#by boys i mean the frogs outside

[wheresarizona]

September Part 3

Jackson, 2024

summary: After twenty years apart, you and Joel Miller have been reunited and are picking up where you left off all those years ago—still just as in love as you were. Getting to the little town Joel’s brother calls home means showers, beds, and reacquainting yourselves thoroughly. 

rating: Very Explicit (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (10 years), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie(s), shower sex, oral sex (f & m receiving - Joel gets pussy drunk), vaginal fingering, masturbation (m), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise kink (Joel needs to know he’s a good boy), body worship (you’re kissing Joel’s scars), a lot of kissing, teasing, breeding kink mention, Joel being bossy, emotions, love confessions, slight angst, mention of pregnancy loss, dad jokes, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU tv Spoilers, TLOU game spoilers) 

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (reader is a doctor with no physical descriptions aside from wearing Joel’s jacket)

word count: 17.5k+ (over 6k smut)

a/n: The name of this chapter in my brain was The Fuckening™ if that gives you an idea of what you’re getting into. I also have to increase the chapter count due to reasons… I’m over the moon by all the love for this series! All of the comments and asks make me so happy!! Thank you all so much! Shoutout to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing!

I reply to comments from my side blog @wheresarizona-writes

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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It may be Spring, but nights in the mountains of Wyoming are chilly. 

The abandoned farmhouse you’d taken shelter in for the evening is drafty and cold, the scrubs you’re wearing not the best attire for the conditions. Joel had put his jacket on you, but when your teeth started chattering, he’d gotten up, broken down old furniture, and started a fire in the home’s old living room fireplace, him cuddling with you on the floor in front of it. 

He’d checked on Ellie, who was hiding away on the second floor, huddled under dusty blankets and cozy enough that she didn’t want to join the two of you downstairs. 

He told you to sleep while he kept watch, and so you laid down in front of the fire with your head in his lap, his jacket on you as a blanket, and you fell asleep to him stroking his fingers through your hair. 

In twenty years, you’ve never slept better—no nightmares, no fear, just comfort. After so much time living in the apocalypse, your body had become accustomed to only sleeping a few hours at a time, so when you woke with the night sky still black outside, you told Joel to get some rest, taking over his post. 

More wood is added to the fire, your legs stretched out in front of you, a gun beside you on the floor, Joel using your lap as a pillow, on his side, facing you with an arm wrapped around your back. 

It’s embarrassing how long you stare at him, your fingers slipping through his grey strands and trailing over the shell of his ear, down his jaw, feeling the coarse hair of his beard, touching those spots where it refuses to grow, and smoothing over his eyebrow. God, he’s so handsome, Joel softly smiling as he drifts off, knowing when sleep takes him, his breaths evening out and body relaxing, him melting into you. 

At some point, his face nuzzles into your stomach, hearing him sigh contentedly. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s there with you after two decades of being apart, unable to stop yourself from touching him, needing to feel him to know he’s real, your hands rubbing his arm, or playing with his hair, pretty sure your eyes don’t move from his head on your thighs. 

Though your gaze is locked on Joel, you’re still on high alert listening for any potential danger—the house creaks, the fire crackles, a frog croaks outside, and thankfully, there’s nothing else. 

Dawn breaks in a soft glow through the windows, Joel apparently having the same internal clock as you and waking after a few hours. 

His body tenses as he comes to, seeing his eyes blink open, his eyebrows dipping down in confusion as he reorients himself with consciousness. His head turns in your lap to look up at you, seeing relief wash over his features before he smiles. 

“You’re here,” his words come out rough from sleep. 

You smile back. 

“I’m here,” you reply, sliding your fingertips over his cheek. “And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life, Joel Miller.” 

It makes you grin when he gives you a dimpled smile, Joel chuckling as he moves to sit up and turns to get on his knees. He shuffles close to you, his big hands framing your face as he tilts your head to lean in and kiss you tenderly, long presses of his lips to yours like he’s memorizing how it feels. 

His mouth leaves yours, kissing each of your cheeks, forehead, and the tip of your nose, faces close while he gazes into your eyes. 

“I‘m not stuck with you,” he says. “I want you with me. I need you. I’ll do anything to make sure I never lose you again, and plan to spend the rest of my days on this godforsaken earth by your side. ‘Til death do us part, baby, and even then, I’ll find you again wherever we go to meet our maker.” 

Your heart is thumping wildly, warmth flooding your veins at his proclamation. 

“That sounds an awful lot like a marriage proposal.” 

He smiles crookedly, his palms rubbing down your arms until he’s taking your hands in his larger ones. 

“I’ve told you you’re it for me. I planned on marryin’ you all those years ago and still want you to be my wife.” 

Sucking in a breath, there’s a nervous look on your face, because you’re not who you once were—not that naive girl who risked her job to date the hot older single dad. The world has chewed you up and spit you out, and there’s no room for risks anymore, every move needs to be calculated with your life on the line—saving Ellie worth the possibility of dying. 

“We’ve been back together less than twenty-four hours…” you say slowly. “I’m not the same girl you fell in love with—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off, his thumbs smoothing circles on the tops of your hands. “I still see her, but I know you’ve changed, just like I have. We’re survivors. We’ve been through shit, I’d kill for you without a second thought, and I know you’d do the same for me. We aren’t the same people as before, but now we’re pretty fuckin’ similar—know what needs to be done to keep livin’, and that won’t keep me from lovin’ you. I loved you then, and I love you now, and I’d marry you if given the chance.” 

Tears are brimming in your eyes, your throat getting tight. 

“I knew I was going to marry you—was just waiting for you to pop the question.” 

His eyes soften, looking a little nervous. 

“Well, I uh—” He looks away to clear his throat. “—don’t have a ring to do it properly, but things are different these days.” Meeting your eyes again, he says, “And we can’t afford to wait, not when there’s no promise for tomorrow.” He squeezes your hands. “You’ve been the love of my life for over twenty years—gone on you the moment I saw you. You’re beautiful, smart, funny, and so carin’, everything I could ever wish for in a partner, and those things haven’t changed. I know it from how you were willin’ to risk your life for Ellie. You loved Sarah like she was your own, and here you are carin’ about Ellie, too.” You sniffle, tears rolling down your cheeks at all he’s saying, knowing what’s coming. “I’m a better man when I’m with you—you make me want to be a better man that you can be proud of because I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, baby, especially survivin’ all these years on your own. A—“ He pauses to gather his words. “—a friend once said the reason I’m here is to save and protect the people I care about; I saved Ellie, and now it’s time I keep you and her safe—I don’t want you to be alone again, and I think there’s another purpose for why I’ve survived—” His face goes so soft, eyes rounding, voice thicker when he speaks. “—and it’s to love you. It’s always been to love you, and like all those years ago when I asked you to give an old guy like me a chance to take you out, I’m now askin’ for the chance to be your husband. Will you marry me?”

He looks so hopeful, and you answer right away while nodding, “Yes, Joel.” Your cheeks are drenched in tears, wiping at them with your hands. “Of course, I’ll marry you. I wanted to be your wife in 2003, and that hasn’t changed—you’re my dream man, and I’d love for you to be my husband.” 

The smile he gives you could outshine the sun, that dimple of his appearing, chuckling happily as his broad palms cup your cheeks, and he crashes his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your fingers thread into his hair, your toes curling when he licks into your mouth to tangle his tongue with your own, swallowing your moan. 

This is one of those breathtaking kisses where you can feel each other's emotions, able to tell how much he loves you, how happy he is, how thankful he is, telling you without saying the words of his devotion. It steals the air from your lungs and has warmth seeping into your bones, feeling so much happiness and joy—just over the goddamn moon. 

It’s a question you’ve wanted to hear since the first time he told you he loved you. 

A few months after you’d started dating, he’d canceled a date because Sarah was sick with a stomach bug. You’d shown up at his house with supplies to help her feel better—medicine, electrolyte drinks, and some broth to eat when she was up for it. You had only meant to drop it all off and spend your evening reading, but he’d invited you in, so you stayed, curling up with them on the couch to watch movies. Joel had to get up to grab something, and when he returned, Sarah’s head was resting on your shoulder, asleep. After he’d carried her to bed, the two of you were standing in the kitchen, you giving him instructions on the stuff you brought over, and he’d backed you up into the refrigerator, held your face in his hands as he said, “God, I fuckin’ love you.” From then on, you waited, the two of you making plans for your future with each other, knowing you were going to spend the rest of your lives together—there was a connection, something ingrained in you that told you he was the one, and he’d felt the same. 

Did this seem quick? Were the two of you jumping the gun? Like Joel said, you live in a time where you can’t afford to wait, and tomorrow isn’t promised. People move quickly these days, wanting whatever happiness they can get for however long they can have it—life expectancy is abysmal. Plus, being with him again, it feels like you’re picking up where you left off, your love just as strong as it was then, so the next logical step in your relationship is marriage. It feels right, and you want nothing more than to be Mrs. Joel Miller. 

You gasp in surprise when you’re suddenly being pushed to lie back on the floor, him half on top of you, still kissing you. His hand moves to palm your breast, excitement swirling in your belly, Joel encompassing all of your senses, only focusing on him and nothing else—feeling him, touching him, hearing him. 

“Oh, gross!” Ellie exclaims as she enters the room, Joel’s mouth and hand leaving you immediately. “Get a room!”

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“We’re in a damn room,” he grumbles. 

“Yeah, one with no doors to shield my innocent eyes.”

“We’re just kissin’,” he sighs. 

“Grossly kissing. The sounds are going to haunt me for years.” 

He finally lifts his head to look at her. 

“You done?” 

“Are you done shoving your tongue down her throat? Was worried she’d choke on it.” 

“Ellie.” 

“Jesus, Joel,” she laughs. “Learn to take a fucking joke.” 

He lets out a long sigh, sitting up on his knees with a groan. 

“I’ll take it you’re hungry?” he asks. 

“Yeah. Starving. Can’t wait to get to Jackson for real food.” 

Tilting your head back, you look at her upside down. 

“Help yourself to the rations,” you say, pointing at your bag on a nearby dining room table. “Sorry, there’s nothing to sit on—we needed wood for the fire.” 

“Thanks, Doc!” Ellie replies, making her way over and hearing her rummaging through the cans. “More peaches! Fuck yeah!” After she gets the can open, she turns toward you both. “So, I want to sit on the floor, but like, which part is… safe?” 

Joel’s standing now, hands on his hips, while his eyes squint in confusion.

“The house is structurally sound…” he says slowly. “The floorboards are in decent condition. You can sit anywhere.” 

“I know the house is okay. What I mean is, what hasn’t been contaminated?” 

“Contaminated?” he asks. “We wouldn’t be stayin’ here if it wasn’t safe.” 

You wanted to laugh at how it was going over his head, you sitting up. 

“She wants to know where we fucked, Joel, so she can avoid it.” There wasn’t any actual penetration, just some amazing oral that had you ascending to another plane of existence and Joel coming without being touched. 

Fuck, he knew how to use his mouth. 

His eyes get big at what you say, flush staining his cheeks as he clears his throat. You point behind you. “In that area, Ellie,” you tell her. 

She makes a face as she replies, “Yuck. I’ll sit here.” Lowering herself onto the ground, her legs crisscrossed in front of her, immediately digging into her peaches. “How long of a walk to Tommy’s?” she asks with her mouth full.  

Joel seems to get his wits about him, answering, “From the truck to Jackson, I thought maybe twelve hours. We only managed a few yesterday before the sun started settin’, so about nine more today.”

“That’s not too bad,” she muses, swallowing her bite. “The real question—“ she holds up her fork, pointing it between the two of you “—is if you guys can keep your hands off each other for nine fucking hours. My money’s on one—maybe. Wouldn’t be surprised if you break after five minutes.” Ellie goes back to eating her food. 

You snort, and Joel scratches at the back of his neck. 

“We aren’t a couple of horny teenagers,” he grouses.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “You’re too fuckin’ old—no offense, Doc.”

“None taken,” you reply as you stand up, your knees protesting and going a little wobbly with a grimace on your face.

Joel is in your space immediately, his hands on your arms to steady you. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks, concerned. 

“Like the young whipper snapper said,” you reply, nodding your head towards Ellie, her repeating whipper snapper in a confused tone. “We’re fuckin’ old—achy knees. I’d kill for an Epsom salt bath.”

He caresses your cheek. 

“You need somethin’ for the pain? I got painkillers in my bag.”

“You’re sweet,” you answer, looping your arms around his neck. “But I’m fine. Just a symptom of aging.”

He pulls you into him, hugging you close. 

“We’ll relax when we get to Jackson.” He kisses your hair. 

“Fucking knew you guys wouldn’t last five minutes!” Ellie laughs. 

Joel sighs, and you laugh along with her, the sound muffled in his chest.

The air outside is crisp, biting with cold, and the sun has barely risen as he walks beside Ellie down the highway. You’re on her other side, wearing his jacket, the semi-automatic rifle hanging at your side, ready to be used at a moment's notice. 

He feels his lips curl up every time he catches a glimpse of you, something inside him loving that you’re wearing his clothes, reminding him of times you’d throw on his shirt after sex when you both padded to your kitchen for a snack and water. 

He can’t help how his eyes always drift your way as the three of you keep walking, fearing that he’ll look and you won’t be there, the last twenty-four hours just some fever dream. But you are here, you’re real; Joel listening as you and Ellie discuss Jurassic Park, the book she read the night before, the girl wanting to know everything about the movies, and he can tell how happy you are to describe them to her in detail. 

You’d always been good with kids. That was something that made him fall for you so hard. On your first date, he’d been upfront about Sarah, needing to make sure you understood they were a package deal, and she came first. This was where a lot of the few and far between first dates he went on ended because he could see on the women’s faces that they weren’t too keen on having to share him. You’d lit up, though, agreeing that Sarah was his priority, and asked him to tell you everything about her. 

After some time, his daughter became your daughter, too, and eight months into dating, Joel was positive you were it for him, and he was it for you, him seeing how much you loved Sarah, he asked if maybe she should have a sibling—you’d happily agreed she needed a couple, and didn’t bother refilling your birth control. 

It made his chest ache how he dreamed of having a house full of kids with you—how you’d been so excited and nervous, making a plan for how you’d handle completing your residency to become a doctor and the possibility of getting pregnant. 

There ended up being no point in worrying about it because six months later, the Outbreak happened, and Joel experienced the worst day of his life. 

That was years ago, and he’s finally started to heal. It is no longer excruciatingly painful to talk about Sarah, happy to remember her, happy now to have someone to remember her with and keep her memory alive. 

And just like how you’d taken a shine to his daughter, here you are with Ellie, treating her the same, understanding without him having to tell you that they’re a package deal. 

His feelings from before haven’t changed, he knew you were it then, and he knows you’re it now, you willing to die for the young girl cementing in him that you’re the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, and it was about damn time he finally asked you to marry him. 

Christ, he’s so fucking happy you said yes. 

“You’d think after the first failed attempt at a dinosaur theme park,” Ellie says, “they’d realize it’s not a good fucking idea.” 

“People are stupid when they’re greedy,” you reply. 

“People are just plain stupid,” Joel adds. 

You snort. 

“That is also true,” you say. 

He was stupid not to ask you to be his wife the moment you agreed to have his children, mentally kicking himself in the ass for wanting to wait for your internship to end. It was a dumb decision, but he’s making up for it and marrying you the first chance he has, positive Tommy will have someone to officiate. 

Things now are different than they were in 2003.

There’s no societal pressure in regards to marriage. FEDRA sure as fuck doesn’t care about the institution. There are no places to buy rings and no big wedding celebrations; it’s just not something many do anymore, not seeing the point with how fucked everything is. People still get married, of course, but it’s a personal choice to show their commitment to each other—there’s no official process, no red tape. Some say vows to one another, others just start referring to their partner as husband or wife; you can find a person to officiate, but it’ll usually cost you some ration cards for a man or woman of God to seal your commitment. 

Joel wants to do it the old-fashioned way—he’s always been old-fashioned, hoping Jackson has a minister or someone ordained to marry you both, though he’ll be fine if it’s just the two of you making your promises to each other with Ellie and Tommy as witnesses. 

It’s important to him they’re there, and he knows you’ll want them there, too. 

He focuses back on you and Ellie talking, happy she has someone else to socialize with and ask all of her questions; it makes him smile that you’re doing your damnedest to answer them. 

“I swear this is a serious question,” the teenager says. 

“I’ve thought all of your questions have been serious,” you respond, smiling at her. “Especially when you asked who’d win in a fight between a T-Rex and a triceratops, and I still say triceratops—they’d stab the hell out of the T-Rex.” 

“I accept your wrong answer.” 

“Agree to disagree. Now, what’s this serious question?” 

“Right. What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?” 

“So-fish-ticated,” Joel answers immediately. 

Her head swivels toward him. 

“You asshole!” she exclaims. “How the fuck do you know these?” 

“It’s a dad joke!” you laugh. 

“What’s a dad joke?” she asks, her attention turning to you.

“Really terrible, dumb jokes dads tell their kids to annoy them.” 

“They aren’t dumb…” Joel mumbles. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, babe,” you say. “I love them—tell Ellie the ocean and beach one. It’s my favorite.” 

“What did the ocean say to the beach?” he asks Ellie. 

She looks at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, it just waved.” 

She splutters into a laugh, making him smile.  

“That’s so fucking dumb!” 

“Dad jokes,” you say. “One time I asked him if he got a haircut, and without missing a beat, he answered, ‘No, I got them all cut.’”

“A fucking smartass,” she replies. 

“A dad,” you correct. “I love his dad humor. It’s cute.” 

You meet his eyes, smiling at him, and warmth spreads through his body. 

The conversation continues between them, Joel only offering his two cents occasionally or grumbling when Ellie makes a jabbing remark at him, the kid constantly giving him shit. 

The route you’re on, he and Ellie went down months before to get to the Firefly hospital, and at the time, it’d been clear of infected since it’s in the middle of nowhere and up in the mountains. You’re all still on alert in case of bandits or hunters, but hours pass as you walk along the asphalt, passing old abandoned cars overgrown with vegetation, with no signs of any other humans. 

Every few hours, breaks are taken, and his knees are aching by the time you make it to the ridge overlooking the town down in the valley, the place surrounded by tall log walls to keep the townspeople safe. 

Now that it’s the home stretch, Joel’s mind is replaying your words from the previous night, how you said after he’s showered, you’ll want to hole up in a bedroom and not leave for a day or two—having him fuck you over and over so you’ll feel him for days. His pants are feeling a little tight, thinking about how fucking good your pussy tasted, wanting to spread you out on a bed and eat you out until you beg him to stop. Fuck, you taste so good when you come. He could spend hours between your legs, has spent hours there, making you come so many times you were a whimpering, boneless mess by the time he was done. 

And you said he can finish inside you, the thought making him sweat. He loves filling you up and fucking his come so deep inside you, so you’re dripping with him—dreams of how your cunt clenches up at the first spurt, locking him there so he can’t move, feeling how you need him, how you want him to fill every nook and cranny with himself. 

God, when there was a chance it’d take, Joel would lose his fucking mind at the thought of you growing his baby. It made him harder than a fucking rock at the prospect of his seed taking root, coming so damn hard he’d go cross-eyed. 

That wasn’t a possibility now, but he’s changed; it making him just as hard knowing he doesn’t have to worry about knocking you up, that he can fill you over and over without there being any consequences—something he hasn’t done since the last time he was nestled deep in the tight confines of your pussy because Joel didn’t want to risk it, couldn’t risk it, not after everything he’s been through.  

He’s walking a little faster as you approach the town gate, wanting to get to whatever accommodation his brother offers as quickly as possible, getting annoyed when the men up in the guard tower won’t let you all in, Joel demanding they get Tommy. 

His hands are clenching, feeling impatient. You sidle up next to him, standing beside him. 

“I guess we didn’t make the VIP list,” you say, patting his arm. 

He sighs, turning his head to meet your eyes, sliding his hand over the small of your back to grab your hip. 

“You’d think Tommy woulda fuckin’ told them to look out for me or somethin’,” he replies, frowning. 

“Or, maybe Tommy told them his brother would be returning with a girl, and me being here is causing red flags.” 

“That could be it. My brother will fix whatever the fuck is goin’ on.” 

“I know he will. Can’t wait to see that asshole.” 

He smiles. 

“He’ll be excited to see you, too.” 

“I can’t wait to have hot food,” Ellie says, both of you looking at her. “And hopefully, Tommy and Maria will be cool and let me use their shower. I’m smelly.” Her nose crinkles. 

“Hi, smelly, I’m Joel,” he deadpans. 

“You’re so fucking lame. How have your jokes gotten worse?” 

“You mean better?” 

“No, I mean worse—your jokes are as bad as you smell. Like holy shit, dude, you need a shower more than me.”

He frowns, knowing he needs a good scrub. 

“On the bright side,” Ellie continues, “it’s pretty fucking clear that you guys are really in love since Doc doesn’t seem to mind you reek and are filthy as fuck.” She makes a face. “It’s some true love shit, like this one kid’s book I read where a girl falls in love with this ugly ass beast—” She raises her hands above her head, making them look like claws. “—but obviously Joel isn’t gonna become some handsome prince after he showers—he’ll be just as hideous but clean.” Her arms fall to her sides. 

His eyes narrow. 

“Did you just call me the fuckin’ beast from Beauty and the Beast?” 

Sarah loved those cartoon Disney movies when she was little; Joel and her watching the mermaid one so many times they wore out the VHS. 

“Oh my god, you think we’re a fairytale couple?” you ask, sounding delighted. 

He looks at you with narrowed eyes, seeing you grinning. 

“Yeah!” Ellie exclaims. “Beauty and the Beast! I don’t know why you’re mad, Joel. The beast was a grumpy asshole; you’re a grumpy asshole; the beast falls in love and gets all soft; you’re in love and disgustingly soft.” 

He sighs because she isn’t wrong, and it’s really fucking irritating. 

The doors finally push open after some minutes, the familiar figure of his brother standing on the other side as you all start making your way toward him, Joel keeping his hand on your lower back. 

Tommy’s eyes are locked on you, a furrow in his brow, clearly not expecting another person with him and Ellie. Joel smiles when recognition hits the other man, seeing the shock, followed by his face lighting up. 

“Holy shit!” Tommy shouts. “Am I fuckin’ seein’ things, or is that you, Doc?”

The first time you met his brother, Tommy was shocked to find out you were a doctor—not because you’re a woman, the Miller boys were raised to respect women, but because you were so young, and like many other Texans, he started calling you ‘Doc,’ instead of your actual name as an honor and to be a little shit to Joel, a way to remind him you were way out of his league—younger, smarter, and you’re so fucking beautiful he still can’t believe you gave him a shot. 

Joel’s sure it made you happy that Ellie decided to use it as a nickname for you, too. 

You’ve got a beaming smile on your face when you answer, “It’s me!” 

Tommy moves quick, his arms wrapping around you in a big bear hug, squeezing you so hard he lifts you from the ground, making you laugh. He sets you down, leaning back to get a good look at your face, smiling. 

“Fuck, it’s good to see you alive—you haven’t aged a bit. Can’t believe it’s been over twenty fuckin’ years.” 

“It’s crazy, but I’m sorry, Tommy, you’ve gotten old—look at those grey hairs,” you tease. 

He throws his head back as he laughs. 

Looking at you again, he says, “You’re givin’ me shit about some grey hairs and lookin’ old—how do you feel about how Joel’s aged?” Tommy nods his head toward him. 

Of course, he’s fishing for information, the nosey bastard. 

“Oh, Joel’s aged like the finest wine.” That has Joel perking up. “The sexiest man I have ever seen and looks so fucking good. Like, have you seen his ass? There’s so much more of it now, and I just wanna—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy cuts you off. “I don’t need to hear all that.” 

“Me either,” Ellie adds, sounding disgusted. 

“I wanna know,” Joel says, his chest puffing out a little that you still want him in his current state. 

Tommy looks at him, saying, “Of course you do, you fuckin’ horndog. So, I’m assumin’ y’all are together again?” 

“I’m marryin’ her,” Joel answers, smiling. 

“Wow,” Ellie says. “Why am I not even surprised?”

“You finally asked her?” Tommy asks, grinning. 

“I did.” Joel nods. 

“And she fuckin’ agreed to marry your grumpy ass?” 

Joel glares. 

“As I stated,” you start. “I quite like his grumpy ass, thank you very much. And I did say yes.” 

It made those damn butterflies flutter in his stomach hearing you say that. 

“How long have y'all been back together?” 

“A day,” the three of you answer simultaneously. 

Tommy’s eyes get big. 

“A day?” He whistles lowly. “Well, I’ll be damned, a day and you’re already gettin’ hitched.” He shrugs, “When you know, you know, and the world is fucked up, might as well spend whatever time you have remainin’ bein’ happy.” 

“Yeah,” Joel replies. “You got a minister or someone to officiate?” 

Tommy grins. “I happen to know just the guy. Let’s get y'all settled, though. Had a house readied for you—knew you’d be comin’ back. Expected the girl, but Doc is a welcome surprise.” He hugs you again before stepping back to lead you all inside. 

When he and Ellie were here last, they didn’t get to explore the town much—too preoccupied with finding out the location of the Fireflies, Joel originally planning to have Tommy take her but changed his mind at the last moment. 

He’s glad he took her, fucking relieved, because if it had been his brother, there’s no doubt in his mind she would’ve died, and Joel would have been left to carry it on his conscious along with all of the other fucked up choices he’s made in his life. 

All of the choices he’s made about Ellie have been right. 

Taking her from Boston. 

Getting her to the Fireflies.

Saving her life. 

Murdering the bastards to keep her safe. 

Bringing her to Jackson to give her a chance at getting to be a kid. 

He wouldn’t change a single one because she’s here with him and still living, and that’s all that fucking matters. 

The town has many residential homes, a main street containing stores, a bar, places to eat, an old church with a looming bell tower, markets, greenhouses, a school, and a farm complete with livestock, the primary mode of transportation horseback—may Callus, the horse they rode on their trip to the Fireflies, rest in peace. 

It’s truly impressive how self-sustaining the community is, not needing many outside supplies and powered by a hydroelectric dam nearby. 

As Maria tells it, she and a group established this settlement some years earlier, and they’ve done a good job rehabbing all of the buildings and making the place feel like it hasn’t been touched by all the carnage outside the walls protecting it. 

“This is the house,” his brother says, you all standing on the sidewalk in front of a two-story craftsman-style home that, if Joel had to guess, was built in the mid to late 1970s. Tommy gives him a hard stare. “We don’t have an abundance of homes to offer and make sure to match the needs of who arrives. Two bedrooms for Ellie and you, but I’m sure you’re more than willin’ to share with Doc. I chose this one ‘cause after checkin’ it out, I don’t think your eye will twitch at shoddy craftsmanship—if you hate it, I don’t care.” 

“It’s perfect, Tommy,” Joel replies. “I’m not gonna complain about you givin’ us a roof over our heads and a place to sleep. I’m fuckin’ grateful.” 

His brother smiles. 

“Damn straight you are. Let me show you inside.” 

It’s two bedrooms, like Tommy said, and three baths. The place is picked clean of decorations, but he’s impressed with the built-in bookshelves lining a wall in the living room. 

There’s nothing to complain about, and he wouldn’t if there was, truthfully he really is grateful to have a place he can call home and live with you and Ellie. 

But anywhere is home with the both of you. It’s just nice there are beds, plumbing, electricity, and heat. 

