#that's what i've done the last few nights | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nekrosdolly · 3 days

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bₑₐᵤₜy ₛcₕₒₒₗ ₋ ₙ.ₛₚₐᵣdₐ

calling nero girlish leads to a devastating self-discovery. what can you do but help?

a/n; fun fact i've been working on this for two months and three days... also the most down bad thing i've ever written. enjoy!

cw; sub!nero, dom!reader, afab!reader, feminization, a bit of manhandling (reader is written to be on the stronger side), small impact play, spit kink, biting, referring to dicks as clits and assholes as cunts/pussies, nipple play, anal fingering (n! receives), pegging, clothed reader, doggystyle, implied multiple rounds. 5.444k words!

You’ve been staring at Nero for at least half a minute now. He’s not returning your gaze but it’s definitely affecting him, as he’s shifting in his seat across from you quite a bit. The two of you are waiting for Dante, Lady, and Trish to finish gearing up for the mission you’re embarking on- something big, Dante says, but with the lot of you it’d be maybe a few hours max. If the two of you weren’t mutually interested in one another both in friendship and in a more-than-friends way, the staring would’ve bothered him.

“You know,” you lean forward in the uncomfortable chair bolted to the ground across from the ratty couch Nero’s manspreading on, “you have kind of girlish lips.”

Nero furrows his eyebrows, his eyes finally meeting yours. Something clicks inside of him that he chooses to ignore despite the blossoming pink tint on his cheeks. Maybe you just have that effect on him, or maybe it’s something else.

“No, I don’t. They’re just lips.” He says as he rubs his cheek, his eyes breaking away from yours.

“Whatever.” You shrug. The rest of the team enters shortly, Nico included, and you’re on your way.

While you busy yourself with menial conversation amongst the group, Nero cannot get his mind off of what you just said. Girlish lips? He doesn’t have girlish lips, does he? No, not at all. But god, if that doesn’t do something for him… It does. Especially coming from you. You’re not the face of masculinity or femininity by any means, but he likes the fact that you find him a bit girly. A bit of heat stirs in his gut, something brand new, and it’s good. Almost too good to ignore- but he’s on a mission and he needs to focus if he wants to make it out with minimal injuries.

He shakes the thought away (or tries to) when Nico brake-checks everyone and nearly sends everything in the old van flying.

“Here!” She chimes with a lit cigarette dangling from her fingers.

Five hours later.

The mission lasted longer than any of you had anticipated. Five hours of grueling slaughter brought upon by you and your comrades- aside from Nico, who relaxed in her van and watched from the sidelines. Nero’s mind was preoccupied on the way back, replaying the fight in his head to see if he could’ve done something different. You were slumped against Dante, who kept one arm on the back of the couch so you could rest comfortably as he read his porno mag.

He didn’t catch himself thinking about it until he was undressed later that night. He had already removed most of his clothing before he sat on the edge of his bed, only in his boxers. The moment kept replaying, you calling his lips girlish. Something about that felt right. Girlish. Maybe you’d treat him like a girl, too. Thinking about it made his dick twitch and his chest feel warm. His face heats up the way it did in the van as his thoughts run wild. Being told to wear a dress for you, putting on makeup, and making him truly look like a girl- (edits starting now) he groans into his hands, calloused heels of his palm pressing his eyes shut.

“This is so not what I needed right now,” he mumbles, sucking in a breath as he wills his boner away. Embarrassed, he lies down and pulls the covers overtop him. Sleep does not come easy.

The next day.

Within your close knit circle, compliments are sparse. Dante claps people on the back as a “good job,” and maybe Nico will toss them a thumbs up, but that's it. Nero’s used to it- the silent reassurance from everyone- except you.

“You did really good, Nero,” the two of you are fresh from another mission, sore and covered in muck. The tips of Nero’s ears turn red, though it could be mistaken for the blood of slain demons. Deep down, he knows he did well. He doesn't need reassurance, verbal or otherwise, but it feels nice. The words send a little shiver down his spine.

“Uh, thanks. You too, I guess,” he says, shrugging his blue jacket off to leave by the door. He'll come back later to toss it in the wash. In a stretch, he lifts his arms over his head to hopefully ease the impending ache that'll settle in his muscles within minutes. With his shirt being as short as it is, his midriff is exposed to you for a short second.

Your eyes slightly widen, zeroing in on his waist. How in the world is it so… feminine? Girlish? Cute? Grabbable? He's not even looking as he keeps stretching, oblivious to your wandering, hungry gaze.

“Dude, I'm jealous. Your waist is like, tiny. You sure you're not a girl under all that?” He knows you're teasing, he really does, but good heavens. It hasn't been a full day since the last incident, you may as well be trying to kill him.

Stormy eyes shoot open in shock and he lowers his arms to his sides nearly immediately. He tugs his shirt down more, as if that would help, and looks away.

“You're so weird, you know that? Do you want me to be a girl or something?” He scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. You chuckle to yourself, satisfied with his reaction.

Shrugging, “Maybe I do. You'd be a pretty cute girl, Nero.”

The white-haired man grumbles something as he walks off in the direction of the HQ bathrooms in hopes of a very, very cold shower. It's not his fault that your teasing gets him bricked. Of course, you notice nothing different, given that Nero’s always been quick to fluster.

In the bathroom, he splashes ice cold water on his face and rubs it into his skin. Some dirt and blood washes away with the water, but that wasn't his intention. He'll have to shower when he gets home, as Dante’s shower is conveniently broken, but the last thing he wants to endure is a car ride home with half an erection and plenty of fuel to give him a full one. His blood is roaring in his ears, lewd thoughts invading his head like the plague. Hunched over the sink, his hands grip the ceramic edges like a vice.

You, with a tube of lipstick in hand that is very clearly not your shade but his. You, with a mascara wand in hand telling him to hold still or he'll mess it up. You, handing him a white sundress and equally white lacy panties. You, telling him to put them on and be a good girl- doesn't he want to look pretty?

Nero wants it all. He wants it so bad; to be your doll, your plaything to humiliate and use however you want. But would you? God, he hopes so.

Minutes have gone by. He shuts the sink off and looks in the mirror- still grimy, but not gross. Blood splotches mat his hair in some sections, but at least some stuff on his face is gone. He looks normal aside from the massive blush covering his cheeks, but that could be chalked up to exerting himself.

“Nero?” You knock on the shoddy door to the even shoddier bathroom, “you alright? It's been like ten minutes, man.”

The sound of your voice brings him back to reality- has it really been ten minutes? He looks at himself once again in the dirty mirror, a searing feeling of embarrassment settling in his shoulders. Another splash of cold water to his face before he shuts off the sink and exits. You step back as he does, looking up at him with concern. “Fine, thanks. Just tired. It was a long mission, y’know?” He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes, lest he get even the slightest bit hard. At this point, it’s a problem. Without another word from either of you, he heads upstairs.

Do you find it odd? Yeah, but you don’t say anything. After all, he did say he was tired. He probably just needs to get some rest. Settling on one of the couches in the lobby, you decide that you do, too.

Two days later, Devil May Cry, the Fortuna branch

Nero is glad that he lives so far away from Red Grave City. It’s a few hours’ drive both ways and it’s a pain to put up with Nico’s horrible driving. As much as he complains, he’d rather not be the one driving. The distance also makes it easier for him to not think about you as much.

Well, that’s only half-true. He thinks about you more than he should. The only thing the distance helps with is avoiding you. Of course, that doesn’t stop his imagination running wild at the randomest of times- including while doing household chores. It’s a gamble- his thoughts range from pure domesticity to borderline porn.

When his thoughts take over this time, he’s doing the dishes. There’s not much, but it’s enough to warrant his attention. One would assume that touching dirty dishes and day-old food would ward off any semblance of lust-driven daydreams, right? Unfortunately, that’s not the case today.

He’s mid-washing a plate, his sleeves rolled up so only his forearm is wet. His metal arm is covered with a dish glove, lest the water screw with the wires and give him a nice, heart-stopping zap. The sponge in his hand is sudsy, lazily scrubbing at the leftover food on the plate as his mind wanders to you. At first, it’s innocent. Cooking together, thinking about what you’d want to eat for dinner after a long mission, or even just a long day in general. How would your lips feel on his cheek, your arms around him as the two of you get ready for bed?

Maybe your hands would slip under his shirt, your eyes meeting his as you rub his waist. Words of filth disguised as sweet nothings to get his blood flowing south, inciting a dizzying shiver down his spine. Your hands slipping into his panties that you picked out for him earlier that day with a smile, telling him that they’d look so pretty on him- that maybe, if he wore them all day while doing errands you’d reward him later on. Your voice in his ear, calling him a good girl, telling him how cute he is all flustered and wet in his panties.

His thoughts fester, the plate slipping from his hands. Only the sound of it clattering against the bottom of the (thankfully) shallow sink rouses him.

Well. That, and the door opening. There are only two people with a key, Nico and-

And you. What a wonderful time to have a hard-on.

“Hey, I tried calling you, but I think your landline’s down,” you say, barging into his kitchen without a care in the world. Nero keeps himself pressed against the kitchen sink for his own dignity’s sake as he looks at you, feigning irritation. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” He scoffs, picking up the plate he’d been washing and giving it a good rinse. “You clearly don’t care whether or not I do, seeing as I have a key,” you grin, crossing your arms as you lean against the archway between the living room and kitchen. Maybe you let your eyes wander a little- a domesticated Nero is a rare sight, one you enjoy very much. He’s got these tight fitting black boxers on that really do his ass justice and baggy a longsleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up that almost gives him this cutesy appearance.

“Yeah, whatever. What did you need?” He moves on to the next dirty dish after placing the clean one on the drying rack. His voice is a bit snippy, and he’s a little tense. The fact that he can feel your eyes on him doesn’t help, and if anything, makes his boxers just that much tighter.

“Dante wants us on a new job he got from this new client. Some guy named V, though I dunno much about him,” you shrug.

“He couldn’t tell me himself?”

“Nah. I don’t think he really likes coming here, anyway. Something about Fortuna gives him the creeps, he said. Probably ‘cause they used to worship his dad ‘nd shit.” Nero scoffs at that and shuts off the sink, flicking his non-prosthetic hand to get the water off, then frees his devil breaker of its rubber confinement.

“Nice ass, by the way,” you add, smirking at him. Nero turns to face you with his cheeks tinted pink and a soft scowl on his face. Facing you was a mistake because his erection from earlier has not died. You don’t notice it immediately, much to his relief, because he knows you’re not that much of a pervert.

“You’re so weird,” he huffs.

“Not my fault you look like a girl.” You retort. Nero’s cock twitches hard, his already warm face heating up more. He really, really should’ve put on pants this morning.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, the movement, as subtle as it may be, catches your eye through your peripherals. On instinct, your eyes dart towards the source and widen immediately.

“...Are you hard? Did I do that?” You point to yourself. Nero huffs and tugs the hem of his shirt down to cover his now raging erection, the dull throb making it hard for him to come up with any kind of retort.

“Wh- no! I-I mean, yes- I’m hard, but it’s not because of you!” He looks away from you, even as you step closer to him until you’re an arm’s width away. It’s too much too quick, because what can he say to make this all better? Nothing. There’s nothing he can say or do to make this situation go over smoothly. “So… You don’t want me to help out? I mean, it’s pretty obvious you need some, right?” You reach up and grab his jaw, your thumb swiping over his bottom lip. A dry spell hits his mouth, his pupils dilating as he tries to swallow. The poor quarter-devil’s heart races in his chest, that feeling from earlier returning.

Nero opens his mouth to speak but you’re quick to press down on his tongue with your thumb. A sly grin spreads on your lips, knowing you’ve got him dead set on this. Now, he could overpower you at any given point- he’s part devil- but he finds that he doesn’t want to. You lean in closer, your face just a few inches from his.

“You like being called a girl?” Smooth and low, your voice has him in a trance. The hunger in your eyes makes his knees weak, saliva coating your thumb as it remains on his tongue. Hesitantly, he nods.

“Yeah, I thought so,” you mutter, your free hand finding a home on his waist. “You wanna be fucked like a girl too, don’t you?”

Another hesitant nod, his eyelids fluttering from the embarrassment of the entire situation. In truth, he only started experimenting with himself after he and Kyrie broke up. It’s not that Kyrie kept him from experimenting with stuff like that, because they tried plenty when they were in bed, but something about it felt wrong.

With you? It couldn’t feel more right, not as you remove your thumb from his mouth to smear his lips with his own saliva. “Don’t you know how gross that is, Nero?” Your voice holds a teasing lilt that makes his stomach flutter. While he does feel ashamed, he’s way too into this to care. His cock is crying in the confines of his boxers, the fabric tighter than ever. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, meek with humiliation.

“No, you’re not. In fact, I bet you want to be dressed up like some doll, then get railed just like the slut you are.” Nero squeezes his eyes shut. The tips of his ears are red, possibly even some of his chest, too. As humiliating as this is, he likes it a lot. Your words make his knees weak, his tummy’s warm and he may as well be sweating from how hot he is. Again, he nods.

“Please,” he forces himself to look at you, half-lidded eyes and all. “Please, just give me what I want.” A satisfied look crosses your face at the sound of his desperation, his poor excuse for begging.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” your hand slides from his waist to the very prominent bulge, amused at how it kicks against your hand and the way Nero’s breathing picks up.

