short dress that was made of nothing but black fishnet and that poor piece of clothing was ruined beyond recognition by the time he was through with it.

He would ask, make requests from time to time but much more often than not it wasn’t necessary, you’d play dress up plenty without him needing to prompt you. He has seen you in all manner of differently delightful and debauched attire and various states of dress, so why was this the thing that did him in the most? Coming into the bedroom to find you folding laundry, his eyes dragging up your bare legs to see all you had on was that big slouchy white sweater that Stu loved so much and judging by how high the hem rose while lifting your arms, seemingly nothing else. Billy isn’t able to just watch for long, before need overcomes and he is sauntering into the room, he doesn’t bother greeting you verbally, instead letting his hands rest on your waist. How you jumped in surprise was endlessly satisfying for Billy, he never got tired of getting the drop on you, scaring you.

Your head turns and upon seeing Billy’s face you soften, shoulders dropping back down, you roll your eyes and sigh, “Shoulda known it was you.”

“Who else would it be?” He asked and your head turned forward again, focusing back on folding the shirt that was in your hands. He leaned in closer, his chin resting on your shoulder, his hands sliding forward, over your stomach, holding you. He could really appreciate the soft material of the clothing item you stole from Stu, now being so close he could smell his scent lingering in the white fibres. He inhales deeper but tries to keep it subtle, if you do notice you don’t comment on it, instead answering the question he posed previously.

“Oh I dunno, maybe the guy who’s sweater I’m wearing right now?” You ask and he says, “Stu doesn’t like scaring you as much as I do.”

“True, not in the same way that you do at least.” His hands start to move, sliding over you, enjoying the sensation of the top sliding over your skin, “And how’s that?”

A hum before you say, “You like doing it like you just did, sneaking up on me, making me jump, and sure Stu does sometimes too but he prefers making me really scared, making it real and intense.”

His head lifts and he leans over your shoulder, getting a better look at your face, “You want to share an example?”

You give a small smile and with a shrug you pick up a pair of his jeans and start to fold them next, “Sure, like, last week, we were doing the dishes and at one point Stu picks up this big fucking knife I used to prep dinner earlier, right?”

He nods, his hands continue to wander, taking their time. “Mmhm, go on.”

You do, “So he takes the knife and starts waving it around and bringing it close to me and it’s all fun and whatever but then he, like, pushes me into the counter suddenly.”

His hands move lower, the fingers on one of his hands catch the bottom hem of your sweater, starting to drag it up, and the other starts to run over the newly exposed skin.

You are still talking, “He’s got a hand on my throat and the knife is so close to my face and he is giving me that look, you know it, like he is hungry and manic, And he’s saying all these terribly threatening things in that low sweet tone with that big fucking grin and it’s-”

“Terrifying?” He asks, his own smile clear in his tone, as his hand slides between your legs and you sigh out, head tipping back, “Very.”

He starts to touch, slow and easy and he asks another question, “And then?”

Your eyes fall closed and you tell him, “And then he just stops, just backs off and laughs like it is some big joke and he’s back to normal and I’m left reeling and have to go back to doing the fucking dishes.”

“Sounds like Stu.” He sounds amused. You are sure he is picturing the exchange right now and likes it, his fingers don’t relent, they become more focused, pick up the pace and the pleasant sensation starts to sink in and you nod with a soft moan, “Mmm, totally him.”

You’ve abandoned folding the clothes, simply holding the denim in your grasp and just as you are starting to really sink into the feeling of Billy touching you, his hands are lifting up, instead he pushes you forward. You weren’t expecting it and fell onto the clean pile of laundry on the bed, his hands are back on you, resting on your hips, forcing them up, causing the sweater you had on to get pulled up in the process, exposing you to him. Turns out you did have something under Stu’s sweater but it is so small that only until now with you so spread and exposed can he see it properly. This is a newer piece, he’d been with you when you bought it, along with several other fun things, but he hadn’t seen it on you yet, sheer, delicate and white, matching the sweater with startling accuracy.

“Fuck, you look so good like this.”

Oh you know that tone and know it well, guess this one is another winner, you bite back a smile, his hands are back to moving on you. One comes to a stop on your lower back, holding you in position, the other between your spread legs, touching you through the material and the extra friction it provides is good, you of course alert him to that fact with a quiet moan of his name. The touching you doesn’t last long, only until he sees the clear and visible wet spot spreading over and seeping through the thin white that barely covers your cunt. Soon enough he is pulling them aside, two fingers sink inside of you, curling and feeling, his thumb swipes over your clit and you clench around him. He groans at feeling your walls gripping at his fingers, he asks, “God, you’re this wet already?”

“Mighta had a make out sesh with Stu before he had to get to class but we couldn’t do anything serious.” You admit and he praises, it sounded like he was smiling, “What a good boy he is, warming you up for me.”

“Yeah he’s the best, isn’t he?” You agree with a small laugh that he returns and then Billy’s fingers are leaving you, his jeans are too tight, it is starting to border on painful and he needs you. The sound of his belt hits your ears next, unsurprising and you are not complaining. You had already been thinking about seeking Billy out for this very thing once the laundry was done, finishing what Stu started earlier, scratching that itch.