The rooms contain essential furniture to make the place livable; Tommy says the bathrooms are stocked with necessities, the kitchen with basic cookware, and the bedding on both beds are clean—he’d have someone bring groceries the following day. Ellie put her backpack on the bed of the smaller room down the hall and past a bathroom to the master bedroom. 

The tour ends in the backyard, where there’s an old garage that’s been converted into a one-bedroom studio apartment with its own kitchenette and bathroom; the place is empty. You’re standing beside Joel, Ellie on his other side. 

“We planned on givin’ this to a single person who might come through, but if Ellie doesn’t like the idea of livin’ in the house and wants her own space, she can have it. We’d just need to get her some furniture, which wouldn’t be too hard.” 

“That’d be fuckin’ awesome!” she exclaims. “I’m assuming you’ve been around these two when they’re together—” She points her thumb at you and Joel “—and you know how vomit-inducing they are? I’d like to avoid my ears bleeding or fuck, having to stab my eyes out 'cause I saw shit I didn’t want to see.” 

Tommy laughs, and Joel sighs. 

“Yeah, kid, they’re fuckin’ ridiculous! I caught them in my truck once—my fuckin’ truck! Made Joel pay to have it professionally cleaned—” It was worth the money. “I lost count of how many times I had to save…” he trails off, suddenly looking uncomfortable, his hand scratching at the back of his neck. 

Joel feels like shit that Tommy thinks he can’t mention Sarah after how he’d refused the photo of her and him the last time he was here. He knows it doesn’t help that he’s spent years actively avoiding bringing her up and shutting down when Tommy mentioned her in the past.

“Tommy would take Sarah out,” Joel finishes for his brother, the other man looking surprised. “He’d pick her up and get her out of the house. She loved it 'cause he’d take her to movies and see shit she wasn’t allowed to watch at home.” 

“‘Cause, you’re no fun. She was a big kid—always had a blast.” 

Joel looks at him pointedly. 

“Except for that one time you took her to see that damn scary movie, where she was afraid for a fuckin’ week that a girl was gonna come through the tv and kill her.” 

That whole week, Joel had to sit on her bed for her to fall asleep, stroking her hair like when she was little.

“Okay, that was on me,” Tommy says, putting up his hands in defeat. “It was PG-13. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” 

“You slept on my couch for two nights.” 

“As I told you then, my heat was out.” 

“You’re a fuckin’ liar.” 

“Anyways,” Tommy says, changing the subject. “We can figure out furniture for Ellie this week. I’m sure we can find extra shit. Now—” His attention turns to her “—how about I give you a better look at the town, introduce you to some kids around your age, and we meet up with Maria for dinner—she’d love to catch up with you.” 

“Oh, thank god,” she replies. “Would Maria mind if I crash on your couch tonight? After what I heard last night, I’d prefer to be out of earshot for a good twenty-four hours for them to either run out of energy or, you know, Joel breaks a hip or something.”

Joel’s eyes go wide, not believing what she just said. 

He thinks he’s in pretty great shape for his age—the knees, back, and hearing issues aside—there’s no fucking way he’d break a goddamn hip. 

“Break a hip?” Joel asks. “I’m not that fuckin’ old!” 

You pat his arm as you say, “Babe, you’d qualify for a senior discount.” His head snaps toward you, seeing the amusement on your face, Joel’s mouth opening and closing like a fish, not sure what to say because he feels ganged up on and betrayed. Tommy and Ellie are laughing their asses off, but he notices the shift in your eyes, that little look you get when you’re about to say something he’s really going to like, his mouth closing. “But,” you continue. Oh, he knows that look, his heart picking up when you squeeze his bicep.”I don’t care how old you are.” You’ve dipped into that sultry tone that makes his pants get a little tighter, Joel swallowing hard. “I still wanna fuck you. Very badly.” 

He has to hold back the groan with the way you’re giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes, it evident that you do want him. 

“Well, it’s time for us to go, kid,” Tommy announces, ushering her away. “Maria won’t mind you sleepin’ on the couch. Let’s grab your stuff before they get inside, and you know…” 

“Disgusting,” she replies. 

“I’ll have food and clothes left by the front door for when y'all come up for air,” Tommy calls to you both. 

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel replies, not bothering to look at his brother, instead, his gaze stuck on you. 

He can hear their receding footsteps, focused on staring at you, feeling the air shift, your eyes darkening. He licks his lips, his fingers itching to touch you. Turning toward you, he grabs your hips to make you face him, smiling when you suck in a breath as he pulls you into him. 

His voice goes lower, “You wanna fuck me?” he asks, seeing you visibly shiver. It makes something inside him purr that you’re so affected by him. 

“Yes.” You nod. “I do.” 

Leaning in close, he nudges his nose against yours. 

“I wanna fuck you, too,” he rasps. “Miss how your tight little pussy feels around my dick. Wanna be inside you.” His lips ghost over yours. “You want that?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, your answer making his dick twitch. He knows you’re waiting for him to kiss you, sure your heart is pounding in your chest. He pulls back, smirking as you gasp in surprise. 

“We better shower then,” he says, smacking your ass and making you squeak. 

Your eyes narrow, poking him in the chest. 

“You’re a fucking tease, Joel Miller!” 

He grabs your hand, chuckling as he kisses your knuckles. He loves when you get needy. 

“I’m your tease, baby.” He winks. “And it’s fuckin’ payback for callin’ me a goddamn senior citizen. I’m gonna show you how well my hips work when I’m fuckin’ you into the mattress.” 

“Is that a promise?” 

He smiles. 

“You know damn well it is,” he answers. “Now, let’s get in there. They should be gone by now.” 

He can’t help that he practically drags you by the hand he’s holding, too excited to get you naked and under him, as he leads you up the back porch and into your new home. 

All of your gear is discarded on the master bedroom floor, and once it’s off your bodies, the nerves kick in—worried he won’t like you naked or that after all these years, you’ll be bad at sex. He’s nervous, too; you can tell by how tense he is, refusing to look you in the eyes. 

Taking a deep breath, you break the silence, “I’ll take a shower first,” you say, pointing at the en suite. 

He finally meets your gaze, nodding, “Okay.” 

You’re just in your dirty scrubs, squeezing his arm before heading to the bathroom, the door shutting with a soft click behind you. 

Logically, you know you have no reason to be nervous—Joel loves you and everything about you, yet the doubt is still there in your brain. What if you don’t measure up to the women he’s been with since everything went to hell? What if he finds he’s no longer attracted to you now that you’re older and not as perky as you once were? The thoughts are swirling in your brain as you strip and start the shower, getting in when it heats up with a clean washcloth in hand. 

Your hair’s washed, and you know you shouldn’t, but while scrubbing your body with the soaped-up rag, you wonder what Tess looked like. Was she younger than you? Older? Prettier? He said he couldn’t love her, but he had found her attractive enough to fuck her. 

You’re rinsing the suds from your skin, lost in thought, when the shower curtain is roughly pulled open, gasping in surprise, dropping the washcloth while your hands come up, ready to fight. You only have a second to realize it’s Joel before his broad palms grab your face, stepping into the tub as he crushes his mouth against yours. 

He’s naked, your heart hammering in your chest, moaning as he eagerly presses his tongue into your mouth, backing you up into the shower wall opposite the falling water. You hiss at the coldness against your back, Joel desperately tasting every bit of you he can, his hands moving down your body to touch you, grab you, feel your skin, anything he can touch. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting him explore—palming your bare breasts, sliding along your tummy and back, his fingers taking notice of your scars, and grabbing handfuls of your ass. 

Coming up for air, his lips are on your jaw. 

“God, I’ve fuckin’ missed you,” he husks, squeezing your clean tits together, all of your earlier worries vanishing, now replaced with unbridled desire. Bending down, he pulls a nipple into his mouth, making you moan at the shock of pleasure that shoots through your core. He laves at your hardened bud, then moves to the other to give it the same attention, pushing your fingers into his wet hair. 

Your toes are curled, arousal burning in your belly, while he worships your breasts, licking and biting at them, one then the other, over and over. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “I love this, but can you please wash up so I can touch you.” 

He comes off your nipple with a pop, moving his head to kiss you quickly. Joel turns toward the water, shutting the shower curtain, groaning as he bends to pick up the washcloth. Your eyes are locked on his back when he straightens, seeing the muscles move as he leans to grab the soap bar to lather the towel and start scrubbing himself down, taking his time to ensure he gets every bit of skin he can reach, being thorough. 

The freckles you remember are still there on the expanse of his back, constellations scattered over his golden skin, but there are now scars littered amongst them—some faded from age, others newer, one round and about the size of a golf ball that you could tell is only a few years old. He bends at the waist to wash his legs and feet, and when he stands back up, you reach out to gently press your fingertips to it, Joel tensing. 

“What caused this one?” you ask. 

“Fell on rebar.” 

Your eyes go wide. 

“Fell on rebar…?” you ask slowly. “Did it go all the way through?” He turns to face you, his skin pink from how hard he scrubbed, your eyes immediately seeing the twin scar on his torso, touching that one, too. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you gasp. “You’re so fucking lucky it didn’t puncture anything important.” You’re thinking of the organs it narrowly missed, shocked he even survived. There's another wound on his stomach that's recent, and whoever sewed it up was inexperienced. "That new one on your stomach happened on the road," you murmur. “Did it get infected?” You meet his gaze, seeing him frowning. 

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Can you wash my back?” Handing you the washcloth that he washed and soaped back up. 

“Of course,” you reply, accepting it and smiling because he always asked you to get his back when you lived in Texas. He faces the water again, and you get to work, moving the cloth over his shoulders and spine while he washes his hair. “How’d you treat the infection?” you ask, making sure all of the golden skin in front of you is sudsy. 

“Antibiotics.” 

“Must’ve been hard to find,” you mused. 

“Very.” 

You finish up, happy to see his skin pinked up like his front. “Done,” you say. 

“Thank Christ.”

He turns quickly, his hair slicked back, rinsing the soap off his body, and shutting off the water when he’s done, turning his attention to you. Now thoroughly clean, he plucks the washcloth from your hand and lets it drop onto the floor without a single care. He’s on you, invading your space, his hand cradling your jaw as his lips descend onto yours in a devastating kiss that has you moaning when he’s licking into your mouth. It’s all tongues and teeth—biting, sucking, licking, Joel caging you in against the tiled wall, his body pressing into yours, feeling the hard line of his cock between your bodies, while his other hand explores your skin. 

“I want you so fuckin’ bad,” his words are muffled into your lips as he grabs your ass. 

Your cunt is throbbing, needing him inside you. 

“Fuck me, Joel,” you all but beg.  

“God, I love hearin’ you say that,” he groans. His hand moves between your legs, sliding his fingers through your folds, your hands digging into his shoulders for something to hold onto, the air thick from humidity and anticipation. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—need you to come.” He circles your clit with two fingers, sparks of pleasure igniting in your belly, gasping his name. 

He knows how you like it, remembers how to get you off fast, soft sounds spilling from your mouth when he presses one thick finger inside you easily, followed by another, pumping them while his thumb works your sensitive little clit. They feel so good, canting your hips into his hand, panting breaths, your fingernails imprinting half-moons into his skin. 

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts. “Gotta open you up.” Your arousal is dripping down your thighs as he pushes in a third finger, making you mewl at the stretch. You feel so full, Joel pushing them in and out, filling you over and over, getting you closer and closer to your release. His other hand squeezes your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers, your legs squirming at all the pleasure he’s bringing you. 

He’s kissing you again, your brain buzzing, electricity thrumming under your skin, the heat building in your core, getting hotter and thicker. Joel works you up until he crooks his fingers to find that spongy spot inside you that makes you see God. He pinches at your stiff peak, his fingers inside you finally finding that sacred place, your body tensing up with a gasp.

“There it fuckin’ is,” he says. “Come on, baby lemme have it—lemme feel your little pussy soak my fingers. Come for me.”

He focuses on the spot, his fingers squelching in and out of you from your arousal spilling around them, Joel rubbing against it fast, rough, while tweaking your nipple until euphoria crashes over you, crying out his name as you come. 

“My good fuckin’ girl,” his voice is hoarse. “You get so fuckin’ wet when you come.” 

His fingers keep working for you to ride out your high, hearing the sounds get wetter between your legs, enjoying the waves of pleasure that have your limbs tingling. 

When your breaths even out and pussy stops fluttering, he removes his hand, your eyes opening to find him looking at you with a hungry gaze, seeing the want so evident in the dark pools. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he rasps. 

Heat floods your system, cunt clenching at the thought of him inside you. It’s been so fucking long, and you’re craving it, wanting it with every fiber of your being. 

“Yes,” you answer, nodding. “Please.” 

Your back is pressing into the tile, Joel not wasting another second to lean down and hook an elbow under your knee, lifting it to spread you open, balancing on the ball of your other foot, and wrapping your arms around his neck. You know he’s got you; not afraid of falling. His eyes lock on your center, seeing you glisten with slick, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. 

His cock is so hard the tip is an angry red and weeping precum. You watch as he spits on his fingers, moaning when he spreads the saliva over your sopping hole, getting his digits wet again to coat his dick. 

Your body vibrates in anticipation, sucking in a breath when he presses to your entrance. He starts pushing in, and your eyes roll back in your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat. 

Time stops. 

You’re lost in the sensations, his thick cock stretching you to your limits, savoring the slight burn, Joel crashing his lips against yours, moaning into your mouth. 

It feels like you’re burning inside, every nerve in your body lit up like the fourth of July, and you can’t breathe, feeling like you’re being split open. 

He bottoms out, his dick pushed in deep, taking up so much space that you feel unbelievably full—something coming over you at how fucking perfect it feels, how right. This is where he’s meant to be, his cock nestled inside you, joining you together, not wanting him to ever leave. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” his words come out strained against your lips, breathing hard. “I’m not gonna last. Oh shit, you feel too fuckin’ good—I missed this, I missed you. Your pussy is squeezin’ me so tight, takin’ me so fuckin’ well. Fuck.” 

Oh, he’s just as lost as you are.

You finally take a breath. 

“Use me,” you croak out. “Fuck me until you come—fill me up.” 

He whines, his cock jerking inside you, and then he’s moving, desperately rutting into you over and over, groaning as he keeps pounding to chase his bliss. 

He’s pushing you up the wall with his hard strokes, whimpering at how he’s filling you again and again. His lips attack yours in lust, pushing his tongue into your mouth to tangle with your own, Joel fucking into you hard and fast, the slap of his hips echoing in the small space.

Quickly his rhythm gets sloppy, his breaths shakey, knowing he’s close to his end, and it’s no surprise when he slams into you one last time, coming with a long, rumbling groan, feeling him gush inside you. He rolls his hips, fucking his come as deep as possible, hissing from the overstimulation until he finally stills. 

His head falls into the crook of your neck, panting hot breaths into your skin. 

The two of you stay like that for minutes, your fingers sliding into his wet hair, scratching lovingly at his scalp, Joel humming happily, your heartbeats slowing down together. 

His mouth makes a path up your neck, kissing your skin along your jaw to get to your lips to kiss you tenderly. 

Pulling back, his cheeks are flushed, looking you in the eyes with a soft smile.

He’s hoarse when he says, “Haven’t come that quick since I was a fuckin’ teenager.” 

You smile, pushing his hair back with your fingers. 

“It’s honestly very flattering you couldn’t last—makes me feel like I still got it.” 

“Oh, you still got it, baby,” he replies, kissing you. “You more than got it.” He puts your leg down, pulling out of you with a hiss. Breaking the kiss, he takes a step back, eyes on his hands as he rubs them up your belly to squeeze your breasts, pushing them together. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy—love your tits.” He can’t help himself, leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth, leaving you gasping at the sensation. 

“I know you love my tits,” you reply. 

He comes off you with a wet pop to look you in the eyes. 

“They're gorgeous,” he says. 

His fingers ghost down your ribs, his attention going back to your body, not expecting when he crouches down, pressing his face into your tummy. 

“Love your body—so soft.” His voice is muffled in your skin. You suck in a breath when he presses his lips to a ragged scar on your lower abdomen. He kisses another at your hip and one over your ribs; with each new one he finds, he places a soft kiss, which has your eyes burning. “Love your scars.” 

“Why would you love my scars?” you ask, barely above a whisper. 

His head tilts up to look at you. 

“They mean you’ve fought like hell to survive. Evidence of how fuckin’ strong you are.” 

“That’s so fucking sweet.” 

He stands back up with a groan. 

“Hope you don’t mind mine,” he says. “I know my body isn’t what it used to be.” 

Moving closer to him, you lean in to kiss the silvery scar on his face, Joel’s eyes closing as he shivers. 

“I love your scars, too,” you reply, moving down to kiss one on his chest, then another you find, and another, Joel trembling. “I know you’ve fought like hell to survive, too.” Lowering, you press your lips to one over his belly button. “These are all just reminders that you’re alive, you’ve survived—” You kiss the newer one from his fall on rebar. “—you told death to get fucked, because you needed to live to fulfill your purpose in life.” 

He pulls you up, his hand sliding over your cheek to cradle your face. 

“To be here to love you?” he asks. 

“No.” You shake your head. “To protect the people you care about and love them when nobody else will. Ellie might be a pain in your ass, but she’s your kid now, and you’re the only person she has. Apparently, you, Joel Miller—” You poke his bare chest “—are a girl dad. Which is so cute. Sarah would be proud of all you’ve done for Ellie.” 

There are tears in his eyes. 

“I couldn’t let her die,” he says thickly. “Not after losin’ Sarah, not when I had a shot at savin’ her—woulda died tryin’, 'cause you’re right, Ellie is my kid and a big pain in my ass,” he chuckles. “But I still care about her, even if all she does is give me shit.”  

You snort. 

“That’s how teenagers are.” 

“That they are. You’re wrong about somethin’, though.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I’m not the only person she’s got—she has you, too.” 

“That’s true. She makes my maternal instincts go haywire—feel the need to protect and take care of her.” 

He strokes your cheek, smiling sweetly. 

“You would’ve been a great mom.” 

Sadness washes through you, making your throat go so tight it’s a struggle to swallow.

For twenty years, you’ve mourned the life you could’ve had, knowing just how close you’d gotten to being a mother and having it ripped away by the Outbreak happening. You lost so much, and you let your grief get the better of you, taking drastic measures to ensure you could never become pregnant… again. The only thing that kept you going was the hope you’d find Joel and Sarah, and as the years went on, it became harder and harder to believe you’d come across them, changing your reason to continue surviving with wanting to find a cure to save people. That’s the key to keeping your will to live in such a desolate fucking world—always have something that keeps you fighting, find a purpose, anything that makes you want to wake up the next day, and not give up. 

Joel would never know he lost two children in 2003, it would devastate him, and there’s no point in adding to his suffering—he’s been through enough. 

You’ve had time to grieve and heal; it’s all in the past and something you try not to dwell on, not ruminating on what could have been, only focusing on the now.

Traditional motherhood may not have been in the cards for you, but you’d gotten over a year with Sarah, who was like a daughter to you, loving her immensely, and doing your best to be a positive female role model, always there when she needed you. You want to be that for Ellie, too. She’s been in your life for a day, and you already care about her, happy to be there for her however she wants. 

You’re getting a chance to raise another teenager with Joel, and that’s enough. 

It’s more than enough. 

“You’re thinkin’ awfully hard,” he says, taking you from your thoughts. 

“Sorry.” 

His eyebrows pinch together. 

“You okay, baby?” 

Smiling reassuringly, you nod as you answer, “Yeah, I’m great.” You need to get your mind on something else, rubbing your hands up his wet chest—God, he’s so broad. “Now, I think I was telling you how much I love your body.” 

He smirks. 

“You said somethin’ about my ass earlier.” 

Your palms slide to his back and down to grab handfuls of said backside. 

“Oh, yes. I love your ass very much.” You squeeze his flesh to punctuate the sentence, making him chuckle. “Like, my god, I can’t believe how much bigger you are.” Feeling up his back, his muscles play under your palms, resting them over his shoulder blades. “And your shoulders. Fuck, babe, you’re hot and look so fucking good. You’ve still got it, too—I’m wet just looking at you,” you say with a wink.

His hands move to grab your ass, his eyes going dark. 

“You sure you’re wet, or is it my come drippin’ outta you?”  

You smile, twining your arms around his neck. 

“Both. Now, let’s wash off and take this party to the bed,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“I like how you think,” he replies, kissing you quickly. 

After a quick rinse, towels were found under the sink—not as fluffy as the ones at Bill and Frank’s, but they got the job done, drying off quickly and discarding them in a pile on the ground. He stands with his hip against the bathroom counter, his arms crossed, smiling while he watches you tend to your hair as he’d done hundreds of times before, and it makes him feel so fucking warm doing it again.

“I told you,” he says. 

You glance at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Told me what?” you ask. 

“That you didn’t need all those damn creams and serums you put all over your face and body every night—you’re still fuckin’ beautiful without ‘em.” 

“If I had my damn creams and serums, I wouldn’t look so fucking old!” you laugh. 

His eyebrows pinch together, frowning. 

“Stop that. You don’t look fuckin’ old. I’ll tell you as often as it takes to make you believe me when I say you’re fuckin’ sexy.” 

“Stop being sweet. You’ll make me fall even more in love with you,” you reply with a wink. 

He smirks. 

“Good.” 

Once you’ve finished your hair, he can’t help himself, making you giggle when he moves behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, kissing your shoulder and neck as you both walk awkwardly into the bedroom, him tackling you onto the mattress. 

It’s a queen size bed, a thick navy blue comforter on top over cream-colored sheets that had seen better days. Turning you to face him, he cups your jaw, taking in how you look with your wet hair, big smile, and those eyes he loves so much—they’re gorgeous, you’re gorgeous. Even after all these years, he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman. 

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he whispers out loud, staring in awe. 

And you’re here. 

The happiness has him kissing you hard enough to steal the air from your lungs before you can respond. He needs to feel you, tracing his palm down your side and back, your hand wandering over him like you need the same thing—physical evidence that you’re both real. 

He presses his tongue between your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulder, moaning into his mouth as you welcome him to slide it along your own in practiced movements. He’s touching all of your warm skin, feeling the familiarity but also the changes, cherishing each scar he feels or the hardness of muscle in places that used to be soft, knowing it’s all proof of your survival and strength. 

Joel has you naked and clean, and for the moment, he just wants to lie here kissing and feeling you, take his time to just enjoy the two of you being back together—there are no threats, no time crunch, no risk of a fourteen-year-old girl interrupting, it’s just you both in the safety of your new home, finally being able to relax. 

There’s still a loaded gun on the bedside table, more nearby on the floor because old habits die hard even though it’s a relatively safe place—he’ll always be paranoid. It’s what happens when you live in an apocalypse, you have to be prepared, or you’ll die. 

He’s as relaxed as he can be, his right ear pressed to the mattress, hearing from the left your soft moans, loving how your hand feels on him, and the familiar press of your lips slotting against his so perfectly, not wanting to stop kissing you, wishing he could stay like this forever. 

Minutes pass, his hand sliding between your legs, feeling you wet and warm, shifting his hunger. 

You’re panting when his mouth kisses your jaw, hearing you suck in a breath when his teeth nibble on your chin. 

“Can I lick your pussy?” he purrs. 

“You didn’t get enough when I sat on your face last night?” 

“Nope,” he chuckles, nuzzling into your cheek. “Missed it. You taste so fuckin’ good, I could eat it for hours, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” 

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling on his head to make him look at you, a smirk on your pretty face. 

“It’s nice to know that the world ending hasn’t curbed your addiction to eating pussy,” you tease. 

He frowns. 

“I, uh, haven’t done it since you…” he replies, swallowing hard. 

It isn’t something he’d wanted to do with anyone else, it felt far too intimate. Sex for him was always quick and a means to an end, the only foreplay being his fingers to make sure his partner was wet enough to take him. It was hard enough fucking other people, the first couple of times, he couldn’t even finish, learning that if he put them on their knees, closed his eyes, and imagined it was you, he could get there. 

Tess didn’t mind… at first because she was thinking of someone else, too, moaning her dead husband’s name the first time Joel made her come while fucking her from behind. They were using each other, they knew they were using each other to try and feel close to the people they’d lost, but something changed after many years had passed, and it felt like he’d been doused in cold water when his name fell from her lips.

There was an understanding from the beginning that there would never be anything more between them—he wasn’t over losing the love of his life, and she’d been in the same boat with the loss of her husband. After about ten years of being together, she developed feelings, and Joel didn’t, knowing he never would. Sure, he loved Tess, but it wasn’t the same way he loved you. It could never be the same way he loved you; no matter how much he tried to convince himself he needed to move on, he couldn’t. He’d tell her no when she’d ask him to be on top until he finally relented with the room pitch black and your face on his brain. 

Even after all the time she was with him, he never tasted her. He didn’t want to, knew it wouldn’t be the same, and he was already giving her more than he wanted; that would be too much, knowing it’d cause him to feel guilt and sadness, so he avoided it. 

He sees the surprise on your face at his admission, your eyes rounding. 

“Oh…” 

“Yeah… Just didn’t seem right.” 

“No, I get it. Yours is the last dick I sucked.” 

His lips turn up. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Between lack of personal hygiene and the fact you have the perfect dick, I wasn’t sucking anybody else off.”

“You really think it’s perfect?” 

Your hand strokes his cheek, Joel leaning into the touch. “Babe, I fantasize about your dick. The only way I can get off is if I think about it and you.” 

He cups your cunt, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. 

“You’ve got the perfect pussy,” he murmurs into your mouth. He pulls back to look you in the eyes. “For twenty fuckin’ years, I’ve only come thinkin’ about you, rememberin’ how it felt to be inside you, touchin’ you, fuck, how you taste—fucked my hand so many goddamn times thinkin’ about my head buried between your thighs.” 

“God,” you gasp. 

“It’s Joel, but close.” He smirks. 

You laugh, slapping his chest playfully, and it makes him grin. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“But you love me,” he replies, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on each of your knuckles. 

You smile sweetly. 

“I do. Very much.” 

“I love you, too.” He gives you a quick kiss, meeting your eyes when he asks, “Now, may I please lick your pussy? Got years I gotta make up for.” 

“You’re just fuckin’ jonesing for a taste,” you giggle. “Of course, babe. You can eat me out and get your fill, but I get to suck your dick after. I just wanna choke on it, you know?”

His cock twitches, stifling a groan at remembering how good your mouth felt around him. 

He smiles, chuckling as he says, “Still hungry for my dick.” He kisses you. “You wanna choke on it, and I wanna drown in your pussy. We’re a match made in heaven.” 

You snort. 

“Yes, we are,” you reply, smoothing your fingers through his wet hair. 

His mouth trails open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He needs to get you in a better position, knowing he can’t kneel on the floor like he used to due to his knees being fucked, so he pushes you onto your back, wrapping an arm around your middle and using his strength to tug you up into the middle of the bed. 

The mattress squeaks in protest as he moves to get on his knees between your spread legs, his cock throbbing while his eyes track over you spread out naked in front of him—you’re looking at him with want, your lip tugged between your teeth, Joel wanting to touch your breasts, and kiss your belly, the light from the bedside lamp reflecting on the glistening lips of your pussy, showing just how much you wanted him. 

He licks his bottom lip, mouth watering at the thought of tasting you, stroking his hard cock a few times to ease the ache. 

Just like how it’s a fact the sky is blue and grass is green, Joel Miller is a tits man, through and through, and he’s always been obsessed with yours. 