“But not now. I mean I’ll get you off no problem, but your fantasy needs a few things that aren’t at my disposal, nor are they at yours.”

The disappointed noise that leaves Nero’s mouth is almost uncharacteristic.

“Uh, yeah. You’re right, I guess.” He grumbles quietly, his eyes downcast like a kicked puppy.

“Think you can wait? I’ll come back, I promise.” He nods reluctantly. He’ll be as patient as he needs to be. With a kiss to his cheek, an unspoken promise you’ll return, you leave him in his kitchen with his boner still very much alive. Embarrassed, defeated, and aroused, he walks to the living room couch and plops down on it.

Two hours later.

Barging in again, you toss a hefty plastic bag on top of a sleeping Nero, forcing him to wake up from the weight hitting his stomach. “Hey, what the hell?” He glares at you through sleep-addled eyes and sits up on his elbows.

“Look in the bag, sleeping beauty.” You lean against his front door, the metal surface cooling your back.

Nero does as he’s told, rummaging through the bag’s contents like a curious puppy. The first item he pulls out is a white skirt that’s very, very short. Scarlet engulfs his cheeks within seconds. When you said later, he thought you meant tomorrow, not later today. He continues to pull items from the bag, his blush spreading like wildfire. The next item is a crop top, also white, frilly underwear and an equally cute bra to match, before he finally pulls out what must be the largest light blue dildo he’s ever seen accompanied by a harness.

“Put it on,” you smile, “go make yourself pretty for me. Take this, too.” You toss him your makeup bag, which he catches with the devil breaker.

With a hard swallow, Nero places everything back into the plastic bag and disappears into his bedroom, clutching the bag’s flimsy handles with an iron grip. The moment the door closes, he’s in a rush to take his clothes off. He nearly rips his shirt trying to get it off, same thing with his boxers. He really sucks at being patient.

It feels natural, to a degree, putting everything on. It’s clear you want him to look like an angel or some kind of bride, all white and pure. How ironic. The panties don’t quite cover his cock and the shirt you chose makes his pecs look more akin to boobs, but he looks… cute. If not a little silly, what with all the ruffles, cute. Now, the makeup is what confuses him the most aside from the fastening mechanism of the bra you chose.

He knows what lipstick is. He knows what mascara is, and eyeliner. Kyrie wore those sometimes. But the rest of the stuff is greek to him.

The white-haired man is still staring down at the contents of your makeup bag when you walk in, strap-on fully assembled in one hand. He looks up at you with a shy smile, red cheeks and all. You toss the light blue toy onto his bed as you walk up to him, your gaze nothing short of predatory.

“Hey, pretty girl. Havin’ some trouble?” His dilemma is clear enough, but he nods anyway.

“What color would look good on me?” Pale blues travel to the selection of lipsticks you have, fingers rummaging through the variety of tubes. Perhaps he’s too overwhelmed at the moment. Your warm hand settles on waist, his gaze flickering to your face.

“Why don’t we skip the makeup for now, hm? I’d hate to make you wait any longer, angel.”

Nero’s throat runs dry as he nods, expecting you to be a little gentle with him but oh, how he was wrong. He doesn’t expect you to push him onto his mattress like he was some kind of slut, nor does he expect you to get on top of him as quickly as you do. Your hands are so rough as you grope his chest, a soft whine leaving his lips when you lean down to bite one of his pecs.

“Cute tits, dolly,” your thumbs rub his clothed nipples and he’s really glad he’s sensitive everywhere right now, otherwise he’d feel kind of stupid. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes again, shy as a virgin during her first time, as he mewls quietly.

“I just can’t believe that you’re into this kind of thing,” you snap his bra strap against his skin, making him flinch, “What a fucking slut…”

“M’not a slut,” he mumbles, cock weeping into the lacy material of his panties as he looks away from you.

“Don’t be dumb,” you grab his jaw and force him too look at you, his pupils blown wide. Fingers card into his hair and give it a soft tug, making him whine again. Everything you do makes his cock harder, his mind fuzzier, and his blush darker. Slotting a knee between his legs, you force his legs to part wider before you press it against his panty-clad hard-on. It’s a cute sight, him gasping and squirming in a pathetic attempt to escape the stimulation.

A sharp slap to his thigh makes him still, a mumbled “sorry” sounding from his lips. You let go of his jaw in favor of slipping under his thighs, guiding them around your waist as you lean down to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut, as do yours when your lips meet in a much gentler kiss than he anticipated. That doesn’t last long, because two seconds in and you’re biting his lower lip to make him gasp, allowing you to lick into his mouth without protest. His hips buck at the taste of you, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your neck. You pin his hips to the bed, thumbs kneading what little fat he has there.

He’s dizzy when you break the kiss, panting with your spit glossing his lips and your eyes locked to one another’s. Your thumb hooks in the corner of his mouth and pulls down, forcing his mouth open. As if reading your mind, he sticks his tongue out. A thick glob of spit leaves your lips and lands flat on his tongue. He moans, his cock pulsing hard in his jeans. When your thumb unhooks from his mouth, he swallows. “Good girl, angel.” Your voice resembles a low purr in his ear, his body on fire. If you praise him again, he might cum in his panties. He’s entirely sure that his skirt is damp with how much he’s leaking. Your hand slips down, down, down until you’re pushing his shirt up and palming over his erection, making him melt into the mattress. “My pretty girl is so wet,” you hum, thumbing over his weeping slit. He whimpers, his hips bucking hard. This time, you let it slide because he’s too damn cute when he’s under you to care. Using his precum as makeshift lube, you rub his frenulum, watching as his eyes light up with pleasure and his back makes a pretty arch, whining pathetically in the back of his throat. His silver brows pinch, his eyes torn between watching your hand and your face. “Right there, huh, princess?”

“F-Fuck, yes, th-there,” he nods eagerly, his stomach tensing when you rub that spot faster. His dick twitches and throbs, his shaky breathing accelerating. You don’t let up, no matter how squirmy he gets. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you? Who knew that rubbing your clit would get you like this.” Sultry words coming from you, his legs tightening around your waist. “C-Cum, wanna cum,” he mewls out, “pleasepleaseplease.” The rest of his cock feels neglected but he can’t bring himself to care, not when you wrap your hand around the tip and circle your palm on his sensitive head. Especially not when you use your free hand to pull down the neckline of his shirt to lick one of his pebbled nipples. The moment you wrap your lips around it and suck, he cums with the most pathetic noise imaginable. Hot seed sticks to your palm and spills down his softening cock.

“Mm,” you pull off his nipple with a soft pop, “that didn’t take long at all.” The sound of fabric tearing fills the air as you rip the lace material down the side seams.

“Why’d you do that?” Nero props himself up on his elbows, watching as you discard the now-useless lace. You shrug, slipping out from between Nero’s legs to grab the bottle of lubricant you know he has stashed in his nightstand. “Felt like it. What, you never had your panties ripped off before?” The drawer of his side table has too many things in it. Still, you fish out the black bottle of lube and toss it onto the bed beside him. “Obviously not.” You reach for the strap on lying cold and alone. Nero pulls his skirt down to cover himself and closes his legs, though it’s pointless.

“Keep up the attitude, angel. See where it gets you.”

“...Whatever,” Nero grumbles, a new surge of arousal filling him as he watches you fasten the strapon to your pelvis. It’s a little unfair that you’re still fully clothed, but he’ll take what he can get. When you climb onto the bed again, you grab him by the hips and flip him over, his body weight that of a feather in your hands. With one hand, you prop his hips up as the other presses his face down into the mattress.

“Hey!” He yips, looking back at you with feigned annoyance. You roll your eyes as you push his skirt up for the second time tonight and give his ass a sharp slap, making him whine.

“Don’t be a brat. We’re just getting to the good part,” you grab the bottle of lube and uncap it, pouring a hefty amount on your fingers. Anticipation bubbles in Nero’s chest, his hands fisting the sheets. A shudder leaves him upon feeling your fingers coat the rim of his hole, applying gentle pressure just to tease. You push your index finger in slowly, forcing a hiss from his throat. It’s an odd feeling, the intrusion, but one he can get used to.

Besides, he’s seen those videos of cute guys getting pegged and they cum their brains out every time. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of both parties.

His walls slowly adjust as you move your finger in a gentle rhythm, waiting until you hear his breathing grow heavy to add another. A moan gets stuck in his throat, his brows pinched together as his eyes flutter shut. “You alright down there, angel? You’re awfully quiet.” You hum, using your free hand to knead one of his pert cheeks.

“F-Fine- M’fine,” his voice is a little strained and breathy. The pads of your middle and index finger brush against his prostate and his legs twitch, a soft moan leaving him. As subtly as he can (not at all,) he rocks his hips back onto your fingers to get more shocking, dizzying pleasure. Once you decide he’s loose enough, you withdraw your fingers and bring them to your silicon cock, adding a solid drizzle of lube along the shaft. A soft schlick noise sounds when you give the translucent silicon toy a few pumps to ensure it’s sufficiently lubricated.

Before Nero has time to complain, the tip is already pressing against his fluttering entrance. His fists clench in the sheets as you slowly press into him. Pink lips fall open as the stretch does him in, trying his best to stay still for you. “Good girl,” you murmur in his ear, “such a good girl, taking my cock so well.”

The white-haired man has never felt so full in his life, nor horny or outright dumb. He whines when you bottom out completely, your nails digging into his hips to keep him from running away.

“W-Why is it so big,” he looks back at you, his own cock dripping pre-cum again. His question is left unanswered as you pull out halfway only to thrust meanly back in. A strangled moan leaves his lips, his back falling into a natural arch. “Tell me, angel,” you keep a slow yet hard pace, each thrust bullying your fake cock impossibly deeper into his greedy hole, “has anyone ever fucked this cute cunt before?”

His brain processes the words but every time he opens his mouth, nothing but noises of pleasure come out. He shakes his head “no,” with a whimper.

“Aww, really? So you’re a virgin? Explains how tight your pussy is.”

Nero hasn’t been a virgin since he was nineteen, but for you, he’ll be anything you want. His volume increases the moment you bully your cock against his prostate, a sweet cry falling from his lips. His body feels hot every time the fat head presses it, his body relaxing into the bed. Lewd slaps and wet noises fill the air alongside his sweet noises of pleasure.

“Fuck m-me,” he gasps, his cock pulsing between his legs as it’s ignored, “y-your cock feels so good i-in my pussy.”

“I know, angel. Your cunt’s squeezing me so tight- if I knew you wanted me this much, I would’ve fucked her sooner.” You reach around to grope his chest, your other hand pulling him back on your faux dick with every thrust. Poor Nero doesn’t know what to do with himself but let you use him, as if you were the one getting pleasure from this. It’s obvious he needs more despite his noises, judging by the way he’s still able to think without interruption. He’s really gone when you accelerate your thrusts and keep the roughness, all but turning into a puddle atop his bedsheets. The coil in his stomach twists and tightens, his orgasm fast approaching.

“Yeah, there we go,” you murmur, your words adding fuel to the fire that is his impending release, “that’s my sweet girl.”

“M’gonna cum,” he whimpers, “I-I wanna- please, i-it hurts,” he reaches between his legs, whining when you slap his hand away. “Why didn’t you say something, pretty girl? I’ve got you, angel, just be a doll and let me take care of you.” Your slick fist wraps around his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts and Nero just can’t handle it anymore. His orgasm catches him off guard, thick ropes of cum shooting out of his pink cockhead and onto the sheets below you two with a cry of your name.

You’re kind, so you take your hand away and slow to a stop, panting softly.

“You alright?” Nero takes a second to respond, humming a second later as he catches his breath. His thighs feel weak and shaky. “Good,” you pull out and settle on the bed beside him, your back resting against the wooden headboard. Under the impression that you’re done toying with him, he lets his eyes close. They shoot open when you grab him by the waist and hoist him onto your lap, thick blue dildo pressing against his gaping hole again. “C’mon, little girl- I can’t do all the work around here, y’know.”

The next day.

Dante calls Nero’s landline for what feels like the fifth time in a row.

“Damn, that punk,” he sighs, slamming the telephone down on its receiver. You’re not answering your phone either, but he knows better than to expect you to answer. He’s about to dial Nero’s number for a sixth time when the doors to Devil May Cry open and in walks you alongside a limping Nero. The red devil opens his mouth, but-

“Don’t ask,” Nero groans, making his way over to one of the couches and lying on his stomach. You’re quite proud of your work, even if it’s at Nero’s expense. Dante will find out eventually, and you cannot wait.

divider creds to @benkeibear!!

#dolly's creations ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈#nekrosdolly 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹#nero sparda #nero dmc #devil may cry nero #sub!character #dom!reader #sub!nero sparda #dmc nero #dmc #dmc fanfiction #nero x reader #nero sparda x reader #nero x you

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louisupdates · 3 days

Text

[Translated from Spanish]

Louis Tomlinson in Chile: You infected us with your faith in the future

It's very confusing; how can we identify our favorite in One Direction? It is truly a difficult decision to make and clearly we can't stop thinking about the pop group of cute heartbreaking guys, but it is very clear that each one plays their best version on stage.