He nudges you up the bed with a light smack landing on your ass and you do as instructed, you move up and he gets onto the mattress too, one hand on you and the other on the base of himself he lines up. He is rushing but he has to have you, about to fuck you on the clean pile of laundry with no care, he is in the right position and his hips press forward and he slides in easily.

It’s dirty and it’s quick but it satisfies you both, the stretch of him feels fantastic with just that slight achy burn from him fucking you just a little too hard and just a bit too fast. He more than makes up for it, his chest to your back, hot breath in your ear, wandering hands and filthy words, broken praise among the strained sounds of pleasure, “God, so good, how-fuck-how are you, so, so fucking good?”

You loved when he was so into it, could hardly talk straight without letting out at least one moan or a curse, not like you were much better at the moment.

Currently all you could seem to do was gasp out his name and your own series of swear words. He was obsessed with this, fucking you in this way, his treatment rough but the sweater you wore so soft, smelling like your shared partner, it’s like you were all wrapped up in Stu but still you. His favorite was sharing you with him but if he couldn’t be here then this was the way to fuck you, the reminder of his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime unignorable.

He loves this sweater, so many memories tied to it and just to Stu, his eyes closed and he is overrun with the times Stu and he were close enough that he could smell him, feel him, those precious first times that changed everything. Christ, why was this getting to him so badly? Making him so sappy and soft, seeing you, wrapped in Stu’s clothes, in your shared apartment, it’s domestic and sweet, honestly everything Billy has ever wanted. You in leather or lace is good, is hot, you in this though? It is a reminder that shit worked out, he has not just one but two people devoted to him, who love him for who he is, it’s stability and safety, comfort but still finding ways to keep things exciting even while feeling all of that.

It’s doing him in faster than he would like, he wants you to reach your end too, he rushes out, “Touch yourself.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice, his hips snapping into yours, one of his hands reaching around, palming one of your tits through the sweater, the other still on the bed to help keep himself up right and your own hand shooting between your thighs. He cums before you do with a groan of your name, body tensing and him holding to the hilt inside but it doesn’t take much more for you to find your own end, nimble fingers stroke yourself just so and you cum with him still inside of you a minute after he does.

Your walls pulsing on him post orgasm making him inhale through his teeth at the slight overstimulation that washes over him but he endures, it hurts so good. Your high finds its natural end and it leaves you both panting, trying to catch your breath, he pulls away first, sliding out and the amount of him inside of you spills out, that snaps you back to reality very quickly. You reach back, tug the underwear into place to try and stop the drip from making this worse, you sit up, look over your shoulder and you curse seeing the leaked mess of you and him on one of your favourite shirts, “Fucksake Billy, I just cleaned these clothes.”

He is tugging his pants back up and rolls his eyes, saying like it is obvious with a smile on his face, “So clean em again.”

Before you can get up to do that or protest further he is back on the bed and wrapping you up, pulling you down with him, you sigh, knowing that laundry is out till he is satisfied with cuddling you.

You end up falling asleep there for a while and later on you find yourself back at folding the laundry. Billy was nice enough to wash and dry it at the very least before he had to go to a late class. Stu’s sweater needed to be cleaned, some of the hem got messed up and cum stained and it got pretty sweaty overall from how hard you were going at it, so you swapped out Stu’s sweater for this dark blue and white flannel shirt Billy favoured.

Hearing the apartment door open and you call out that you are in the bedroom and in a minute Stu comes into the room to find you just about done with your task and he sounds delighted by what he sees, “Oooh well hello there.”

A look over your shoulder and you return his greeting, “Hello to you too.”

“You still doing laundry?” He asked, clearly confused, “You were doing this when I left hours ago.”

Laughing, you tell him as you turn back to his task, “Yeah, ask Billy about it later.”

You hear him come closer, he leans down, kisses you on the cheek before telling you, “I’ll do that.”

“How was class?” You ask and he shrugs as he is telling you, “Fine.”

He flops down onto the bed, the cleared space next to where the clean folded clothes are as opposed to on top of them, thankfully. He reached out and tugs on the bottom hem of the flannel, “I like you in Billy’s clothes.”

A grin spreads over your face and you joke, “Shocker.” The look on his face reminds you of the one back in the kitchen earlier that you told Billy.

“I know, so predictable, right?” He reaches out, one hand locks on your wrist and the other tugs the shirt you were folding out of your hands, “How about we finish what we started earlier?”

You sigh and toss the shirt aside, one of your knees comes down onto the bed, he rolls onto his back and you climb aboard to straddle him. His hands land on your thighs and as they run up the shirt is moved as well for you to be greeted with the clean pair of underwear you changed into after your post hook up shower with Billy, blue and not unlike the shirt you had on, you were in a matching mood today it seems. “Oooh, fuck.”

A roll of your hips, grinding down, feeling Stu quickly getting hard in his pants your head lolls back the spike of sensation. You give into the moment with Stu, positive that once he has your panties off and sees how much you are leaking, realizing you fucked Billy earlier and he gets to have his sloppy seconds that it will be another fun and hot quickie. After all of that you are promising to yourself that after you ride him that you will finish this damn laundry, even if it kills you.

#Poly!Ghostface #Poly!Ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #BHF writing #Multi-May #BHF asks #🦇 Anon #Enjoyyyy

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