Bending at the waist, he palms your breasts, feeling the familiar weight before leaning down to pull your stiff nipple between his lips, loving how you moan when he sucks. He laves at the bud, nibbling it with his teeth, knowing it drives you crazy. His cock is throbbing by the time he moves to the other side, giving it the same treatment, hearing you moaning unabashedly, your fingers tangled in the bedding. 

Your nipples are shiny from spit when he finishes, his beard scraping against your skin as he kisses down your belly, his lips finding that one scar below your belly button, wondering in the back of his mind what caused it. The bed jostles while he maneuvers to lay down in the space between your open legs, having to adjust his dick digging into his stomach. 

He grabs the front of your thighs to keep them open, seeing you sit on your elbows to watch as he kisses a wet streak along your inner thigh, goosebumps rising on your skin. 

“Joel,” you say his name in that breathy exhale that makes his cock twitch when he sucks hard on the tender skin. 

A smile is on his lips when he turns his head, hearing you gasp when his breath ghosts over your pussy to get to your other thigh, where he makes the same trail of kisses. 

He’s lost count of how many times you’ve accused him of being a tease over the years. There was just something he loved about getting you all needy to the point you begged—that you’re so desperate for him, that he’s the only one who can give you what you need, so when his teeth sink into your meaty thigh, and you whine, “God, Joel. Stop teasing me,” the words go straight to his dick, making him groan.

He raises his head to meet your gaze, crookedly smiling at the crease in your brow and wanting to kiss your pouting mouth. 

“You needy for me, baby?” he asks in a raspy tone. “Want me to touch that pretty little pussy? I’m just takin’ my time—wanna savor this.” 

Your pout gets more defined. 

“Well, I want you to touch me.” 

“Is that any way to ask for somethin’?” His eyebrow raises. 

“Joel,” you whine again. “Please, stop teasing me, and pretty please, with a goddamn cherry on top, touch me.” 

“That’s my good girl, askin’ so nicely,” he winks, seeing you visibly shiver. 

His attention moves to your center, his fingers spreading open the glossy lips of your sex, his other hand gripping your thigh. 

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he husks, licking his lips. 

He spits on your clit, watching the saliva drip down, and he dives in, swiping a broad stripe of his tongue from your entrance to the perky bundle of nerves, groaning at the first taste of you. You’re the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth, and he can’t get enough, hearing you loudly moan as he does another circuit. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” his words said into your pussy, the bed protesting when you fall back on it. 

He reaches to thread his fingers between yours to hold your hand while he laps at you, licking up every bit of your need from your puffy lips and between your folds, greedily wanting it all. 

There’s a wet spot where his dick is leaking precum under him, Joel in fucking heaven languidly tasting you, and in no rush, appreciative sounds rumbling in his chest. You’d asked him so nicely to touch you, but you didn’t specify where you wanted him to touch, so he’s licking everywhere except your clit, which he knows is driving you crazy, feeling you squirm, your pussy weeping for him. He eagerly licks inside your cunt, making his tongue go stiff to fuck it into you, your juices enveloping his tastebuds. 

Fuck, you taste so fucking good. 

He could live here. 

If he died right this second, he’d die a happy man. 

Your hips are moving as he swipes through your folds to try and get him where you want him, making a pitiful sound when he doesn’t oblige. 

He’s been going at this for a while and knows you’ll be at your breaking point at any second with your skin glistening in sweat and your whimpering moans. 

“Joel, I swear to fucking god if you don’t—” your sentence cuts off into a long, loud cry as his lips wrap around the little berry of your clit, and he sucks, your back arching off the bed. He has to put an arm over your waist to keep you still, your hand squeezing his tight, and with how your body seizes up, he knows you’re coming, dipping his mouth down to drink down every drop of your release as it spills from you. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet when you come,” he groans into your cunt, shoving his tongue inside you, feeling you flutter around his muscle. 

He doesn’t stop after getting you off once—he’s addicted, ravenous, wants more of your come on his tongue, and continues licking and sucking, devouring you like a man starved enjoying his first meal in years. And wasn’t he? Yesterday was the first time he had his mouth on you in over two decades, and drowning in your pussy wasn’t enough to curb his hunger.

It’s obscene the noises of him slurping and moaning into your cunt, enthusiastically eating you out, while soft sounds slip past your lips. 

You sit up on an elbow, and your eyes meet, Joel seeing how good he’s making you feel, and it has him twisting his lower body to rest on his hip and free his cock, continuing to hold your hand while the other moves to stroke himself to ease the throbbing ache, squeezing the base of himself to keep from coming. 

You’d been joking about his addiction to eating pussy, but he was—if there’s time, he’s getting his mouth on you, no questions asked, he wants to taste you. 

You love it. 

And it makes him so fucking hard knowing how much you love it. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan. “You’re gonna make me come again.” 

That just has him doubling down, taking his hand off his dick to push two fingers into your soaking hole, rubbing them into that spot only he can reach while he harshly sucks on your clit. 

Your head falls back, gasping his name, your cunt clenching and wetting his fingers as you come, Joel groaning, slipping them out to fuck his tongue into you and drink up your juices. 

He doesn’t want to stop, even when your thighs snap shut over his ears and you fall back onto the mattress, he just keeps going, his mouth working against you, and he knows he’s gone—he’s gotten a taste, and now he’s drunk on your pussy, the world falling away around him, losing himself to you. 

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, he jerks off while he makes you come a third time, him quickly following, raggedly moaning into your cunt while lapping up your release, his spend spurting over his hand and onto the blanket. 

Time passes, he gets you off two more times, and you finally push at his head, Joel unable to hear you saying his name with your thighs clenched against his head. He untangles his fingers and pulls your trembling legs from him, coming off you to find you up on an elbow meeting his eyes, noticing your body shaking like a leaf in the wind while he pants. 

“Too many?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“Too many,” you croak, and he can see how blissed out you are. 

“Need a break?” 

“Please.” 

“Okay.” 

He feels your wetness coating the lower half of his face, drenching his beard, smelling you in the hair under his nose. Licking his lips, he tastes you, savoring it on his tongue. 

Crawling up your body, you lie back, his half-hard cock pressing into your belly as his face hovers over yours. 

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses you, making you moan when you taste yourself. 

You break the kiss, eyes narrowing. 

“No you’re not, you liar.” 

He huffs out an amused breath. 

“You got me. I’m gonna clean up and go grab us some water.” 

He kisses you quickly, feeling you smile into his lips. 

“This is why I love you,” you reply. Your gazes meet when he pulls back. “You always take care of me after making my legs turn to jelly.” 

He chuckles.

“Don’t need you passin’ out from bein’ dehydrated.” 

“And I love that you care. God, you’re the best. The moment I can use my limbs, I am giving you the sloppiest blow job.” 

He grins.

“A deals, a deal.” 

It made you laugh that Joel walked bare ass naked downstairs after cleaning up in the bathroom without a second thought. 

He didn’t have much choice, being as all of his clothes are dirty, and he wasn’t going to make you move for his modesty’s sake to grab a sheet, so down he went with his dick out at half-mast.

He’d returned with two glasses of water strategically held in one of those big hands of his, the other holding a large duffle bag that Tommy had apparently dropped off in the entryway while you two were otherwise occupied. 

Joel’s brother even left a sweet note inside it:

Dinners in the bag. 

I’ll be by in the morning with breakfast. 

For the love of god, don’t break your fucking hip. You’re pushing sixty. Stick to missionary. –T

“Asshole,” Joel scoffs, crumpling it and tossing it to the floor. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the bag beside you, Joel rummaging around in it, seeing it’s stuffed with clothes for the two of you, him handing you two wrapped sandwiches, peeking inside one to see it’s steak. 

The realization you’re both hungry hits when your stomachs growl almost at the same time from the smells wafting in the air, the duffle bag getting set with the rest of your gear, and Joel taking a seat next to you, eating your sandwiches in companionable silence, before downing your cups of water. 

He crawls onto the bed to lay with his head on a pillow, pulling on your arm to get you to join him, resting your head on his chest, hearing the strong thuds of his heart beating. 

Your fingers are drawing circles over his other pec, Joel’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. 

Kissing your hair, he murmurs, “I missed this.” 

Tilting your head up to see his face, you ask, “Eating my pussy for—” You look over him to the alarm clock on the bedside table “—almost two hours.” 

His chest rumbles under you as he laughs. 

“Well, I missed that, too, but I’m talkin’ about holdin’ you.” He squeezes you. “Always fit so perfectly in my arms.” He kisses your head again. 

“I missed this, too,” you reply, leaning your head up to kiss his chin. He moves so his lips meet yours, it starts off chaste, the familiar press of your lips to each other’s. Before you know it, there’s a shift, that need you have for one another taking over, and the kisses get more urgent, him pulling you on top of him to plunder his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming over your back and ass, squeezing the plump flesh. 

It’s no surprise when arousal threads in your belly, his cock hardening under your pussy. 

You’re panting when he bites at your lip, moving his mouth to nibble at your jaw. 

“I wanna suck your dick,” you say through heavy breaths. 

“Don’t we gotta wait thirty minutes after eating?” 

“That’s swimming and a myth—zero scientific evidence.” You pull his head back to look you in the eyes, his so dark barely any brown remains. “It’s my turn. May I please suck your dick?” 

He audibly gulps, nodding his head. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “You can suck my dick.” 

You grin. 

“Thank you.” You kiss him quickly on the lips, then make a path over his stubbled jaw and down his neck, sucking on the taut skin hard enough to leave a mark, Joel moaning under you. 

He always loved when you marked him, proudly wearing your hickies and never hiding them, Sarah always making a face if she saw one, and Tommy giving him shit, which Joel always said was worth it for people to know he was seeing someone. 

Going lower, your mouth moves over his chest leaving kisses and marks in its wake, his hips bucking when you flick your tongue over his nipple, smiling when you suck on it, and Joel makes a choked-out sound under you. His fingers dig into the bedding as you lave at his other one, nibbling on it gently. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

Looking at him through your lashes, your head coming up, you reply, “Glad that hasn’t changed.” 

You continue your way down his body, scooting off of him and between his spread legs, your knees sinking into the mattress, kissing and marking his belly, scraping your nails down his chest, feeling his muscles tense beneath your lips. 

“Christ,” he groans, pressing his hands to his face. “Is this payback for all my teasin’?”

“Maybe.”

His cock is resting against his stomach, leaking precum, letting him feel your hot breath along his shaft, Joel’s arms falling to his sides, rough sounds coming from his throat. 

“Baby,” he growls when you shuffle back and away, making you smirk. 

“Don’t enjoy getting a taste of your own medicine?” you tease. 

The pillow under his head has him propped up enough that he’s got a view of you between his legs, Joel glaring daggers at you. 

You laugh, giving yourself enough room to bend forward and press your cheek to his thigh. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You started it.”

“And I’m about to fuckin’ finish it,” he says seriously.

“Ooh—“ You kiss his skin “—you’re making threats.” Your head rises, eyes locked on his, smiling as sweetly as possible. “You don’t scare me,” you say, “and I know you’re gonna stay right there and let me do whatever I want to you, because even though you’re a big, gruff, scary, tough guy—that stare probably putting the fear of god into grown men—there’s something about you that’s never changed.”

“What’s that?”

“You are and will always be my good boy.”

His cock jerks, his mouth going slack, eyes closing as he moans deeply—his reaction making it feel like there’s electricity humming under your skin, a jolt of arousal shooting through your core. 

No matter how different his exterior may look, you know what’s inside and what makes him tick, and that delights you to no end. 

His voice is rough when he speaks, “You’re gonna be the death of me.” 

You snort. 

“Never,” you reply. “Now, I’m gonna make you feel good.” 

He doesn’t have a chance to reply, lowering your head to pepper kisses along his inner thighs, his breaths stuttering when you suck a mark onto one, then the other.

“Shit,” he moans when you finally take him in hand, his cock velvety smooth and hard like steel in your grasp, pumping him languidly. 

His hands are at his sides, eyes locked on what you’re doing, his lips parted. 

Nerves are swirling in your belly like the first time you were met with this man’s big dick, trying to figure out how you’d fit it in your mouth. This time around, you know your limits and won’t overdo it and gag on him again. 

He’d been very sweet at the time and honestly apologized for the size of his cock. 

It was cute. 

You gather spit on your tongue, letting it drip onto the tip, your mouth quickly following to engulf him, Joel harshly sucking in air, you tasting the salty tang of his arousal before opening your mouth wider to take him as far as you can, Joel moaning as your warmth envelops him. 

“Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good, baby,” his strained voice says.

You’re stroking what won’t fit, hand gliding wetly from your saliva and his precum, bobbing your head, his dick sliding along your tongue to hit the back of your throat. He bucks his hips a little to chase your heat on the upstrokes, not wanting to leave your mouth, and it’s like riding a bicycle—quickly, the nerves disappear as you find your rhythm, your moans vibrating around him because this is something you loved doing—still love doing, sucking his cock always an experience. 

Your eyes meet, seeing his glazed over. 

“Love havin’ your lips wrapped around my dick,” he rasps. “Such a pretty fuckin’ mouth—God, I missed it.” 

Swirling your tongue around the tip, hitting those sensitive spots, and using your free hand to fondle his sack makes him gasp, fuck, his hands clenching the bedding tightly in his fists. 

You wonder if this is how he feels when he eats your pussy—his noises, hearing how much he enjoys what you’re doing going straight to your cunt, your inner thighs coated in slick. You love his slightly salty taste and how he fills your mouth, fitting so comfortably snug like he was made for you. But then there’s how he looks at you like you hung the moon and every twinkling star in the sky—full of reverence and devotion; it makes your heart pick up in pace, and you try harder to suck his soul out through his dick. 

It’s messy, saliva and precum dripping down his length to his balls, hearing the wet slide of your hand stroking him, you humming around him. His cock glides along your palate, Joel sounding like he’s losing his mind in pleasure, praise slipping from his lips at how good you’re making him feel. 

It’s a powerful feeling to have a gruff, hard, grumpy man like Joel Miller turn into a moaning, whimpering mess beneath you. 

He’s practically writhing when you swallow around his dick and take him into your throat, a strangled noise leaving his mouth—your lips suctioned tight around him, sucking while your throat squeezes him.

He’s unashamed about the sounds he’s making, doing his best not to move, the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensed.  

“Fuck,” Joel whines. His eyes are squeezed shut, fingers gripped tight in the comforter, sweat shining on his skin, a bead sliding down the column of his neck, and he’s so beautifully flushed all over. Tears stream from your eyes at suppressing your gag reflex, something you’re glad you still remember how to do, breathing through your nose. “You’re gonna make me come,” he pants. “Don’t wanna come yet. Please.” 

It’s the last word that makes your cunt clench hard around nothing, sputtering and coming off of him with a gasp, a line of spit and precum connecting you to him. 

His eyes open, Joel’s chest heaving, reaching to rub his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“Still remember how I like my dick sucked,” he says. “That mouth of yours almost got me.” 

Smiling, you reply, “Wouldn’t have been a bad thing.” 

“If I came down your throat, it’d be a bit before I could be inside you, and I’m fuckin’ achin’ to feel your pussy squeeze me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Get up here and sit on my dick.” 

“You’re so bossy.” 

“You know damn well you wanna.” 

Sitting up on your knees, you start moving. 

“Of course I do,” you reply, straddling his hips, rocking your pussy back and forth along his hard shaft between your bodies. “But where’s the romance?” you continue, seeing him swallow hard, his hands grabbing your breasts, his thumbs circling your nipples. “Sometimes a girl wants to be wooed.” His cock is wet below you from a mixture of spit, precum, and slick, hearing your movements, seeing Joel having difficulty concentrating, moving to grip your waist. “The least you can do is ask nicely.” 

“Sorry, baby.” His eyebrows are pinched together, him swallowing again, panting. “I wanna be inside you—need to be inside you. Missed you. Wanna feel you. Please, baby, will you ride me?” 

A Cheshire cat grin pulls up on your lips, leaning forward, holding yourself up with a hand pressed into the mattress by his head, hovering your mouth over his to meet his lust-blown gaze.

Your voice goes husky, “Yes, I will, since you were such a good boy.” Your tongue flicks up his top lip, Joel moaning, his cock jumping under you as he digs his fingers into your skin.

His mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard. 

Your lips stay connected as you raise your hips, your other hand guiding him to your entrance, sinking down on him, moaning into each other's mouths as he fills you—that first initial stretch always taking your breath away, savoring the slight pinch of him stretching you out, his cock carving out space in your depths. 

Bottoming out, you feel so full, the kissing pausing with your jaws going slack at the intensity of how fucking good it feels, breathing each other in—sharing in this moment of being joined once more, feeling that strong sense that this is where you’re meant to be, this is who you’re meant to be with, and you’re finally home. 

You feel the prickle of tears in your eyes, overwhelmed by the emotions coming over you. The shower had been quick, desperate, and not a lot of time to truly feel, and now it’s all washing over you, everything hitting you at once that you feel so complete, like you found that one piece of the puzzle you were missing, and you’re finally whole. 

“I love you,” Joel says, his words unsteady with emotion. You open your eyes to find him already looking at you and can see in his gaze that he’s feeling it, too, just as overcome as you are. “I love you so fuckin’ much it hurts.” He kisses you, continuing to speak into your mouth. “Thank you for findin’ me. Thank you for still lovin’ me. Thank you for wantin’ to marry me—I’m forever fuckin’ yours.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his lips. “I’m yours, I’ve always been yours, I’ll always be yours. Thank you for loving me, asking me to marry you, and giving me another kid to raise. I love you, Joel Miller.” 

He smiles as he kisses you, a roll of your hips making his breath stutter. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans. 

Your head comes up to meet his heated gaze. 

“I love how you feel inside me—so fucking big.” His cock twitches inside your walls. “Fuck me like you mean it, Joel. Fuck me like I’m already your wife.”

A growl rips from his throat, his big hands grabbing onto your ass, kissing you while he starts fucking you on his cock, up and down, the slick slide of him moving in and out of you making your brain go fuzzy in pleasure. 

You’re moving with him, picking up pace, rising up on your thighs, and dropping back down, spearing yourself on his dick, feeling him so deep it knocks the air from your lungs. His lips are still on yours, the kisses messy, uncoordinated, like all he cares about is feeling your mouth on his, swallowing each other's breathy sounds. 

Fingers dig into the plump flesh of your backside, gasping when Joel starts thrusting up into you, stuttering your moans at how he pounds into you, him grunting, breaking the kiss to bare his teeth, a feral look on his face as he fucks into you with abandon—the beginnings of your orgasm taking shape, starting to build. The wet slap of his hips sounds in the room, mixed with the rough sounds from Joel’s throat and the softer one’s escaping your mouth, taking everything he’s giving to you, making the arousal burn brighter inside you. 

There’s sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck, the muscles tense under his skin, and you're unable to stop yourself from licking a stripe up the salty column of his throat, being rewarded with a gasp. 

He’s kissing you again when he loses steam, pulling you down to grind on his cock, the curls at the base of him rubbing deliciously against your clit, working you up, getting closer and closer to your release. 

His mouth leaves yours, Joel suddenly groaning as he sits up in the bed, an arm around your back to bring you him, spreading his legs out in front of him, your own bracketing his waist, keeping his dick inside you while getting you comfortable in his lap. 

Looping your arms around his neck, you press your fingers into the sweat-damp hair at the back of his head, looking him in the eyes. 

You’re breathless when you say, “Hi, babe.” 

He smirks. 

“Hi, baby.”

You start rocking your hips, circling them, to try and find the best angle, your mouth falling open when his cock rubs against a spot that has your toes curling.  

Joel’s arm is wrapped around you to hold you close, his other hand on your hip helping you move, kissing you passionately, deeply, one of those ones where you can feel deep down in your bones how much he loves you—chasing his mouth when he pulls back to nuzzle his nose against yours. 

“Want you close,” he murmurs. “Wanna feel you come like this.” 

“Okay,” you breathe, focusing on what feels good, working yourself up and down to have him pressing into that pleasurable place on every downstroke. 

“That’s it, baby,” he rasps. “Fuck yourself on me—use me.” 

You’re building yourself up, Joel’s mouth wandering—a nip to your chin, pressing kisses to your jaw, each corner of your lips, along your neck, his beard scratching across your skin; his hands roam—gripping your ass, sliding over your tummy and up to your breasts, pinching and teasing your hard peaks. 

The nerves in your body are alight in pleasure, panting moans falling from your mouth. He ducks his head to lick your nipple, engulfing it in his hot mouth, the sensation shooting to your core, making your head fall back, “Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moan, gripping his hair. “Feels so fucking good.” 

He moves to the other side, bouncing yourself on him, pushing yourself closer, feeling your muscles beginning to tighten. He snakes a hand down, pressing his thumb to your clit, making you cry out from the jolt of pleasure. 

He’s close to coming. 

He’s too fucking close. 

Feeling you fluttering around him, making him almost lose it, so worked up from being inside you again—your warmth, the tight squeeze of your cunt hugging him like a warm blanket. 

He’s trying to calm himself down, but you’ve taken over all of his senses—touching you, tasting you, seeing you, hearing you, smelling you—you’re all he can think about, and it has him feeling like he’s going to blow his load at any second, which is embarrassing. His stamina has never been this bad, can’t believe he came in three minutes flat when he fucked you in the shower, knowing he lasted much longer the very first time you had sex.

What is happening to him?

He’s never had this problem before. 

Is it his age? Has it finally caught up to him? 

It’s glaringly obvious what has Joel getting close to becoming a two-pump chump, and it’s you. 

He’s at your mercy. 

You’ve got him fucked up. 

And he wouldn’t change it for the goddamn world. 

He’s trying to control his breathing, his thumb circling your clit, his other hand digging into your ass to guide you up and down, knowing you’re almost there, and if he goes with you, then so be it. 

Raising his head, his face is a hair’s breadth from yours, seeing your lips parted and eyes closed, moaning loudly as you chase your high, moving at your own pace, looking so fucking beautiful his heart skips a beat. 

“I know you’re close, baby,” he husks. “Look at me. Lemme see you come.” 

Glazed-over eyes meet his, it’s evident how good you’re feeling, and he swears his dick gets harder at the sight, the tight clutch of you squeezing him, all wet and warm. 

He’s missed this—your sounds, how you feel, how you look. He wants to stay like this forever and never leave your warmth, loving how it’s consuming him, spreading through his body to the tips of his fingers to his toes. 

He’ll never tire of this, how perfectly you fit together, like you were made for each other, your softness complementing his roughness, helping to smooth out his edges. 

He presses harder onto your bundle of nerves, your walls tightening. 

“Come for me,” he says through his teeth. 

He can see it when you come—is so familiar with that look it’s imprinted in his brain, sending a spike of pleasure down his spine. 

Your mouth opens in a silent cry, clamping down hard on him as you come undone, gripping him so tight, you’ve stilled. Joel’s hanging on by a thread, moaning your name, feeling your release dripping down his balls, your cunt wetter and pulsing around him. 

“My good girl,” he pants, rubbing his hands over your back, feeling your soft skin. 

He takes a calming breath, trying to center himself, wanting to prove to himself he can last and really fuck you like his wife. 

Getting himself under control, his arm wraps around you, and the moment you relax, he’s moving, grunting as he carries you forward to get you on your back, you gasping in surprise as you bounce gently onto the mattress, the springs squeaking beneath you. 

His hips slot into the cradle of your thighs, sheathed to the hilt inside you, getting your hands above your head and intertwining your fingers to hold them, keeping his weight up on his forearms as his hips start rocking, the velvety walls of your pussy hugging him tightly, sucking him into your wet heat. 

He catches your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper, loving how you feel under him—your body soft, welcoming him, beckoning him, wanting more with every slick drag of his cock in and out of your greedy depths. 

It feels like there’s fire just beneath his skin, a burning knot growing in his belly, having trouble thinking with your mouth on his and the hypnotic feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. 

He’s enraptured. 

The primal being in him takes over, his pace quickening, mouths detaching to press his forehead to yours as he starts railing, the slap of his hips working into you over and over, wanting to feel the tight squeeze of you coming again. 

“Joel,” you say his name in a breathy moan that has his hips stuttering from the stinging pleasure that cuts through him. You’re quivering beneath him, your legs trembling around his middle. “Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “You’re gonna make me come.” 

That just spurs him on, grunting as he fucks you into the mattress, your moans getting louder, your hands squeezing his. His head falls into the crook of your neck, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking him, knowing you're close with how you’re spasming around him. 

There’s no sweeter sound than you crying out his name as you come. 

You clench down on him so hard, keeping him buried inside like you want him to stay there for all eternity, and Joel has half a mind to do just that. 

Lifting his head, he’s breathing hard as he peppers kisses along your jaw. 

“So good to me,” he says between breaths into your skin, the words coming out rough. “My good fuckin’ girl.” 

You’re trying to catch your own breath, Joel rolling his hips, needing the friction for his aching cock. 

You open your eyes to meet his gaze, looking all dreamy and thoroughly fucked out of your mind, making pride swell in his chest that he made you feel that good. 

“It’s your turn,” you slur, making him smile, kissing your chin. 

“It’s my turn?” he asks. “Don’t want another? Could probably make you squirt.” 

“No more. I’ll pass out. Want you to come inside me.” 

His cock jerks, thrusting a little faster in your sopping pussy. 

He kisses you softly. 

“You want me to fill you up?” he murmurs into your lips. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

He nudges the tip of his nose to yours. 

“Then I will.” 

His cock is throbbing, knowing he isn’t going to last long with heat curling in his belly. He starts fucking into you, hearing your skin colliding and the slick sounds between your legs, Joel panting. 

You’ve got your eyes locked on his. 

“You gonna come for me?” you ask. “Fuck me full of you, baby? I wanna feel it.”

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, feeling hot all over, his skin drenched in sweat, thrusting harder. The thought of pumping you full of him until your dripping has his breaths getting shaky and rhythm going sloppy.   

“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna come.” 

His balls draw up, cock thickens, that burning knot in his stomach winding so tight until he’s shattering into a million pieces, pushing into you as far as possible, moaning as he comes. 

The hot flood of his spend has you clenching up tight, sighing happily at being filled, Joel unable to stop himself from rolling his hips—this urge, a need ingrained in his brain to make sure he gets his come as deep inside you as it will go, hissing through his teeth when the sensitivity becomes too much, finally collapsing on top of you. 

He lets go of your hands, his nose pressed to your neck, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“This okay?” he mumbles, not wanting you to be uncomfortable under his weight.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper. 

He’s feeling euphoric and so relaxed that he thinks his bones have turned to liquid, pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to move even if he tried. 

He can’t recall the last time he allowed himself to get this fuck drunk, usually still alert when he comes, always on edge, but right now, he doesn’t have a single care in the world except for the woman under him. 

You slide your hands into his wet hair, dragging your fingernails over his scalp, and it has tingles shivering down his spine, Joel practically purring—in heaven, he wants to stay like this until time stops, and the universe becomes no more, basking in your warmth for all eternity, being with you always. 

He lost too much time with you, and he won’t waste anymore, planning to spend each and every day with you, not entirely sure if he could stand being parted—just the thought of being away from you making his guts churn, scared he’d lose you again, and that can’t happen, not after finally getting you back. 

He’ll keep you and Ellie safe and help Tommy with whatever he needs to protect the town because this is where his family is; this is home.

He has you. 

He has Ellie. 

He has Tommy. 

He has a job to do, needs to keep the people he cares about protected, and God help any motherfuckers who stand in his way. 

“Told you my hips are fine.” His voice is muffled in your neck.

You snort, your fingers stroking through his hair. 