That was the case of Louis Tomlinson, who returned to our country on his Faith In The Future tour. After two years since his last visit, he stole sighs again, conquered with his messy hair, and took the breath of all the attendees by performing a powerful setlist full of surprises that reflect his influences in music, and also revived the success of what was one of the most important boy bands of recent times.

A few minutes passed from nine at night. In the middle of the numbing cold, all the lights of the Bicentennial Stadium in La Florida abruptly went out. Between scenographic fumes and the screams of a fan who woke up as if she were a monster, sirens began to sound and the screens were turning on one by one.

A mirror-effect Louis approaches us and writes on a scoreboard, ‘Faith In The Future,’ while his entire band positions itself to start the intro of The Greatest. In the middle of a "Sing it with me, Santiago!’, the pyrotechnics and crazy screams of a stadium warming up, a high-caliber show began.

"Kill my, kill my, kill my... you kill my mind," the audience chanted loudly as the fan action begins, the flash lights of the cell phones turned on and began to move impressively coordinated, I wonder: How did they do it? In a moment all the seats up and then the court down to end up together going up and down the lights creating an effect of fireflies dancing to the sound of one of the highest-grossing songs of Louis’ debut album Walls.

I think it was one of the most energetic beginnings of concerts I've seen in the first half of this 2024. It was a very special artist-public connection. Without being a devout fan, I ended up letting myself fall into the screams of a crazy teenager who gets excited for every first chord of the songs of their dream artist.

"Bigger Than Me", "Holding On To Heartache", and my favorite "Face The Music", continued to present Louis’ new works, but I think that reviving One Direction with "Drag Me Down" and "Where Do Broken Hearts Go", was the most appreciated climax by the attendees, firstly for being a selection very much in line with their tour and second because I think they will always be in our hearts as our favorites.

"This is fucking crazy, I mean it's cold, but I’m feeling really, really good on stage tonight, Chile": these were the words Louis expressed after seeing the uncontrollable energy of the public, that despite the fact that the enclosure was not full at its maximum, the voices multiplied as if their capacity was tripled.

For me, the surprises of the night were really the covers he performed. I mean that clearly the influence of these artists are part of his musical career, and listening to him live confirmed that Post Malone and Arctic Monkeys are on his playlist.

"Chemical" and "505" were presented at the Bicentennial and, as if they were Louis’ own. The public began to sing them from start to finish.

"Back To You", "Angels Fly" and "Out Of My System" ended a fluid and continuous concert, full of energy and insatiable screams. The dances and the fan action were present, but when the pyrotechnics were done and Louis shouted a dry, "Good Night!" and the lights of the whole stadium went out, the attendees wanted more.

"Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis!" We all shouted at the dim light of the stage. We wanted more, Luchito, please come back.

Between shouts he returned with his band to perform "Saturdays" and close with "Silver Tongues.” I honestly thought he had forgotten it, because it is one of the main singles of the latest album and as the song, "I don´t feel like going home" says, none of us wanted to leave.

The grand finale was simply a souvenir, between fireworks and a rain of feathers and red bows, Louis left the stage leaving a tear in the eye of more than one of us who were present. I don't know if you, but I kept thinking about why Tomlinson has a lot of faith in the future, becoming without a doubt one of my favorites.

Louis Tomlinson | Date: 05/24/2024

Place: La Florida Bicentennial Stadium

Producer: DG Media

Photographer:@cqphotographer

Journalist: Cristopher Orrego Jiménez

Photos: [x] [x] [x]

#louis tomlinson #louis press #louis review #24.5.2024 #fitfwt24: santiago

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vanfleeter · 2 days

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Matched: Chapter 6 - The Oversight & The Future

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Thea Foster Warnings: 18+. Angst. Language. Relationship strain. Fluff. Mentions of marriage. Smut. Sex. Unprotected sex (p in v). A/N: Lock in for the whirlwind.

Month three. Exhaustion is starting to hit, the irritation and frustrations are growing. We’re nearly done with this album, just a few more songs to record and then we move onto the album art. Something we can’t all agree on.

I haven’t seen Thea in a month due to constantly being in the studio, recording, writing, doing interviews when they come up. I’ve tried to push them onto Sam or Danny so I could make more time with Thea, but they turn them down nearly every single time.

Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I pull it out to see Thea calling. I can’t help but to smile at the sight of her name as I set my guitar to the side and answer her call. “Good morning,” I answered.

“Good morning,” She responds. I can hear the smile in her tone. “I woke up this morning and you were already gone..”

“I know, I’m sorry.. I totally forgot that I had this interview to do..” I lean forward on my knees and brush my hand through my hair.

“You’ve been doing them a lot lately..” She says.

“Yeah, I know..” I huff. “I guess this is what happens when you push them all on someone else for so long that now the tables have turned..”

“What time are you going to be home tonight?”

“Probably not until late, we have to finish these last few songs and Josh has been such a bitch lately.. Such a fucking perfectionist that it’s starting to annoy me..”

“Oh.. Okay.”

“I’m sorry..”

“No, don’t worry about it. But uh, since you’re not going to be back until late, then I guess I’ll just go back to my place after work. I've been kind of neglecting my plants,” She slightly laughs.

“Oh right, okay.. But tomorrow–you and me, coffee date. I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow,” She says before hanging up.

My brows knit together as I pull my phone away. No ‘I love you’ before she hangs up? I go to open our text thread when the door to the studio opens and Josh steps inside followed by Sam and Danny. I send her a quick ‘I love you’ text before locking my phone and putting it away.

–

It really wasn’t until late when we finally left the studio and I crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow. Though it wasn’t until the sun was blinding me that I finally woke up. My eyes bugged when I saw the time on the clock. 12:30pm. “Shit, shit, shit!” I scramble out of bed, finding that I fell asleep in my clothes from the night before. Reaching my phone, I discover that it’s nearly dead and filled with notifications. Half were from Thea wondering if I’m on my way and the other half from Josh asking me the same thing.

Dialing Thea’s number, I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder as I race to change my pants. But the call goes to her voicemail. I try again but the same thing happens.

“Thea, I’m so sorry.. I forgot to set an alarm and I overslept.. I missed our coffee date, please forgive me.. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Come to the studio around six if you can and we’ll go to dinner, my treat. I love you.”

I hadn't heard from her all day, constantly checking my phone for a text or a missed call. Anything. But whenever I looked, my phone was void of her presence.

“Hey, don’t make any plans tonight,” Sam says as he packs up his bass. “Mom and Dad are in town, they want to meet up for dinner tonight with all of us.”

“Sam, I can’t,” I say as I pick up my guitar and put it away in its case. “I told Thea that I’d take her out to dinner tonight, I can’t bail on her. I already missed coffee this morning and I’m pretty sure she’s pissed at me.”

“How do you know she’s pissed?”

“Radio silence, Sam. She won’t even answer my calls..” I picked up my guitar case and my jacket. “Tell them sorry, but I can’t make it to dinner tonight.” Racing out of the studio, I get out to my car when my phone starts to ring in my pocket. Thea’s name flashes on the screen. Sighing in relief, I quickly answer her call. “Hey! I’m glad you called. Be ready in like ten minutes, I’m on my way to pick you up.”

“Jake..”

“I’m thinking maybe we could go for tacos.. I’ve been craving them all day and-”

“Jake.”

“Yeah?” I pause with my hand on the door handle.

“I don’t want tacos..”

“Okay, we can always get something el-”

“Today was long and exhausting and all I want to do is sleep..”

My shoulders drop and I drop my hand from the car door. “Oh.. Maybe I can come over and make you that tea-”

“Not tonight, Jake..” I hear her sigh. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.. I’ll talk to you t–” The call ended before I finished and I dragged the phone away from my ear as the call faded from the screen. “I love you..” I mumble as I stuff my phone into my pocket.

“Coming to dinner tonight, I assume?” Sam says after he walks out of the building. “That call didn’t sound–”

“Shut up, Sam.” I say, yanking open the car door. “But fine, I’ll be at dinner tonight.”

–

Parking my car, I look over at my parents’ car in the next space over. I really didn’t want to be here, I wanted to be with Thea. I shouldn’t be feeling like this because we hardly get to see them, but at the same time, I also have been neglecting my relationship with Thea. I can admit that.

Turning the engine off, I climb out of the car and make my way into the restaurant. Almost immediately I’m pulled into a hug from my mother. “I’ve missed you!” She says as she hugs even tighter. “I want to hear all about your trip! You’ve barely sent anything home besides a few phone calls.” I promised I’d tell her about the trip, but leaving out one major detail. Dad was next to hug me and tell me how happy he is to have me back on solid ground.

For the next hour, I spent nursing a beer and pushing the food around on my plate while everyone else was chatting happily with each other. I know that Mom took notice, I’ve been feeling her eyes on me for quite some time. Her hand comes to rest gently on mine and I look up to meet her eyes.

“Is everything alright?” She asks in a quiet voice as to not grab anyone’s attention. I know lying to her won’t work, it never has, so why should I start now?

“I think we’re drifting apart, Ma,” I set my fork down. “And I know it’s my fault.”

“How so?”

“I’ve been working so much–no matter how much I try to make time, something always comes up. We were supposed to have a coffee date, but I overslept. I wanted to make it up by taking her out to dinner tonight, just her and I, but then–”

“Then we came along and ruined your plans?” I shake my head and she laughs. “I’m only joking, Jake.”

“She said she was tired, and wanted to sleep..” I tap my finger on the table. “It’s been a month, and there’s nothing I can do except to keep trying..”

“It won’t be like this for long,” She says as she grabs my hand again. “At least until the album is finished.”

“Yeah.. But then comes more interviews and press.” I lean back in the chair. “She’s not happy, and I can’t blame her.”

“Don’t you have time before the tour starts?”

“A few weeks.”

“Take her out on the boat for a few days,” Mom says. “I’m sure she’d love it.”

“You think so?”

Mom smiles. “You both need some time away–together. Balance is important and I know you’re trying.” She pats my hand and smiles before going back to speak with Dad.

–

On my way home from dinner, I decided to make a stop at Thea’s apartment. I knock on her door and wait to hear her footsteps on the hardwood floor as she comes to the door. But none came, so I knocked again. Still no answer. She must be asleep then. I start to walk away, to go back down to the car, when the door opens followed by her voice.

“Jake?” I turn back to find her in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes as she yawns. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, I wanted to come see you. I know you wanted to sleep but..”

“No, no, it’s okay..” She waves me in and closes the door behind me. “I want to apologize for blowing you off..”

I shake my head and pull her in close to kiss the top of her forehead. “I can’t be mad at you,” I say when I pull away. “I just thought, because we haven’t seen much of each other, we could have gone out or something.. Plus I felt guilty for missing our coffee date.”

“Don’t worry about that,” She walks over to the kitchen and grabs a brown paper bag. “I assumed you had overslept after working so late, which you confirmed in your voicemail.” She hands me the bag and leans against the counter. “So I picked up a muffin for you.”

“Thea, you didn’t have to..” Now I feel even worse. I close the bag and cross over the floor to press my lips to hers. “I’ve been so flaky with you and you still, for some reason, give all this love. I don’t deserve it after all that’s been going on.”

She smiles and pulls me back in for a kiss. “It’ll all be worth it though,” She says. “Not much longer.” Her arms wrap around my neck and she kisses me again, this time deepening it.

“Please tell me you’re mad, so I can feel guilty.”

Thea smiles and kisses me again. “I’ll be honest, I am just a little bit.”

“You and me, we are taking a trip once this album is done,” I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. “We have a break for a few weeks in between the album’s release and the start of the tour. I only have to do a few interviews that will be pre recorded and released sporadically over time, but we are taking a trip.”

“On the boat?”

I smile and nod my head. “I’m finding a way to have it brought to the coast. We’re going to go sailing for a couple weeks, wherever the wind takes us.”

“You sound like a chick flick.” She laughs.

I can’t help but to roll my eyes. Sometimes I have a way with words, though they do tend to make me sound like an eighteenth century writer. I think I sound romantic, but others find me weird. To each their own, I guess.

That night I made love to her. In the month we’ve barely seen each other, we could both feel the need drawing us to each other. A primal need, one we’ve been craving. And as much as I wanted to turn her around and bend her over the kitchen counter right in that moment and just fuck her, my heart was demanding for this to be taken slow.

After all, it had been a month. One slow and agonizing month.

After we had managed to strip each other naked, between all of the kissing and fondling, I scooped her in my arms and carried her down the hall to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. I knew that she knew that I could hardly contain myself as she pulled me on top of her.

Crawling over top of her, I lay in between her legs and line myself up with her entrance. Slowly I push myself into her, her whimpering moans filling my ears. Oh how I’ve missed hearing that. I take it slow, thrusting into her, making this last for as long as I can.

I know these remaining few months are going to be difficult, and I won’t see her as much. But I know after it’s all said and done, we will travel. I’ve wanted to take her out on the boat, sail the open seas with her, and show her the world as I’ve seen it.

I feel her clench around my cock, signaling that she’s close. Feeling myself nearing my own, I thrust deeper into her, placing hungry kisses to the side of her neck.

We soon reach our end and I fall on top of her, breathing heavily. “I love you,” I whisper as I kiss her chest. “I hope you know that.”

“Of course I do,” She drags her fingers through my hair. “I love you too.”

Removing myself, I slide onto the bed beside her and she lays against my chest. “This album,” I begin to speak, resting my arm behind my head. “Might be the last one, for a while.”

She lifts her head, resting her chin in hand across my chest. “You’re really going to go through with it? Is that what you want?”

“No,” He says. “But it’s what has to be done. The band already took a break once before and it was beneficial for all of us. As much as I know that Sam and Danny are eager to get back into the stride of things, and as much as I thoroughly enjoy making music and touring and living out my dream.. I know that deep down, and I know he’ll deny it, Josh wants to pursue film. He dipped his toe back into it while I was away and he’s so passionate about it.. I think it’s time to change places–at least for a little while.”

“You’d be okay giving up the band to help him with his film?”

I nod my head. “Of course. He’s given half his life to this band, to my dream. So once we finish this album, and the tour–we’re gonna stop for a while.”

“How long?” She asks.

I rest my hand on her back, drawing soft circles on her skin. “Until he is content,” I say. “And long enough so that you and I can start a life together, if you want that too.”

She smiles and moves closer to kiss me. “Of course I do. I want it all with you. Tell me about it.”

“About this life.” She moves to sit up, and brushes her hair behind her ear. “I’ve seen the smile on your face as you dream. So.. Tell me about it.”

A smile spreads across my face and I push myself up into a sitting position. I reach my hand forward and brush my hand across her face. “They have your eyes. All three of them.”

Her head cocks to the side as her lips curl into a smile and her eyebrows rise. “Three?”

I smile and nod my head. “Two boys, and a girl. Michael and Henry.”

“The girl doesn’t have a name?”

“I never knew her name, but she was definitely your mini-me.”

“What else was in this dream of yours?”

I cleared my throat and shifted my place on the bed and I continued on about my dream,

“We have a home, with a lot of land. There’s a creek nearby that the children love to play in apparently. With the house there is a porch, where we can sit and enjoy the sunsets in the evenings and watch our children run around and have fun. I know for a fact that it will be a home for us to grow old in too.”

She gently brings her hand to my face and caresses my cheek, her thumb softly rubbing over my skin. “That sounds beautiful. And it was all with me?”

I nod my head. She smiles and brings her face closer to kiss me. Not a hungry kiss but a passionate one. When she pulls away she grabs my right hand and pulls it to her lips. “This might sound a little crazy and it’s so spontaneous, but.. What if we didn’t wait?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, placing my other hand over hers.

She smiles, laughing softly, as she places her other hand on top of mine. “What if we elope?”

Elope?

“I-I know it’s soon and we haven’t been together for long but I love you and I want everything with you. I want that dream that you had, I want all the children with you, I want to grow old with you. Every trial and tribulation laid out before us, I want to go through them with you.” She holds my hands a little tighter. “I loved Sam, but I didn’t see a future with him. I waited for you to come back because I knew that you and I were meant to be together.”

“Is this your way of proposing?” I tease.

She smacks her lips and I chuckle. “So what if it is?”

I smile and untangle our hands before sliding out of the bed and going over to my dresser where I had my small jewelry box sitting up on top. Lifting the lid, I search for the right ring before going back over to her.

“It might be a little big for your tiny fingers but…” I pick up her left hand and slide the silver band onto her ring finger. “I’ll buy you an actual one later,” She smiles and I bring her hand to my lips to kiss it. “Dorothea Foster, I have pined after you for years, hoping one day I’d finally get the chance to love you. And I finally got that chance and now I don’t want to let you go. Will you do the honor of marrying me?” I saw a tear slide down her cheek, and I reached up to wipe it away. She nods her head and I pull her in for a kiss.

Climbing over my lap and straddling my waist, she draws me in deeper. I slide my hands down her back and grip her ass in my hands. She giggles against my lips and I smile. Reaching her hand down between us, she grips my length in her hand and gives it a few pumps before she’s inserting it inside of herself.

“Oh fuck,” I groan as she sinks down around me. Keeping one arm wrapped around her, I use my other to lean on as I thrust my hips upward. We start to move together, kissing each other.

Turning us over, I lay her on her back and continue pumping myself inside of her. My name falls from her lips repeatedly, begging me to keep going. I could feel the lust ravaging through my veins, overpowering everything. Her hands dig into my back, clawing at my skin, no doubt leaving marks on my skin.

But just like our first time together, she holds tightly to my body with her legs before flipping us over. She rides me relentlessly, chasing her own high as she brings me to mine.

Climbing off of me, she lays down on the bed before moving over to cuddle into the side of my body. I didn't know how much I had needed her until I felt her release coating me. I held her tightly, unsure of when I’d see her again before our boat trip.

I can’t wait for that trip. Just her and I alone with nothing but the open seas and the blue skies. I’ll teach her how to sail and how to fish, we’ll sleep beneath the stars, maybe even make love every night. I just want it all with her.

And to elope, it sounds crazy, I’ll admit. Eloping was never a thought but it is now. We don’t need a big wedding and a lot of witnesses. It can just be the two of us, getting married somewhere beautiful. In a matter of months it will be happening.

I feel her poke my cheek, pulling my attention away from my thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“Us eloping..”

“Do you not want to go through with it?”

“No, of course I do.. I’m just thinking about how to do it.”

Thea props herself up on her elbow beside me, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And how do you want to do it?”

“I think we should do it while we’re away on the trip, go someplace that we both love, and just do it there.” I lay my arm behind my head and look at the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll even ask Josh to officiate it. He can be ordained to do so online and he’d be the only one who knows–at least for now.”

“I think he’d absolutely love to do it.”

“And possibly when the tour is over, we can have a party with our family and close friends to celebrate.”

Thea smiles and leans down to kiss me. “That sounds like the perfect plan.. But just one minor problem.”

I pull my eyebrows together in confusion as I look at her. “And what would that be?”

“Do you trust that Josh will keep his mouth shut for the time being?”

“Worth the risk.” I wink at her and pull her in for a kiss.

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#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka smut #gvf #matched

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lee-blogs · 1 year

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It's a slow day today. Super rainy, chilly (Or at least, chillier than usual) and it feels like i'm just waiting. Waiting for what? I'm not really sure.

So, i've been throwing myself into my art, finally working on and finishing up old requests that i haven't had a chance to touch since last year/January of this year.

So that's good, i guess.

I hope you all are doing well, stay safe, and i love you 💙

#lee rambles #kinda feel like doing these from time to time #i dunno #Still feeling... eh. Not happy; not sad #though i probably *should* feel sad because of what's going on... that'll probably happen after everyone in my house goes to bed #so i can be alone with my feelings and stuff #that's what i've done the last few nights #But anyway #Hopefully i'll finish a lot of those requests; i'll put them in my queue for the next few days #Working on personal stuff too but for some reason it's easier to just make and post requests atm #maybe bc i don't have to write too much down? maybe.#Made a new character for my ArtFight tho so that's cool #redesigned her a little too yesterday

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non-un-topo · 7 months

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Daily November crying sessions start today

#why. who. how. how tf does my professor think it's okay to assign 4 major assignments in the same amount of weeks + 4-6 readings every week #all of which are ~20 pages.#i've got all that to do and another big assignment for a different class. plus the weekly readings and reflections for that one.#and i have work.#i've stupidly decided to volunteer for a thing on saturday in the hopes of bulking up my resume + rubbing elbows with the administration.#and i have a medical thing on friday and i'll be looped out and likely will have to sleep half the day. probably won't get ANY work done.#what else..... some fairly easy stuff for my other class thank GOD. but a lot of reading and preparing for a few big essays.#november is the month i hate the fucking most. i always lose my mind in november. and no wonder!!!!!!#meanwhile people are bugging me to hang out. i will be in a student-coma until approx. the first week of december. see you then. peace.#oh and my BIL + SIL sitting me down and showing me all their europe honeymoon photos for 2 HOURS last night is also not helping my mood.#fuck you lol #like i'm happy for you and nice photos but also? Fuck You.#if i can offer some dark humour though.....#my fic axis exists because of a legitimate smidge of insanity i experienced last year. it shifted the way i looked at the world and at grie #sooooo i wonder what kind of fic my mind will crank out this time?#i don't think i'm at risk of losing it this year though. doesn't seem that way. but we'll see!#i can write/draw good things without sacrificing my mental health first i can write/draw good things without sacrificing my mental health f #rst i can write/draw good things without sacrificing my mental health first i can write/draw good things without sacrificing my mental heal

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things-that-make-sa-happy · 2 years

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Jeremiah Fisher | tsitp 1.02

#The Summer I Turned Pretty #tsitp #tsitpedit #Jeremiah Fisher #my beautiful boy!#sa loves tsitp #sa makes gifs #these are not my best- i'm sorry- i have been beaten once again lol #I think I'm too nervous to concentrate... I have to interview someone in the morning and I've never done that before #like- interview someone for a job- to see if I want to hire them- me! ME! isn't that LAUGHABLE?!#I'M IN CHARGE OF THAT NOW! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!#and I am the most awkward person in the world and it's gonna be an ADVENTURE for this poor lady #she is IN FOR A RIDE and she doesn't even KNOW it yet!#I've woken up from a dead sleep in a panic about this the last few nights- and then I can't go back to sleep cause my brain won't stop #I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO ASK! I'm gonna be bright red the entire time- she's gonna be concerned for me #my brain is gonna short circuit and i'm gonna forget how to speak and i'm gonna sound ridiculous and i'm not looking forward to this at all #someone save me please #alright- i'm gonna go panic in the corner now #enjoy these gifs while I'm there! again- sorry they're not my best!#he's still quite adorable regardless!

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picturesofashe · 1 year

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Distractions

#ffxiv #if lost please return to ishgard #ashern vee #miqo'te #ffxiv screenshot #ffxiv gpose #i've decorated my island a little bit #it ain't much tho #but it's good #i'll have to get a few more things but overall tho #i'll need to look around for more ideas #also i may have done this in the middle of our pathfinder session last night lmao #people were setting up their level ups tho #and it's easy for me to just listen to the DM talk about what was going on after they were done #i dunno how i keep this information retained in my head so well #but i can

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brinkle-brackle · 6 months

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been awhile since I've posted some work cup doodles but finals week is rapidly approaching and this is the mindset fr

#i tried to draw my dog from memory and he came out really good :D #these are no joke two of the best dogs i've ever drawn #aside from the two Einies i drew the next work day (a few days ago) which i'll probably post within the next few days :))#i am so so tired and i cannot wait to fly home and take couch naps and cuddle Captain (my dog) and bake cookies and watch Christmas movies #i did get an absolute monster of a project done last night though so that felt great #and my friends and i are doing our gift exchange tomorrow so that's gonna be fun :))#anyways here. have dog :)#sam says things #my art #work cup doodles #gonna create a dog tag (HAHA SEE WHAT I DID THERE *i am immediately shot*)#dog tag

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quick-drawn-a · 1 year

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i know y’all are gonna say i don’t owe you anything, but i would like to apologize for my absence at least one last time.

i’m falling behind here.

and not only here, but on discord and IM’s as well. i do intend to catch up on all of these things, so bear with me while i dust off my keyboard a little bit.

#✯ — нorѕeѕ ιn тнe вacĸ × [ ooc ]#death mention #throughout the tags but #the tl;dr of the sob story is my grandma died last night.#no worries — i'm fine.#but she's sorta been on the decline for the past month or so.#which is why i've been so sparse here and on discord.#just been trying to do my part in taking care of her and grandpa — making sure my parents are good. etc.#on top of working the usual 50+ hours at work.#there won't be a funeral or anything but i do have the week off so that's nice.#i'll still be over there a few days throughout the week for support — but otherwise we'll see what i can get done around here !#and for real catching up on discord messages.#just — forgive me. my headspace has been...in space for a while now.#been trying to gather the spoons.#so i still make no promises but !!#tbd #ask to tag

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solradguy · 2 years

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I came to terms with the Sol kinnie thing months ago now because honestly who gives a shit, but every now and then I'll find myself in a situation where I wonder if whatever it was I was about to do was/is a pre- or post-Guilty Gear interest lol

#textpost #Most of them have been pre-Guilty Gear interests which is honestly hilarious #Like of course I don't have proof for most of it but my fursona is the funniest one #He's basically bootleg furry Sol Badguy BUT he was like that MONTHS before I got into GG #I've been thinking about this over the last few days though #Because I was doing some Queen stuff and had a thought like 'am I only doing this because my brain's weird or do I actually care'#And went through like a checklist of things. I do actually care #Sol is like frighteningly relatable though and sometimes I wish he wasn't lol #I typed this at 2am last night but saved it to my drafts instead of publishing it haha Still kinda feeling it this morning though tbh #I wish I could better articulate or find a term that describes how I relate to Sol better because 'kin/fictionkin' feels too...#Hmm.... Psycho-religious? A lot of essays I read while initially figuring this out related the kin tag to something more like a-#-Philosophy or something similar to a religion #But for me it's more like my brain filling in empty spaces within itself because No One was like me growing up and #now that I'm also trans there are even LESS people who are like me #So my brain sees a character that's similar to me and is like 'oh holy shit it's us. Let's be like that' hahah #This got really long I should've put it up in the post sorry lmfao #Anyway this is something I've done my whole life and 'kinning' is really the only term that fits what it is even if it's not a 1:1 fit #It usually doesn't bother me but knowing that some of the things I enjoy now I probably won't later once my interests shift again does #I still keep waiting for it to happen with Guilty Gear but GG is so different from anything else I've been into I'm not sure it will #Since most of the things I like about GG were things I liked before getting into it. Like heavy metal & weird scifi/fantasy #I'm not going to elaborate on how exactly I relate to Sol also. My blog is too public for that #and this post is already a little too personal #kin tag

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braceletofteeth · 2 years

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!! (9 people i want to get to know better) !!