“Nights still young, babe.” 

“I’m not breakin’ a fuckin’ hip,” he grumbles. 

“You better not—I don’t know what the hospital situation is here and if they’d have the supplies I’d need to fix you.” 

“Have I told you that you bein’ a doctor is sexy?” 

You giggle. 

“Because I can treat your sex injuries?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Again, I don’t know what’s here, so please don’t overdo it—Tommy would never let you live it down.” 

He frowns.

He’s done more strenuous things like killing infected and running from hoards; he can handle a night or two of pure fucking—it’ll be a breeze in comparison. 

You yawn, which has him yawning, too, exhaustion seeping into his bones. 

“Tommy’s an asshole,” he replies. “Wanna take a nap?”

“Absolutely. I’m too old for all-night marathon sex.”

“Stop that. We just gotta take a break and rest. Drink some water, too—we still gotta do your favorite.” 

“What’s my favorite?” 

“Face down, ass up.”

“God,” you moan. 

“It’s Joel, but I’m flattered.” 

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#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #Joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/you #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #september series

[shockinglyangel]

RECONCILIACION - TOM RIDDLE x Fem!reader

MATURE, Warnings: Porn with plot, Haven’t seen each other in over a decade, 18+, NSFW, Fingering, lots of description, Penis in vag penetration, Unprotected sex, Breeding

NOT PROOFREAD

PROFESSOR TOM!!!!

Looking like my sexy husband Tom Hughes

Nom nom nom

Reader and Tom are like 32 (mwahahaha, I like my men old)

WORDCOUNT: 3195 (fucking crazy)

"Matilda!" You shouted out to the young child as she darted up the stairs, her older brother dragging her along with him, his hand gripping on her arm as they marched further and further away from you.

"Hurry up, mum!" Finley shouted back to you, not thinking to turn his head around as he continued his trek up the many steps in front of him.

You shook your head with a smile, holding your dress up with one hand while the other was out to help you balance. You were taking your kids to their first day of school.

Your husband worked overseas most of the time, alongside the MACUSA, you'd been married for the last sixteen years now, it was a good marriage, only due to the fact that he was never around for their to be any troubles. He of course comes back for your children's big achievements, and by that I mean birthdays and Christmas, he hadn't the time to be able to come back for all the mundane things, that's what made it so perfect.

There were no room for trials and tribulations.

"Finley darling, will you come here please," you scoffed at the young boy as he let go of his younger sisters arm, Finley was now fourteen, Matilda was twelve, it was her first day at Hogwarts, but bless her sweet heart, she was so nervous about it all; which was why you made the decision to bring her yourself. "You have chocolate on your face"

Your son stopped awaiting for you to do something embarrassing as always, young boys always do.

You moved toward him, grabbing a handkerchief from your small bag and adding a dot of saliva to it before wiping the boys face. "Mum!" He grimaced, bringing his hand to his face and pulling himself away from you.

You smiled happily. "I told you not to eat all those chocolate frogs in one go."

He shrugged and walked ahead again, causing you to take your other child's hand and bring her towards the large wooden doors, through the courtyard.

You hadn't been here in years, not since the age of eighteen, but much differed from now and then, and a lot had changed.

You too looked around as you entered the doors from the outside, the sound of your shoes clicking on the floor as they hit the concrete. The sound was all so familiar as it danced around the corridor, the echo being deafening to one's ears.

"Ah, Mr. Starwall," a man looked down to your young boy, his hands deep in the pockets of his suit trousers. "Thought you'd decided not to make a show this year."

Finley stared up at the tall man, giving him a smile. "This is my sister, Matilda," he pointed to the girl who was cowering behind you, her hand tightly laced with yours. "She's a bit nervous."

The man looked away from your son and stirred his gaze to your daughter, leaning out to meet her eyes, his hand slipping from his pocket. "I am professor Riddle, your brothers head of year."

You eyebrows furrowed and eyes went wide as you heard that particular name, one you had never thought be to aware of for the rest of your life. It couldn't be, could it?

The teacher stood up straight now, looking to find you, your eyes found his face with much haste and you took a deep breath, blinking a few times as your thoughts were confirmed. "Mrs," he looked at you, taking in your expression before standing slightly back from you. "Starwall."

It pained him not to say your name, to not be able to call you by your actual name, the one that he remembers falling from his lips so effortlessly in the past. But he needed to be professional, and he needed to be a good influence for the children.

"I want to go see my friends," Finley jumped around, eager to run off into the great hall. "Mum, can I go see my friends, please?" He gave you a wide smile, excitement painting his face.

Tom looked down to the boy, before moving his head towards the door, looking to where Finley's friends were wavering him to come. "Son, why don't you take your sister into the hall to join in with the feast?"

The boy nodded happily, grabbing the younger girls hair and pulling her through the doors and into the hall, the poor girl scurrying after him, leaving you and Tom alone.

"Don't you dare call him that," you took another deep breath, looking up to Riddle who seemed to be contemplating his next move, his eyes still on the two children as they joined the Slytherin bench, a teacher immediately coming over to pull Matilda away to get sorted. "You have no right."

"Is that one mine too?" He turned back to face you, his eyes finding yours in no time.

You scoffed. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Well?" Tom tilted his head slightly to the side, standing in front of you, pulling your attention from your children and to him.

"No!" You let out a breath, trying your best not to let yourself boil over. "There's a two years difference."

Tom nodded. "So it's only Finley?" He raised his eyebrows to look at you, making sure that he had the story right, although it seemed like he was questioning the legitimacy of the situation.

"Finley is barely yours," you gritted your teeth, the fact that you couldn't get him to at all falter was driving you insane, he always drove you insane. "You never made an effort."

He let out a puff of air, a small smirk on his face. "And your husband does?" You went to open your mouth to speak, to silence him in some way, but he interrupted. "Your son says otherwise."

You lifted a finger to raise it at him, your blood boiling, your face beginning to turn red with anger. "My marriage is none of your business."

"It is when he is fathering my son." Tom grabbed your wrist, pulling it down, his fingers still gripping tight.

"He is not your son!"

Professor Riddle rolled his eyes as you repeated yourself, he looked back to the great hall, watching as Matilda got taken up to the stage, the sorting hat being placed on her head. "We are not going over this again." He pulled you towards a door and through another hallway, his hand still on your wrist so you couldn't try to pull yourself away.

You stumbled forward as he let go of your arm, pushing you into the room and following behind, slamming the door closed as you entered a large office, most likely not belonging to him. "Let me out."

He scoffed, leaning against the door and folding his arms. "Do not even try to leave," he pushed himself up from the door, making his way over to the large, wooden desk which was placed in the middle of the room. "We seem to have much to talk about."

"God, Riddle. I don't want to talk to you about this." You trudged after him, stomping on the ground as you made your way over to the desk as well.

He sat down on the desk, leaning against it slightly, his fingers squeezing into the edge of the table, his feet folded over one another. "You don't have a say in this," you stood beside him. "I have been doing nothing but going by my life under your command, don't you think I at least deserve an explanation?"

You looked at him speechless, he was right. He'd never once tried to contact you after you told him to leave you alone, after you told him that you had a family to take care of. Even when under circumstance, it was his too.

Tom tilted his head to the side. "The amount of letters I had to discard because you said you didn't want to hear from me," he stood back up again, moving closer to you as you eyed him. "The times when you refused to speak to me, to tell me how our boy was doing," he stopped for a moment, standing right in front of you now, lowering his head, his eyes bore into yours. "Did I deserve that? Was it some kind of sick revenge?"

You shook your head, your gaze not leaving his. "Riddle,"

"Tom," he stopped you, taking your hand into his, bringing it up to his face, his eyes never leaving your own as he placed a soft kiss on your wrist. "It's Tom."

Your breath hitched in your throat, for all those years that you were confound to him, you were never allowed to call him by his first name, it reminded him too much of his beginning, his childhood, the things that he was so desperate to forget. "Stop it."

He shook his head, lowering your hand slightly, his grip still on your wrist. "I fear I cannot," you blinked a few times, your breath quickening at his words, so simple, so small, he was always a sweet talker. "Don't make me."

You were an addiction for him as he was for you, the poison dripping from the vine, something neither of you should digest, but God the taste. The taste was ever so powerful.

And he missed that flavour.

He wasted no time to bring you into a harsh kiss, taking a deep breath as his lips latch onto yours, breathing you in as if the scent of your soul was enough to expand his life expectancy. Pulling you closer to him, he removed his hand from your wrist, one of his going to your cheek while the other travelled down to your waist, holding you tightly over the cotton fabric of your dress, feeling the silhouette of your body under the bones of his fingers. Deeply wishing for the desirable feeling of his skin on yours.

Your tongues were quick to deny all logical solution and understanding, exploring each others mouths as if it was the last thing you could do, perhaps you would find all the empty promises and unfulfilled truths that he told you, while he searched for the regrettable words that you once said to him. Did you still wish you never said them?

"Tom!" You gasped into the kiss as he turned you around, lifting you onto the desk he begins to run his hand up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher up your legs in desperation to feel something, he needed to know if it was the same, did age change you, or did your body still belong to him?

He kissed you harder now, his chest pressed to yours as he ignored all rational thinking, pushing you further and further in hopes to get what he needed, he knew you needed it too. "Don't make me stop." He repeated absentmindedly, struggling to conjure a single thought as he lost himself in the kiss, the taste of your mouth reviving feeling that he buried long ago.

You allowed yourself to be whisked away, a hand returning his intimate gesture as you placed it on his face, feeling the soft skin under your hand, the heat of his reddened cheeks rising the temperature of your touch. Your other hand found his bicep, gripping him through his suit jacket.

Tom would never allow his proud self to admit it, but he was falling victim to you, the same way that you used to be to him. He would submit to you if you asked him to, he would never refuse the opportunity of being completely under your mercy.

But right now, right now you were under his.

He let go of your waist, not breaking from the kiss as his hand moved past your thigh and to your core, his hand pushing past your underwear and entering two fingers into you without another thought.

You let out a yelp, accidentally biting his lip as you clenched around his fingers, earning a rewarding growl from him as he began to move his fingers inside of you.

"Oh," you pulled back from the kiss slightly, your lips attached by a thin string of saliva. "Oh, Tom."

Sex with your husband was fine when he was home, it would be a lie to claim that it was terrible. However it was never fulfilling, it was always about creating babies, it has always been about that. You decided to go on the potion after your second, Matilda was born, knowing that he wanted another, although you were not ready, you would never be ready, not for that anyway. He'd been wondering for the past decade about why you couldn't get pregnant anymore, you told him to take it as a sign from the universe that two was enough for your family, he had different ideology, he stated that your biological clock was on its last legs and that it was about to stop ticking.

Now you were an alive corpse to him, rather than a wife.

"Tom." You whined against his lips as he brought you into another kiss, his fingers deep inside you as he tried to find those lost moans and whimpers that he knew you could give him. Your sounds were music to his ears.

He pulled away from you, removing his fingers and placing his hand on your thigh for a moment, the wetness from his fingers painting your skin with your juices.

Finally letting go of your thigh, he stood up straight, his head pointed down to look at his feet as his hand hastily fumbled to remove his belt buckle, needing the sweet relief that he knew you could give him, even after all these years, you were willing to please him.

You brought your hands to the table, holding yourself up as you watched him, pushing any thought out of your mind in the hopes of having something of him again, whether it be a simple kiss to the temple, or the opportunity to ravish each others bodies once more, you just wanted him.

Finally he pulled it off, his hand grabbing on your thigh again as he brought your leg around his waist, his other hand going down to his length, watching you with a heaving chest as he aligned himself up with you, your dress concealing all that the lord above would not agree with.

For it was with Tom that you would cheat on your husband with.

He pushed himself inside of you, gripping your waist harder as he filled you completely, your hand coming to his side under his suit jacket, hiding your wedding ring under the clothes of your past lover.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," Tom groaned against you, beginning to rock his hips back and forth, his jaw clenched. "How long I've been waiting for you to come back to me, to have you, to hold you, to - fuck."

You nodded, throwing your head back as he fastened his pace your other arm struggling to keep your balanced as the desk rocked under you. "I've missed this so much." You let out a soft cry from under him.

He looked down again, his hand coming back up to your head, holding you up by the back of your neck, as if he was cradling something he worried could be broken. "He doesn't fuck you like this, does he?"

You shook your head, swallowing as your eyes threatened to close on you. "No, he barely fucks me at all." You admitted.

Tom sped up his pace again, his hips rutting into yours at a speed only he could hit. "He's in ownership of the most beautiful thing, and yet he doesn't know how to treat her?" He forced your head up to look at him. "He doesn't take advantage of this slick cunt?"

You shook your head another time, struggling to say anything as you tried to keep up with his movements, your hand beginning to slip from behind you.

"Or does it only get so wet for me?" Tom asked as he pulled your thigh up higher, causing you to slip back even more. "Answer me!"

You let out a string of moans before answering, not wanting to be too loud. "Yes," you finally breathed out, your mouth falling open. "It only gets wet for you."

Tom smirked and pulled your thigh higher, causing you to fall back onto the desk, your hand coming down to his forearm as he removed it from your head, running his fingers up your thigh before pushing your dress high enough to reveal the connection, his hand now on your waist as he rammed into you harder. "You've always belonged to me, haven't you?" The question came out more of a question of reassurance rather than an rhetorical one.

"Yes." You whined, your nails ripping into the skin of his arm as he fucked you.

He nodded, pushing his tongue to his cheek as he felt himself getting nearer and nearer to his destination, and by the looks of you and the reactions of your body, you were nearing yours too. "You're so beautiful." He admitted, something that had never left his mouth before, not in so little words. "So fucking perfect, moulded perfectly for me," he looked back down to you another time. "For me, yes?"

You nodded again, "for you, Tom, only for you."

He repaid you with a nod too, a slight motion of understanding and vulnerability as he continued his movements, his forehead becoming clad with sweat as his hair began to get stuck on it. "Cum for me then," he bit his lip. "Show me how good I make you feel, how only I can make you feel."

You arched your back at the sound of his words, your eyes forcing shut as your let out a long whine. "Inside of me." You ordered through a breathy moan.

Tom couldn't help but chuckle as you said this, knowing how badly you wanted this made him even more ramped up for the finish. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

He moved his hand to your stomach as he felt you clenching around him, your body shaking as he pressed down on the sensitive skin, forcing you to hit your climax with such speed and agility, your movements and reaction milking him of his as he began to fill you, a stream of sweat dripping from his forehead and onto the ground as he attempted to keep himself stationed, though your body was enough to make the man fold.

And now you had even more to talk about.

#harry potter #slytherin boys react #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #tom riddle smut #smut

[peterparkersnose]

You Over Anyone

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: jealousy, angst, relationship awkwardness, assault (physical), reader gets cut by a knife, description of assault and defense, blood, din takes care of you, allusions to sex

a/n 97 days until the mandalorian returns !!!! somewhat angsty. there isnt quite enough angst on tumblr that doesnt end up with sex. dont get me wrong, i love a good smut, but sometimes i just need some yelling and frustration. longer fic woohoo!!! wrote it in one night too. i missed din djarin. 

bonus at the end for you guys :)

summary Y/N gets upset when another girl comes around and questions where her relationship stands with Din

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join the tag list

read time: 9 mins 29 seconds

3 days, 12 hours, and 30 ish minutes. That was the last time Din kissed you, but you totally weren’t counting. How long has it been since he’s touched you? Hugged you? Acknowledged you for anything other than the bare minimum? Your anxious thoughts flew through your mind as you tied up your boots. He had become more and more distant each day since you had found Natalie.

About a week ago you were in the forest looking for a frog to sneak to Grogu. He had listened to you all day and deserved a treat for being a good boy. That is when you came upon a girl, no older than 20. She was almost nude, shivering, and covered in dirt. And drop dead gorgeous.

Against your better judgement you took her back to the crest. Din had basically done the same for you when he found you, why not return the favor?

Natalie showed up in the middle of an awkward time in you and Din’s relationship. Sure, flirty banter has been there ever since you’ve known him. But the last few months you two have been together- sort of. It was confirmed by mutual feelings but never said out loud. You two were everything but girlfriend and boyfriend. I mean, you could have sworn Grogu said ‘mama’ last week. You were raising a child as well as taking the risk of making a new one. He had shown you his face. You had to be something. There was no way you weren’t- right?

Shaking your head and grabbing your weapon, you followed the sound of giggling from outside.

“He does tricks?” Natalie asked, head cocked perfectly in Din’s direction. Her ponytail flew perfectly in the breeze.

“Well, sometimes. Grogu- where’s your ball? Did you leave it on the crest?” Din playfully asked his son, tickling his stomach. All he got and expected as a response was a ‘coo’ from the child.

Taking in the sight of your… Din and Grogu and her made you sick. I mean, she was even wearing your clothes. How much more sick could this get?

“Ready?” you asked, approaching the two hanging your blaster from your belt.

“Actually, I think Natalie and I are going to stay back. I promised her I would teach her how to shoot and…” Din said, the tone in his voice weary.

He saw the way your face dropped, but it flew completely over his head. Your mouth was slightly agape. You stared at him. Then her. Then him.

“Y/N?” Din coughed, breaking you from your haze. “Yeah sure. I’ll take Grogu into town with me.” you said flatly. Without hesitating, you reached for Grogu sitting in his pouch on Din’s waist (god that tiny waste drove you nuts) and secured him in your scarves.

Walking to the speeder, you watched as Din brought Natalie over to the hill the crest was parked on, letting her aim his blaster. His blaster, the one you were forbidden to touch. The pit in your stomach kept growing larger and larger and falling deeper and deeper.

Grogu cooed, noticing his mother was upset. “I’m alright, kid.” you said, smiling putting on a strong face for him. Of course, he could sense everything that was wrong and your phony smile couldn’t fool him. A sad sigh exhaled from the child as he placed his forehead and a tiny green hand on your chest where he sat tightly.

At least someone still wanted you.

Jiggling through the lanyard that was attached to your waist looking for the speeder key, you heard a shout from behind you.

“Y/N!” Din yelled, waving his hand with a slight run towards you.

Your face perked up. A slight smile came on your lips. He was coming back to give you a goodbye kiss, you just knew it.

“Hey,” he said, slightly out of breathe as he reached the speeder. You were ready. Leaning over the speeder towards him, your eyes met through his viser.

“Don’t forget those to buy those special nuts I like. The ones with dragon berry? Remember?”

Your perfect moment was crushed.

“Yup,” is all you could manage out. Your hand had grasped the right key and you sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind you.

***

It was now midday. The hot sun beat down on the two of you. Your scarves were draped over your head, shielding the sun from your eyes.

You felt a tiny scratch on your chest. “Yes, yes. Calm down, we’re going to the Cantina for some food.”

One more sale and it was lunch. The bag of credits in your sleeve pocket was still heavy. You were skimming the blaster modifications when you heard a squeal.

“Is that her, Din?” you heard Natalie say from feet away. “Shh!” he hushed her.

He told her his name. Not Mando anymore. Din.

“Y/N!” Natalie yelled from across the market. You grinded your teeth and took a deep breathe, abandoning any interest in the parts.

“Hi!” you said with the fakest smile you had ever had on your face. “How did you two get here without a speeder?” you asked, a pissed tone silently rode off your lips as your eyes stabbed into his beskar helmet.

“We walked! It was such a nice time in the forest. An hour goes by really fast when your having fun.” Natalie smiled aimlessly at you.

As you couldn’t see, Din was behind his mask with the most tired eyes and annoyed face known to man.

You swallowed.

“I’m starving. Could you get me some food Din?” she said again using his name. “Mando.” he corrected her. “Oh right. We’re using our made up names.” she whispered, giggling heading towards the Cantina.

He stood there for a second, looking you up and down. You knew him well enough behind the mask to notice what he was doing. “Don’t fucking even,” you scoffed, following the bubbly girl into the Cantina. “Don’t what?” he asked, following you confused into the loud bar.

You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes. Making your way to the bathroom, you shook Din’s hand off of yours trying to gain your attention. “Please,” you yelled a little too loudly, yanking your hand away and making a bee line towards the restroom.

You slammed the stall door shut and waited for the heavy beskar boots to follow you in. He wasn’t the type to leave you. Ever. You waited.

And waited.

And waited. And they never came.

Sitting on the toilet sobbing, you barely remembered Grogu was there. Another scratch on your chest reminded you that he was hungry.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you sniffled, wiping your eyes and attempting to clean up your red face.

Staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror felt stupid. You had so much pity for yourself. Your braid has become more loose than it was this morning. Strands of loose hair rested next to your face. Your boots had mud on them. Now was not the time to be critiquing yourself but you couldn’t help it. How could you not? Natalie was beautiful, more pretty than you’d ever be. Right?

This time Grogu let out a small growl and you gave in. Turning the corner, you were grabbed near the exit and thrown back into the bathroom.

Laying on the floor confused, you looked up at your attacker. A giant creature with blue horns stared down at you with a smirk on his face.

“I saw that pretty bag of coins on your wrist, ma’am.” he scowled, pointing his long knife down at you. “I would appreciate if we did this the easy way.” he said cracking his neck in both directions.

The blade rested on the middle of your chest. Grogu, being the curious creature he is poked his head out of your swaddle you had made him.

“Well well well, what is this?” he asked, moving the knife to bump the scarf you had around your chest. “I think I will be taking both.” he smiled, revealing his yellow crooked teeth.

Panic flashed your mind as you rolled over, shielding Grogu from his grasp. He let out a loud yell in anger and didn’t hesitate to swipe his dagger at your shoulder, leaving a pretty nasty cut.

“Fuck!” you yelled out in pain, holding the open wound.

Grogu being the good boy he is (he deserves another frog) rolled out of your grasp and waved his tiny hand in the air. The dagger flew from the attackers hand and right into your grasp.

“Good boy,” you whispered as you didn’t hesitate to stab the man near his groin. He cried out in pain as you twisted the knife, then pulled it out. It was covered in purple blood.

You scooped up Grogu and made your way back into the crowded Cantina. You spotted Din with his elbow resting comfortably on the counter talking to Natalie.

“… and then Greef started to complain about-”

“We need to go.” you said in a low voice, grabbing his hand and pulling in the opposite direction. “What?” he asked. “What’s that?” Natalie asked loudly, pointing at the dripping dagger in your hand.

“Shut it for once, won’t you?” you yelled at her. A wave of concern flew over Natalie’s face. “Hey!” Din yelled, sticking his finger in your face. You had to ignore the intrusive thought to bite it.

A large roar came from the Cantina bathroom exit. Everyone’s eyes turned to the creature. “You little bitch!” the man yelled, meeting your eyes in the crowd.

“We need to go.” you ordered, slipping out of the entrance. Looking behind you and gripping Grogu close, you ran to the speeder. Din quickly followed without Natalie on his tail.

You straddled the speeder as you heard your attacker’s yells from behind you. He was a few feet behind Din. At that point, Natalie began to stumble out of the Cantina.

Din held up his hand, signaling for you to start the speeder. The wound on your arm throbbed. With one hand cradling a sleeping Grogu and the other on the speeder handle, you prepared for the worst.

Din made it just in time. “Go go!” he yelled, grabbing your waist tightly as you sped off. That man and Natalie were left in the dust.

The speeder tumbled as you reached the crest. You meant to get fuel on your way back, but that obviously didn’t get to happen.

As the two of you finally stopped, you sat for a moment in silence.

Finally, you flipped around. You handed Din a sleeping Grogu and turned to go back in the crest. Your face was stone cold.

“Are you okay?” Din asked wearily. He was most definitely not getting a response. You walked through the hatch and made it to the medical cabinet. It was funny, you had forgot you had put on a white shirt today and not a crimson one.

“Is that blood?” he asked, removing his helmet and setting Grogu inside of it. He liked to nap there sometimes, it was warm and smelt of his father.

“Why do you care? I’m surprised your not back on your speeder going to find Natalie.” you hissed, cutting your sleeve off to reveal the wound.

“Fuck!” you yelled as the bloody sleeve rolled down your arm. “What? Cy’are what happened?” Din asked, rushing to your aid. “Get away from me.” you hissed back at him, struggling to see straight. “Let me help.” he demanded. “Go ffffucking find her.” you slurred.

Blood was definitely lost.

“Sit for gods sake.” he yelled, pulling up a chair behind you. He pulled out the bacta cream and bandages. “You b-better not fucking touch me Din Djarin,” you yawned.

Ignoring you, he wiped the blood away from the wound. It wouldn’t need stitches, but it would leave a nasty scar. He applied the cream and wrapped your arm up. “Too tight?” he asked, his eyes peering into yours.

“I don’t know why your so worried about me when we left Natalie out there.” you bitched. “Seriously Y/N, too tight or not.” he said ignoring your comment.

“You told her your name?” you slurred, the blood loss just beginning to regenerate.

“What? No. She heard you call me it last night.”

“Oh.”

“Why were you all over her? You could barely even speak to me. It’s obvious that you were just going to leave me somewhere and take her instead.” you mumbled, staring at your muddy and now bloodied boots.

“What?” Din asked, astonished. “What are you talking about, Cy’are?”

He bent down in front of you, his hands on both of your thighs. “Don’t lie,” you said, turning your head away from his. Tears began forming in your eyes.

“Your in love with her Din.”

Din wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your thighs. “You are dreaming, my love.”

“Then why did you-”

“I stayed with her because I thought you couldn’t stand her. I thought I was doing you a favor.” he explained.

I mean he wasn’t wrong.

“But what about-”

“Shh,” he shushed you. “I’m horrible but I’m glad we left her at the Cantina. I didn’t know how much longer I could have gone with her constantly at my hip. I couldn’t be with you, I was starting to loose my mind.”

You carefully grabbed a handful of his brown curly hair. You always forgot how soft it was, never being able to touch it under all that beskar.

“Really?” you sniffled, using your other hand to wipe the tear away.

“We have about another 45 minutes to get off this planet.” he hummed into your jeans, kissing your thigh before returning upright.

“I can’t believe you thought I liked her better,” Din scoffed, now towering over you.

“You let her use your blaster?” you questioned. “She grabbed it.” he sighed, laughing at your question. “So am I allowed to touch it now?” “Absolutely not.”

“But why did you ignore me then? Not even anything. No good morning kiss or sleeping in the same bed or…” “Oh.” he sighed. “I thought you wanted to keep it quiet? Not let her know. I’m sorry,”

“I’d let the whole galaxy see you touch me,” you mumbled. A smile rose to Din’s lips.

His hand turned to your cheek, cupping it ever so lightly. His thumb brushed over your lips. He bent down, giving you a soft kiss on your tear stained lips.

“You over anyone, cy’arika. How I’ve missed you.”

•

yes don’t worry grogu was fed he is well taken care of don’t call cps trust me he got all the frogs and eggs he wanted after that day

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @salliebley @peeta-is-useless @bubsonnobx @kirsteng42

bonus:

You lay in his warm grasp for the first time in over a week. His warm skin rested on yours. The hum of the open galaxy surrounding the ship filled your ears. Din’s messy hair sat on him well. His arms ran across your bare chest, holding you with ever such ease. His breaths became more shallow with each second.

“Hey,” he whispered groggily in your ear, pulling you closer. “Mhm,” you replied, pushing yourself into his embrace. You were expecting an ‘I love you’ or ‘I missed your body’ or something romantic.

“Did you remember my nuts? The dragon berry ones?”