@loveforseo tagged me 🥰❤ Thank you, darling!!

—

last song: I'm Good, by Henry

last show: Girl From Nowhere

currently watching: Together With Me // Vincenzo // Unforgotten Night // Ingredients // The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson // Naruto // The Witcher (2nd season)

currently reading: The Silence of the Lambs // Manner of Death

—

Tagging: @anocturnaluniverse @anthean @asliceofoceanmist @bobafvcks @heartshxn @inhokki @mangodelorean @srabaskerville @softneomirotic

#tag game #I've been reading TSOTL for months. I'm still on chapter two. Should I just postpone that and read something else for now #I miss when I was a kid and could read a whole book in a day and a night #the song is really good!!!#I was happy that it had been the last one I listened to. it's one of my favorites.#the vibes are immaculate #I finished GFN just a few hours ago #(I watched s2 a lot faster than s1. I'm not sure what they did but from one to the other there was a huge improvement)#I'm still watching Ingredients because I like to watch it in the morning but I'm almost never awake in the morning #oh and I'm on episode 11 of Narut*. soon (?) I'll end season 1 and maybe in eighty years I'll be done with the rest as well :D

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enthusiasticharry · 1 month

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the one where YN has a one-night stand, who turns out to be her boss at the hospital where she now works.

author's note: surprise!! doctor!harry is here to surprise you! i know i've been radio silent for a while, and i apologise for that but work has been so busy recently that i've not had a minute to myself. but i've found it, and i've spent it writing this for all of you! thanks for all ya support!

word count: 10K of smut, fluff, angst and everything in between (and also harry being the cutest paediatric doctor anyone has ever seen)

let me know what you think of good omens here! mwah <3

The first time it happened was completely accidental. Well, as accidental as sleeping with a co-worker could be. A co-worker who she didn’t know was a co-worker just yet.

It was YN’s first day as a paediatric surgeon in a new hospital, in a new town and she couldn’t save him. She couldn’t save him. He was twelve years old. It wasn’t the first time that YN had lost someone, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. But, for a day that was supposed to be filled with new beginnings — ones that were supposed to last — it just didn’t feel like a good omen in YN’s eyes.

That’s how she ended up at the bar, on her third or fourth drink of god-knows-what when she knew that she shouldn’t. YN knew, in the back of her mind that there was no way that she could have saved that boy, no matter what she did. It was too late, and she had done her best but today her best just didn’t seem good enough.

When the handsome stranger sat next to her she didn’t think anything of it at first. He ordered his drink and just sat there. He didn’t look at YN, and YN didn’t look at him. They just sat there. From the sparing glance that YN took of the man he was attractive but that wasn’t on her mind right now — how could it be?

That was until her drink was placed on the bar in front of her, when she had just finished hers and she hadn’t asked for a new one. YN cast her eyes on the bartender, who just motioned in the handsome man’s direction. YN turned to him, and this time instead of facing forward he was looking directly at her. YN’s eyes dropped down to the drink in front of her one last time, before looking at the mystery man again who was smiling, a very pretty smile at that.

“Looked like you needed it,” He shrugged, lifting his own drink to his lips, and taking a sip.

YN scoffed a laugh, “I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

“Smart girl,” The man nodded before turning back to the bartender, “But Benny can vouch for me, can’t you Benny? Went straight from Benny’s hand to in front of you.”

YN sighed again, dropping her eyes down to the glass in front of her before lifting back up to the stranger.

“First name basis with the bartender,” YN lifts an eyebrow at him, “Come here a lot?”

The man shrugs, “Only when I need to.”

YN sighs, contemplating what she was or was not going to do before she just did it. She picked up the glass and took a sip, placing it down with a slight thunk on the counter. The smile on the man’s face was all she needed.

“I’m YN,” She holds out her hand for the man to shake.

He looks at her, then at her hand and drops his into it, “I’m Harry.”

An hour later YN had hardly made it through her front door before his lips were on hers. The door shut with a bang, one that YN would have probably cared about if she wasn’t being hoisted up against it. Harry’s hands slipped down from her waist to her ass until he was gripping her thighs and lifting her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, but the entire time their lips never left each other.

“Bedroom,” Harry mumbled against her lips, before starting an assault down her neck.

“Down the hall,” YN gasped, trying to hold in her moans as his teeth nipped along her neck.

They bumped into a few things along the way, a chest of drawers that was conveniently placed right outside the entrance of her bedroom and then the doorway that neither of them could have moved. When they did make it into the room, it wasn’t long before Harry’s lips were back on hers.

“You sure about this?” Harry murmurs against her lips and YN pulls away.

“I am,” YN runs her hands down through Harry’s hair until it is at the collar of his blazer, “Are you?”

“Hell yes,” Harry reattaches his lips to hers just as her hands slip from the curls at the nape of his neck before they run themselves along the collar of his blazer and help him shrug it off. YN brings her hands around the front to the collar of his shirt now, unbuttoning it from the top down to the bottom until she can pull that off his body also.

Her eyes widen in surprise at the ink across his chest and arms. From what she could see (which wasn’t a lot with his blazer and shirt on) she hadn’t suspected his body to be littered in the dark ink, and she couldn’t help but run her fingers along the ink, following the designs with her fingertips.

“Tattoos?”

Harry chuckles, tapping her chin with his finger so she moves her eyes up from his chest to his eyes. Her body nearly gave out in that exact second.

“What?” He chuckled, a playful smile toying his lips, “You like them?”

YN just sighed, “Ask me again when I can think straight?”

Harry laughed, leaning back down to kiss her again. His fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, and they separated for the second it took YN to lift her arms up and for Harry to pull the shirt off of her body. YN moved to unbutton her trousers, a giggle escaping her lips as Harry helped her when they got stuck around her calf.

When YN had dressed for the day, she hadn’t factored this happening at all, and her mismatched bralette and panties (both a soft cotton instead of anything fancy for comfort reasons) weren’t the sexiest and she knew that. But, when her eyes met Harry’s again, and she saw his eyes flicker up and down her body, none of that mattered anymore.

Harry placed a few chaste kisses onto her lips once again before moving down her neck, down to the exposed skin of her breast above her bralette. A shiver ran down her spine when his hands moved around her back, his fingertips dancing across her skin before skilfully unclasping her bra and allowing it to fall from her body, exposing her breasts to him. The material was discarded on the floor, and YN swore she saw his eyes widen at the sight of her chest exposed to him.

He dropped back down to the top of her breasts, kissing and every once in a while nipping slightly. Once he wrapped his lips around her nipple, YN’s entire body lurched forward. Her thighs tried to tighten, just to relieve some of the pressure that was building within her. Instead, YN found herself pulling Harry closer to her by her thighs, the thing cotton of her panties not creating much of a barrier between her and Harry’s crotch. YN bites her lip in hopes of suppressing the moan that was attempting to slip from her lips.

YN can’t help but grind her hips forward towards his, shivering slightly when Harry’s teeth nip over her nipple.

“Harry,” YN almost mewls, her hips bucking up again, “Please.”

“Please what, darling?” Harry taunts, releasing her nipple with a slight ‘pop’.

YN just rolls her hips towards his once more, and Harry seems to get the hint. From there he moves downwards, littering kisses down her ribs and towards the top of her panties.

“Can I?” Harry asks, his fingers moving to the hem of her panties, slipping them just underneath upon her skin. YN shivered, her hips involuntarily bucking up towards Harry’s touch.

“Yes,” YN gasped, the cool air of the room hit the heat between her legs as Harry tucked his thumbs into the sides of her panties, “Please… Harry.”

YN sighed into the feeling of Harry’s lips pressing into her thigh as he pulled her panties completely off. Even though this man was a complete stranger to her – the way that he was looking at her. The way that his eyes danced down her body, the way they looked into hers as he placed kisses on the inside of her thighs, itching closer and closer to the heat inside of her legs – her judgement was clouded as to whether they were actual strangers.

“Am I getting warmer?” Harry jokes, his fingers coming to rest on YN’s stomach, trying to stop the way that she was lifting her hips upwards.

“You’re such a tease,” YN sighed, her body withering once more as he pressed a kiss right on her pubic bone.

Harry just grinned up at her, a playful smirk toying on his lips once more, “Have I found it?”

“You’re there. Bingo. Please.”

One last pleasing look to Harry, and it was as though he dived in. He didn’t even hesitate, his mouth dropped down and his lips attached to YN’s clit. Her entire body lurched forward, and without even thinking her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip to conceal the sounds that were threatening to escape. His lips applied just enough pressure, changing every so often to bring her closer and closer. When his hands reached forward and rolled her nipples between his fingers, she was gone.

“Wanna hear you,” He mumbles against her, the vibrations of his words transferring to her skin, “Need to hear I’m making you feel good.”

“You’re making me feel so good,” YN reassured him, a gasp leaving her lips as he started to flick his tongue against her. YN’s hands dropped down and slipped through his curls, allowing herself to grind against his face. The hand that was rolling her nipple moved to slip down between their bodies. He pulled away for a second, just to rub his pointer finger across her clit before dipping it inside her. YN mewled, her hands reaching out to grasp the duvet beneath her, “Don’t stop, so fucking good.”

The way his fingers and tongue worked simultaneously brought her closer and closer with every movement. YN had never in her entire life had a one-night stand where the first thing the man did was eat her out. It was not only unheard of, but it was divine. The mewls and groans that left her lips were only heightened by his quickening pace, bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” Her thighs attempted to close, only for Harry’s hand (the one not currently inside of her) to push them back open. There was something about him not only bringing her closer and closer to orgasm with his tongue and fingers but also the way he was manhandling her that YN couldn’t handle, “I’m so close.”

He brought his lips away from her clit, only to immediately start rubbing it up and down with his thumb.

“You going to come for me?” He asked, a boyish smile crossing his lips, ones that were glistening with her juices, “Come on. Come for me, baby.”

That one pet name was all that she needed. Her hips were rising from the bed, and her legs started to shake from over his shoulder. She could feel the orgasm from the tip of her toes right up to her head. Small gasps left her body, but Harry worked her through it.

Once the initial wave had stopped, YN dropped her body back on the bed and tried to gain control of her breathing. Harry didn’t wait a single second before he was climbing up her body, so he was hovering over her again, leaning down to capture her lips with hers. She could feel his cock pressing into her leg, and by the slight movement in his hips she knew that he was waiting for his time, and she was more than happy to oblige him.

Her hands snaked down his body, from his shoulders down to his stomach before they toyed with the button on his trousers.

Harry pulled away, only for a second to drop his eyes to where her hands were on his trousers, “You want to do this?”

YN nodded, “Wanna feel you. Need to feel you.”

Harry chuckled, helping her to push his trousers down along with his underwear until his cock sprung out at her.

“Then who am I not to oblige?”

The next morning YN woke up with a slight pounding in her head. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, but she guessed the fully drunk bottle of water that was on her bedside table had done the trick. Her alarm had been set for seven, and that sound was the only thing she could hear in her room.

Just as YN was about to peel the covers back off her body and start getting ready for the day — she felt it. It was light, but she could feel it. A leg, presumably belonging to the person that she had just realised was sleeping next to her, just skimming the side of her leg. They weren’t facing each other, but the second that YN turned her head and saw that face looking at her, all the meme flies of the previous night came flooding back to her — work, the drinks, the sex.

Without even thinking she reached her arm out to tap Harry, lifting him from his slumber in a less-than-calming way. His eyes opened for a second before a groan left his lips and he immediately closed them, dropping his head back down to the pillow.

“Harry,” YN mumbled, slipping out of the bed, and clutching a blanket to her body to preserve at least a smudge of the dignity she had left, “I need to go to work, and you need to leave.”

He sighed, turning his head on the pillow to face her again, “What time is it?”

“It’s seven,” She responded, “I need to shower and get ready and I’m going to be late to work.”

Before she could even finish her sentence he was jumping out of bed, leaning down to grab his discarded clothes, and starting to pull them on his body. YN just stood there watching him, still clutching the blanket to her body.

“You’re not the only one that’s going to be late for work,” He sighed, throwing his shirt back on his body and taking quick steps towards her. He stops, leans down, and presses a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll let myself out.”

“Okay,” She nods, not completely trusting herself with her words, but she has no idea why, “Bye.”

“Bye!” He called out and just like that he was out of her room and a few seconds later she heard the front door slam, and he was out of her apartment.

It wasn’t as though she expected anything else — this was a one-night stand after all. However, there was a part of her that wished she had the balls to ask for his number or something. There was a part of her that was disappointed that the man who had given her the best sex she’d ever had didn’t seem interested in wanting her number or rushing out the way he had.

YN’s shock was short-lived, especially when her alarm clock beeped from the side of her, and she had no choice but to get on with her day. Dropping the blanket she made her way into the bathroom, sighing when she saw the state of herself in the mirror.

Despite the lack of headache, her body looked as though it had been through the wringer. Her hair was a mess, knotted and tangled all over the top of her head — just from looking at the front she dreaded to think what the back looked like.

Once her eyes had left her head, they fell to her neck and drew a line down to her breasts. From around her collar gone down she was covered in marks, some of them small and some of them bigger. The ones around her breasts were the biggest, and just the sight of them sent YN’s mind back. She ran her fingertips along the tender skin, reminding herself of the kisses and the touches that they had shared. With a shake of her head, YN pushed all of the thoughts of Harry out, turned her shower on and waited for the water to heat up.

It was her second day. Her second day. Her thoughts weren’t supposed to be clouded by the man she had met in the bar whilst trying to get drunk, trying to forget what a disaster her first day had been. Instead, she wasn’t thinking about everything she needed to do today, or what could potentially come through the door of the hospital that she would need to focus her strength on, she was reliving the night she had just had as she ran her loofah across her skin, tracing the pattern that Harry had taken.

As she stood with the warm water running over her body, she scolded herself for not doing something. She could have said something, anything to ask him, or followed him before he left the flat. But she didn’t, and she would probably never see him again — and she would have to live with that.

Shampooing her scalp helped remove the stress that was starting to build up in her body. Whilst the irrational side of her brain was telling her all of things that she could have done, the more rational side of her brain was letting her know that it was just a one-night stand. That it was just a one-night stand that she was never going to see again, and that was fine. That was fine.

The more YN thought about it, and the more that she scrubbed her scalp (it was starting to potentially hurt at this point) she brushed (scratched) all of these thoughts out of her head. She had to focus on the most important thing here, and that was her second day of work.

Once she was scrubbed and sparkling and fresh from the night before, she dressed and made her way to work. There was something that made YN feel powerful about her line of work. Maybe it was the fact that she got to save lives every day, or maybe it was the fact that those lives were children, but she felt powerful. Yesterday was just a slip-up, and everything will be fixed today she knew it was.

Once she had pulled her white coat on, and attached her I.D. to it, she made her way over to the nurses’ desk where some of the other doctors on the wing were. Iris, one of the trainee specialists that YN had met yesterday and was going to be working under her was already there, flicking through some paperwork for some of their patients for the day.

“You look…” Iris looked YN up and down, “Different.”

“Different?” YN just laughed, “You saw me stressed yesterday. Today I’m not stressed. Today I’m fine. Today I’m ready for work. Today is a new day. Today is a new day, and it is going to be a good day!”

Iris stared at YN, watching as the woman tapped her nails against the top of the desk waiting for Iris to pass her the files for their patients today so she could get on with the day. She could feel today was going to be a good day. No room for distractions, just her and her work.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Iris raised an eyebrow at YN, watching as the girl just smiled at her.

“I’m feeling fine. I’m feeling good,” YN smiled, finally stopping the tapping on the desk to hold her hand out to receive her first patient file, “Now, I have a bladder to operate on in an hour and I need to read my patient’s chart.”

Iris didn’t seem too convinced by her answer but carried on anyway, “I don’t have it. The peds consultant, Dr. Styles just went in for a consult.”

“Oh,” YN looked surprised, looking over her shoulder to look at her patient’s room but she couldn’t see anything through the door, “I haven’t met him yet. How long has it been since he went?”

“He wasn’t working yesterday,” Iris shrugs, “He’s lovely. Really. Everything you expect from someone who has spent years of his life saving kids.”

YN wasn’t surprised at that. There is a certain type of person who worked in paediatrics. These people had to be kind but stern. They had to be strong but compassionate. Being a doctor, or a surgeon anyway was tough but when children are involved, it complicates everything – makes everything more emotional. There had to be a type of detachment in the person – knowing that these patients were children, and there is a certain higher level of emotion attached to them but how you couldn’t let that emotion rule takes guts.

When YN first went to medical school paediatrics was the last thing on her mind, but by the time she had finished, it was the only thing that she could think about. Now – here she was.

“Well, I hope he’s not going to be long,” YN sighs, tapping her nails against the desk again, “Got pre-ops to do, and I don’t really fancy standing and waiting here for any longer.”

“Stop complaining,” Iris sighs, standing up and moving around the desk so that she’s next to YN, “And he’s here.”

YN sighed, pushing herself up and turning around. She was used to the introductions by now. Whilst peds doctors are lovely and have some sort of emotional intelligence they are still doctors, and that comes with some sort of arrogance. All she needed to do was introduce herself and then she could get into the operating room – where she wanted to. That’s all she thought she would do, but the second she turned around she knew that wasn’t going to be the case at all.

“Hi,” He stopped right in front of her, his hand reaching out as though it was going to shake hers, “I’m Dr. Styles.”

Turns out she didn’t need his number. Turns out she was going to be working with him.

The second that it happened YN had just finished surgery. A kidney transplant on a nine-year-old boy. She was exhausted. She was stressed, and all she wanted to do was go home and go to bed – that was what she needed to do. Just as YN pulled her scrub cap off her head and followed that with a yawn she felt a hand wrapping around her waist. Just a second later she was being pulled into the closest room, which just happened to be a janitorial storage room.

YN sighed, facing the back wall, and taking in the musty scent along with the brooms and mops that were lining the back wall. She didn’t need to know who was with her, and that was the problem.

“You’re avoiding me,” He spoke, and YN still didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to turn around, “You’re avoiding me, and you can’t avoid me.”

YN sighed, “I’m not avoiding you. I see you every day.”

“In consults, YN!” YN ran her hand over her forehead, still looking at the wall, “In consults, where you don’t even look me in the eyes! I’ve tried and tried, and you won’t talk to me!”

“Because you’re my boss!” YN flung around, looking Harry directly in his eyes. The way she raised her voice caused Harry’s eyes to widen, and the way he immediately saw her eyes start to fill up caused them to soften straightaway, “You’re my boss, and I slept with you!”

“YN,” Harry sighs, taking a step towards her with his hand out. Before YN could flinch she pulled away, “You didn’t know that that I was your boss, that is not your fault.”

“You are still my boss, Harry,” She sighs, trying to stop her lips from turning into a frown, “You are still my boss, and I’ve slept with you. You’ve seen me naked! I’ve seen you naked! You’re my boss!”

“YN, you need to listen to me,” Harry was the one sighing now, running his finger across his eyebrow, “You did not know that I was your boss. I did not know you were a surgeon, never mind the surgeon on my staff! We both didn’t know and if we don’t talk this out – we’re not going to be able to work together and that’s dangerous. I know it, you know it. How can we treat our patients, those children out there if we can barely look at each other in the eye?”

YN sighed, knowing that it wasn’t the most sanitary, but she was tired. She dropped down to the floor, her back leaning against one of the shelves covered in cleaning supplies. Harry sighed and dropped down next to her, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Why didn’t you ask for my number?”

YN had interrupted the silence that had washed over them, and Harry didn’t say anything straight away. He turned to look at YN, but she was staring straight ahead – at the other shelves with boxes of cleaning supplies on.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you ask for my number?” She asked again, “Before you left. Why didn’t you ask for my number?”

“I wanted to,” Harry responds this time, but YN still doesn’t look at him, “I wanted to, but I was late. I forgot.”

YN laughed. She couldn’t help it, “You forgot? You slept with me, and then you forgot to ask for my number?”

Harry’s head turned to hers quickly, his eyes laced with shock, “You didn’t ask for mine. You could’ve asked for mine, you could’ve.”

“I could’ve if you didn’t race out of the room like there was a fire under your arse!”

Harry sighed again, looking straight ahead at the shelves. They were in silence again, and then his hand reached out to grasp hers. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her. Instead, she snaked his fingers through hers and pulled her hand so that it was resting on her knees.

“Oliver,” Harry sighed, running his thumb over the back of her hand, “The patient that you did the bladder operation on, you removed his tumours.”

“Yeah?” YN sighed, unsure as to where this was going.

“That was my friend's kid,” Harry sighed, not stopping as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, “Oliver. Oli – that’s what we call him. He’s a bubbly kid, kind, good at sports. He was fine. Then one day he wasn’t. His parents took him to his GP, he said it was a bladder infection. They came to me, and I said the same. I said the same. They begged me to run more tests, begged me. I didn’t, he got worse, and they came back. I ordered the tests and –”

“He had cancer, and I removed his tumours,” YN sighs. Before she could help it, she pulled his hand on top of her knee and ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

“I went to the bar because I was trying to not think about it, and then I saw you,” Harry sighed, shrugging slightly, “And I, for that night could push everything out of my head. I could push the fact that I missed it out of my head. Then I woke up, and I forgot to ask for your number because I was late to make sure that he was alright before his surgery, and I wanted to be there for his parents. Then I saw him, and then I saw you and then I remembered – I should have asked for your number, but it didn’t matter.”

“Because I was here,” She sighed, and he pursed his lips together and nodded, “But then I ignored you because I slept with my boss, and I thought you didn’t care.”

“I did care,” He sighed, “I do care. It was just…”

“It was a bad day,” YN sighed, a small smile gracing her lips, “We all have bad days. I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“It’s okay,” Harry smiled, “Can we not ignore each other anymore? I know it’s weird that you’ve seen your boss naked but –”

“We’re okay,” YN laughed, “As long that you don’t find it strange that you’ve seen your colleague naked too.”

He joined in with her laughter, the sound filling up the once-silent room. It had been a month of this silence, this lack of communication between them and even though YN was exhausted – she felt better. Once the laughter had died down, YN realised that she was still holding his hand, her thumb still rubbing on the back of her skin.

YN looked up at Harry, her breath catching in her throat when she realised that he was staring right at her. It was as though the room around them had shrunk, pushing them closer and closer together until their faces were only inches apart. They had just made up, and then all of a sudden his lips were on hers.

YN moved, their lips not separating so that she was straddling his lap. The room now wasn’t small, and it wasn’t just filled with cleaning supplies – it was filled with their deep breaths, their moans, the sound of their lips moving against one another. YN’s hands slipped into the curls at the nape of his neck, just as they had done that night a month ago. Harry’s hand slipped underneath her scrubs, grabbing against her waist, and pulling her closer to him.

That feeling was back, the one that she had felt before. The one where it felt good, as though (and she knew how crazy this sounded) that they fit together perfectly. The feeling of his hands on her, and his lips on hers was everything that she needed.

That was until there was a knock on the door.

“Excuse me!” The voice was deep, and not one that YN recognised, “I need to get into my storage cupboard unless you want the entire hospital to be dirty!”

YN and Harry pulled away, a string of laughs escaping their lips as they tried to pull their selves together. Harry pulled the door open once they looked a little more presentable, revealing Mark, the janitor, standing there with his hands on his hips.

“Sorry, Mark,” Harry nodded, clearing his throat slightly, “Bad day.”

Mark scoffed, watching as YN fluttered past them and started to move down the hall. She didn’t move fast enough to not hear him say, “Keep your bad days to the on-call room next time.”

“So,” It was later on in the day, and YN had managed to get some sleep in one of the on-call rooms before she was back to it. She hadn’t seen Harry since their little adventure in the janitor’s cupboard earlier today, not until right now, “I was thinking.”

“Oh,” YN sighed, continuing to flick through the charts that were in her hands, “That’s dangerous.”

Harry laughed, and that was when YN turned to look at him. He was in his scrubs, his hands in his white lab coat. All YN wanted to do was wish that they were back in that cupboard, mainly so she could kiss him again.

“My thinking isn’t dangerous. I think I come up with brilliant ideas,” Harry leant against the nurses’ station, his body leaning towards her.

“Okay,” YN closed her chart so that she could angle her body towards his as well, “What is this brilliant idea you’ve come up with?”

“I think we should go on a date,” YN’s eyes widened, but before she could say anything to him he carried on speaking, “I think we should go on a proper date. Dinner, or a movie – something. A proper date.”

“This was your brilliant idea?” YN raised her eyebrow, “To ask me on a date?”

“Yes,” He beamed another smile at her, “Properly. We’re going to do this properly.”

YN cleared her throat and took a step closer to Harry so that they were not at a professional space away from each other.

“So,” YN’s eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, “This whole… doing it properly thing? Does that mean we can’t have sex?”

Just when YN thought he was going to kiss her, Harry stepped away. He walked away from her.

“Harry?” She exclaimed, her arms dropping open.

“We’re doing this properly!” He called back, not even turning to look at her, “I’ll pick you up at eight!”

YN sighed, shaking her head, and watching as he turned the corner out of her view. She turned back to her chart, but before she could open it her eyes caught Iris – who she had completely forgotten was sitting behind the desk when Harry walked past.

“I don’t even know what to say,” The girl spoke, eyes still open wide, “I feel like I’ve just watched some sort of soft porn. I feel like I’m at work, and I’ve just witnessed soft porn with my own two eyes.”

YN laughed, she couldn’t help it, “I think you’re in shock.”

“I think I’ve just watched soft porn between my two co-workers – my two bosses,” She adds, the shock on her face still not wavering, “Never mind that, one of my friends – my best friends, mind that – and her boss, who is also my boss.”