“God dammit Din,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“Did you remember?” he asked, sitting up in bed and peering down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“No Din. I forgot your fucking nuts.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din djarin imagine #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin one shot #din djarin the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian one shot #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian angst #mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian one shot #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal the mandalorian #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal one shot #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin jealousy angst #peterparkersnose #peterparkersnosework

[salty-croissants]

what do Bullfrog and Rayman/Ramon like to do when they're cuddling with the reader? 😊

Thank you for the request ! 

It��s like , very late for me right now … but I got a burst of inspiration as soon as I read what the request was about : this is something that I’m always happy to write … just wholesome affection between the reader and the boys , love this prompt very much :,) ❤️

I hope this turned out okay ! 

I’m probably gonna pass out after this lmao , it was worth it tho :,)👍

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

The number one rule this frog has when cuddling with you ? He wants you to be as comfy as possible , and if you want Bullfrog is going to bring something to drink for the both of you : a nice cup of tea , some juice … anything goes , as long as you like it .

< Here’s your tea , mon amour … be careful , it’s still hot . > 

< Thanks love , you’re the best ~ > 

If you’re someone who happens to get very flustered when he speaks French , Bullfrog will have the time of his life whispering sweet nothings in your ear while holding you in his arms … 

The way you blush is just so cute for him ^//^ 

< y/n , ma bien-aimée, tu es merveilleuse à tous points de vue … ~ > 

< B-Bullfrog pleasee ! ~ > 

One silly personal headcanon that I have is that Bullfrog gets especially relaxed by sounds of streams of water streams , waterfalls and other similar things , so I imagine that he would be very happy to have them as a bit of a background ambience while snuggling close with his beloved … 

He probably saves all of those “10 hours of waterfall sounds to sleep and relax to” compilations , he just likes them a lot :) 

Rayman 🧡

Now this man … 

This man doesn’t get as many chances to cuddle you as he’d like , given that he has to deal with so much while working on his show , so you can be sure that Rayman will make the times he can be with you truly special … 

< Aw … did you light up all these candles for me ? > 

< Mhm , I sure did . Cuddles with my lovely y/n need a bit of atmosphere after all ~ > 

< Hehe , you’re always so sweet Ray , thank you ~ > 

Rayman loves to just lay his head on your lap while staring up at you … it’s such a nice moment of intimacy , especially since it’s a position that makes it easy to snatch a kiss or two … or maybe three ;//) 

< Here , come a little closer y/n … god , I’ve missed this so much … ~ > 

While he likes to be able to talk to you while you cuddle ( especially since you’re possibly the only person who he can be fully sincere with ) , Rayman adores to just listen to anything you may want to say while snuggling close to you and let the sound of your voice relieve him from all his troubles …

He is just so glad to have you , he can’t stress about it enough ! 

Ramon 🖤

I think it’s safe to say that after everything that’s happened , Ramon has become even more physically affectionate than before : he just really needs all the reassurance he can get , so one thing he’ll do when you cuddle is wrap his hands around your waist to prevent you from even thinking about getting up …

< Ah geez , is that my phone … ? Can I just check real quick who it is ? > 

< No . Might be another one of Eden’s tricks to try and locate us . > 

< Heh … are you sure it’s not also an excuse to keep me from getting up ? > 

< Hmm … I dunno what you mean ~ > 

He really loves to bury his face in your chest : the sound of your heartbeat and your warmth are like a shelter from the outside world , and Ramon longs for nothing more than having you as close to him as possible . 

It’s also so very relaxing for him to be able to be vulnerable at least for a moment … he just can’t begin to express how important you are to him , but he’ll do his best .

< y/n … I love you so much , you know that … ? 

You’re … heh , literally everything I could ever ask for . > 

If you end up falling asleep while you cuddle together , Ramon is going to be watching over you for quite some time , looking at you while occasionally leaving little kisses on your face …

He won’t rest until he’s sure that you’re safe , he won’t allow anything bad to happen to you … not now nor ever . 

#captain laserhawk #x reader #bullfrog x reader #rayman x reader #bullfrog captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk bullfrog #captain lazerhawk rayman #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #rayman #gender neutral reader

[jlushie]

Ahgg I'm sorry I don't want to spam your inbox but I just love the way you write about all the bachelors and bachelorettes!

It's always so adorable and heartwarming ❤️

Thank you for writing such wonderful stuff!

Oh and I have to say I love Sebastian and I'd love to see farmer trying to teach Sebastian how to take care of the farm and overall enjoy the outside more!

Oh, you aren't spamming my inbox at all! I'm glad you like my writing!

I'll be more than happy to write for our favorite emo frog boy lolol

Also love the jojo pfp

Sebastian with a Farmer who Tries to Get Him Out of His Shell <333

Okay, Sebastian is obviously not really an outdoorsy type of person... initially. The most enjoyment he'd get from going outside was when it was raining or snowing, and he just couldn't see anything great about the warmer seasons.

He also disliked doing hard labor for work, so farming and doing any outside work would be out of the question in the beginning.

However, you seemed to enjoy going outside so... He might as well try.

Before you two were officially together, he'd get out of his room just to see you. Sure, the weather didn't necessarily keep him in comfort on hot days, but he'd do anything to see you smile the way you do at him.

"Oh uh... Hey farmer. It's cool to see you... No... No, I'm good. It's just... a bit hot."

The same somewhat goes for farming work. He initially didn't even think about doing it before he saw how tired you were from it. He just wanted to see you get some rest, so he looked up farming tips before going to your house in the morning and helping you secretly with whatever work you needed.

He was a bit too shy to admit it was actually him, so you'd probably live in mystery for a while over the bizarre nature of your crops being watered.

Though, you may be able to piece it together when you tell him about it. He just smiles widely with how happy you seem with less work.

After you two get together, he'll try even harder to go outside with you, even if that means he's gotta take his hoodie off.

If it pleases you, then he'll farm with you in the mornings. He'll try whatever work you give him, but still may need guidance.

He'll try his best to listen to your farming lessons, but he's still fairly new to it. As long as your patient and understanding with him he won't get frustrated or anything.

He'd be great with more mechanical aspects of your farm, along with building fences and such too! He works on his motorcycle quite frequently and had an intelligent sister like Maru and a carpenter like his mom. While he isn't close to his family, he might have gotten a few skills from watching what they were doing.

Even if he does try really hard to go outside with you, he'd probably still prefer working inside. He'd most likely take a few breaks between going outside and farming.

Random, but I feel as if he's hum or something when he farms with you. He'll get a lil embarrassed if you catch him, but it also may end up with you two humming and/or singing together.

Overall, he tries pretty hard just to make you comfortable and happy! While it still might not be his favorite thing, he still finds some aspects to enjoy!

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sebastian sdv #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley sebastian x reader #x reader #stardew valley bachelors #stardew valley headcanons #stardew valley marriage #x you fluff #not proofread

[daechwitatamic]

2. Retrograde || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 2: Retrograde

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, a broken bone, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS WC: 9.5k

Part 2: Retrograde

Retrograde: (noun) when celestial objects appear to travel backwards

You broke your wrist when you were ten. 

You were riding your bike around the dead end. Minji and Jungkook were away at a cousin’s house. Seokjin was down the street, on his skateboard, trying the same kickflip over and over again. Sometimes he made it. Sometimes he didn’t. You weren’t riding together. 

You don’t remember hitting the curb. You don’t remember what had distracted you. You don’t even remember flipping forward over the handlebars. Just the sickening burn that began at your wrist and pulsed in sluices up towards your elbow. 

Seokjin had run to your house to get your dad, the forgotten skateboard drifting by itself towards the run-off drain, where the wheels snagged and it stilled.

Your dad had picked you up and carried you, sobbing, into the backseat of his sedan, buckling you in. Then he’d turned and looked at Seokjin, who was standing, stone-faced, behind him. 

“Your dad’s not home,” he’d said, not a question. “I don’t want to leave you home alone - you can ride to the hospital with us. I’ll call your house when we get there and leave a message to explain.”

No one had cell phones yet, back then.

Every bump of the car jostled you and made you cry harder, holding your injury close to your chest. You weren’t even embarrassed to cry in front of Jin - it hurt so bad it eclipsed any other emotion.

And then Jin had reached out and held your uninjured hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“Hey,” he’d said, and then put on a heavy accent. “What be a pirate’s fav’rite letter?”

You’d thought about it. “Arrrr,” you guessed, proud to have figured it out.

Seokjin had grinned at you across the backseat. “You’d think it’d be ‘R’,” he cried, amped to get to deliver the punchline as intended, “but his true love be the ‘C’.”

“Good god,” your dad groaned from the front seat. But despite the unrelenting burning in your arm, you’d smiled.

–

The summer you were twelve, you’d played hide and seek outside at night. The idea came on out of nowhere. Jungkook - eleven, that year - had a few friends sleep over one night, loud boys named Taehyung and Jimin, and someone had suggested it. You remember thinking your parents wouldn’t allow it, but Mr. Kim had said it was okay as long as you stayed out of yards if you didn’t know the family that lived there, didn’t leave the dead end, and came back inside by ten o’clock.

The neighborhood felt different at night; it felt different to be set loose like this - free to run and shout and hide as the day’s sticky humidity faded into something comfortable. 

You’d split up, everybody running in separate directions, dark figures darting under streetlights and plunging into the shadows. You stuck close to the houses, trying to stay out of open spaces. You left your own yard, creeping two houses down, curling up in a ball next to someone’s shed.

I am a rock, you thought, hugging your knees as tightly as possible, making yourself as tiny as you could. I am just a rock. The dirt beneath you, gritty, dug into your knees and shins. In the distance, you could hear both trucks on the highway and the chorus of frogs in the streams behind the neighborhood. Sweat trickled between your shoulder blades.

I’m just a rock.

You heard someone’s footsteps approach you, in the dark, and then pause. You held as still as possible, trying to barely even breathe. Don’t see me, you thought. I am just a rock. 

The moment stretched, tense, and whoever thought you might be a rock decided to move on, their footsteps carrying on down the sloping yard. You released a breath, unfolding a little, looking around. Seeing no one, you stood, brushing dirt and pebbles from your legs. 

Seokjin appeared out of nowhere from the other side of the shed, and you’d stepped backwards instinctively, pressing your back against the grainy wood of the shed, holding your breath for the second time in minutes. 

He spotted you, clearly - he froze, feet away from you, looking at you through the darkness. You didn’t move a muscle, hardly dared to breathe. It was so dark that you couldn’t make out the features on his face. He was all shadow. But somehow you knew - knew - that his eyes were on yours. 

“You don’t see me,” you’d whispered to him. “I am just a rock.”

You’d heard him laugh, low, the surprised sound leaving his lips without permission. 

He should have tagged you out. But after a moment, he’d carried on, leaving you to hide again in peace. “Goodbye, rock,” he’d said, barely louder than a whisper. 

—

You were fifteen the first time you got drunk - really drunk - in Minji’s basement. You shouldn’t have - none of you should have been drinking in the first place, being underage. But Mr. Kim had gotten called into work and… it just sort of happened. 

Seokjin had a friend over and they’d holed up in the basement with a handle of vodka the friend had hidden in his duffle bag. You and Minji and Jungkook had been on them like buzzards, trying to get in on the fun. 

“Absolutely not,” Seokjin had told Jungkook, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re only fourteen. You can hang out with us if you can keep your mouth shut, but you don’t get any.”

“Hyung -”

“No,” Seokjin had stayed firm, and Jungkook had caved. 

“You two,” Seokjin had said, turning his gaze to Minji, who looked back at him innocently, like she was ready to follow every rule and would never put a toe out of line, “can have a little.”

Three hours later, you made it up the stairs to the kitchen barely alive, using your hands to help you balance on the steps. You’d gone up for water, but as you stood over the kitchen sink you were distracted by your reflection in the window. And then, the backyard beyond your reflection.

Somehow, you made it outside, tripping down the wooden steps to the grassy yard, spinning and landing heavily on your back. The night sky swirled above you, the stars laughing at what an idiot you were. The grass beneath you tickled, but you gripped it in your hands, desperate to make the spinning stop. 

Somehow, Jin appeared next to you in the grass, a few feet to your left. “How’s the yard?” he asked.

“Spinning,” you told him thickly. 

He reached out a hand and patted your arm twice. “It’ll stop.”

You stayed there in silence, watching the stars, clutching the earth beneath you, hoping you wouldn’t get flung off the ride. 

“Sometimes,” you heard yourself say, your voice seeming to come from the constellations themselves, the moons too far away to see, “I feel like everyone looks right through me.”

You felt Seokjin’s eyes on you, but he didn’t say anything. 

You nodded, licked your dry lips. “Yeah,” you said, like he’d asked you something, like you’re agreeing with something he’d added on. “Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

– 

You almost got a boyfriend when you were sixteen. There was a guy from school - you’d talk on the phone late at night, sit together at lunch, share answers to homework assignments before the first bell rang. 

On a particularly rainy Saturday, he’d taken you on a date to the nearest shopping mall. It had been okay - you’d had pretzels, wandered through a few department stores. 

It had been okay - until you ran into a bigger group of kids from school. You’d joined them for a while; they were his friends, and he jumped in their conversations easily, someone who belonged. You, the see-through one, smiled and listened. Always on the outskirts.

And then he’d said, “Hey, we’re going to go back to J’s dad’s house. You’ll be okay?”

It had taken you longer than you were proud of to realize he was leaving with them, leaving you alone. It had taken longer than you were proud of to feel pissed, to realize you should have done anything except smile and nod. 

He’d been your ride there.

Your parents had been working. You’d called Jin - your emergency adult. 

“Y/N?” he’d sounded confused. You’d never called him before. 

“Are you busy?” you’d asked him, the shame crawling over you, burrowing under your skin and making you want to rip it off. “I need a ride. I’m stuck.”

“What?” His voice was sharp. You could hear background noise stop, like he’d hit mute on what he was watching or paused the game he was playing. “Where are you? What happened?”

You lowered your voice, giving him the shortest version of the story possible. You were met with silence, stretching so long that you pulled the phone away from your ear to check your service, to see if you’d dropped the call. “Jin?”

“I’ll be there,” he’d said, something tight in his voice. “Wait for me by the food court.”

“Okay,” you’d whispered, and hung up.

Outside, it rained in sheets. You stood and watched the waves of rain move left to right across the parking lot. People jogged in from their cars, hoods on or umbrellas aloft. When Jin’s car pulled up to the curb, you ran through the rain, trying to shield your hair with your hands. It didn’t work at all. By the time you slid into the passenger seat, you looked half-drowned. 

“Thanks for coming,” you’d said, eyes on your shoes as Seokjin put the car back in drive and pulled slowly back into traffic.

“It’s fine,” he’d said, still terse. It was unlike him. He was so rarely serious, so rarely not making bad puns, so rarely not laughing like a windshield wiper. It made these moments feel… heavy, somehow.

He drove in silence for a little. You stewed in the passenger seat, sifting through embarrassment and anger and also - somehow - happiness to be here now, with Jin, even if it was at the cost of every cent of your dignity. 

Then, he seemed to notice the shopping bag on the floor of the car, tucked between your sneakers. 

“What’d you get?” he asked, voice light again.

“Shirt,” you told him, reaching down to pull the top from the bag and hold it up. “Cute, right?”

“Snazzy,” he agreed. “I think I should get one. You think they have my size?”

You laughed despite yourself. “You’re so lame,” you told him. “Besides, this totally isn’t your color.”

“Please!” he blustered. “I can look handsome in anything. I’d look amazing in that.”

You were really laughing by then. Minji used to get so annoyed that he made you laugh when he got like this - you were encouraging him, she said - but you genuinely found him so funny that you couldn’t help yourself. You always had. 

“Sure, okay,” you told him, stuffing the shirt back into the bag. “You keep telling yourself that.” 

As you neared your neighborhood, though, your mood sank again.

“Jin?” you asked, looking over at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes on the road.

“Could you maybe… not tell Minji? About today?”

He didn’t answer for a while, not until he came to a red light and could turn and look at you completely. “Why?” he asked. 

You could feel it as your face reddened as you had to put words to your embarrassment again. “She… was right about this guy. I should have listened to her. I just… I’m not ready to hear I told you so.”

Seokjin stopped in front of your parents’ house so you wouldn’t have to run across the street in the rain.

“I never saw you,” he promised you solemnly. “But Y/N? You shouldn’t let people treat you like this. That guy’s an ass.”

You gave him a tiny smile before extracting yourself from your seatbelt. “Thanks,” you’d said, and then darted through the rain like it would melt you.

–

Jin left for college at the end of the following summer, weeks before you turned seventeen. You watched through a gap in your living room curtains, curled up on the couch in your pajamas, as Mr. Kim and Jungkook helped load Jin’s boxes and bags into Mr. Kim’s car. 

It felt unfair, that he got to leave, that he got to turn right out of the dead end and have a life - and you were still trapped here. 

When Minji came out of the house, giving her older brother a reluctant hug, you rose, feet taking you unbidden on a course in their direction. 

Minji had grinned at you. “I’m glad you’re here, you can help me move my shit into his room.”

“Yah!” Seokjin had protested, pushing her shoulder lightly. “No one said you could have my room!”

Minji stuck her tongue out at him. “You won’t be here to stop me!” She started back into the house, then turned over her shoulder and called to you, “Come on, the bed will take forever to move!”

She disappeared into the house, leaving you and Seokjin alone next to Mr. Kim’s sedan, which was packed to the brim.

You didn’t look at each other; Seokjin leaned against the car with his arms crossed, eyes on the ground. You faced the car, and him, the house on the other side. You watched the reflection of his profile in the car’s window. 

What could you even say to him? What words could you pull out of your soul that weren’t a total cliche, or completely inappropriate, or both? 

Don’t have too much fun. 

Don’t forget me.

Please, don’t go away and fall in love without me.

I really don’t want you to go.

In the end, you told him, “See you at Christmas?” and he’d nodded silently, and you’d said, “Okay, then. Good luck with everything.”

Then you’d slinked into his house to help his little sister commandeer his bedroom. 

–

That’s only part of the story, though. If you’re flipping through moments you’d shared with Jin… there was one you skipped. You avoid it, give it a wide berth, like if you step too close you might knock it from its pedestal. Like you might get sticky fingerprints all over its protective glass just from looking, somehow. 

Mr. Kim had thrown Jin a graduation party in June, two months before he left for college. It had been wholesome while the sun was up - the Kim men had taken turns at the grill, little cousins had run barefoot through the yard, a table had been laden with gifts and cards, blue balloons had been tied to the porch railings. 

At night, though, it seemed like both children and adults disappeared, leaving only you in-betweens. Blind eyes had been turned to the cases of beer stashed beneath the sodas in the buckets of ice. Cars full of kids parked up and down the dead end street, unloading loudly and entering the even louder house. 

You’d stayed close to Minji, hadn’t even had that much to drink. But the house had been packed with people, too loud, too hot, and you’d found yourself slipping out the kitchen door sometime around one in the morning.

The lights from the house cast squares onto the driveway. Past them, a figure sat on the ground at the end of the driveway, long legs stretched out in front of him.

You’d made your way over slowly, warily. Not sure if you were wanted, not sure if you were intruding. 

He’d turned to see who it was when you approached. You think you probably imagined the way he’d softened when he saw it was only you. 

“You good?” you’d asked. 

“‘Course,” he said - which should have been a clue that he might not be. A one word answer? From Kim Seokjin?

You paused next to him, still a bit unsure. “You sure? You’re… sitting on the ground alone, outside your own party.”

Jin huffed out a laugh at this. “I just needed some air. Some space.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling instantly like you were ruining the space he’d been craving. 

“You can stay,” he’d said quickly, reading your response correctly. “I mean… I don’t mind if you’re here.”

Relief flooded you. You’d leaned against the side of the car parked there - not Mr. Kim’s sedan, you didn’t know whose car it was - and eyed him thoughtfully. 

“Are you scared?” you asked. Something about the question felt right, felt like you were zeroing in on the problem. 

Seokjin laughed again, a little sarcastic. “Me? Never.”

You smiled at his back, seeing right through his bravado. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?” 

He’d shaken his head, pushed himself to his feet, brushed gravel from his hands, then his ass. He’d turned slowly, walked back towards the house, paused just a foot from you. 

It was always you and Seokjin, in the dark. 

You were always more honest with each other in the dark. Inside, he’d be all dad jokes and video games, kitchen skills and skateboard tricks. 

You needed some shadows to get any idea what he was thinking. It had always been that way. 

“I dunno,” he’d said, hands in his pockets. “Classes. Dorms. Not having my dad around. Not being here to watch out for Jungkook.”

“That’s more than one thing,” you’d pointed out. 

He’d nodded seriously, but his lips twisted in irony, like he was thinking a very clever joke and holding it in. 

“Okay then,” he said. “Let’s go with: losing my place, here. Coming back and finding out that everyone just… moved on without me.”

He’d brushed past you then, reaching out to touch your elbow lightly on his way by.

It’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don’t know if he meant his family, or you. 

You’re mad at yourself the second you’re back in your car. You’d gone there uninvited, you’d cooked for him. Obviously it meant something - neither of you were stupid enough to think it didn’t. So why had you run the second he’d tried to talk to you?

You berate yourself the whole way home. And you’re not the only one who’s pissed. Jin texts you before you’re even out of the neighborhood, though you don’t see it until you park at your complex, grabbing your phone from the cup holder where you’d tossed it. 

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im confusing YOU? [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im not the one who came to cook you breakfast and then bolted the second it got serious [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: THAT’S confusing

Defensiveness rises up in you like a wave. Where does he get off lecturing you after the shit he pulled two years ago? Hands shaking, you fire back, “no, you bolted BEFORE breakfast. the second you got your jeans zipped, if i remember correctly.”

You throw your phone onto the passenger seat like it’s burned your hands, closing your eyes and pressing your head back into the headrest, breathing out slowly through your mouth to calm your racing heart. Fuck, those had been fighting words, for sure. But you’re pretty convinced he deserves it. 

When you get brave enough to pick it up again, he hasn’t answered. You’re not sure if you’re relieved, or more worried. With a sigh, you collect your things and head inside. 

“Roomieeeeee!”

You’d barely unpacked since returning from Christmas break your freshman year of college, your suitcase open on your dorm bed, a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to you. You’d been about to move it all to the hamper, it just hadn’t happened yet. Your college roommate, Sheyla, had just burst through the door, crowing happily when she saw you. 

You got along well with Sheyla - you’d probably stay friends after college. But no one could take Minji’s place. When you and Minji decided to go to the same college, you’d agreed to live separately, to preserve your friendship. You both knew you needed breaks from each other to maintain the love. 

“Hey!” you called back, flapping a hoodie out of the ball you’d scrunched it in and smelling the pits. Into the dirty pile it went. “How was your Christmas?”

Sheyla tossed her bag on the ground and flopped backwards onto her bed, fingers reaching to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up together. 

“Honestly? Boring. No one lives home by me, it was old people central the whole time. How about you?” She looks at you, suddenly sharp-eyed. “Did you see that guy? Your neighbor?” 

You glanced at the door in alarm, as if Minji could have possibly materialized there, just in time to overhear.

Sheyla clocked this and laughed. “She can’t hear us! I told you your secret was safe! So, did you?”

It had been your first holiday break going home, your freshman year of college. You’d seen Jin sparingly over the last two years - two winter breaks, two summer breaks, and the odd weekend here or there if he had things going on. 

You hadn’t had a conversation in that whole time; you’d been to the house to see Minji, but you hadn’t crossed paths. You texted each other on your birthdays, maybe once or twice if something interesting happened. 

It had been weird, feeling things shift, noticing him slowly become someone who used to be in your life. 

“Yeah, his family came to my parents’ Christmas Eve party,” you admitted. “But we really didn’t talk. He didn’t even come sit in the same room as me and Minji.”

It was true; you’d stayed in the kitchen for most of the party, wanting to avoid all your parents’ work friends, who were going to ask you about how college was going, and did you like your classes, and had you made new friends, and did you have a boyfriend yet and - you were just too tired for it. 

You and Minji had sat on the kitchen counter, crossed ankles dangling, sipping at beers and watching people pass by the doorways - one out to the living room, one out to the dining room. 

Seokjin hadn’t come into the kitchen once - but you knew he was out there, because you could hear his wild laugh, his high-pitched complaining as he scolded Jungkook for something he’d probably started in the first place, his voice bouncing over the low tones of the others. 

Jungkook had slunk into the kitchen near the end of the party. “Jinnie wants a beer,” he’d told Minji, reaching out a hand, somehow knowing you two had a six-pack behind you. 

“Why can’t he come get it?” she demanded as she reached back, fingers closing around a glass neck.

Jungkook shrugged. “He told me to get him one.”

Minji narrowed her eyes at him, the way she does when she’s assessing, deciding something. Then she handed him a second bottle. “That didn’t come from me,” she told him, and he gave her a salute before grabbing the beers and scooting back out.

“Are you and Jin fighting?” you asked, leaning back against the wooden cabinets behind you. 

“Not unless he’s fighting without telling me,” she laughed. “If that’s the case, I’ll hear about it later, I’m sure.”

It had bugged you, that he seemed to be avoiding you. Then you’d glanced out into the living room, and there he was, the beer in hand. 

He was standing facing Jungkook, but his eyes weren’t on his younger brother. They were on you - and Minji - but they seemed… far away. Wistful, somehow. Then, he’d noticed you looking and he’d pulled his gaze back to Jungkook fast. But the redness took over his ears and crept down his neck almost instantly. 

You still weren’t sure what that was about. The most hopeful, foolish, idiotic part of you hoped it had a guess.

“Well,” Sheyla had said with a sigh. “There’s always next time.”

You’d slept over at Minji’s that night, the two of you cramming into her double bed now that you were too old for sleeping bags on the floor. In the morning, you’d rummaged in the kitchen for something to drink - something with bubbles, preferably, but water might have to do - when Seokjin had shuffled in behind you.

You’d turned, surprised, a cold can of seltzer in your hand. “Oh,” you’d said, suddenly very aware that you were still in pajamas, hadn’t bothered with a bra. You crossed your arms, hoping for nonchalance, and tried not to eye the grey sweatpants Jin sported. “I didn’t think anyone else was up. Morning.”

He’d stretched, the movement exposing a strip of belly between the sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. “Morning,” he’d answered, voice gravely from sleep. 

You’d watched as he started the kettle. He kept his back to you, turning over his shoulder to see if you were still there after a minute. You wanted to ask him - well, lots of things. How was college, how was he, why was he avoiding you, why was he being so fucking weird?

His back, wide and solid, said don’t. So you’d taken your seltzer and retreated back to Minji’s bedroom, wondering if you imagined the feeling of his gaze burning on you as you fled.

–

You were twenty when Seokjin graduated from college. You were home, too, most of your school stuff yet unpacked the morning they took his graduation pictures in the front yard. Jungkook looked barely awake, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Minji fussed over trying to get his hair to lay flat. Seokjin stood in the center of the yard in his cap and gown, and you could hear him in your head complaining that they were taking too long and could they please just hurry up and take the picture. You smiled over your cup of coffee and then removed yourself from the window before you could get caught watching. 

He’d had a graduation party that night. You really considered not going; it had been four years since Seokjin had left for college, two since you and Minji had, and in those four years you’d barely interacted - just the niceties when your paths had to cross, when your orbits swung you too close together again. It seemed pointless to show up when you wouldn’t even talk, when the days of stealing quiet moments away from everyone else were long gone. It seemed pointless to go, just to spend the night cataloging all the ways things had changed in four years, getting your feelings hurt for no reason at all.

Jin had said he was afraid of everyone moving on, but he’d nudged you on your way - so, really, you ought to just go.