“Iris,” YN clapped in front of her face, snapping her friend out of whatever shock she was in, “You good?”

“I’m good,” Iris stood up, “I just think I’m going to wash my eyes out.”

A few hours later YN was waiting for Harry outside the hospital, dressed in an outfit that wasn’t exactly the best but wasn’t the worst. YN hadn’t expected to be going on a date this morning, but Harry had seen her in her scrubs, so a pair of jeans and a nice top wasn’t going to be the end of the world.

“You ready?” Harry’s hand hovered above her back as he joined her outside the hospital.

“I’m ready,” YN sighed, “I’m ready for our proper date. Can I find out where we’re going on our proper date?”

“Not yet,” He slipped his hand into hers, “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

YN groaned but allowed herself to be pulled to Harry’s car. Harry drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand on YN’s. It felt comfortable. YN hadn’t been on many first dates, but the ones that she had never felt like this. Saying that many of the people she had been on first dates with she hadn’t already slept with, or she hadn’t worked with them.

They pulled up outside what seemed to be a diner of some sort. YN hadn’t lived here long, so she hadn’t explored anyway but her house, the hospital, and the supermarket.

“What is this place?”

“You’ll find out,” Harry opened the car door for her, “Not a fan of surprises?”

“I’m a surgeon,” YN stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Surprises normally equal either more work for me or death. I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“I think you’ll like this one.”

Harry opened the door to the diner for YN, allowing her to step in first like a proper date. This was a proper date.

“Harry!” An older woman called from behind the counter, “It’s so good to see you!”

“Hi, Mrs Chapman,” Harry didn’t even flinch when the woman came and placed a kiss on her cheek, “How are you?”

“I’m fine, doll, how are you?” The older woman pulled away but kept her hands firmly on Harry’s arms, “Still the best doctor that ever lived? My Harrison is doing his exams later this year thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mrs. Chapman,” Harry finally managed to pull himself out of the older woman’s grasp, “Are we okay to sit?”

Mrs. Chapman looked over at YN, then she gasped and nodded, “Of course you are! Your booth’s free, Harry. Let me know if you need anything.”

Harry just smiled, leading YN towards a booth at the back of the diner with a hand on the nape of her back. Each time that YN found out a little bit more information about Harry, it shocked her and didn’t simultaneously.

“Do you leach off a lovely woman whose child you saved?” YN asked, raising her eyebrow as she slid into the booth across from Harry.

“I do not leach,” Harry shook his head, passing YN a menu, “I found this place way before Harrison came to see me. Mrs. Chapman is a lovely woman, who now gives me free food now and then because I saved her grandson.”

YN just sighed, shaking her head, and looking down at the menu again. It had everything that a typical diner would have, but I suppose the thing that made it different from the rest was the connection that Harry had with it.

“Do you come here often, then?” YN asked, deciding on whether she wanted a burger or not, “To be on a first-name basis with the owner?”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs, not even looking at the menu as though he already knows what he is going to have. He then sighs, “It’s the only place around here that’s open twenty-four hours. I come here because the food’s nice, the people are nice and I’m normally too tired to cook after a shift.”

“God,” YN sighs, leaning back in the booth and crossing her arms over her chest, “If I’d have known this place existed I would’ve saved so much money on crappy microwave meals.”

“Oh,” Harry shakes his head, “No, we can’t be having that.”

“Okay then,” YN drops her menu on the table in front of them, “What do you recommend?”

They end up ordering way too much food than what would normally be appropriate for two people to eat. They had burgers, and milkshakes and god only knows how many different types of pie. The only constellation that YN had for it was that they’d be able to take the leftovers home and that was one thing she loved more than eating out was the leftovers the next day.

“I’m stuffed,” YN sighed, dropping her fork down on her plate. She had just put back a burger, a handful of fries and half of two slices of pie (cherry and apple) in one sitting. In YN’s defence, she had been in the OR for the majority of the day, and that therefore meant scoffing a sandwich in the twenty-minute break she found herself having about six hours ago.

“So, you’re not going to help me finish this last slice of pie?” Harry pouted his lips slightly at her, pushing the plate with the last bit of cherry pie towards her.

YN sighed, but it didn’t take her long to pick up her fork and dig it into the last piece of the pie. YN ate half of it, and Harry had the other half. At that point, YN felt as though she was truly and honestly going to burst now. If it was socially acceptable to unbutton her trousers, she would have done that.

“That’s it,” YN shook her head, waving her hands in front of her, “Stop feeding me. I can’t take it anymore.”

“It was good though?” Harry nodded, “Right?”

“So good,” YN sighed, unable to hold the smile off her face, “I don’t think I’ve eaten this good since moving here.”

“Not much of a cook?” Harry laughed, wiping his hands with his napkin.

YN shook her head, leaning back on the booth. Even though she was having a lovely time, there was a part of her that was exhausted, but she wanted to stay. Even though every muscle in her body, every ache was screaming at her to go home and go to bed – she just couldn’t. She didn’t want to leave; she didn’t want this night to end.

“I’m not much of anything,” YN shrugged, “I’m a surgeon. That’s about it.”

“I don’t believe that,” Harry shook his head, “I believe that, yeah, you’re a surgeon, but I don’t think that’s all there is to you. That’s all I want to know.”

YN sighed, her teeth clamping down on the inside of her lip, “I guess you’re just going to have to wait.”

“I’m going to have to wait?” Harry laughed, “What am I going to have to wait for?”

“Our next proper date.”

Harry’s entire face beamed out into a smile, and YN couldn’t help but join him. In all honesty, whilst there was a level of comfortableness between them there was also a part that made her giddy. It was new and it was exciting and even though alarm bells were ringing for her that this was her boss, she had never felt this way about anybody before.

She didn’t think she ever would again.

The third time it happened, YN knew that this was going to be for good.

“You’re going to get married, and you’re going to have his babies and get a dog and I’m just going to be watching from the sidelines. Single. With fifteen cats. No husband, no cute kids. No sexy husband that’s good with the cute kids…”

“Iris?” YN interrupts before the girl could carry on her rambling.

“Yeah?” The girl beamed, a sad smile crossing her lips.

“You’re doing it again,” YN sighed, dropping her hands to the top of her charts, “The thinking out loud. The crazy cat lady thing. I know you think that you’re making yourself feel better by speaking into the universe, but it’s just sad Iris.”

“You know what’s sad?” Iris sighed, and that’s when YN saw the glaze over her eyes again, “That I’m not going to have a hot doctor husband, and cute kids, and –”

“That’s it,” YN sighed, picking up her chart and moving away from her boyfriend, “I’m leaving. I can’t listen to this anymore.”

YN had taken all but two steps away from the desk when she felt someone’s arm knock into hers. She didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

YN and Harry had been living in bliss for the past six months. They had done this properly. They had been on dates, ‘proper’ dates as they had continued to call them, and every day just seemed to get better. That wasn’t to say that they hadn’t had their ups and downs. Two doctors, paediatricians at that, trying in a relationship would have its ups and downs. They were emotional, exhausted, and stubborn. That meant that every so often their heads butted together and it either ended up in them screaming at each other or just sitting in complete silence.

“What can’t you listen to anymore?” He asked, his shoulder brushing hers and they walked down the corridor.

YN sighed, “Iris is having her cat existential crisis again. I told you it was a bad idea for her to get a cat, and what did you say? You said it was a good idea, and now I’m –”

“Woah,” Harry stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her down, “Now you’re having the cat existential crisis.”

YN sighed, lifting her hand to scratch her eyebrow, “She’s infecting me. Harry, we have to do something. You must have some single friends. Something. We need to fix this.”

“We don’t,” Harry shakes his head, “I know she’s your best friend and you –”

Whatever Harry was going to say next didn’t matter, and it didn’t matter because a scream came from down the hall. It wasn’t a good scream, and before anything else could be said the two of them were rushing down the hallway and into the room where the scream came from.

It was Paige. She was their latest patient, in for Lymphoma. It was a recent diagnosis – very recent and the girl was crying and screaming. The nurse looked as though she was going to have a breakdown herself.

“She won’t let us put an IV in,” The nurse sighed, “We’ve tried everything, but she just keeps screaming.”

“It’s going to hurt!” Paige screamed back, wet hot tears streaming down her face as she looked between Harry and YN.

Harry looked at YN and she just nodded, “We’ll take it from here Kathy.”

The nurse nodded, leaving the room, and allowing the door to slam shut behind her. YN flinched slightly, but at the same time she knew how stressful children could be sometimes. She also knew that Kathy was coming off a long shift, and that could also factor into the stress.

“I’m sorry,” Paige’s mother spoke from the corner of the room, her eyes welling up just like her daughters were, “She’s never normally like this. I tried. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,�� Harry smiled, dropping down onto the seat next to Paige’s bed, pulling some gloves onto his hands, “Needles are scary. They’re sharp, and they’re scary.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Paige whined, her chest wracking with more sobs, “It hurt last time, Dr. Styles, I don’t wanna hurt.”

Harry sighed, “It does hurt, I’m not going to lie to you, Paige.”

YN’s eyes furrowed as Harry spoke but shrugged off his jacket at the same time. He pulled the tourniquet out of the unopened IV kit and wrapped it around his arm, pulling it tight.

“It hurts, but only for a minute,” Harry smiled, “Dr. YLN here is going to show you how it’s done, and I’m going to explain every little step. Is that okay, Paige?”

Paige’s tears were still falling, but her breathing had slowed down slightly. YN pulled on another pair of gloves and prepped the needle.

“This rubber band is a tourniquet,” Harry explained, “You’ve probably had one before when you were having your blood taken. You see, it helps us to see your veins,” Harry pointed out the vein in his arm which had popped out. “Dr. YN here is going to insert the needle and… yes it’s going to hurt, and it’s hurting but now it’s not.”

When YN had finished putting the needle into Harry’s arm, she looked back up to see Paige’s tears had stopped and a small smile on her face.

“So,” Harry smiled, pulling the needle out and holding some cotton wool on his arm, “How about Dr YLN goes and gets a new IV kit, and your mother holds your hand whilst I do it, yeah?”

Paige smiles, nodding her head, “Yeah.”

Once YN had brought a new IV kit into the room, she just stood by the door – watching. She watched as Harry spoke to Paige through the IV, keeping the young girl calm throughout the entire thing. Just watching Harry and watching not only how good at his job he was but also how he acted around the children was everything that YN needed to know.

The icing on top of the cake was when he started to tease the young girl, pretending that he didn’t have any lollipops to give her, even though he had some in his coat pocket. YN smiled, watching as the girl who once had tears streaming down her cheeks was now laughing, playing with Harry, and trying to guess which pocket had the lollipops in.

YN walked out of the room with that cheesy smile on her face, trying not to make it obvious the reason why but she knew. Iris was still sitting behind the nurses’ station, and YN stopped in front of her and sighed.

“You’re right,” YN chuckled lightly, “We’re going to have really cute babies.”

“We did good today,” YN sighed, placing the bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of Harry. YN dropped down next to him, accepting the space underneath his arm to squeeze into.

They had been on their feet a long time today, and just the fact that they were both now curled up on the sofa, with a glass of wine to soften the blow was all YN needed. Paige’s surgery had a few minor complications, but it was nothing that YN couldn’t handle. When Paige had woken up, the smile on her face knowing that she could finally eat the lollipop in a few hours that Harry had given her was enough for YN to know that it was worth it.

“We did,” Harry sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Paige is going to make a full recovery and she’ll be back on her feet in no time – all thanks to you.”

YN sighed, “Wouldn’t have even been able to operate without you.”

Harry just sighed, his lips ghosting over YN’s head. There was a change in the atmosphere, and YN could tell. Harry didn’t say anything else, and YN didn’t know whether he wanted to talk or not.

“You want to talk about it?” She spoke quietly, her finger drawing lines along his knee that was sprawled out in front of her.

Harry sighed against her, pressing another kiss to her head, “Not now. I will later though, I promise.”

“Okay,” YN smiled, reaching out to grab Harry’s hand, “Can I tell you something?”

Harry hummed. YN hesitated for a second, not knowing whether this was the right time to do this or not. But then she remembered today, and she remembered that feeling that she had whilst she had been watching Harry with Paige. She remembered the tightness in her chest, and it wasn’t worry or stress. She knew what it was, and all she could hope was that he’d feel the same way.

“I think…” YN started but then she shook her head slightly, “No, I know. I know that I love you, Harry.”

Harry lifted his head from the top of YN’s head, turning so that she was looking at him. When YN’s eyes met his, she was shocked to see that his eyes were slightly filling up. YN lifted her hand to his face, placing her palm on his cheek and making sure that he was okay.

“I…” Harry started, and YN’s heart pummelled to the bottom of her stomach. She couldn’t tell. She had admitted to the man that she was the love of her life, the man who was it for her and she couldn’t tell what he was going to say. She froze. She froze, and then he smiled, “I love you.”

YN sighed, and it took everything in her to not pick up one of the cushions next to her and launch it at Harry’s head, “Don’t scare me like that again. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“What?” He laughed, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek and then to the nape of her neck, “What do you mean?”

“Your face, and the silence and –” YN pulled away from him slightly, moving so that there was a gap between them. Until a wave of something covered her and before she knew it she was standing up, “Then the hesitation! You hesitated and you looked like you were going to cry, and then you hesitated to tell me that you love me!”

Harry sighed, sitting up with his knees open in front of her. Harry reached out for YN’s hands, but she pouted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I love you. I love you more than anything YN, and I know that it hasn’t been long – but I am ready to spend the rest of my life with you.”

YN sighed, but reached out and dropped her hands into Harry’s, “You’re not upset with me then?”

“No,” Harry shook his head, “I just… today, with Paige. That girl. She was so scared, so scared. Her parents were scared, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m a doctor, that’s what I am and the entire time all I could think about was you. In the surgery, I wondered how you were feeling, and what you might have wanted for dinner tonight.”

YN sighed, reaching forward to place a hand on his cheek – his face leaning into her touch.

“Harry…”

“I have never, ever not thought of the hospital, and my patients the entire day since I was a trainee. Then you come, and you’re always there – in the back of my mind. I love you so much, YN, and I would never hesitate to tell you that.”

YN didn’t say anything else. Instead, YN took a step forward. She grasped Harry’s face in her hands. His hands snaked around her waist, pulling her body closer until his head was resting upon her stomach. YN’s fingers slipped through his hair, right until they were at those curls at the bottom of his neck that she loved. She could feel his lips pressing tiny pecks into her stomach over her shirt. Using the curls, she tugged lightly to pull his face away from her stomach, and she could immediately lean down and capture his lips with hers.

YN sighed into the kiss, her body collapsing onto his until she was straddling him. His hands picked up speed, slipping underneath her shirt as hers tugged on his hair – their lips moving together at the same rate.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled against her lips, not stopping his kisses for even a second.

YN pulled away for a second, pushing his hair off his forehead, “Then show me… please.”

Harry nodded, pressing another chaste kiss to her lips before helping YN up and off of the sofa. The two of them stumbled into YN’s bedroom quickly, their hands never leaving each other’s body.

It was new, it was exciting, and it was good. It was love.

Harry dropped down on the bed, and YN followed – dropping on his lap just as she had been on the sofa. His fingers fiddled with the edge of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra (it being the first thing to come off her body when she came home), and his lips immediately started placing kisses all over her chest and breasts.

“I love you,” He mumbled against her skin.

“Do you love me? Or do you love my boobs?”

Harry chuckled, his teeth grazing her nipple lightly, “I love you and I love your boobs… equally.”

YN laughed, pushing him away from her body lightly, “You’re such an idiot.”

“I am,” He placed her kiss on her chest, “I’m an idiot,” he placed another kiss on her neck, “But I’m an idiot who loves you.”

Piece by piece their clothing was removed, and whispers and kisses and giggles were shared until they were both naked. They had moved further up so that Harry’s back was pressed against the headboard, YN hovering above him.

Their movements started slow, YN sliding herself down onto Harry’s cock. The feeling was full, and amongst that, it was full of love. Harry’s hands landed on YN’s hips, helping her move whilst YN’s clutched the headboard. YN gasped into Harry’s mouth as she started to rotate her hips.

“Harry,” YN moaned into his mouth, one of her hands leaving the headboard to grasp his shoulder. Harry started to help her, his hips rolling up to meet hers, causing YN’s nails to press into the skin of his shoulder.

“Keep going for me, baby,” Harry mumbled, his head dropping down to YN’s shoulder – his lips grazing her skin, “Come on, keep going for me.”

YN sped up her hips, listening to Harry’s words of encouragement. There was no way that YN could be closer to Harry than she was at this moment, but with each thrust, she wanted to be.

“So wet for me baby,” Harry mumbled, “Doing so well for me baby.”

“Harry, please,” YN whined, her hips moving quicker and quicker with every passing moment, “I need more, I need you more.”

“You wanna switch?” Harry pulls his head up from her shoulder, looking directly into her eyes, “Just tell me, baby.”

YN’s hips stopped and with Harry’s help, she lifted herself off him. YN whimpered slightly at the loss of contact, but the second that she moved so that she was on her back, Harry was hovering over her.

“Harry, please,” YN’s hands clawed at his back, pulling him closer to her.

“You okay?” He asked, one hand on his cock to line it up with her entrance and the other one holding his body up by her head.

“Please,” YN nodded, her hands scratching down his back again, pushing lightly on the top of his ass, “Please Harry, I wanna feel you. Need to feel you.”

Harry didn’t hesitate to push inside of her, taking YN’s breath away. He moved forward so that their foreheads were touching each other’s. This was what YN wanted – what she needed. Each thrust of his hips felt as though he was bringing her closer and closer – not only to her orgasm but also to him.

“Harry,” YN whimpered, moving her lips onto Harry’s, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Harry picked up the pace, moving his hips faster and faster until he saw the tell-tale signs. YN’s breathing turned faster, and one of the hands that was on his back reached out to the bed next to her, screwing the sheets into her fist. It hadn’t taken Harry long to pick up the signs, listening to all of the signs that her body gave him. Once that switch was flipped, Harry knew exactly what to do.

“It’s okay, baby,” Harry mumbled against her lips, one of his hands slipping down between their bodies so that he could roll her clit between his fingers, “Let go for me, always look so pretty when you come for me – so pretty.”

“Harry, I’m so close,” YN’s hips moved up to meet Harry’s. The mixture of both Harry’s cock inside of her and also his fingers on her clit, speeding the process along – that was all that YN needed. Her orgasm raked through her body, a line of whimpers escaping her lips, along with a string of Harry’s name. Harry coaxed her through her orgasm, not stopping his pace until he saw the signs.

Harry came not long after, his body going rigid against YN’s. Harry’s head leant down to capture YN’s lips with his again, slowing his hips down until he came to a complete stop inside her. He dropped down – his body weight falling upon YN’s. She felt comfort with it, his body weight pressed on hers.

Silence fell between the two of them, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later when Harry moved to slip out of YN that any sound was made in the room apart from the sound of their breathing. YN felt an emptiness inside of her, but once Harry was laid at her side she wasted no time in moving closer to him. She lipped his leg in between his, her arm wrapping around his chest and resting on his shoulder.

“I…” YN started, her finger lifting to run down Harry’s cheek ever so lightly, “Think you’re a good omen.”

“What?” Harry smiled, tilting his head down slightly so that he could look at her, where her head was resting on his shoulder.

“A good omen,” YN shrugged, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I think… you were brought to me to show me that everything is going to be okay.”

“It is going to be okay,” Harry nodded, lifting his hand to brush her hair off her forehead, “Everything is going to be okay.”

It wasn’t that YN believed in anything like that. She didn’t believe in signs before all of this but now. Now, she believed that Harry was her sign. He was her sign.

He was her good omen.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles

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luveline · 7 months

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What about a lil fic of the first time bombshell reader gets mad at Spencer? Like it can be while they r dating or before and May be r is giving Spencer quiet treatment?

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.3k

Spencer waits for Morgan to get up for a coffee before he gets up himself, tailing his teasing teammate to the microwave. He's hoping Morgan's in a sympathetic mood today, because Spencer is in dire need of some sympathy.

"Loverboy," Morgan says, his voice steeped in suspicion. "Can I help you with something?"

"Do you know why Y/N's upset?"

"You don't? You're the expert."

Spencer rubs at his nose, the beginning of another migraine brewing between his eyes. The gesture draws a little more empathy than his misguided question.

"You're gonna have to ask her yourself. I don't want her angry at me too, she's gonna fix my computer before Garcia finds out I fell for her phishing email test."

"I've been asking her. It's making it worse. She won't answer my questions anymore. She just hums."

"Silent treatment. Yikes." Morgan sips his tea through a grimace. "I mean, you must've done something bad. She's usually so–"

"Lovely?"

"–in love with you." Morgan laughs as he wanders off in the direction of the stairs up to Hotch's office. "Same thing."

Spencer decides to make a cup of bribery tea for you. He microwaves a mug of hot water and plunks a bag of your favourite blend in without ceremony, bobbing it up and down as he watches you from over his shoulder. You've moved desks upon request to sit with the rest of the team and opposite Spencer (against Hotch's self-proclaimed better judgement), your things set carefully in contrast to his books, a library's worth teeming on every spare inch. Some have even made their way onto your desk, pristinely stacked in wait of his perusal. It's one small gesture among the hundreds of kind things you do for him.

"Here," he says, setting the mug down next to your mouse carefully.

Your anger strikes him. Eyes frosted with an uneasiness he's not partial to, lips, so perfectly painted, screwed into a frown. It's not nice seeing someone he cares about upset with him, worse when he has no idea what it is he's done.

"You're annoyed at me," he says. You wait for him to continue. "I don't know what I did."

"That makes it worse." You frown at him. After a few seconds of this—your frowning, his looking sorry and confused— you sigh wretchedly (as in, he's never heard you sound that sad, ever, and he hates it). "Spencer, you stood me up."

Everything in him goes cold. "No I didn't."

Your sad frown melds again to anger. "Yes you did! I– I got my hair done at a salon, I bought a new dress, I bragged to all of my friends that my cute coworker was gonna be my date, and none of that mattered because you didn't text me back so I was worried sick all night that you were," —your voice drops to a private whisper— "in trouble somewhere, and then you come into work like nothing happened? Not even a hint of an apology? I thought you wanted to come."

Your voice burns with embarrassment. Spencer can feel it in his throat, that plucky ache of someone letting you down.

"That was last night?" he asks quietly. A friend asked you to their charity ball, not as ridiculously fancy as it sounds but an occasion of esteem and important to you nonetheless. "Y/N, I thought that was– I have it in my phone as next month. As November. I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't you answer my texts?"

He winces. "I had a migraine… Screens make it worse, and I haven't charged the battery yet because I was coming to work anyways I'm sorry, Y/N, really. I mixed it up. I should've asked you."

You seem less disheartened at his admission. You cross your arms over your abdomen and lean back a touch in your chair, as if deciding whether he's being truthful. Spencer isn't in the habit of lying to you and anybody could tell you that, so after a few seconds you look away. "I asked you if you were excited yesterday morning. I told you my dress came."

"I know." He can't believe he's gotten it wrong like this. Anyone can make a mistake, but he imagines you in your new dress with your hair done waiting for him in the cold weather that descended on Virginia last night and his guts twist into a knot. "I didn't piece it together. I didn't… I didn't…"

Spencer can't remember the last time he let someone he loves down like this. His migraine spikes again like a needle in the eye, fiery agony that has him closing his eyes to cope.

"Spencer," you say, softly admonishing. "Hey, it's okay." Your chair creaks.

"I'm so sorry," he says through his teeth.

"I thought you were being a jerk, but I guess I should've known you wouldn't do something like that." You stand up and take his elbow into a very gentle hand. "I'm sorry for giving you the cold shoulder. It was childish. I was just hurt thinking you did it on purpose."

"Sorry," he says again. "Migraine."

Your hand rises to his cheek. "Yeah? Sit down, Spence. Take a breather."

The doctors say that Spencer's migraines are psychosomatic. He doesn't get how something so odious can start from nothing.

You seem twice as upset but in a different light, ushering him down into your chair. "Don't worry," you say softly, your hand falling into his hair, "I took a great picture. You can still see me in my nice dress."

You're kidding but he's genuinely glad. Then the pain takes over and he can't see the other side of it for years.

It only feels like years.

When he can open his eyes, you've knelt by his chair. He hates to see you getting your pants dirty like that, hates worse that your eyebrows have pinched and the soft plane of your forehead has etched deep with concern.

"You can still be mad at me," he says under his breath.

"I'm a little upset," you confess, putting an uncharacteristically tentative hand on his knee. "It sucked, but not as much as this seems to suck for you." You're like an angel, all pretty and wide-eyed at his feet, your hand beginning a short path up his leg, a soft back and forth. "I'm sorry Spencer. I was punishing you for something that wasn't your fault."

"You didn't know. How could you, I–" He winces as another wave of pain flares behind his eye, blurring your small smile. "I should've charged my phone."

"Maybe. I can't imagine you had the capacity, Spence. Not if you're like this."

"Don't just forgive me because I'm in pain."

"I'm not, I'm forgiving you because even though it really hurt my feelings turning up alone, I'm not cruel enough to blame you now." You squeeze his knee. It's an instant balm, the chronic ache behind his eyes easing ever so slightly. Your forgiveness makes the rest bearable. "Can you forgive me for being so heartless?" you ask lightly.

Your lips curve demurely around each word. Spencer scrambles to cover your hand with both of his, his neck craned forward. "Of course I forgive you."

"Thank you." Spencer could collapse. "Drink some of this tea, okay? Maybe drinking something will help."

Nothing ever helps, but he does it because it's your hands bringing the cup to his lips.

"I know you looked beautiful," he says between sips.

"I would've looked better on your arm. Too bad you're getting grievously attacked by your own brain. This is what happens when it gets too big, babe, it's trying to come out of your ears." He's a little sorry to have won you back this way, but mostly so, so relieved. "Anymore of this'll and you'll start messing up the months. Oh, wait!" You laugh as he laughs but soon scramble to apologise when the sound makes his head hurt. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Drink some more tea, sweetheart."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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shellshocklove · 9 days

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

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