Minji hadn’t understood. How could you explain it? “I don’t think he really wants me there,” you’d tried, sticking to the most basic truths. “Jin and I don’t really talk these days.”

“Since when did you and Jin talk in the first place?” she’d demanded, half right. “You’re there as my friend. Now come on, get changed!”

The sun was setting when you finally let yourself out the front door, calling goodbye to your parents, and making your way across the street. It was log-jammed with cars - a rare sight - and people milled through the front and side yards, red cups and plates of food in hand. It felt a bit like deja vu - you’d done this for all three Kim siblings for high school (though you and Minji had a joint celebration) and now you’d go through the cycle again as you four finished college in waves. 

Despite Minji’s needling, you’d felt a little off-kilter, a little out of place. The feeling had sent you into the backyard to look for the drinks before you even found Minji.

As always at their summer parties, there was a keg tucked under the deck - you had to know they put it there, or else ask someone. You’d never find it on your own as a first-timer. You threw your shoulders back to cast off the squiggly feeling in your stomach and made your way down, grabbing a plastic cup and feeling around for the spigot. 

You heard a familiar sound across the yard - Jungkook’s voice, whining that he was out of beer.

“Hyung will do it,” Seokjin said, and before you knew it he was sidling around a group of moms with their toddlers to reach the keg - and you.

He stopped when he saw you, then ducked his head and came closer, Jungkook’s empty cup in hand. His ears were tinged pink and you weren’t sure if it was from standing in the sun or… something else.

“Hey,” you’d said, taking your thumb off the spigot and watching the foam on your beer slowly fizz away. “Congrats on graduating.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he’d said, sending you a sideways grin as he pulled the spigot from your hand and started filling Jungkook’s cup. 

“You guess?” you squinted at him. That grin was disarming, devious. 

He shrugged. “I don’t feel like I really did anything that special. Showed up for class, turned in my homework.”

“You’re right,” you deadpanned. “I rescind my congratulations, effective immediately.”

His grin widened as he laughed, pleased that you were playing along. His gaze lingered on you before he checked on his beer again, making you warmer than you’d been walking through the almost-setting summer sun.

Things felt… charged, suddenly. Energized. You were used to Jin feeling comforting, like when you were kids. You were used to Jin feeling like an emotional black hole, everything inside you gravitating towards his center, as you did as a teenager. But this… this was new. 

“Are you done at school?” he’d asked, shifting slightly closer. He released the spigot, letting the foam on his beer start to settle and you picked it up again, filling the top of your own where it had settled and left empty space.

“One more final, but it’s online,” you’d said.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jin watch you. You wondered what would happen if you said it - told him how you felt, or told him you’d felt like he didn’t want to be near you the last few times you’d seen each other, or told him how badly you wanted your hands on him.

“What’s taking so long?” Jungkook shouted from across the yard, starting to make his way over. When he saw you at the keg, his steps slowed, understanding crossing his face.

“I had to share,” Jin explained, waving a hand at you. You handed him back the spigot, finished. 

“Minji’s inside?” you asked them both, stepping out of the shadows and back into the sunlit yard. 

“I think so,” Jungkook said, and you’d given them both a quick wave and headed in. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook nudged at Seokjin’s ribs, causing him to spill the top-third of his beer.

Long after sunset, after the food had been cleaned up, after the families with little kids had said goodbye and headed home, you found yourself wandering through the backyard again. Minji had gotten a phone call from the guy she was dating and went into her room to talk - you could have sat in there with her, she wouldn’t have minded, but it kind of gave you the ick to listen to her being so sickly sweet and moonstruck. 

Instead, you combed the house for a familiar face. Jungkook had a whole group of friends over, and they were playing a drinking game in the basement. Your parents, who had joined the party in time for the food, had told Mr. Kim goodnight and headed across the street, telling you to text them if you decided to stay the night with Minji. Most of Jin’s college friends who had come from out of town had filtered out. 

You finally found Jin, nearly at midnight. He was in his room in the dark, lit up by only his phone screen. His door was mostly closed, and you hesitated in the hall, deciding to leave him alone and go back to bugging Minji in her room.

You hadn’t even turned around to retrace your steps when he called your name. Heart thumping, you’d pushed his door open a little further, hovering in the doorway. He was laying on his bed, on top of the covers, his phone screen casting his face in blue.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head sideways to look at you.

“Minji’s on the phone with the boyfriend,” you explained. “I needed to escape.”

Jin laughed, a little sputtering. 

“What are you doing?” you’d asked, taking one tentative step over the threshold. You’d been in Jin’s room very rarely in your years growing up here. It seemed like new turf. 

He told you the name of the webtoon he was reading, flashing the screen at you so you could see.

You had nodded, silent, stuck in the middle of his room. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t know how to leave. 

“Can I… read with you?” you asked, tentatively. You didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t map out how this would work or look; you just wanted to stay with him, just wanted to get closer.

Seokjin surprised you; he immediately shifted over on his bed, closer to the wall, making space for you.

You had to tell yourself to move, had to beg yourself to move before you stood still so long you made it weird. You’d never been in or on Jin’s bed, and you’d never laid that close before - certainly not since you and Minji were little kids, all laying on the floor together to watch a movie. Never in context like this. 

You lay next to him gingerly, afraid to break the spell, afraid the moment would burst like a bubble on a child’s sticky, eager fingertip. You felt exactly that way: like you wanted it so much, but you knew if you touched it, it would be gone. 

Your head rested next to his, close enough that you could hear his even breathing, but your bodies stayed a good foot apart. 

Still, even with the space between you, you could feel his warmth. His bed smelled like him - something deep and smokey. It could have felt thrilling - it could have felt forbidden. Instead, inexplicably, it felt comforting, peaceful. Like home.

And eventually, as you stayed there, you settled in. Your breathing slowed, your pulse calmed, and you actually got caught up in the comic on the screen. Jin held his phone above you both, waiting patiently until you murmured, “Okay,” before scrolling each time. 

You don’t remember falling asleep. What you remember is waking up slowly, immediately unsure where you were. The early morning light was unfamiliar, grey. You stretched, feet reaching for the end of the bed, and then went stock still as you felt someone shift beside you. 

Oh god. Had you hooked up with someone? Uncommon, but not impossible. 

You took a steadying deep breath, bracing yourself to face your potential mistakes, and cracked one eye open. 

Seokjin breathed through his mouth, eyelids fluttering in sleep, just next to your face. You had a split second of absolute alarm, your brain making the equivalent of !!!!, before it came back to you. 

You’d fallen asleep reading on his phone. Nothing had happened. But his arm was over your side, fingers resting lightly on your stomach. 

You stayed as still as you could, trying to make your brain stop making sounds like a broken motor, hoping Jin wouldn’t wake before you were ready to function like a human. You considered, for a moment, leaning into the situation - rolling into the cuddle, closing your eyes and sinking back down into fuzzy darkness, your face buried in his shirt. 

You closed your tired eyes, ready to do just that when your brain suddenly began operating again and your eyes flew open, one hand slapping the mattress in panic.

Minji. If you were in Seokjin’s bed, that meant you were in the Kims’ house, which meant Minji was on the other side of the wall - could catch you, had possibly already caught you. 

Heart pounding practically in your throat, you slipped slowly out from under Seokjin’s arm. He had stirred, rolling a little, tucking that arm closer to his chest now that it had nothing to hold. He didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and started hunting around for your phone. You found it on the ground - it must have fallen off the bed in the middle of the night. 

When you checked it, your question was answered -

[1:52 AM] Minji: did you go home??? [2:07 AM] Minji: you could have said goodbye!!! 😠

You press your phone to your chest out of sheer relief. She hadn’t found you, hadn’t peeked into his room on her way through the house last night, hadn’t spotted you two spooning of all things. 

“Christ,” you’d muttered, frustrated with yourself for the close call, for falling asleep, for being so stupid over Seokjin even now when you were grown and had separate lives. 

You had slinked out of his room on tiptoe, had scooted through the house as quickly and silently as you could, scarcely breathing until you were safely behind the walls of your own house across the street. 

You and Jin never talked about it. A precedent, really.

–

The path of your orbit swung you out again - back to college, away from home, back into your world of classes and dorm life. The pieces of your adult life started to click into place as your senior year spun by - grad programs, internships, hints at a life in a different universe than the one you’ve known. 

You and Minji graduated, returned for the summer. 

There was a night you’d laid across from Minji on the swinging bench in their backyard, her feet in your lap. You two swang gently, eyes on the constellations above you, listening to music play from Minji’s bluetooth speaker. 

“Next year’s gonna be weird,” you said, because it was all you could think about, then. You’d gone to college together, but you wouldn’t be together for grad school. 

“We’ll be fine,” Minji had murmured, eyes closing. 

You’d nudged her with your foot. “Don’t go to sleep. I’m trying to talk to you. I’m nervous.”

She had opened one eye, nudged you right back. “We’ll be fine,” she repeated, more firmly. “It’s not like we’re going to live on campuses in different states. I’ll be right here. You won’t be far, either.”

You lapsed into silence again. The swing tilted you back and forth, lulling you half to sleep.

“I broke up with that guy,” you muttered, half hoping she wouldn’t hear you. Instead, she sat straight up, almost overbalancing the swing and dumping you both on the ground. 

“You what?” she asked. “Why?”

“I just wasn’t feeling it,” you explained. You were twenty-one that summer, starting to look at apartments you’d be able to afford while working part-time around grad classes. “Honestly, I was just bored.”

“You always say that,” she accused flatly. “I’ve never understood this about you. Everybody bores you. No one… sticks.” Her voice softens and she adds, “I worry about you.” 

You laughed, once, and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine, Minji. None of them were… right. Someone will be.”

“But how will you know?” she pressed. “If you don’t give anyone a chance, how will you know when it’s right?”

Your chest clenched. Because I know what it feels like when it is, you thought, but you couldn’t say that. 

“I just will,” you’d muttered, not an answer. You’d gotten up from the swing, heading for the house. “I need some water.”

As soon as you open the kitchen door, Jin jumped a mile. He’d been standing at the kitchen sink… next to the open window.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Were you listening?” you demanded. 

Jin had flushed pink before you even spoke, telling on himself. “No,” he said hotly. “I was just here, and the window happened to be open, and -”

“And you eavesdropped,” you finished. 

He faced you, lips pursed thoughtfully. “How come no one sticks?” he asked. 

You honestly thought you heard him wrong. “What?” you’d uttered, sure he’d repeat himself and say something else entirely. 

“Why,” he said again, more slowly, “haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

There was a roaring in your ears as you stared back at him.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” you countered, your voice suddenly a whisper. “Jin, what do I say to that?”

He stepped closer, looking down at you, suddenly dangerously close to being in your space. He murmured your name, reached for your hand. His thumb stroked the back of your hand once, his eyes on yours imploringly.

What were you supposed to say - “because none of them were you”? 

The kitchen door opened with a slam and you leapt apart, Seokjin dropping your hand and wheeling around to face the kitchen sink again. With shaking hands you reached for a cabinet that held cups and glasses, rummaging like you were trying to find a good one.

“Get me one of those, please,” Minji asked, poking you in the side as she passed you, before plopping into a kitchen chair.

“Sure,” you’d said, praying that your voice wouldn’t give you away. Seokjin slipped away, down the hall, into the shadows.

–

“What do you think of the wine?”

You were in spanx, a black velvet dress Minji had bullied you into buying, heels that made your ankles swell, and a lipstick called Pretty Petunia. 

The wine was too sweet for your liking.

But for the sake of your date, who’d made you reservations at a fancy Italian place, you’d smiled and demurred, “Not bad. What do you think?”

You barely heard his answer. It was your third date, and you’d been more bored at each one. He hadn’t made you laugh even once.

As the candle flame between you flickered and danced, you downed two more glasses of the too-sweet wine and did serious damage to the bread basket. When your date asked you if you wanted to go back to his place for a nightcap, you lied and said you had an assignment due by midnight for grad school and needed to get home. 

When he dropped you back at your parents’, you showered and got into sweatpants. You climbed on your bed and pushed your curtain aside just a few inches, leaning your arms on the windowsill and laying your head on them. Your phone buzzed by your leg - the date. 

You didn’t answer.

You kept your eyes on the window, on the Kims’ house. 

Seokjin had moved out earlier that day - really moved out, taking everything with him to an apartment a plane ride away. 

You hadn’t told him goodbye, hadn’t snuck out to the moving van for one last moment. He hadn’t texted you, hadn’t looked up towards your window.

He’d just left, and you’d sat here and watched him go.

You rotated in place, wobbling as Seokjin slipped further from your life. You adjusted to the procession. Life hurtled on.

–

The first time you brought a boyfriend home, you were twenty-four. Three years had passed since Seokjin moved away, two since you moved out of your parents and into your “swanky” apartment, one since Minji had moved to her own place not too far from you. 

You didn’t have any expectations for your parents’ Christmas Eve party - the three Kim kids were around some Christmases, but not all. You hadn’t seen all three of them on the same day since before Seokjin had moved out. You knew Minji was coming - you’d texted. The boys? Who knew. 

You were excited to see Minji for the first time in a while. You were nervous to bring your boyfriend around your extended family. You were trying desperately to keep Seokjin from even crossing your mind. You weren’t excited to see him. You weren’t nervous to see him. You tried to keep the Seokjin part of your brain perfectly blank as you led your boyfriend, Daniel, up the front walk of your parents’ house, careful to point out the ever-present icy patch near the front door. 

Your parents greeted Daniel warmly. You’d been dating about two months, and he’d met them not that long ago. He was a nice guy, at the end of the day. 

“Come on,” you murmured to him, after you’d hung up your coats and taken off your shoes. “I have to introduce you to my aunts. I’m sorry in advance?”

He’d look at you wide-eyed, nervous. “Why are you sorry?”

“They’re just… loud,” you’d said, already steeling yourself for the squeals and hullabaloo. 

Daniel held up surprisingly well, smiling genuinely and repeating everyone’s name back to them to make sure he remembered it. He was a nice guy.

Christmas Eve dinner went smoothly. You sat near Minji, the two of you catching up in quiet voices as the loud conversation flowed around you. Daniel, bless him, kept up with the larger conversation, taking a more active role with your family than you were. 

After the meal, people floated around the house in groups. Someone put on a Christmas movie in the living room, you helped your mom put desserts out in the dining room. 

You were standing in the living room, leaning against Daniel a little, chatting with Minji and watching the Christmas movie over her shoulder when the front door opened, shooting a blast of winter air through the room. That’s what made you look up - the chill.

Seokjin came through the door with his eyes down, working his feet out of his boots before the door was even shut behind him.

“Jinnie!” Minji cried. 

A few things happened in quick succession. Your chest clenched, your stomach dropped. 

Seokjin’s gaze followed his sister’s voice, then found you. You watched it on his face as he processed - seeing you, recognition and affection flickering to life, then confusion as he took in the stranger behind you, and then his face went absolutely unreadable.

Daniel wrapped his arm around you, hard, pulling you against him wordlessly. He’d never been so assertive the whole time you’d known him.

Later, he’d asked you, “Is there history with you and Minji’s brother? It seemed, when he showed up…”

Weeks later, when he ended things, bitterness caused him to spit, “Call Minji’s brother and cry about it.”

So much for a “nice guy”.

You’d wished you could call Minji’s brother to cry about it. He would have made you smile again. 

–

Jin’s shoulders were under your fingers, his ragged breath in your ear, his lips on your jaw. Nothing existed but him. Everything you’d spent almost your entire life hoping for was right here, within grasp - he’d called you beautiful, he’d pressed his lips to yours like he’d die if he didn’t, he kept you safe in the space between your arms if only for a few moments. 

Then, he’d stepped away carefully, holding you up a bit until you were steady on your feet again. You adjusted your skirt as he zipped his jeans and stepped away towards the trash bins - to deal with the condom, you realized. Then he was back, close enough that you could see him in the dark again.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to ask if this was what you hoped it was - if he wanted you, really wanted you, wanted to be with you. You didn’t want to look stupid - stupider - if this was just sex, nothing else. 

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” Seokjin said. Was there something glum in his voice, or were you paranoid? “Minji will sniff that out so fast.”

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice sounded warped to your own ears. “Got it.”

Got it. This didn’t mean a thing. 

You stayed there, pressed close to the house, hiding in the shadows long enough for your pulse to calm, long enough to start to shiver. You hadn’t gone back inside at all - instead, you’d crossed the street and entered your parents’ house, falling asleep in your childhood bed. 

It was fitting. You’d cried yourself to sleep as a child and teenager plenty of times in that bed. Might as well do it again.

In the morning, New Year’s Day, you’d texted Minji, “what’s up at your house?”

She’d answered, “dad just took jinnie to catch his plane. why? whats up?”

You’d played it off, said something like “just wondered if you were as hungover as i am”. You laid on your childhood bed and stared at the ceiling, tracing the bumps and cracks you knew by heart. You reminded yourself that you hadn’t asked Jin for anything, hadn’t told him anything. You had no right to be upset with him.

The only move was forward. So, that’s what you would do. You’d move on, and so would he.

Which doesn’t explain why now, two years later, you’re furious again.

You avoid the neighborhood, try to slip back into your old habits and old routine. 

Your mother, of course, calls you out. 

“Haven’t seen you in a bit,” she says to you on the phone, a few days after you’d made Jin hangover soup. She keeps her voice so innocent, but you hear the unsaid - you were here so much and then you stopped. 

“Want to go out for dinner?” you suggest. “I’ll treat you and Dad to somewhere good?”

“I already started cooking for later,” she says. She sounds sorry, but you’re beyond sure it’s all a trap. She proves you right by adding, “You could come here for dinner, though. I made your favorite.”

Of course you did, you tricky devil, you think darkly. 

“Okay,” you say, long-suffering. “I’ll come for dinner.”

“We’ll see you at seven,” your mom says, and hangs up. 

You feel entirely like you’ve been hoodwinked. You’re just not sure how yet. 

When you arrive for dinner, you walk in warily, half expecting an unpleasant surprise of some sort. But you find just your parents, delicious food, and a quiet house. 

You eye your mother suspiciously through the whole meal, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. You help your dad wash the dishes when you’re all done, spend a little time sitting around chatting. Eventually, you eye the clock and tell them you should get home. You give them quick hugs at the door and step out into the night, pulling the door shut behind you.

Across the street, the Kims’ house is all lit up. Minji’s car is parked in the street, not far from your own, which means she’s there too. You wonder how many more days Seokjin will be in town, before he fucks off back to his own city again. He’d said he’d stay for a few weeks, and you’re already nearing the halfway point. 

You were stupid to even talk to him again. You were stupid to go to their house, knowing he was there. You were stupid to let him flirt with you at the bar, to nearly let him kiss you. You were stupid to show up, uninvited, and fucking cook for him like a goddamn girlfriend. You shouldn’t have done any of it. You should have stayed away. 

You’re all worked up, thinking this, as you stalk through your parents’ front yard, pushing the button to unlock your car. You open the driver’s side door, still fuming, furious at yourself. 

The door is jerked out of your hand as someone slams it shut.

Seokjin faces you darkly, one hand still on your car.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you scold him. “Seokjin, what the fuck.”

“We have a conversation to finish,” he says, ignoring this. 

You close your eyes, lean sideways onto your car. You don’t have the energy for this. “I have nothing to say,” you tell him, opening your eyes again to look up at him. “I’m sorry I threw a cheap shot at you. All that… it doesn’t matter now.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

You shake your head. “It was so long ago, and it didn’t mean anything… I shouldn’t have even brought it up again.”

His brows furrow. He murmurs your name, the same way he had in the back hallway at the bar. “I don’t think you mean that,” he says gently, and it makes you even angrier, angry that you have to stand here and feel foolish while he gets to pity you.

“Which part?” you snap. “It was two years ago, we haven’t talked in those two years, and bringing it up has been completely fucking pointless, so where’s the lie?” 

He grimaces, shaking his head a little. “I wondered for months if I’d hurt you… if you were upset. I was really hoping you weren’t. But, clearly…”

“Fuck you,” you tell him, a derisive laugh edging its way into your tone. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and feel bad about it two years later. I’m over it - I’ve been over it. I just never got to tell you to your face that you were an asshole, and now I can.”

“I was in a bad place that night,” he says, trying to explain. “I only -”

“I don’t want your explanation,” you snap, cutting him off. “Believe it or not, Seokjin, I’m not, like, dying to hear the list of reasons why you were out of your head enough to make a mistake like me, that night.”

He literally steps away, eyes wide, his hand falling from your car and slapping the side of his leg as it lands. “Mistake?” he echoes, horrified. “Is that what you think?”

This trips you, knocks you completely off the furious track you’d been barreling down. “What?” you say, unconsciously trying to buy yourself time to process, to formulate a response. 

He steps back toward you, closing the space between you. One of his hands comes up and rests on your cheek. For some reason, you let it, staying still and allowing it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “It didn’t mean nothing. It wasn’t a mistake, and I should never have let you think differently.”

And then he’s kissing you, slow and gentle, nothing like the fiery kiss you’d shared two years ago. His thumb strokes your cheek so gently it almost tickles. You open for him, letting him take you deeper, tilting your head back to give him more room as he shifts to press you against your car. Your mouth moves against his, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip. Then he’s sucking lightly at it as you sigh against his lips. Your hands are clutching his jacket, your hips pushing against his like they’re asking for trouble. 

And then you’re opening both hands and pushing him away, scrambling to get your car door open again. He looks at you, bewildered, your name a question falling from his lips.

“I can’t do this again,” you tell him brokenly, as honest as you can be. “I can’t do it again. I think it’ll kill me if I do.”

You drop heavily into the driver’s seat, tug the door shut, and pull away. You buckle up as you drive away, Seokjin getting smaller and smaller in your side mirror, standing in the middle of the street in the dark, watching you go. 

You drive five more blocks and then pull over, pressing your hands to your face as you gasp for air through shuddering, stomach-clenching sobs.

Seokjin was seventeen the first time you got drunk at his house, really drunk.

He felt responsible, since it had been his own fault - it was his friend Yoongi who’d come over with a handle of vodka. He’d been the one to tell you and Minji you could have a little. So when he watched you use hands and feet to climb the stairs and head up towards his kitchen, he’d followed, to make sure you didn’t fall down and get hurt.

He knew you’d gone outside because you’d left the kitchen door wide open. He’d followed, silently, closing the kitchen door behind himself. You were laying on your back in the yard, hands clutching fistfuls of grass, eyes on the sky above. 

He’d laid next to you, a few feet away, asked you how the yard was. 

“Spinning,” you’d told him, the word so badly slurred he almost couldn’t tell what you’d said.

And then you’d flopped your head towards him, those eyes swimming with something he thought he could understand, and you’d said, “Sometimes I feel like everyone looks right through me. Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

Seokjin had reached across the grass, taking your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He’d given your hand one squeeze, and you’d closed your eyes, turning your face back up towards the stars. 

“I can see you,” he’d assured you. He didn’t know if you’d remember in the morning or not. But it had felt important to make sure you knew. 

He could see you. 

He had always been able to see you.

<- Prev || Next ->

ehehehehe i hope you liked this update!!! a little peek backwards :) thank you for reading and i hope you continue to enjoy!!!!!

i'm taking a week off of posting because I am traveling for a Family Event (send help) so part 3 will post on Friday, June 16th. thank you for understanding!

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #seokjin fanfic #jin fic #jin fanfic #seokjin fic #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin smut #jin smut #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #seokjin x you #jin x you #seokjin x y/n #jin x y/n #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin fluff #bts smut #neighbors au #s2l #seokjin angst #jin angst #kim seokjin angst #fic: amalthea

[southparkhcsocs]

Hii! Could you maybe do the main four + butters (if wanted ofc!) with a s/o who looks really mean on the outside but is like the nicest person in the inside!! If you do thank youuu! x3 ♥︎

Also do u accept anons? If you do, could I be 🕯️ anon?

Yes! love this! I hope you like it!

I do Accept Anons!

Stan Marsh

When Stan first saw you he might as well shat his pants

Bro was so scared as was most people at college

There wasn't a lot of buff ass girls so when you walked up to him when he was trying to bench

SWEAT

but your soft voice spoke

"you should really have someone to spot you when doing bench presses."

"w-what?"

"it's okay, I'll spot you."

Fuck it was when you smiled

that smile got this boy smitten

After that?

Well, it was history

Kyle Broflovski

You didn't really like anyone in your class.

they were either try hards or just fucking idiots

So when then stupid Ginger wouldn't stop staring at you

well you had enough

"what the fuck is your problem?"

"w-what?"

"why are you staring at me??"

"i.. uh.. I want to ask you on a date"

A Date???

Your stomach started doing flips

You look him up and down

"sure."

Best decision ever!

Kenny McCormick

UGH Kenny McCormick!? Seriously!

Not being funny Ken but everyone know you're a fuck and chuck kinda guy

Everyone knew you were not the kind to be fucked around with

Especially since what your ex said you did to them

So you thought you would give him a dirty look to get the dumbass to stop staring

this MF just WINKED

from then on he wouldn't leave you alone

you exchanged numbers thinking nothing of it

until one night he text you

Y/n, hlep bd higth What? PLs hel p Send location

And with that you made your way to the scruffs house.

You were always his go to for everything from that point on

Eric Cartman

Everyone knew you were in some sort of fight club

So when Cartman heard he want to watch to see how shit you were

but much to his surprise you were actually good???

he could use this

you could beat people up for him

it's perfect!

Little did he know that you were a total softie

litro would not hurt a fly

plus you wont attention like.. ALL THE TIME

Lucky you're hot

andgivegoodhead

Leopold "Butters" Stotch

oh hamburgers

oh hamburgers

he doesn't know what he was thinking

he heard the rumors' about you

so when his dad ordered him to tell you to move your bike he was terrified

as he timidly walked over to you

it was like he got a frog caught in his throat

"e-excuse me.. could you please move your bike"

"you're cute."

His face could not of gotten redder

"here's my number. call me."

You hopped on your bike and rode of into the distance

once you got back to your dorm you checked your phone

3 new messages

This boy has never received as much love since meeting you.

you adore him and he you

#🕯️ anon #south park #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #butters stotch #south park kyle #south park stan #south park kenny #south park cartman #south park butters #kyle brovlofski x reader #stan marsh x reader #eric cartman x reader #kenny mcormick x reader #butters stotch x reader #south park hc #south park kyle broflovski #south park stan marsh #south park kenny mccormick #south park butters stotch #south park eric cartman

[avenging-fandoms]

We need domestic life with Djarin and Grogu (Im still gonna call him Din , IDGAF)

**i deeply enjoyed writing this. i have never loved writing something more than this concept. ugh. maybe i let it go on longer than it had to, but din is my favorite ever.

-

You put the stew at a low heat and wiped your hands, heading out of the kitchen and outside of the cabin where your husband sat on his chair, his beskar in your room as he could finally enjoy the weather in his clothes.

"Grogu, enough with the frogs" he spoke to his son and you roll your eyes, sitting on Mando's right leg with your arms wrapped around his neck. His hand immediately found your back just above your butt.

"Oh, let him enjoy it, Din. How often does he get to play? Look, he's just spinning it slowly" you smile and push your fingers under his collar, inhaling sharply as you touch his back. Neither of you were used to this yet, but you loved every second.

"Din Grogu!" Mando yells and Grogu lowers his ears with a pout and drops the frog and you gasp, standing up immediately.

"How dare you!" you smile as you run to Grogu, sitting next to him and holding your hands out, and he immediately grabs onto your hands. You held him to your chest, rubbing the back of his furry head with your thumb. "He's so mean, isn't he?" you say in a soft baby voice and hold Grogu up on your knees, his teeth poking through his smile.

He coos and jumps next to you, making curious sounds as he looks into the water. “Would you like to get in, my sweet boy?”

He coos again. You smile and hold him under his armpits, dipping his feet in the cool water and he laughs. Din sat up with his elbows on his knees and fingers intertwined as he watched you two.

"Chilly, isn't it? Oh, the frogs are getting revenge, they're going to get your toes!" you giggle and he squeals as you stand up, Din smiling under his helmet. "Don't even look at that mean guy, I made you some stew" you hum and he purrs, nudging his head into you as you walk past Din.

"Flower, wait" he calls and stands up, looking at Grogu and sighing as his son had an angry look on his face. "I'm sorry I yelled, Din Grogu" Mando bowed and you smile, Grogu cooing and reaching for Din.

"Come on, let's go eat" you say in a whispered tone, leading the two inside and getting 3 bowls ready. Grogu sat in his own seat and slurped up his dinner, the both of you looking away as Din took a sip.

"You don't have to do that" you look back at him and smile, holding his hand.

"I have respected your helmet from the moment I met you, and I will forever honor your creed" you smile and he nods, your forehead bumping his Beskar forehead. “Is it good, sweet boy?”

Grogu dropped the bowl on the table with a stew mustache and you smile as Din chuckles. You finish and so does Din and he takes your bowls to wash them.

"Would you like to go watch the stars come out, my boy?" you ask Grogu and pick him up, Din watching your dress push against your body as you step into the breeze.

You walk a little away from the cabin and Mando stands on the porch. "Not too far, Yn" you roll your eyes and turn around, walking back to the cabin a bit and he nods. You turn and sit on the ground, wrapping Grogu in your shoulder wrap and he leans his head on your chest.

"Do you see them, Din Grogu? They're coming" you smile and hear the dirt and rocks underneath boots behind you. Din puts his legs next to yours, pulling you up into him and you laid back. "Aren't they beautiful, Djarin?"

He looked down, his hand rubbing over your hand that held Grogu. "So beautiful" he spoke softly and you look up at him, his helmet touching your forehead as you shut your eyes.

You pull away and lean your head back against him again as you all watch the stars. Your fingertips softly rub up and down Grogu's back softly as you hum a song you used to sing to the other younglings. Din rubbed your arm as he closed his eyes, remembering his first memories of this song.

You were singing to two younglings that night.

"Grogu's asleep, Flower. Let's take him inside" you smile and close your eyes, hanging your head over his arm. "You fell asleep so fast" he chuckles and wraps his right arm underneath your knees and left arm around your back.

You hold in a shriek but let out a giggle as Din stands. He carries both you and your child back into the cabin, setting you down outside of Grogu's room. You put him softly into his bed, kissing him goodnight and heading for your room.

You laid next to Din on the bed, where he sat up against the wall and ankles cross. You move your head into his lap and his ungloved hand holds your jaw, thumb rubbing over your lips. "How I wish to really kiss you, Flower"

You slap a hand over your eyes and laugh. "You must never show your face to another living life, but if I close my eyes I can't see you. Or, wrap something around my eyes"

"No" you peek through your fingers and he puts his hand over. You close your fingers again and halter your breathing once you hear the hiss of his helmet.

"Djarin.."

"Hm.. my flower" he sighs and ties something around your eyes and you immediately grab his face. His nose traced your jaw and kissed your skin, down your neck ever so slowly. He had been waiting for this day, and he was taking in every second.

Your body begged for more, hips pushing up and desperately grabbing at his clothes. "Kiss me, Din, please"

He smiles and brushes his lips against yours and you impatiently pull his head down. You couldn't stop moving your hands, wanting to rip the blindfold off.

"I will follow you until the stars explode, Flower" he whispers and you grip his hair, smiling before kissing him again. You took in every second before he pulled away and you heard the hiss.

You pout and take off the blindfold, Din's head tilted as he looks at you. "Can't you lift your helmet like you do to eat?"

He did, and it worked.

"Why haven't we thought of that before, Flower?"

"I don't know, but that helmet is going to stay like that forever"

He put it back on. "Not it won't, Flower. Get ready for bed, I'll join you soon" you nod and sit up, bumping your forehead with his helmet before getting off the bed.

You look back at Mando, who nodded his head, and you nodded back. It's every word you needed to say in just one gesture. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you, you were everything he dreamed of and he would hurt anyone if it meant saving you - and his son.

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin blurb #din djarin blurbs #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian blurb #pedro pascal

[bonebabbles]

Thunder Chapter 6: Trial by Kittens

As usual, the trials for acceptance into another Clan are absolutely stealing the show. These are absolutely the most enjoyable parts of ASC so far.

I really hope that the characterization being given to Spotfur's three kits remains, they're all fantastic and I adore them. I haven't seen anyone compile these new personalities, or really point out the dynamics at play in this little scene though! So I'll do just that!

Misc Info

Apparently, Spotfur cusses in front of her kids lmao. This is the singular most important thing about this book, actually. Stemkit says "SHIT" and Sunbeam is like "WATCH YOUR PROFAMITY" and he protests with "MOM curses all the time"

They had never been outside of camp before, Spot's anxious about this! It's nice seeing her being a protective mom.

UNRELATED SIDE NOTE: I miss how in TPB kits seemed to have "their first prey" as a major developmental milestone, but those times are loooong gone. This situation is scratching an itch for me, though!

Sunbeam's first prey was frog; frogs apparently taste canonically like blackbird. (another side note, i should make a taste guide as a clan culture expansion and check if there's any validity to that... i would have guessed it would taste more like duck.)

She takes a good amount of time just chatting with them, and the dialogue here is actually fantastic. It feels just like being in the middle of a conversation with my nespring, it's great. The writer really nailed the cadence of little kids.

Sunbeam also realizes that she needs to keep all three kids engaged, and so creates a particularly convoluted setup so they're all doing something. Clever!

Graykit Gray-and-white tom

IS REALLY interested in hunting.

He chased after a mouse the same size as him when he was half a month old, though obviously he couldn't catch it.

Dreams of one day catching one of every type of prey around the lake. That's such a fun goal actually?? Completionist Graykit wants to 100% the hunting speedrun challenge. That's fantastic.

Stemkit Solid orange tom

Seems to be the most thoughtful of the kits.

Asks the majority of the questions, responses tend to be very "philosophical" towards things. Will say outright that he does not know something if he doesn't know the answer.

A wise child.

Cusses because he missed a vole lmao. VERY cute. I hope this boy grows up to have a mouth like a sailor. I love vulgar philosophers.

Bristlekit White-and-orange molly

Most impatient, and seems to have a little bit of a mean streak.

Scoffs when Graykit brings up his mouse story, saying that "nearly doesn't count." A bit of a perfectionist!

Also interjects the most when her brothers are rambling.

But is able to back this all up! She is the most focused, and is the first one to scent the vole den.

She also catches two voles when her brothers only catch one each.

#asc spoilers #Bones reads Thunder #Graykit #Bristlekit #Stemkit #Sunbeam

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

DELICIOUS!

with a certain biscuit-themed day settling upon him, kaiser wants to use it as an excuse to win a kiss from you. will pocky day end with your very own happy ending, or does kaiser need to prove himself further?

gender neutral reader

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

Kaiser found life in Japan fascinating. This was one of the many perks of being a globally recognized soccer star like him: he got to travel the world and take in the different cultures it had to offer all while doing the very thing that got him onto this stage in the first place.

And boy, was he enjoying the time in Blue Lock. On the rare occasion that he got to go outside of the facility and spend some free time doing whatever he pleased, Kaiser made sure he got the full quintessential tourist experience. He ate a great deal of Japanese cuisine, tried out some hobbyist things, even somehow wound up in a maid cafe with the Bastard Munchen team, and reminisced on the everyday lives of the locals.

But one thing he found himself especially entranced by was all the different things he could exploit in order to get closer to you. If there was one thing Kaiser was, it was persistent in making sure he got what he wanted, and if that meant using every little weapon in his arsenal, then he was sure to play all of his cards out onto the figurative table.

You could only imagine his delight when he learned that a very special day in November was quickly approaching and soon to be upon him.

“Darling!” An all-too-familiar sickly sweet voice rang out against your eardrums, and a sharp wave of thorny annoyance shot down your spine. You had half a mind to bolt for the nearest exit, but the next few words stopped you dead in your tracks. “Don’t run away from me! I have something fun for us!”

Fun? That definitely couldn’t mean anything good. 

You mentally steeled yourself for another very irritating interaction with the smitten striker, equal parts exasperated by his over-the-top courtship and flattered that someone like him would try so hard to endear himself to you. Was his interest in you one of genuine romantic intent? Or did he want you as a plaything to toy with and then cast aside when he was done?

You had discern carefully whether or not Kaiser was a frog in the well or a true fairytale prince.

“What is it now, Kaiser?” You grumble unimpressed. His eager footsteps halted right next to you, and the blond took a quick second to catch his breath before shoving a box into your face.

“Ta-daaa!!” He announced, shaking it in front of you. “I learned about something interesting the other day, and I just had to do it with you. Surely you wouldn’t mind! Noa was always so insistent that I learn about Japanese culture while in Blue Lock, and boy, am I glad that I did my research!”

You practically swatted his hand his hand away, and you squinted your eyes to take a better look at the small box in front of you. The bright colors, vibrantly decorated biscuits on the box, the large decorative letters spelling out the words ‘POCKY’ in white old-fashioned text…

The realization hit you like a truck.

“Let’s play the pocky game together, darling,” Kaiser cooed, and he batted his eyelashes at you charmingly. “Isn’t that what you guys do for Pocky Day? The nice clerk at the convenience store told me all about it, and for the full immersion effect, I just have to try it with you!”

You’re less than impressed. You can see right through Kaiser’s little game as if it were made of glass. He wants a kiss from you, and playing the pocky game is the perfect opportunity to do so. 

You straighten your lips, making sure to give the boy the most stone-faced expression you could muster up. “What makes you think that I’d want to play the game with you? Ask someone else in the program. It’s not like I’m the only person around.”

Kaiser made a downtrodden face. “It’s not the same! The point of the game is to play it with someone you want to kiss! Do you really think I’d want to get a kiss from someone like Yoichi? Eugh, just thinking about it makes me want to brush my teeth-”

You bit back the temptation to tell him that the thought of kissing him makes you want to vomit too. It would be easy to turn him down and leave him standing in the dust, but you know all too well how persistent Kaiser could be. Knowing him, he’d probably tail after you like a magnet 24/7, begging and begging you with the biggest puppy eyes he can conjure up for you to just give in and kiss him let him have the proper cultural immersion he deserves! 

Or worse, he complains to Noa, who then tells Ego, and you end up in trouble for not catering to every whim the players might have.

“...Fine. Just once though. And if you mess up and break the pocky, I’m not letting you try again,” you resolved. In all honesty, it could be a lot worse. Despite Kaiser’s shithole of a personality, it wasn’t like he was outwardly mean to you nor would worming your way to his massive paycheck hurt your prospects in any way.

Kaiser lit up as if it were his birthday, and he grabbed your wrist. “To my room then! Oh, I promise I won’t let you down!”

You barely had time to regain your bearings before Kaiser basically throws you on top of his bed. His eyes sparkled with so much life that you would have thought that he had won the World Cup instead of playing the pocky game. You pushed yourself to the edge of his bed, swinging your feet over the mattress and sitting down placidly as the blond ripped the box open and procured a single piece of pocky.

“Ah, I’m so nervous…,” Kaiser admitted as he sat himself down right next to you. “I always daydreamed about what it would be like to kiss you, and to think that the answer would be right here all along! You have no clue the effect you have on me.”

“Uh- In technicality, you haven’t earned the kiss yet-,” you corrected him. 

“Whatever. We both know how this is going to end.” The blond expertly placed the biscuit end of the pocky in his mouth, carefully balancing it in between his pretty lips. He glanced up at you expectantly, and you let out a deep breath before moving your head so that your teeth caught on the chocolate end of the pocky.

‘Here goes nothing,’ you resigned internally.

Making sure not to break the delicate stick, you inched your mouth forward. Your teeth broke cleanly into a bit more of the pocky, and the sugary-sweet taste of pocky coated the inside of your cheeks. You’d forgotten how good little treats like this were; in between your responsibilities and being chased around by Kaiser, it wasn’t like you had much down time for yourself.

The German, on the other hand, was fully engrossed in the task at hand. You had fully expected him to get impatient and break the pocky prematurely, but just like how you were inching bit-by-bit forward on the pocky, he was making good progress as well. His handsome face was scrunched up slightly in concentration, focusing everything he had on the game so that he wouldn’t squander his precious chance to kiss his crush.

You had to give credit where credit was due. Kaiser was, in fact, a hard worker and a skilled athlete. When he put his mind on something, he was going to get it. As much of a pain in the butt as it was for you, you did have to respect that tough tenacity. 

Your lips closed around the next little bit of the biscuit. It tasted really good, enough to almost distract you from your situation. Kaiser’s face was so close to yours, and for the first time, you couldn’t help but notice all of the finer details on his face. He was always so horrendously vain, taking great pride in his hand-drawn red eyeliner, his two-toned hair, even his signature blue rose tattoo. But apart from all of his vanity, he was straight up a handsome man.

The tension between the two of you was at an all-time high, with both of you concentrating fully on the task at hand. You swore that he was stealing your breath away with every bite he took, and your heart fluttered. He was too good—was he actually going to win a kiss from you? It wasn’t like you had any complaints about giving him one silly kiss, but when he was this close, enough to make your cheeks heat up and your breath shake, it felt like your own mind was betraying you.

Another crunch only furthered the flustered thoughts in your brain. He was just a bite or two away, and when he glanced his azure eyes towards you, your head nearly went blank. He was a piece of shit, sure, but he was still pretty, and the intrusive thoughts practically yelling at you to simply take another bite and give in were almost deafening.

Kaiser took another bite, and that closed the distance between the two of you. You only had enough time to gasp and flicker your eyes up to his face, and before you knew it, the feeling of his plush lips on yours and his hands cupping your face was all you could register.

He kissed you.

A surprised, strangled cry bubbled up from the back of your throat before it died out. His cool fingers held your face in place, and you couldn’t help but melt into the touch a little. How could it be that his touches were so sweet when he was so prickly? The sugary taste of chocolate and biscuits lingered on the tip of your tongue, and when Kaiser sighed happily against your lips, all you wanted was for him to keep kissing you. 

His thumbs brushed across the apples of your cheeks. Mouths moving together, your heart hammered inside your chest. You knew that this wasn’t the first time that Kaiser somehow managed to stubbornly wiggle his way into your heart, and if the soft way he was kissing you was telling anything, it was that this wouldn’t be the last time either. He was kissing you like lovers would, so could you fault yourself for swooning and falling for him a little?

He pulled away before you could lean anymore forward, leaving you dazed and staring breathlessly into his eyes. The corners of his lips curled upwards into a snooty smirk. “...Looks like I did manage to win a kiss from you, darling. What do you think?”

“You’re insufferable, Kaiser,” you manage to eke out, wanting to turn away to hide your embarrassed face. Damn him and his charismatic ways! You wished he would disintegrate into nothingness right then and there. That would definitely solve so many of your problems.

He laughed heartily at your mousy comment. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. It was way too easy for him to play games with your heart, and it didn’t help knowing that he was so sincere about winning you over too. You were determined to make him prove that he was worth your time, but with every little interaction like this, you had to admit that your determination was crumbling bit by bit.

You cursed both your internal weakness and him for being the smooth talker he was. He was simply waiting for the right moment to pounce, to make you his and put an end to this back-and-forth, to make you his beloved partner, someone for him to dote on endlessly and to be doted on in return. 

“Well, if you aren’t sure…,,” Kaiser grinned at you like a smug cat, his deft fingers diving into the box to bring out another piece of unbroken pocky, “...How about another round of the pocky game then?”

Surely, that was an offer you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.

x

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #happy pocky day :3

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Hilarious censoring in YOI

Inspired by this post, I researched the censoring in the onsen scenes and, boy, did I discover some inventive censoring of Viktor's Vicchan with hilarious implications, because, let's be frank, Viktor has not a spark of decency and constantly breaches onsen rules!

Onsen rules 101:

The towels you often see in onsen scenes are to cover the guests' private parts. Once they're seated in the water, the towel is to be folded and draped on the head. It also is to never touch the ground. But the most important takeaway is: always cover your private parts outside of the water!

Viktor, savage as this boy is, doesn't cover his private parts when he walks around in the Yu-topia bath not even once. Hence, the decoration must help out, and the way the creators accomplished this leads to some juicy interpretations.

Episode 1

Viktor rises to greet Yuuri, not bothering about covering himself, so the fountain takes over the towel's job. But not only does it block the view, it's splashing. Note also how Viktor and the fountain are positioned in that image. Covering a man's private parts with a splashing fountain? Well, if this doesn't lead to interesting conclusions... This boy must be very happy to see Yuuri again.

Also, note the frog on top of the statue. It will become important soon.

Episode 2

Same as in episode 1

Episode 3

More savage Viktor, this time covered by the frog on top of the fountain.

This is for reference. Yep, it's the frog.

In the context of innuendos, one might be tempted to speculate whether the frog was chosen to convey the following to the audience:

One property of Viktor's Vicchan.

How Vicchan is perceived by people who find Viktor attractive.

Interestingly, whenever the frog does the censoring, it faces Viktor and there's a spatial distance between both. Knowing that frogs are well-known for their long tongues with which they can catch insects across a distance, this makes you wonder why the creators chose a frog.

Maybe it happened like that:

Chief animator: "Okay, we must censor Viktor's Vicchan again. Any suggestions?"

Animator employee 1: "The fountain worked well in episode 1."

Chief animator: "Not the fountain again. We're more creative than that."

Animator employee 2: "We should take care that the censoring still conveys Vicchan's properties to the audience.. But it should be subtle."

Chief animator: "Please elaborate."

Animator employee: "First, it's supposed to look delicious..."

Aside from the juicy interpretations, you might like to learn that in Japan, frogs symbolise fertility, good fortune and business wealth. Their ability to metamorphose also became a symbol of change. In the context of YOI, this has some interesting implications beyond sexual innuendos.

Episode 4

Again, the poor (or rather lucky?) frog takes over the censoring. But while this works for the audience, Yuuri just had a good view on Vicchan...

The positioning is perfect, don't you think? Also not that the spatial distance between Yuuri and Viktor in that scene is about the same as the distance between Viktor and the frog. Could the frog be a metaphor for what's going on in Yuuri's head right now? Who knows. I believe Yuuri's reaction speaks for itself.

(Side note: The red mask in the background is likely a tengu mask, due to its prominent, slightly elongated nose. In Japanese mythology, they have various meanings, one is the duality of good and evil as tengu demons are dangerous and mischievous but also known to help humans. These masks thus can protect against evil and promise prosperity. In Kabuki, tengu demons often cause chaos and disruption. It's interesting that the shot has Viktor between the tengu mask and the frog. Is the proverb about the correlation between the nose and a d*ck known in Japan? Is this a hint at another property of Vicchan? I can't help contextualising it that way, I'm sincerely sorry.)

Next, we have a pile of stones covering Yuuri when Viktor pulls him out of the water... thinking about the properties of stones and what Yuuri just spotted it's not that hard to guess what they could mean (wait, did I just made a pun?)

And then there's this

Note that these boxes only exist in the Bluray version. In the version on Crunchyroll, Yuuri and Viktor are covered in billowing steam. Although this perfectly conveys the scene's steaminess, it makes it also look more innocuous (and seem as if the creators forgot to draw something.)

A frog, a tanuki with an oversized scrotum (read my post about this here), a tengu mask, a pile of stones… the Katsuki family has really chosen an intriguing decoration for the men's bath. Makes you really wonder what's in the women's bath.

For this post, I researched Japanese folklore to provide some actual context besides my unhinged, dirty interpretation. If anything I've written is offensive to Japanese people, I will correct it and if that's not possible, I will delete the post. It is not my intention to offend people with my ignorance.

If you enjoy my meta posts, please consider giving my blog a follow or checking out my works on AO3(link in bio). You will find the results of my meta musings in there!

#yuri on ice #yoi #anime #yoi meta #my yoi meta #but in dirty

[candycoated-rage]

anyways here’s some of my personal pizza tower character interpretations

- peppino is Italian-American and lives in Boston. He’s super Mario bros super show Mario. the pizza tower just appeared in Boston one day and nobody questioned it because it’s boston

- peppino is the only “normal” guy in a world of cartoony bullshit. it’s like a who framed Roger rabbit situation where he’s just so constantly sick of the silly things.

- peppino is also perpetually angry because of the cartoon bs. more angry than anxious. outside of the pizza tower he’s a normal old guy (I am a “peppino is constantly anxious” nonbeliever. make that old man grumpy)

- he’s also divorced

- Gustavo is relatively normal compared to everything else. he just wants to help

- I once saw the idea of pepperman being a frat boy who only took up art to get “hot art babes” and I firmly believe that

- pman’s size correlates to his ego. after peppino beats the shit outta him he physically shrinks because he’s so ashamed of himself

- vigilante is the only actual competent boss who tries to take things seriously despite him being sentient melted cheese

- the noise is a little BASTARD and I mean it. he would kill peppino if it weren’t for his conveniently timed girlfriend always stopping him.

- the only time noise acts normal is when he’s not being broadcasted on live tv. then he’s just the most normal guy ever

- the noise is also the “mascot” of the pizza tower I guess

- noise and noisette have a HAPPY relationship. FUCK the nonbelievers

- fake peppino isn’t a sweetheart frog boy. he is a wild animal that pizzahead just kinda dropped off into a musty pit and gave a key and said “protect this”

- when the pizza tower was destroyed fake pep just hid in peppino’s freezer for a week until peppino had to shoo it out with a broomstick. he is a vermin

- pizzahead is an egotistical incompetent antagonist DUMBASS. he only wants to destroy peppino’s place because he thinks it’s ugly and hates old men. he is Roger rabbit to me

all of this is canon to me you cannot argue with my awesome infallible logic

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #gustavo and brick #pepperman #the vigilante #fake peppino #the noise #noisette #pizzahead

[corroded-chrissy]

Invisible String

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve has known you nearly all his life—you’ve been attached at the hip from day one. although falling in love may not have seemed inevitable to the two of you, it definitely was to everyone else.

prompt: can you write a request where steve and his girlfriend are childhood friends to lovers so they reminisce about what cute things the other did when they were kids that fueled their crush?

word count: 4.3k

trope: childhood friends to lovers, memories made in the rain

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, mutual pining, mild angst but mostly pure fluff, kind of a fix it fic, reader has cherry lip gloss, steve being an adorable child

a/n: @gloryofroses19 sorry this request took me so long to finish! i just moved back to college this week so i’ve been writing here and there where i can, but i hope you enjoy it! hopefully i did it justice.

[requests are open!]

It was a rainy day the first time you met Steve Harrington. 

You were just eight years old, the walls of the new house towering and wallpapered, unfamiliar and daunting. Your family had moved to Hawkins a couple short months ago, and you hadn’t been too happy about it. Leaving all your friends behind had been hard, and with school out for a couple more months, you were feeling more than a little lonely. 

A summer rainstorm had picked up this particular afternoon, drops drumming rhythmically as you gazed out the window at the rows and rows of carefully manicured lawns and white picket fences. It was shaping up to be another perfectly boring day. 

That is, until you saw him.

You squinted out of the window, breath fogging up the glass as you peered out into the street. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. There in the downpour was a pair of blue overalls, yellow rain boots, and a head of the messiest hair you’d ever seen. 

A… boy? 

To this day, you still don’t know what possessed you to fling open your front door, leaning over the safety of your porch railing to gawk at him.

“Hey! What are you doing out in the rain?!”

“Finding worms!” The boy looked up at you with a triumphant gap-toothed grin, something pink and wriggling in his fist. “You should try it, s’a lot of fun!”

“Aren’t you cold?!”

“No!” He sounded indignant, like your question was the least likely outcome to ever exist. “I’ve never seen you before! What’s your name?!” 

You shouted your name across the lawn, and suddenly the gap-toothed smile was back. “That’s a pretty name! Do you wanna come out and play with me?!”

“But you haven’t told me your name!” 

“It’s Steve! Steve Harrington!” 

“Well I think you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington!” Maybe it wasn’t very nice, but you couldn’t fathom why he’d want to be soaked to the bone, out in the rain by himself. 

He didn’t seem to take it to heart. “Don’t knock it til you try it! Pleeeease?“ 

“Why should I?”

“Because… because if you don’t, you’re a prissy little princess!” 

You opened your mouth in shock, too indignant to speak for a moment. “I am not!”

“Then why don’t you prove it, Princess?”

The taunt was there, but you could tell the name wasn’t meant to be mean-spirited. You sigh, take a deep breath, half-punctuated by a nervous laugh. “Okay, okay, fine! Here goes.”

Holding your breath, you step off the safety of the front porch, instantly feeling your clothes get drenched.

You found you didn’t care, at least not really. 

It’s incredibly vivid, the way you remember playing outside with Steve for hours that day—jumping in puddles, chasing after frogs, getting muddier than either of your mothers would approve of—long after the afternoon thunderstorm had ceased to a harmless evening drizzle. The sunset had broken through the clouds as you chased each other around his dewy yard, painting a rainbow across the once-gloomy sky. 

After a long while, you both sat on Steve’s porch, giggling and out of breath. You remember being so excited to learn you would both be in Mrs. Thompson’s class at Hawkins Elementary. You remember the way his eyes shone as you swapped stories, dreams, and favorite slushy flavors (“Nuh-uh, blue raspberry is way better!”) 

Most of all, though, you remember his blue overalls, his yellow rain boots, and his slightly cheeky gap-toothed smile as he asked, “So… still think I’m an idiot, Princess?”

You let out a very undignified snort, elbowing him good-naturedly in the side. “Just a little bit, Harrington. Our parents might actually kill us, but… I had a lot of fun.”

Somehow, his smile got even wider. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

At that moment, Steve’s mother swung the screen door open, lips pursed, arms crossed, the perfect picture of displeasure at the sight of how messy you both were. “Steven Harrington. Get inside. Now.” 

Steve looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it, instead offering you the tiniest smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow?” 

You knew this meant he’d probably be grounded. You mirrored his apologetic expression, stepping forward for a quick hug. “Okay. G’night, Stevie.”

It might have been the light. It might have been the embarrassment from his mother’s sudden reprimanding. It could have been a lot of things, but for a moment as you pulled back, you could have sworn you saw him blush.

“G’night, Princess,” you heard him mumble, and with that you were left alone on the front porch. 

You had made a friend. Warmth bloomed quietly in your chest as your mother ushered you hurriedly inside, scolding you with a voice laced with exasperation and concern. Maybe Steve had been right, though. Despite how soaked you were, you didn’t feel cold at all. 

Of course, you’d both developed nasty colds the next day. Even that didn’t stop him from wanting to talk to you as promised—your mother overheard you giggling into the receiver for most of the day, listening as he complained and cracked jokes through sniffles and sneezes. 

After all this time, you still gave him crap for making you go out in the rain with him, even though he insists he “didn’t make you do anything”.

Looking back at it, though, you wouldn’t change a thing. 

Steve’s favorite memory of you was a bit different.

It was May, and he’d just turned sixteen. You were getting ready to go to Tammy Thompson’s birthday party. He was up in your room with you, like most evenings, blasting Blondie’s newest hit from your record player.

It was your way of rebelling against your mother, Steve noticed, who had very loudly told you there were to be no shut doors in her house when a boy was over. You had just rolled your eyes at her. “It’s just Steve, mom!”

Over the past several years, Steve had become a part of your family. He knew your mom adored him. It was evident in the way she spoke with him, invited him over for dinner or gave him soft, lingering hugs she knew he needed.

But it was May, he’d just turned sixteen, and she knew better than anyone that you’d both grown up since your first meeting.

Steve, in particular, had shot up like a weed, his arms and shoulders filling out ever so slightly. His voice dropped a good octave or so, and you still managed to give him plenty of shit whenever it squeaked or cracked. Gone were his days of missing baby teeth and wild, messy hair (and he made sure you were the only one who knew about the magic behind Farrah Fawcett spray).

And you—well, you’d become something else. Steve couldn’t remember when exactly you’d gotten so—

“How do I look?”

He turned toward the sound of your voice, about to tease you about taking so long, but whatever he had been about to say died in his throat.

—beautiful.

The dress you were wearing brought out your eyes and emphasized the curve of your waist. The sleeves were ever so slightly puffy, and as he took in the swoop of your hair and the gentle curl of your eyelashes, he found himself at an utter loss for words.

“Hello? Earth to Steve?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Ugh, is there something in my teeth? Does the dress look that bad? I knew this wasn’t a good color on me—”

“Hey, that’s not it at all,” Steve cut in, trying not to appear as flustered as he felt. “Quit putting words in my mouth, dummy. You look… like a princess, Princess.”

“You could have just lead with that, idiot,” you mumbled, but you were smiling, the gloss on your lips catching Steve’s attention. He found himself wondering what it would be like to—

No. No no no. You were his childhood best friend, for Christ’s sake, and friends didn’t imagine what other friends’ lipgloss might taste like.

“Can’t let your head inflate too much,” he teased. “You might get a boyfriend and forget I exist.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, spritzing on perfume, “even if that did happen, you can’t hog all my attention, Harrington.”

I wish I could.

“Are you ready to go yet? I swear, girls take five million years to get ready—”

“Shut it or I’ll tell everyone at the party your hair secrets.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I would.” You grab his hand to help him up. “Let’s go!”

…

You'd only shown up half an hour ago, and Steve could tell you already hated this party.

To be fair, as parties went, he wasn’t having the best time either.

Everyone was clustered in Tammy’s dark basement, a flask of something was being passed around, and to top it all off, every girl in the immediate vicinity had their eyes on him. Whispers and giggles were traded behind carefully manicured hands, and Steve couldn’t help but smile as he observed a hint of a scowl come over your face.

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse when Tammy decided on a game. “Let’s play spin the bottle!”

Steve would find out later that both of you wanted to go home right then and there. Stomach in knots as he shot a glance at you, he cautiously went to sit by your side.

Tammy grabbed his arm. “Stevie! You have to go sit with the boys, silly. You gotta give some of the other girls a chance, you know,” she simpered, batting her eyelashes.

Steve had never had a particular problem with Tammy Thompson, but right now she was working his last nerve. He settled for shooting her a tight-lipped smile and pulling his arm from her grasp. “Yep, got it. Thanks.”

The moment her back was turned he met your eyes, making an exaggerated gagging motion. His stomach twisted further as you erupted in silent laughter. Fuck, it was unfair how pretty you were.

Two circles were slowly formed, and the game commenced.

Years later, Steve still remembered how wildly his heart was thumping in his chest. You periodically exchanged glances with him, but as he surveyed the group of girls, he found his eyes returning to you again and again.

The empty coke bottle Tammy had chosen suddenly spun to a stop—pointed at him. He looked at you, wider-eyed than a deer caught in the headlights. He felt his hands began to sweat, and he had to wipe them against his jeans. The girls’ side was suddenly a wild flutter of activity.

Yep, he was definitely fucked.

Tammy reached out and spun the bottle again, time seeming to slow as he saw your eyes dart from the bottle to him. He had no idea what you were thinking. For the first time he wondered how he could kiss a girl that wasn’t—

“Oh, shit! It’s King Steve and the princess!”

—You.

The room erupted into chaos, and for a moment Steve just sat there dumbly. For what seemed like the first time in his life, he couldn’t read your expression as the other partygoers circled around you, cheering you on.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

He watched as you hesitantly scooted in his direction, forcing yourself to look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “Say the word and we can go back to your house instead. Or literally anywhere else.”

Why, then, did something in him hope you wouldn’t listen?

He was surprised to look in your eyes and find a light, a spark that burned so brightly they practically glowed in the dark. “I…” you hesitated for a second, biting your lip in a way that made Steve want to come even closer.

Turns out, he didn’t have to.

After a second or two more, you took his face in your hands, closing the gap and urgently pressing your lips to his.

Steve practically melted into a puddle, and it was all he could do to keep himself upright. Obviously, he wasn’t completely inexperienced when it came to kissing—after all, he’d told you about the few awkward fumblings under the bleachers or in the school locker rooms—but he was absolutely sure that he’d never felt anything like this.

Your lips were soft, warm against his, and—cherries. He didn't have to wonder about that anymore. Your lipgloss tasted of cherries. He could smell the perfume you’d put on earlier, and something sweet, something entirely unique to you. Something about this—kissing you—felt so natural, so right to him, like he should have been all this time.

He was left in a daze as you pulled back, but his reverie was short-lived as he watched you turn and push past the other partygoers, running out of the basement.

“Princess—wait!”

He was up on his feet in an instant, taking off after you. He was up the stairs out onto the porch in a matter of seconds, Tammy’s screen door slamming shut behind him.

…

At some point during the party, the heavens had opened up above Hawkins. The torrential downpour was at once mesmerizing and terrifying, water running in rivulets down the street. Steve figured you couldn’t have gone far in a party dress while soaked to the bone.

Turns out, after eight years he knew you pretty well.

He found you in the treehouse you’d built in your backyard together one summer, all scattered nails, wooden planks, and blue raspberry slushies. You were both getting a bit too tall for it now, but it still held his weight as he climbed up.

The first thing he caught sight of was your dress, absolutely drenched. Your hair was wet and tangled, and you were curled up in a ball, face hidden, shoulders shaking. Steve couldn’t tell if you were shivering or crying, but either way the sight of this side of you was a painful squeeze to his heart. “Hey… you okay? You ran off there pretty suddenly—”

“Go away, Steve,” you’d managed to hiccup. You’d definitely been crying, then. Steve resisted the urge to reach out for you, instead settling for a position on your other side, knees bunched up in a way that normally would have looked hilarious.

“I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You’d dared to tilt your head up enough to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong is I ruined everything, Steve. You’re supposed to be my best friend, and I kissed you. You probably hate me, and you never want to speak to me again and—”

“Hey, hey. None of that,” Steve murmured, reaching out to wipe your cheek despite himself. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still your best friend, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a kiss to get rid of me. Pinky promises to be friends forever are binding contracts, I’ll have you know,” he added, relief washing over him as the smallest twitch of a smile appeared at your lips.

“You could never do anything to make me hate you. I mean—I know you better than anyone. I’ll never forget that day you came out on the front porch and yelled at me for being an idiot. That was all you had to do for me to know I needed you in my life. I knew I’d end up caring about you more than anyone or anything. And I still do now.”

He’d swallowed carefully, raking a hand through his damp hair. “And hey, if it helps… you never have to kiss me again. Since, you know, apparently it sucked so bad that you decided to run away.”

“Hey, shut up. You weren’t bad,” you’d chuckled, elbowing him gently, but your worryingly dull eyes had grown a little brighter. There’s my girl, Steve couldn’t help but think.

“That was sort of the problem, actually," you continued, thinking out loud. "I kind of got lost in the moment, but I snapped out of it and freaked out because I remembered it was you I was kissing and I just... didn’t wanna fuck things up, because you mean a lot to me. You were the first person who ever made me feel like I belonged in Hawkins, and I don’t think I could stand it if I lost you over something as stupid as spin the bottle.”

You glanced away from Steve, looking like you were building up the courage to say something more. “And, for what it’s worth, I… enjoyed kissing you. A lot.”

It was all Steve could do to look at you, hope and disbelief clashing in his mind. “You… you did?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled, a real smile this time, and Steve thought it might have been the most radiant thing he’d ever seen. “And I think I want to do it again.”

That was all Steve needed to hear before he closed the space between you once more, his lips soft and gentle on yours but always, always wanting. He kissed you like he’d never get to kiss you again, like he was starving for you, burning your taste, your touch into his memory. His hands came to rest behind your back as the rain fell harder outside, but at this moment he knew nothing but bliss, your treehouse a quiet sanctuary from the storm.

It was with reluctance that you finally came up for air, foreheads touching and giddy smiles on both of your faces.

"If I'd known that this was how your first high school party was gonna go, I would have dragged you to one a lot sooner," Steve remarked, and your beautiful, slightly wild laugh was music to his ears.

"I'd've let you drag me to one sooner, I think. So..." you trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. "What does this... mean?"

"What does—oh. Oh." He hadn't really thought about that yet. He was on the threshold of something with you, he realized, something new and exciting and utterly terrifying. But for you, he would take any risk.

"I'd love for us to be more than friends. Obviously, I'll still be your friend, but..." he took your hand in his, impossibly warm despite the chill from outside. "The thing is, I like this. I like you. Just promise me we'll still be friends no matter what happens."

"I promise." There was no hesitation from you now. "No matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. To be honest, this kind of scares the shit outta me, but... I'd love for us to give this a shot."

Steve felt as if his heart might burst, and he pulled you close to his chest, planting a gentle kiss on your head. "As long as it's with you, there's nothing I'd want more, Princess."

Despite the warmth emanating from him, he still felt it when you shivered against him. "Except getting you somewhere warm. C'mon, let's get inside before you freeze to death."

You merely chuckled, rolling your eyes at him. "M'not cold, Stevie. But fine, if you insist." He regretted saying anything when you pushed yourself up off of him, but he knew it was probably for the best.

"Well, I can't exactly risk my new girlfriend getting hypothermia on me," he quipped, heading down the ladder and extending a hand up to help you.

"I didn't realize my new boyfriend was such a mom," you teased as you took his hand, but despite everything feeling somewhat normal again, Steve's face flushed at that word. Boyfriend. He was going to have to get used to that.

"Yeah, yeah, that's Mama Steve to you. If we go inside now, I'll let you pick the movie tonight."

"Deal."

Steve's arm was slung over your shoulder as you headed into the comforting warmth of the house, the rain finally subsiding to a soft mist.

As many wonderful memories as you and Steve have made together since then, this one might be your new favorite.

It’s a warm, cloudy June night. Hopper and Joyce finally decided on a small backyard wedding a few months ago, and it’s a much-needed celebration after everything your little town of Hawkins has been through.

As you gaze at the colorful string lights lining the party, watching Hopper twirl a laughing Joyce during their first dance, you can’t help but think about how lucky you are. Vecna was finally dead. Eddie’s name, after a lot of convincing, had finally been cleared, thanks to Hopper being reinstated as chief of police. Max, although she wasn’t able to be here, had finally woken up a few days ago and was recovering in the hospital.

It’s an utter miracle you all survived, after the sheer number of near-death experiences you'd had over the last few years. At this point, you’d bandaged Steve’s wounds more times than you could count. But you're so, so grateful everyone you love is alive and well.

You know Steve’s still healing from the bat attack in the upside down, but tonight he’s practically shining in a groomsmen’s tux, hair coiffed to perfection in usual Steve fashion.

For formality’s sake, you’re on the bridal party’s side with the other bridesmaids until the first dance is over, but somehow your boyfriend senses your staring and grins, shooting you a wink that’s borderline indecent.

You have to stifle a giggle when you notice Dustin elbow him in the side and mouth “gross”, although there’s no real venom behind it. You know how much the kids look up to both of you.

There’s a smattering of cheers and applause as the first dance concludes and Hopper spontaneously dips Joyce for a kiss. You make sure to give Eleven a little side hug when she wrinkles her nose at the sight. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll get used to it.”

“It feels like revenge for me and Mike,” she grumbles, but you know she’s just as happy to see her two adoptive parents together as the rest of you are.

Eventually, more people start to trickle onto the green to dance, and Eleven squeezes your hand before running off to dance with Mike, who looks a little disgruntled to be pulled out of his conversation with Will.

You slowly saunter over to Steve, a little smile on your face. “Hey there, handsome. Want to dance with me?”

You always relish in the way Steve blushes at your compliments. “You’re killing me over here. Who said you could get all dolled up and flirt with me? You look so damn good; I might have a heart attack before I can get you on the floor.”

“I said I could, babe,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Such a dramatic. Now, are you coming or are you just gonna stand there and gawk at me?”

He laughs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Of course, pretty girl. I’d love to dance with you.”

You make sure to stick your tongue out at Lucas and Dustin over Steve’s shoulder, the former miming kissing the air and the latter making an unflattering gagging noise.

Steve leads you out into the grass with the other dancers, one hand in yours and the other on your waist, gently swaying to the beat. It’s a slow song, tranquil and romantic, and you can’t help but think there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Whatcha thinking about, Princess?” Steve whispers in your ear.

“Just… how happy I am that I’m here. That I've got the kids, and Robin, and Eddie, and Nancy, and you. I kind of owe all of that to you,” you murmur back. Maybe it’s a bit schmaltzy, a bit hopeless romantic of you, but with Steve it’s all too easy to be that way, even after nearly four years together.

“What do you mean? You're the one who barged into my life if I remember correctly, little miss I-think-you’re-an-idiot-Steve-Harrington.”

“That’s a mouthful,” you giggle, “and still true, by the way. But you’re my idiot.”

Steve’s trying to find a clever retort when thunder rolls across the sky, impossibly loud and far too close. That’s all the warning the wedding party gets before the clouds open up, first a shower, then a drizzle.

Everyone else scrambles for cover, hiding under the white tents that have been hastily set up, or making a beeline for the Byers-Hopper house.

You and Steve, however, stand there incredulously, his perfect hair and suit now soaked. Your dress and shoes aren’t faring much better, and you know if you stay out here, you’ll be ankle-deep in mud.

All that it takes is for the two of you to make eye contact before you’re both laughing hysterically, clutching each other for support so you don’t slip and fall in the wet grass. You’re sure that, to the rest of the wedding party, you must look insane right now, but you don’t think you could care any less.

“Always the rain,” Steve gasps, out of breath, grinning so much it looks like his cheeks must hurt. “Always the goddamn rain.”

“I don’t know about you, but right now I’ve got some serious deja vu,” you agree, your arms around his neck as you catch your breath. “So... should we cut to the chase this time? Any more pressing secrets that need to come out?”

Steve's mind immediately jumps to the dresser in his room, in which there is currently a small black box—the perfect size and place for a ring. “Can I tell you later? I promise it’s just one more secret.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” you groan, but you press a kiss to his lips anyway because there’s something about him in the rain that’s just so goddamn pretty. “Tell me tomorrow?”

“We’ll see,” Steve chuckles, hands on your waist as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “For now… keep dancing with me?”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you reply as he spins you around, your soaked skirt flinging droplets in all directions. “I wouldn’t come out in the rain for anyone else.”

“I know.” Steve brings you back towards him and dips you, and for the millionth time you thank your lucky stars you found your best friend and your soulmate in one person. “There’s no one else I’d rather coerce out into the rain with me.”

“Just say it back, dingus.”

“I love you too.”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington my beloved #Steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #stranger things pov #st #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #st fic #fix it fanfiction #fix it fic #st fanfic #stranger things fics #stranger thing s4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #Steve harrington x reader

[creedslove]

Who of the boys would be more of a cat and who would be more of a dog person?

Rewatching Narcos currently andJavi P seeking justice for Murphys cat was the animal love I needed.

I know he says he’s not much of a cat person but the way he treated it.. cat man 🧐🫶

Featuring: Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Agent Whiskey, Dave York and Marcus Pike

A/N: aww this is a very good idea!!! I love it honey! Also, I have a feeling all the Pedro boys lean towards dogs, but that doesn't mean they won't go soft with a kitty 🐈

Javier Peña: Javi likes dogs better, there's no argument towards that, he grew up around dogs on his dad's ranch and he loves how strong and loyal they are, however, that doesn't mean Javi is insensitive towards cats, we all have seen how fierce he was to fight for the fact that cat was DEA as much as Steve and himself were, even if there was a tiny comical hint to it; Javier isn't a huge cat person, but he does have a soft spot for them, they are cute sometimes and amongst all the violence he has encountered through his life, he thought he would lose that empathy towards smaller things, but he was very wrong, so once he saw a stray kitty fumbling around the garbage to look for food and it made his heart break, he didn't know why exactly, but he was so tired of seeing the evilest side of people, it felt just too unfair such a tiny cute little creature starve on the streets, which caused Javier to feed the cat leftovers of his meals which quickly became a habit and now the cat is fat and he doesn't know what to do

Joel Miller: Joel Miller is 100% dog person and there's no argument about that at all, although after he grew up and had to take care of a house and a baby daughter on his own, he decided to have a no pet rule: money was tight and so was time, taking care of a baby, and then a toddler and then a child and then a teen was exhausting as it was, so he didn't have time for bullshitting with cats or dogs. In fact, getting a puppy was the only request Sarah has ever made him and he managed to remain strict and not let her have it. However, he knows his daughter pets all the neighbor's pets and he's okay with it. Now, if you have a cat, you can expect Joel getting into a grumpy old man mood™ he is just going to complain about the cat and he is going to swear that cat is up to no good, plotting against him because its so jealous of you. He will definitely have arguments with your cat

"get out of my guitar now!"

"meow"

"I swear... get off my truck or I'll kill you!"

"meow"

And well, sometimes it kind does seem your cat is teasing Joel by sitting on his truck hood or sitting on his beloved guitar; if Joel is reading some work papers on the kitchen table you can bet your life your cat will climb all the way just to sit ON the papers and make Joel's blood boil, and you'll de damned if that ain't the funniest shit you'd ever seen; but hey, sometimes after you went to bed, your cat nuzzles Joel's body and your tough boyfriend actually pets your cat, but it's their secret and neither of them will ever admit it 🤫

Agent Whiskey: our sweet Jack loves animals! He is a farm boy after all, and that means he absolutely adores every single living thing. Of course he likes dogs and cats like everyone else, but those aren't his favorites, if anything, Jack is the kind of man to have farm animals as pets as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As a grown man, Jack has his own ranch, and he keeps all the animals he likes there: he's got cows, horses (his big passion), pigs, chickens, goats, bunnies, dogs and a few cats in the barn because someone needs to catch those damn mice, since he hates killing any kind of animal, he leaves it for the cats to chase down the mice and if he finds spiders in the house he'll definitely just throw them outside. He loves birds and fish but he'd rather watch them out in nature than have them trapped in birdcages of fishbowls; he's not a big fan of frogs but he doesn't mind them at all and his biggest childhood trauma was when little Jack befriended a very cute little pig and the two of them became quickly inseparable, playing together and hanging out all the time, he even named his pig Hector™ until one Sunday morning he woke up to see his friend gone and later, mama Daniels had made pork chops for lunch ☠️ Jack cried his little heart out, refused to eat lunch and spent years without eating pork, until this day he feels kind of guilty to eat bacon or something, he doesn't kill any of his own ranch animals to cook, he just goes to the supermarket to get the meat

Dave York: Dave had always loved dogs from a young age, when he was little, his dog Sprinkles was his best friend and he still keeps old pictures of himself and his old friend in the back of his memory boxes. Once he grew up and he got into his... business... he realized dogs are the safest option for a pet; they are very rational, they can be trained and protect the house and the owners against threats or burglars. If his kids beg him for a puppy, he will never say no to them, but it will be frustrating to him that they will pick the cutest and fluffiest puppy over the one breed he thinks it's safer for the family, statistical saying. However, how happy they get will make him think of Sprinkles and soon enough he will become those dads who treat the family pet better than his own kids. He will definitely doze off on the couch and the dog will be curled up to him. Dave also admires the felines and mostly how neat and careful they are. They are silent and are able to sneak into a room without anyone noticing, exactly like Dave does when he's out working, he likes how cats are independent and always take care of themselves, however, the idea of having a cat never occurred to him, but well... never say never

Marcus Pike: that man is the human version of a golden retriever, so he obviously would prefer dogs. He has thought of getting a dog some time but he hasn't made up his mind yet, on one hand, he would like to have a puppy waiting for him at home so he won't be too lonely, but on the other hand, dogs are a lot of trouble and he doesn't know if he will be able to actually take care of it, not to mention dogs remind him a lot of the perfect image of a happy family, you know, a husband and a wife and kids, something Marcus would love to have but he hasn't been too lucky with it lately! He does like cats too, but the thing is: he is allergic to cats, and I don't mean just a slight allergy, I mean sneezing, coughing, red puffy eyes, stuffed nose etc, so cats are definitely a big no to him!

#pedro pascal #javier peña #joel miller #agent whiskey #dave york #javier peña x reader #joel miller x reader #agent whiskey x reader #dave york x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #javier peña x you #agent whiskey x you #dave york x you #marcus pike #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal x you #joel miller x y/n #javier peña x y/n #agent whiskey x y/n #dave york x y/n #marcus pike x y/n #joel miller headcanons #javier peña headcanons #agent whiskey headcanons #dave york headcanons #marcus pike headcanons #joel miller headcanon #javier peña headcanon

[eliounora]

I'm not a big disney fan outside of childhood nostalgia but every time I see one of those prince rankings I'm like ok but I could rank them better. and I happened to be bored so I did

some mentions I have to make so people don't wonder:

flynn rider: basic choice. scientifically engineered to be a hot man. no bite or edge to him. if you look at concept art he was supposed to be a big guy but they changed him to this market researched douche with a soul patch. absolute travesty

aladdin: he’s cute and good-hearted, lies to get his way but learns to be true to himself. lessons we all learn in life. next

jim: has the best song. i too want the moment to be real

phoebus: mmm. ehh

prince charming: literally what it says on the tin. storybook prince. not a man, a plot device

cinderella's prince: has a thing for feet. nice. funny in the sequels but a cardboard box is more interesting than his design

and now the top 10:

10. hercules: hunky demigod himbo. true hero is tested by the strength of his heart. the lesson all gym bros need to learn.

9. quasimodo: has heart and character, and sang “out there” like an angel.

8. prince eric: spends all his days with his dog and playing the recorder. who let him out of containment. too nervous to kiss a girl he likes even though she is sending obvious signals. he wants to get the know her better. king

7. tarzan: loin-clothed hunk with the facial structure of a statue. roams the jungle to the tunes of phil collins. loves his mom without being weird about it. prime man

6. the beast: eye and soul candy for the monsterfuckers. hot take but he wasn’t that bad as a human. he was hot. especially when you consider that his backstory included him being so snobby and vain that he was turned into the beast. like isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty boy. love to see it

5. milo: linguist. has round glasses and that 90s curtain haircut. all features that can indicate sleeziness but he is a good guy, meaning sometimes a man with round glasses and 90s curtain haircut can be trusted. a lanky charming nerd and therefore my exact type unfortunately

4. kenai: excellent protagonist. so deep in the throes of toxic masculinity he gets turned into a bear. isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty boy

3. shang li: bisexual king. nothing more to add.

2. prince naveen: now I may come from a protestant culture but a lazy jackass learning the value of hard work and love is what it’s all about. a dish. gets turned into a frog, isn't that the consequences of your actions pretty bo-

1. robin hood: “he's a fox hahah furry" FUCK YOU. HE IS THE FINEST MAN OUT THERE. HE HANGS OUT WITH HIS BEST FRIEND IN THE WOODS. HE HAS BEEN TRUE TO HIS SWEETHEART SINCE CHILDHOOD. he thinks he’s not good enough for her, but in a chivalrous way instead of pathetic. steals from the rich and gives to the poor. great with kids. they don’t make men like this anymore, and with that I mean men of integrity. “MARIAN MY DARLING I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF.” (CRIES)(THROUGH TEARS) LOVE IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY YESTERDAY YOU WERE JUST A CHILD AT PLAY

#nor's rambles #does not include commentary on why disney turns all their poc protagonists into animals. saving that for some other time #i love to see a man learn a lesson

[masshysteri4]

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY

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How would the housewardens feel with an overly affectionate S/O

Housewardens x reader, GN reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Would take some time getting used to, he grew up in an environment that was not very affectionate. Don't get him wrong! He loooooves your affection, but definitely ease him into it, don't immediately jump into kisses and cuddle seshes, start small with locking pinkies and patting shoulders in private

"WOAH, I-I mean... Let's settle down a bit strawberry.!"

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Leona Kingscholar

Doesn't care, like, literally. Most of his time is spent sleeping or lazing around and you best believe he would pull you down with him anyways, he can either be your best dream or your worst nightmare, I daresay he's even more affectionate then you. Imagine laying down all day with the person you love, one of you lazed on top of the other, that's you and him most of the time.

"You have classes? Nuh uh."

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Azul Ashengrotto

Bro would die 💀 since he's really self conscious he would immediately pass out at any physical attention, but he wouldnt go off on some self deprecating spiral (idia) No he's to prideful for that, like riddle it would take a little bit of time but would come around to love your affection, even longer to initiate it, throw in some praise and he's putty in your hands.

"I hope Im not bothering you starfish..."

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Kalim Al Asim

This could not be better! His love language is a physical touch, so expect to be tackled, bit, poked, kicked, punched, hugged, etc etc all hours of the day, not that he would hurt you tho its affectionate ♡ Jamils pour soul has to deal with him AND you now as he's attached to your hip all hours of the day. He just loves you too much and finally has someone to match his love energy >_<

"HIIIIII اميرتي" *tackles you*

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Vil Schoenheit

Not very affectionate sorry, At LEAST not in public anyway, he has a reputation to uphold! He'll let you lay on him as he sleeps, or cuddle his lap while he's doing his makeup, and anything else in private but in public is a big no-no, he love you an will meet you halfway but he's more of a words of affirmation guy, please praise him in return o((*^▽^*))o

"Not here leibling, but rest assured tonight I'm all yours~"

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Idia Shroud

Would pass out 2.0, he's been lonely for a while and yknow hasn't been outside in a while 💀 He likes you hugging him while he's gaming, and while he getting his 2 hours of sleep cuddle up to his "I paused my game to be here" clad chest 😍 honestly id say physical touch is his love language underneath gift giving, but in public he'd DIE

"y-y-y-you wannnnna hug m-m-m-m-me?!"

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Malleus Draconia

(Oh boy my favorite)

PLEASE! Touch him, kick him, bite him ANYTHING! HE'S DESPERATE! Ultimate definition of touch starved, I'd say physical affection is like #3 on his list of love languages so imagine how the other 2 are. My boy is giggling and kicking his feet, writing in his dairy about how you held his hand today like a schoolgirl, he definitely wants to recreate fairy tale scenes, be the princess to his frog 😍he's legit sad if you dont at least grab his hand daily

"YES ahem I mean yes, I will lock pinkies with you while you rant to me about the..." FNaF" lore *giggles*"

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FIRST FIC DONE! PLEEEEEASE GIVE ME CRITICISM I NEED IT!!!

#twistedwonderland #twistedwonderlandxreader #riddle rosehearts #riddleroseheartsxreader #leona kingscholar #Leonakingscholarxreader #azul ashengrotto #azulashengrottoxreader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia