#So... uh... I guess expect chapter one in a few weeks?

[xaphrin]

Anyway I just spent all morning plotting out my next long fic, and uh... wow that outline is something. Hope it doesn't suck? Have a taste?

(Actually trying to see how people feel about this)

-

When Trigon finally conquered Earth it felt like the world had become a strange, tilted reflection of itself. Warped like the mirror in a funhouse, but somehow still the same. On the surface things continued as normal, people went to their jobs, the public transit system continued, and the stock market miraculously stayed stable. The conquering felt less like an ending, and more like a blip in the timeline. Most people assumed that after a few months it would all clear itself up. 

But, underneath that facade of normalcy, there was a wound festering. 

Dissenters quietly disappeared overnight. World leaders vanished on their way to summits. Pacifists simply ceased to exist. Slowly, like a small leak in a boat, little bits of civilization disappeared, letting more and more horrors fill the space until the boat started to sink and there was nothing left but accept the inevitable truth:

There was no saving what Trigon had destroyed.  

And here stood Raven, at the edge of it all. She wasn’t supposed to exist. After her body had been used as a portal for Trigon, she had been left to die and decompose into the earth. Even her soul wouldn’t have found rest anywhere, since it was welcome nowhere. 

“You good?” 

Raven turned and looked at Dick as he stood next to her. “Not sure yet.” She gave a one shouldered shrug and stared out into the skyline. 

The city still looked inhabited, but there was a soft quiet that rumbled in and around the buildings. Look closer and you could see shattered windows and the rust-colored stains of long-dried blood. Everyone ignored it. If someone had died, they had it coming. Keep your head down. Don’t stir up trouble. Those were rules, and they were meant to be followed. 

Dick sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I got a message from my brother.” 

Raven lifted an eyebrow. “A Robin?”

He nodded. “The last one, actually. He was there the day Batman was…” Dick trailed off, unsure of what to call the death of the last man he considered a father. 

“Taken,” Raven supplied. The word didn’t feel like an end. It felt like a book with the last pages ripped out, so you never really knew the ending. “I thought he disappeared. Your brother, I mean.”

“He went back to the League of Assassins.” 

Raven lifted an eyebrow, surprised. They were the one group of people who had managed to resist all of Trigon’s control, walking a very fine line of neutrality. She huffed out a soft breath. “And what does he want?”

“To join the cause.”

[slowdrawl]

Shear Luck | joel miller x f!reader | [masterlist] {18+ minors DNI}

|part 1| The first cut is the deepest |2.5k words| Joel Miller, single dad, came into your salon for a haircut, but he never expected to leave with a crush. Sarah's alive, tension's are high, the jokes are bad and the chemistry is crazy!

Fluff ?✔️ Slow burn? ✔️ Age gap? ✔️ Puns? ✔️

sprinkle in a little bit of smut 🔥 and dbf!joel energy and BOOM. You got this sweet-feel good fic.

“What’re we doin’?” You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.” |A/N| I was at work today blowdrying my clients hair and this storyline came to mind, I thought I'd end up just doing a one-shot but when I started writing I immediately fell in love with these two, so I decided it would span over a few shorter chapters. I hope any of you that stumble across this love them too.

Warnings: Mild language, flirting, fluff, puns, age gap (Joel's 38, reader's 23). eventual smut, daddy kink (if you squint) alcohol use.

It’s Saturday, your back is screaming, feet killing you from two kids haircuts after a marathon balayage, you’re hunched over like a gremlin, salon empty now. It’s just you, sweeping up glitter-dusted hair. You’re beat, the clock is mocking you, and you don’t remember the last time you ate, or if you ate today at all. You check the clock, 5:45 fifteen more minutes till close, “finally” you mumble to yourself. Your phone has 4 missed calls and 5 missed texts, half of them probably trying to get a last-minute appointment.

Who the fuck takes walk-ins on Saturday?

The door chimes open and you curse under your breath, turning to face the front desk; you throw on your best customer service face and stop dead—oh.

The fake customer service face drops and turns into something a hell of a lot more sincere when you see him.

The gentleman that just walked in is your type, tall, rugged as hell—medium-length wildly curling hair that’s got a few silver streaks right at the temples. His beard is patchy like he's been at it with dull scissors, and he’s got a flannel thrown on over a faded Pink Floyd tee paired with dark-wash jeans—covered in sawdust no doubt. He looks tired and devastatingly handsome, he's probably got a decade on you at least. You can smell the pine on him from the front door.

He walks in quietly towards the front desk, looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I need uh—you got time for one more cut?” His eyes lift from the floor to meet yours, big, round, and coffee brown.

“Only if you say please,” you give him a smirk, “and you gotta give me your phone number first.”

He freezes for a second, looking back at you and cocking his head to the side, eyebrow raised, half-confused, half-intrigued. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he gets a chance.

“Need to put you into the computer system,” you say with a wink clicking open a new client profile.

You watch as his face relaxes, shoulders drop, he breathes out half a chuckle before saying “It’s Joel, Joel Miller,” handing it off to you like you’ve won something.

He gives you his phone number and you type it into the system, setting him up a profile.

“Alright, big guy, looks like you’re officially my last victim of the week, come on in,” you smile and gesture towards the salon, walking behind your chair and patting the leather seat. “Okay, let's see what we’re working with then, sit”

His boots shuffle across the laminate and he sits down heavy into the chair, slouching down low, without you needing to ask him to.

Thank god, my shoulders are already screaming.

You pick up a comb and start raking through the mess on his head, coarse, wavy, dark hair speckled with, you guessed it. Sawdust.

“What’re we doin’? You ask, making eye contact with him in the mirror.

“Hopefully performin’ a miracle,” he replies in a tired Southern drawl.

You can see he’s exhausted, his voice is flat and rough.

“Sounds good to me, turnin’ water into wine costs extra though, that alright?” You try to crack his shell but he just stays silent.“Tough crowd, damn—okay—rough day cowboy?”

“Somethin’ like that, rough week,” he replies, looking at the mirror, avoiding your gaze.

You start trimming, keeping it longer, it looks good on him. “Well you’re in luck, I’m about to make it a lot worse! You get to end it with my bad jokes!” You grin, trying to get him to bite but he still doesn't, you’ll get him though.

“Why’d the client tip extra?” Silence. You snip louder, “The bangs were a real blast— get it?”

His lips twitch, just barely but you’ve almost got it so you barrel on. “how about: I told my last client he had a head like a bowling ball—smooth and full of holes… Yeah, he didn’t laugh either.”

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth—finally, a low rumble of a laugh breaks through, and you beam. “There it is! Thanks for humoring me. I like to think of this gig as more than haircuts—it’s dinner and a show, except there’s no dinner, no show, and most folks leave thinking, ‘What the fuck’s wrong with her?’ But they always come back.”

He chuckles again, deeper this time, shaking his head. “You should do comedy,” he says, voice gravelly, warming up.

“Yeah, you know I tried stand-up for a bit,” you say, grabbing the trimmers to get the few stray hairs on his collar. “Realized I’m more of a sit-down girl—better at bad puns than punchlines.” You place your hands on his shoulders and squeeze, “Wash time.”

“Nah, don’t need that, 'm fine” he protests.

“Not askin, Mr. Miller, I’m tellin. Come on let's go, move it.”

He gets out of the chair with a groan, and you walk him over to the shampoo sink, guiding his head down into the bowl, dragging your nails slightly up his neck as you do it. “Hairs like a sawdust magnet by the looks of it.” You turn the water on and let it trickle over his hair, grabbing some ‘manly’ shampoo, tea tree, and mint instead of flowers or grapefruit, or whatever other girly shampoo you’ve got on the back bar.

You massage slow circles into his head, lightly scratching your fingernails into his scalp, a soft grunt escaping despite himself. The radio’s blasting dad rock, Springsteen, maybe—and he mutters, “Good taste,” voice lazy now. Unsurprising, doesn't usually take long to make em’ end up like putty in your hands.

“Only the best for my VIPs,” you tease, massaging longer than necessary, watching his jaw slacken. He fuckin’ loves it, you can tell—but he’d never admit it. You rinse, towel him off, and bring him over to the chair again. “Gotta style it now,” you use a paste, sweeping it back and off to the side, sharp but not like a cop. “Beard next,” you say, grabbing clippers, and he stiffens.

“Ain’t gotta—” he starts but you’re already in his space, getting halfway between his legs for a closer look, combing it out. His breath hitches for a second, rough stubble under your fingers, your chest brushing against his shoulders. You feel him tense, anxious, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Relax, Joel, I’m a pro,” you murmur, trimming it neat, square along his jaw, full but tamed, “At least that’s what everyone keeps tellin’ me.” Up close he’s gorgeous, like he was carved out of stone, but still soft. Lines jagged, dark eyes—you step back, smirking.”Okay, done. You outta’ pay me double for making you look so good, wife’s gonna be one happy lady!”

He stands up, rubbing his jaw, checks over himself in the mirror and smiles, barely but he smiles. “No wife to impress, my kids gonna be happy though, she was gettin’ embarrassed to be seen with me.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Double huh?” he says, handing you two twenties instead of one, a real grin tugging at his lips now; showing off a dimple in his cheek. “Fair.” He lingers, eyes on you for a beat too long.

“See you next time, cowboy, nice meetin’ you,” you yell at him as he heads for the door, boots scuffing, leaving you buzzing.

Later when you’re at home you lay on the couch watching SNL with your dad, you pull out your phone to shoot off a text to your friend Kim.

(9:45PM)

You: Hot older dude, probably mid/late 30’s idk im guessing, came in today. quiet, sexy as hell, laughed at my stupid jokes.

(9:49PM)

Kim: ok!!!! 🤔🤔he tip big??

(9:49PM)

You: yup, im fucked! 😩

(9:50PM)

Kim: i mean… lets hope you are, eventually at least 😉

You smile down at your phone, replaying your interaction with Joel. He feels familiar, but you can’t place your finger on it so you shrug it off—probably just a regular type, lotta’ blue-collar guys in Austin.

//

Two Weeks Later

It’s Saturday again, your booking system’s got “Sarah M., trim + straighten” in midday. A 10-year-old bounces in, curly hair a mess, and trailing behind her is none other than Joel, hands in his damn pockets again.

“She wants it straight,” he says, low with a hint of flirtiness to it, winking when Sarah’s not looking. “I’d probably fuckin’ burn her tryin’.”

“Smart man,” you laugh, settling her into the chair. She’s chatty—her eyes shining as you flat-iron her hair, turning her curls into sleek waves instead.

“It’s like you’ve got magic in your hands!” she squeals, twirling it, and you laugh.

“You wanna be a hairdresser now, kid?” you ask, and she nods, beaming. Joel just watches, leaning against the counter, smirking.

Sarah groans, “Dad stop staring at her, you’re being weird,” but she giggles anyway.

You give Joel a wink and shake your head at him “dang, Joel, called out tryina’ flirt by your kid, you need to step up your game old man.”

When Sarah's hair is sufficiently straight, and the ends are trimmed neat she rushes out to the truck, making sure to swipe about 6 lollipops on her way past the front desk. Joel lingers again, voice dropping down low. “You do house calls, darlin’”

You grin, leaning close. “You wish cowboy. Gotta take me to dinner first at least.”

“That so?” he drawls, stepping nearer, invading your space, eyes glinting. “You’d wanna be seen in public with an old man like me?

“First of all, don’t even know how old you are, wouldn't exactly call you an old man. Secondly, try me.” you shoot back, and he chuckles.

“38, probably old enough to be your daddy.” he laughs, “and you?”

“Didn’t take you as the kinda guy to be into that,” you reply with a wink, leaning in just a bit closer.

Okay brave, we see you, girl, make him sweat!

You continue, “I’m 23, my dad’s still got a few years on you.”

You see watch him swallow and his eyes widen, jaw opens like he's about to say something but can’t.

He just bites his lip, like he doesn't want to regret what might come ou,t he gives you a nod and turns on his heels to the door. But before he leaves he stops for a second to look back and says “You don’t know much ‘bout me darlin’, not yet,” smiling again, he adds “I’ll think about that dinner,” and he’s gone.

//

Another week and Joe’s back again, showing up at the end of the day; just as you’re about to clock out. His hair is a little wild again, beard creeping back to chaos, clothes a mess—that rough handsomeness hitting you like a brick.

“I thought you’d be closed,” he says, rubbing his neck like hes almost embarrassed to be there. “Got a thing this weekend,” settling into your chair. “Make me extra pretty.” He jokes, actually jokes with you, how rare!

“I think most of us have ‘a thing’ this weekend, fourth of July n’ all,” you tease. “Hot date or what?” Sit down, handsome, ill make you into a real heartbreaker.

He grunts, settling in, body too big for the space, cape snapping as you drape it over him.

He snorts, eyes meeting yours in the mirror, dark and steady, maybe with a flicker of something in thiem. “No date, just a…thing. Don’t need Sarah to give me shit about lookin’ like a caveman.”

His tone is casual, but theres a dodge there, you let it slide, snipping away.

“Big, brooding, Joel Miller—so mysterious,” you say, hovering close, breath brushing his ear as you cut. “Thank god you’ve god me, huh?” you flash him a grin and he chuckles, warm, loosening up.

“Capes a little tight darlin’, you tryin to choke me?” he says, hooking a finger in the front of the cape. You undo the snaps and let out a low chuckle.

“Sorry honey, didn’t mean to, usually charge extra for that.” You say real low, giving him a wink.

“Ah, theres that comedian comin’ out again.” he says, voice dipping a bit, “Keepin’ me entertained.” His hand shifts under the cape, brushing your thigh—accidental, maybe? But he doesn't move it fast, and your heart jumps.

You tidy up the sides, cutting half an inch off the top.

“Okay let's go wash it, no fighting,” you say ripping the cape off. You bring him back to the sink and lean him back, scratching his nape with your fingernails a little rougher than last time, purposeful, just to see him shiver. You wash, fingers deep in his scalp, massaging watching his gruff expression melt away, noticing how the frown line between his brows softens.

He exhales a groan, and it makes you smirk, “Purrin’ again, huh? I got you hooked now.”

“Keep dreamin',’’ he mutters, weak—lazy, his hands unclench in his lap. You hum along to the radio, Led Zepplin, this time Ramble On low in the background.

You bring him back to the chair and style it, a little slicker this time, more pomade.

“There, now if you don't get too crazy tonight, this might stay lookin' good till tomorrow,” you say, “beard needs a bit of work still.” You clean up his neckline, and trim his mustache, leaning in extra close this time to get a good look—or maybe for him to get a good look—you wore a lowcut shirt today. You tilt his chin up and catch him swallowing—hard, adams apple bobbing, his dark eyes flicking up to you. You feel the heat of him under his stubble.

“Careful.” He warns, drawl low, but he doesn't pull away.

“Always am,” you murmur, cleaning up his neckline, and framing it up just right. You oggle again. He’s stupidly good looking, smile lines, plush lips, faint scars, coffee eyes—and you step back, smirking. “There, too pretty for your own damn good, owe me double again”

“You’re a magician,” he says, handing you forty bucks again with a flirty “worth it.’

“Damn straight,” you say, leaning against the counter, knee brushing his thigh, close, casual, but the air’s thick now. “So, this ‘thing’—gonna tell me, or keep me guessing?”

“You’ll figure it out, darlin’. You’re a smart girl,” his hand hovers near yours nearly touching it, then it drops. “See you around, be good.” and he leaves.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t sulk a little when he left, no mention of dinner, no ‘house call’ comment to be heard.

You’ll live, girl calm down.

You immediately text Kim again.

(7:03PM)

You: DILF strikes again, i need him biblically. 😩

You laugh at yourself as you flick off the open sign and head for the door, heart still racing from that damn smirk of his.

(7:07PM)

Kim: oh you’re down BAD bad huh? I need to see this guy 😂

You lock up, grinning like an idiot, wondering if Joel Miller’s worth all this trouble.

Spoiler: he probably is.

[wands-natsthing]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

HEYYYY HIII HELLOOOO long time I KNOW IM SORRY LSKDKD AND I KNOW I SAID THE WEEKEND BUT I GOT SICK

buttt just to give a lil info, since it has been so long since I updated I put the last bit of chapter 2 at the beginning of this just as a refresher I guess!! And more overall story info (R=23) (W=30) (N=34)

I also wrote kinda like a Wanda’s POV of what happened in the janitors closet so let me know if you want that!!

Feedback is more than welcome!! I love reading all your comments they make me feel like my writing isn’t shit 🤓 and they make me smile :)) I also tried to make this as open as possible this is for everybody!! (I hope I worded that right) I mean as in there rlly no descriptions of r

Warnings: I really don’t think there are any besides maybe it starts to seem a little homewreckery BUT ITS NOT I PROMISE!!

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: You guys come out the closet and have lunch idk

"Who's the woman standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um, that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught English class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

Your heart dropped. 

“Your- your wife…You got married? You ask with a tremble in your voice. 

“Yeah, I did um just a few years ago…” 

“Oh- that's uh, that's cool. Um, congratulations.” 

Wanda’s smile faltered slightly as she sensed the mix of emotions swirling inside you. The joy in her eyes seemed to dim ever so slightly, replaced by a hint of concern.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said quietly, her voice softening. "Maybe we could talk more about everything over Lunch?"

Your eyes snapped up at that. The thought of having lunch with her again all these years later was just too enticing to pass up, no matter how many messing feelings it brought again.

"Lunch? Are you- are you sure?" You asked with a hopeful smile on your face.

"Yes, I'm more than sure. I am positive." She reassured you with a gentle touch of her hand running up and down your forearm.

"Okay, then yes I would love to."

"great! What about this weekend at 1:00 at the cafe we saw each other last week? (a/n: Its Wednesday)

"That's perfect!"

"Okay good then it's a date." She said scrunching her nose up in a way that always made your heart melt.

Date.

"I am so sorry, but I better get back, can't leave Natasha by herself for too long with all those parents and kids out there, But I can't wait for our lunch date!"

Date. There goes that word again.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry for keeping you for so long,” you replied, trying to shake off the rush of emotions swirling in your mind.

Wanda smiled warmly, as if she could sense the turmoil within you. “No need to apologize. It’s nice to catch up, I've missed you."

You both stood there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. The bustling sounds from the school faded slightly as you locked eyes.

“Alright, I better get going,” she said after a pause, and you could hear the softer undertones of sadness in her voice. “But I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” you replied, offering her a genuine smile.

Wanda gave you one last look, her expression revealing a mix of excitement and a hint of uncertainty before she opened the door of the janitor's closet.

You took a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat. You had so many thoughts swirling through your head but at the same time, you felt as if you couldn't think.

As you finally turned to head out back to your car, you felt a strange sense of hope take root inside you.

You couldn’t help but replay the moment in your mind, the surprise of learning she was married mixed with the thrill of the upcoming lunch. It was complicated, but one thing was clear: you wanted to explore this. No matter how much it might hurt in the end.

The rest of the week felt like an eternity. You replayed snippets of conversations you had shared over the years, moments of laughter, and even the unspoken feelings that had lingered in the air. Each thought made the anticipation for the weekend grow stronger.

Finally, Saturday arrived. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully selecting your outfit for lunch. The end of summer's warmth lingered in the air, but a hint of fall was beginning to whisper in the breeze. You chose a lightweight mustard-yellow sweater, perfect for the transition between seasons. Its soft knit hugged your figure comfortably.

For pants, you chose a pair of high-waisted, olive-green corduroy pants that offered both warmth and style. The slightly flared legs provided a retro vibe, making them an ideal choice for early autumn. On your feet, you wore your black Converse. Always a staple in your outfits.You topped everything off with a silver chain that went slightly past your collarbone and small gold hoops that reflected off the light.

Never understood the big deal about mixing silver and gold.

And a light spritz of your favorite fall-inspired perfume, with notes of vanilla and sandalwood, completed the look, a warm scent perfect for the season.

As the clock ticked closer to 1:00, doubts and anxiety started creeping in.

What if she doesn't show?

Is my outfit bad?

Does my breath smell? You make sure to brush your teeth one more time before leaving.

When you arrived at the cafe, a wave of shyness washed over you. You spotted Wanda almost immediately. She was sitting at a cozy table, her reddish auburn hair catching the sunlight, and you wondered how someone could look both familiar and new after all this time.

You exchanged hesitant glances. The soft murmur of conversations around you felt louder than usual, amplifying the butterflies in your stomach.

As you approached, her face lit up, the warmth of her smile easing your nerves.

 “You made it!” she exclaimed, standing up to greet you with an embrace that felt both comfortable and electrifying.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, taking a seat across from her.

For a moment, the air was thick with unspoken words. Both of you are unsure what to say.

Fortunately, as if sensing the tension in the air, a waitress approached to take your order.

"I'll have a hot caramel latte and a turkey and cheese sandwich, please," Wanda said with a soft smile. You returned her smile, appreciating the familiarity of her order.

Both Wanda and the waitress turned to you, waiting to see what you'd chosen.

"I'll have the same, please. Thank you."

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

You sipped your coffee, the warmth seeping into your hands, trying to ground yourself. Slowly but surely the conversation began to flow just like how it had all those years ago.

It was as if nothing had changed. 

As if neither had gone through drastic changes.

Yet, even as the conversation deepened, the thought of her marriage lingered at the back of your mind and the fact that they worked together. Soon within a day, they both would be your coworkers.

Curiosity nudged at you, and you found yourself leaning in.

“What’s it like? Teaching together, I mean? That must be… interesting.”

Just like in the janitor's closet, she was surprised by your sudden question.

Though she laughed softly, easing the tension. “It is, we balance each other out. She’s all about structure, while I tend to go with the flow. It makes for some creative lesson plans."

Though you were more so wondering if they shared any lunches like the two of you did; 

You'll take it.

Gathering up as much composure as possible you try to sound as "mature" as you possibly can. “Sounds like a great dynamic,” you replied, picturing the two of them in a classroom full of students, bouncing ideas off each other.

"Yeah it is, we make a great team." Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up.

 "You know, I would love for the two of you to formally meet."

Your heart raced and your mind went blank.

What the fuck?

"Wait...I'm sorry, what?"

Wanda repeated herself slowly, not sure how to take your response.

“Oh, um, really? Your wife?” You stammered, shocked from the sudden/not so sudden twist in conversation. "I mean are you- are you sure that is a good idea? You know, me being me?"

Wanda smiled at you comfortingly. "Of course, it's a good idea, I mean besides you were gonna meet her soon anyway with school starting Monday-"

She stops mid-sentence playing with the necklace adorning her neck, a telltale sign 

She's nervous.

"Natasha also already knows exactly who you are to me." 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

𝐨𝐨𝐩 🤓

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯!!

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret - Chapter 11

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist |

When Jeongin opens the door for you, the beginning of Jisung’s name is on his tongue. When he realizes you are, in fact, not the rapper in question, his brows shoot up in surprise.  He says your name the same way you say the name of your teacher when you see them at the supermarket – a strange combination of recognition for someone you know and embarrassment to someone you weren’t expecting. You just give him a shy smile.

“Sorry, I … uh, did you need something?” Jeongin asked, subtlety sticking his head out a bit past the door frame to glance down the hall.

Your smile turned a bit awkward. “Jisung’s not coming. I, um, I was the one who sent the message, actually.”

He blinks at you slowly, in a way that was scarily similar to Minho. There’s a few seconds of silence as he seems to process your words, his head slowly tilting to the side as he takes you in, and then seemingly coming to his own conclusions on the situation, the youngest moves to the side and allows you into the room.

His questions started up once you were actually past him, no longer able to escape. “Where is Jisung-hyung?”

“He’s with Minho. Um, Minho went into rut last night.”

With the way the room was laid out, you could see Seungmin sitting on the edge of the bed nearest the window, but the rest of the room was blocked by the bathroom. He looked up at your voice, and as Jeongin closed the door behind you, his presence a sudden warmth against your back, some long-lost part of your subconscious began to feel cornered. Caught between the beta at your back and the omega’s gaze in front of you.

You continued to force a smile as you slowly moved forward.

“Hmm, Channie-hyung told us. I guess it makes sense he didn’t text us. I can’t imagine he would want to leave Lino-hyung alone right now,” Jeongin continued.

You found his soft mumbles somewhat comforting as you reached the part of the room that opened up into the bedroom, two twin sized beds sitting comfortably in the small room. And it was small, at least in comparison to the rut room you had just come from, but it was the fact that it was the same size as your own hotel room that really surprised you. You had assumed that such a famous group under such a big company would allow their artists to be given bigger rooms.

“Is that why you’re here? To let us know about Minho?” Seungmin wondered, drawing your attention back to him.

You momentarily process that Changbin is sitting on the edge of the other bed, a tangle of blankets that nobody had bothered to pick up. On the other bed that Seungmin is currently sitting comfortably on, you could spot a bundle of blankets and the shape of a person underneath. Hyunjin. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, because his face is buried in his pillow.

With a quick glance behind you (Jeongin joins Changbin on Felix’s bed), you decide to take a moment to breathe.

“No,” You admit, mulling over the words in your head.

Hyunjin shifts, but it’s Changbin that speaks first. “How do you know Minho went into rut?”

That was a question you felt a lot more at ease answering. “We got stuck in the elevator together. It took a while for the firefighters to get us out, and I guess he was in pre-rut for a while beforehand.”

You found yourself quickly running out of words, and the panic that you would have to stop stalling soon began to weigh on you, your heart speeding up.

“Idiot. He probably didn’t want to miss the concert’s,” Seungmin said, letting out a sigh and leaning back on his arms. “We have a week until our next performance, so I guess he planned it well enough.”

“Except the part where he went into rut in the elevator,” Hyunjin slurred, his voice half muffled by the pillow.

You blinked in surprise. You didn’t actually think he was awake.

To his credit, Hyunjin doesn’t look like he’s that awake either. But as he lifts his head, his hair slightly ruffled but looking far too put together for someone who was still squinting his eyes as you, the smell of cherry pie begins to grow as the dancer is brought into awareness. Hyunjin blinks a few times, and then-

“Why are you here?” He asks you.

Assuming he was probably asleep for your arrival, you begin to explain what you had told the others. Minho had gone into rut, you were in the elevator with him-

“I know. I meant why are you here,” Hyunjin says, one hand gesturing to the room around him as the other wipes at his eyes. “I thought Hannie was the one who sent the text.”

“No, I just used his phone,” You said, losing some of your confidence under the alpha’s intense stare. “I-uh. I sent the text because I needed to talk to you guys about something.”

The smell of cherries begins to grow sour.

Seungmin shifts to look behind him, wrinkling his nose. “Hyung, calm down. You’re going to stink up the place.”

“What did you need to talk to us about?” Changbin asked you, drawing your attention away from Hyunjin and back to the others.

Jeongin gave you a reassuring smile, and you found yourself smiling back.

“Well, for starters, it’s something the other members already know. That’s why they’re not here right now. Some of them found out a little more recently, and I’m sure I’m going to have to answer some of Jisung’s questions later,”

You muttered that last bit to yourself as you suddenly realized you hadn’t quite explained a lot to the beta in question. Seungmin, the only one close enough to hear you trail off, kicked his feet out as he switched positions - elbows now resting against his knees and his hands cupping his face - as he looked at you with a similar intensity to Hyunjin, only his gaze was more curious than annoyed.

“Is this about Chan and Felix wanting to court you?” Hyunjin said, his voice deep. You couldn’t tell if it was from sleep, or because he was holding back a growl.

The question caught you off guard.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. Felix didn’t seem like the type of person to be nonchalant or subtle, and you already knew he had issues with the boundaries you had laid out about not being courted. Where Chan had been willing to respect your wishes, Felix seemed like the type of person who wanted to push them.

If he was even a fraction as open with you as he was with his members, you would have been more surprised if they didn’t know Felix was interested in you. But Chan being added into the equation was a surprise – you had assumed the pack leader was more secretive than his mate.

“They’re not courting me,” You told Hyunjin, both to reassure him and to make it clear that wasn’t what you were here to talk about.

“I don’t believe you,” Hyunjin argued. “I know Felix. I know what he’s like when he’s interested in someone.” You tried to interrupt him, but he turned away from you with a huff. “If you came here to get our approval, then tough luck. Because you’re not going to get it from me.”

“Hyunjin,” Changbin said the alpha’s name softly, like he was amused, but there was an edge to his voice that felt more like a warning. “Let them finish.”

But Hyunjin wasn’t backing down that easily.

“What, like you aren’t mad?! That our pack alpha is sneaking around, making decisions without us, lying to us-“

“Right, because this is totally about Chan,” Seungmin muttered.

“What was that?”

Seungmin sat back up, turning his body to face the alpha with the type of confidence you wished you had. “You’re not mad because of Chan. You know he would never court someone without talking to us about it first.”

“I also never thought he’d sleep with someone outside the pack, and yet he did.”

You froze, wondering suddenly if Hyunjin knew more about this situation than you thought, but the rest of the boys seemed just as surprised at the revelation as you did.

“Hyung told you that?” Jeongin wondered.

Hyunjin frowned. “No. I heard him talking about it with Felix.”

“You eavesdropped on them?” Changbin asked.

“That’s not the point here! If Channie-hyung is willing to keep stuff like that from us, who’s to say he wouldn’t be willing to hide something else? Like courting someone.” And suddenly Hyunjin is back to glaring at you, and you step back on instinct.

Hyunjin was much more alert now than he had been just 5 minutes before. Your very presence had made him tense, and you would have been worried that he was likely to lash out if you didn’t have both Changbin and Jeongin in between you and the alpha. As it was, both betas were pumping out calming scents and the combined strength of it was heavy.

“They’re not courting me-“ You tried to argue.

“Bullshit!”

“Hyunjin,” Changbin warned, his eyes narrowing at the alpha.

“Look, I know you have no reason to believe me,” You continued, lifting your hands in front of you as a peace offering, “But I promise you, Chan and Felix are not courting me.”

But Hyunjin didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. “If they’re not trying to court you, then why are they lying to us?”

“They’re not lying to us about anything. If they want to have secrets between themselves, it’s none of our business,” Seungmin interrupted.

“Personally, I’m glad Channie-hyung and Felix-hyung don’t share everything with us. Sometimes they can get a bit graphic,” Jeongin piped up with a grimace.

You stifled your laugh with a cough.

Hyunjin also looked like he’s tempted to tease the younger beta, but the simmering defiance is enough to keep him on track, albeit with a pout. “Well personally, I don’t like it when our members are keeping secrets from each other.”

“Oh please, that’s not why you’re really upset,” Seungmin said, rolling his eyes.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“This is about Felix, plain and simple,” Seungmin continued, not one to back down. “You’re just mad he’s not paying you as much attention as he used to.”

“You little shit.”

Hyunjin actually did lunge forward then, but Changbin was quick to grab him, his face serious. You took another step back, loudly bumping into the dresser behind you, and wondered if you should leave.

“You need to calm down,” Changbin told Hyunjin, his voice no longer leaving room for complaints. When Hyunjin just mumbled, Changbin sighed. “Now.”

It spoke volumes about their years together, about their pack dynamics, that Hyunjin actually listened. He took a deep breath to calm himself, reeling in the wave of cherry that had spread out. Still upset, but no longer about to … you weren’t sure exactly what Hyunjin had planned to do. Seungmin, for his part, seemed unbothered. You imagined that the alpha wasn’t actually planning on hurting the omega – none of the other’s would have remained so calm if that was the case.

Somehow, you felt like Changbin intervening (his voice never rising, not surprised nor worried) was more for your benefit than it was for Seungmin’s safety.

As Hyunjin sat back down on the bed, Changbin crossed his arms and moved towards you, joining you at the end of both beds. He said something to you, and you didn’t actually hear it at first, too busy focusing on the pain in your hip from where you had hit the dresser. You turned to him only when he called your name.

“Hm?”

“You okay?” He asked you, and you nodded.

“Yeah, sorry.”

He dropped his crossed arms with a sigh, patting your shoulder lightly. “You had something you wanted to talk about, right?”

You wouldn’t say you wanted to talk about it, but you were already here. You closed your eyes for a split second, taking in a deep breath, and then opened your eyes back up with a clap. “Right. Okay.”

You opened your mouth … and found yourself hesitating.

Hyunjin’s pouty lips drew your attention, and you found yourself hating the attractive alpha for existing. Because his anger reminded you once again that your actions were driving a wedge between these men. Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin. Their faces, their fears, the betrayal they must have felt.

“Chan and Felix aren’t courting me.” Changbin shot Hyunjin a look, but the dancer was quiet for once. “But they … wanted to. Chan did sleep with someone, someone he met at a club. But he didn’t tell you guys, because I asked him not too.”

You were almost disappointed that they were still silent, allowing you to finish your explanation. At least if they interrupted, you might be able to postpone this conversation. But there was no more postponing. No more hiding.

You grimaced.

“I-“ You closed your eyes again, because you felt somehow safer in the darkness than under the heavy gazes of the four members in the room. “I’m an omega.”

You didn’t open your eyes to see the reaction, taking a moment to linger in the silence of their shock, and using the sudden relief at your secret being out there to continue.

“I was the one Chan slept with. It was before I got the job, and I didn’t know who he was. He wanted to court me, but then he found out I would be working with you guys, and I asked- no. I begged him not to tell anyone.” You opened your eyes then, but your gaze remained on the floor. “If the company find out I’m an omega, they’ll fire me. And because I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone else with this secret, Chan agreed not to tell anyone, but then Felix found out, and then Minho started his rut in the elevator, and I told Jisung because … I can’t have half of you lying to each other.”

Hyunjin’s eyes were wide when you met them. “I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I’m sorry for making you think Felix didn’t trust you, for causing problems with the pack. But I promise you, Chan and Felix are not courting me.”

You suddenly found yourself losing your momentum as you took in the other’s faces. Seungmin’s face was scarily blank, although his scent had grown stronger (lemonade, slightly sweet and not sour, which was a good sign) – Changbin and Jeongin both had surprised looks, maybe slightly contemplative.

The youngest was the first to break the silence, his voice soft. “Why would they fire you?”

“The company doesn’t hire omega’s or alpha’s anymore,” Changbin reminded him, looking very much like he knew exactly what you were getting at.

“But you’re good at your job,” Jeongin argued. “And maybe it’s difficult to deal with ruts and heats, but if we have to go through with them anyways, then it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like you have to be at work everyday to do your job.”

Changbin rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. “To be fair, the company isn’t exactly happy to deal with us as it is.”

He gave you a look, and you were reminded of that day nearly a month ago when he had a similar look on his face. When Jisoo, the poor trainee who had presented after having trained at the company for most of her childhood, suddenly faced with the reality that JYP would never allow her to debut. And Changbin, reassuring her that they’d figure something out. You knew then that if anyone understood your position, it would be him.

And Seungmin, possibly, although the omega had yet to say anything. He was staring intently at the wall in thought. Hyunjin, for his part, seemed to be avoiding your gaze for the first time since you had entered the room.

“That doesn’t sound fair,” Jeongin muttered, brows furrowing in frustration.

“No. It’s not.”

You leaned back against the dresser, the weight that had once rested on your shoulders gone but somehow leaving you more exhausted now that it was gone. “I worked hard to get where I am, to do my job right, but the company doesn’t care about that. I’m a liability. Me being an omega, let alone that that has slept with one of the members-“

“They’ll fire you if they find out,” Seungmin finished, shaking his head.

The others are quiet for a moment. And then,

“We won’t let them find out,” Jeongin said.

You jerk your head up slightly to meet his gaze, but he just gives you a smile. Not soft, not awkward, but genuine. Seungmin flops onto his back with a sigh.

“Ugh. This whole thing is too complicated. No wonder Chan and Felix didn’t say anything.” He tilts his head to the side to look at you. “But Innie’s right. We won’t tell anyone your secret.”

“Your secrets safe with us,” Changbin pipes up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. It’s heavy, and warm, and it does wonders in helping you relax. “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t trust me, though. I get we weren’t exactly close, but still.”

Although it’s hard to get a good look at his expression without turning your head (and you couldn’t, not with how close his face is to yours. Not without having your lips an inch away from his. You didn’t even want to think about that right now), You could tell he was pouting.

“It wasn’t really about trust. I think it was more about fear,” You admitted. “Not that you wouldn’t keep my secret, but more …”

As you start to trail off, you begin to come to your own conclusion. While you didn’t really know the members well enough at first to trust them with this secret, the truth was that by the time you had reached a decision, Chan had already made his intentions clear. First with Felix, and then with Minho.

The truth was you were terrified that if the other members knew the truth of you being an omega, of Chan’s interest in you, that the idea of them courting you wouldn’t be just a line in the sand anymore. You didn’t think that any of the members, let alone Chan himself (sweet, kind, self-sacrificing Chan), would ever risk your job just for the chance to court you, but it was hard to trust people these days. Or maybe you just had trust issues.

You shook your head. “I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin shifts in the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. He still wasn’t looking at you, but at least he wasn’t yelling.

You wanted to talk to him about it. Maybe sit down and get his feelings - his hurt - out of the way. You weren’t even sure if it was worth it to try and talk to the alpha right now, but you didn’t like leaving the conversation where it was. There was still so much that felt unsaid.

But your phone buzzed, a message from your manager.

‘Staff meeting. Mandatory participation.’

Then directions to a lounge in the hotel where you would most likely be having a meeting to discuss the change in plans now that Minho was in rut. You were reminded suddenly that this was only the beginning of the day. You still had to rush back to your room to put on some pheromone perfume, and maybe find some time to talk with Chan later.

“I have to go,” You told the others, tilting your phone to the side so that Changbin could read the text for himself.

“Probably about Minho’s sudden rut,” Changbin said, and you nodded your head in agreement.

“Yeah.”

Seungmin lets out another sigh, loud in the quiet room, and then pushes himself up onto his feet. “I’ll go with you. I want to check in on Minho, so I’m heading in that direction anyways.”

Changbin lets you go with one last clap on the back, and Jeongin even gives you a little wave as you and Seungmin pass by.

“I really am sorry,” You offer the omega as the two of you exit the room.

He doesn’t respond right away, simply walking next to you in thoughtful silence. When you reach the stairwell, the familiar squeal of the door has flashes of your earlier conversation with Chan rushing back. As the door closes behind you, you find yourself much more aware of Seungmin’s presence— the way he walks straight ahead, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, expression unreadable but scent calm. You’d think he was wearing scent blockers if you weren’t close enough to scent him.

You weren’t sure what to think of him. You weren’t sure what he thought of you, either.

There’s a few more seconds of silence, as your footsteps echo around you, before Seungmin finally speaks.

“You know they’re not going to give up, right?”

“What?”

Seungmin frowns, lowering his voice. “Chan. Felix. They’ve made up their minds already. That doesn’t happen often.”

You pause, looking over the edge just to confirm to yourself that you were really alone. Seungmin only stops walking when he realizes you aren’t following, only glancing at you.

“I don’t understand,” You whisper.

Seungmin tilts his head for a second, maybe in thought, maybe taking you in. There’s no noise besides a soft hum from the walls (are the elevators working again?), and you realize he might actually be making sure there’s nobody else in the stairwell as well.

When he steps closer, you tell yourself it’s so you’ll hear his quiet words. “No one in our pack has ever tried courting someone outside of it before. Not really. And the fact that they even thought about it?”

Seungmin give you a lopsided smile, not unkind, but with and edge to it. “They’re not going to stop. They’re not going to just let you walk away because you’re scared.”

You find yourself suddenly breathless, looking into Seungmin’s eyes, so close that the soft scent you had once attributed to lemons had a hint of something else, something stronger. You knew this entire situation was dangerous, knew that Felix was bound to cross a line, but the confirmation from Seungmin somehow felt more set in stone. Like the situation was unavoidable.

“They promised me,” You told him. Promises meant something to them, didn’t it?

Seungmin exhaled through his nose, taking a step back. “And they’ll keep their promise, don’t worry. But if there’s one thing I know about my members, is that they’re willing to do stupid things for those they care about. And the way Felix talks about you, the way Chan looks at you? Keeping secrets from us? Those are the kind of things they do when they care.”

He starts walking away, and you have a few seconds to realize he’s not going to wait for you before you’re rushing down the stairs to follow.

“What does that mean?” You hissed at him.

“I just thought you should know.”

“Seungmin-“

“Relax,” The omega said with a small cackle. “It’s not like they’re going to throw you under the bus or anything. I just thought I’d warn you because they can get a little intense sometimes.”

You thought back to Felix’s hands on your ankle, fingers gently rubbing circles against your skin as you began to drift to sleep. Chan’s expression as he left, like there was still something on his mind that he was holding back. You knew what they felt, were trying your hardest to pretend like you didn’t feel it too

“Intense” didn’t quite cover it, but you understood what he meant.

“You think they might try to court me anyways? If they get the rest of the pack’s approval?”

Seungmin glanced at you with raised eyebrows. “I think the only person who wouldn’t give them approval at this point is Hyunjin, and that’s just because he’s still upset about Felix.”

You swallow. “Right.”

“But no, they wouldn’t court you without your permission. The whole point of courting is to integrate you into the pack, and they can’t do that without consent,” he points out.

That wasn’t exactly true. Forcing someone into a pack was practically unheard of in this day and age, but you knew it wasn’t impossible. While forced mating bites were illegal, pack bonds could sometimes be formed without consent if the sub-genders had enough compatibility with each other. And if your night with Chan was anything to go by … there was most definitely compatibility there.

Still, you understood what Seungmin meant. They wouldn’t force you. Not unless you wanted it.

And you did want it. — the safety, the sense of belonging.

What you were afraid of wasn’t the bond.

It was everything it might cost you.

“They’ll wait until you change your mind,” Seungmin said simply.

And the worst part was, you couldn’t even argue with him. Not anymore.

At this point, it didn’t feel like a question of if — only when.

You reached the floor you needed to get to, Seungmin only pausing long enough to raise his chin at you in farewell. His face somehow managed to say good luck without the words ever leaving his mouth, and you found yourself staring at him as he walked away, hands still buried in his pockets, heart beating a little too hard in your chest.

Just what had you gotten yourself into?

-0-0-

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[darknight3904]

Every Breath You Take

Chapter Twenty- Letting Go

Tommy Miller x Reader, Slowburn!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Jackson isn't all it's cracked out to be as you dodge Tommy and try to convince Joel to hold onto Ellie

Warnings for this part: Language

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / The Last of Us Masterlist

Late November 2023, Jackson 

You wake up the next morning with Joel still wrapped around you. His hair tickles your nose as you turn to the doorframe where the floorboards creak. Ellie stands there, her hands fidgeting as she stares at you and Joel. 

“Did you wanna go get breakfast? Maria said that we could go down anytime, but I didn’t wanna go alone so…” 

“Yeah, give me a second, I’ll get dressed, Lemme get Joel up too.” 

“No, uh, just you.” Ellie says, her next words are a little forced, “Girl time or some shit, y’know.” 

“Oh, uh, alright.” 

Joel doesn’t stir as you slip out from under him. You push a pillow under his head and fix the blankets around him before turning to pull your clothes on from last night. Ellie waits for you out on the porch, her new purple coat zipped up to her chin. 

The snow crunches as you walk with her. She’s quiet today, if anything, you expected her to be chatty and talking about your new surroundings. You sit across from her in the community hall, steaming bowls of oatmeal in front of you while a delicious-smelling cup of coffee washes yours down. 

“Did you ever want kids?” Ellie asks when she’s done with her meal 

You’re swallowing the last sip of coffee as you stare at her. 

“I dunno. World went to shit before I even had my first real boyfriend. I guess when I was really small I used to play with a baby doll and proclaim that I’d have my own baby one day. Of course, I was four then and probably just wanted something alive to push around in a stroller.” 

She slowly nods, picking at her nails, “And Joel? Did he always know he wanted kids? Did he want Sarah?” 

Sarah. A variable Ellie didn’t know twenty-four hours ago. Maria or Tommy must’ve let that one slip. 

“I don’t know if Joel always wanted kids. He already had Sarah when we met.” You say, “He was a great dad, though.” 

“Did he want her, though?” 

You look at Ellie, trying to discern this line of questioning about Joel’s wants. She was acting weird, had something happened last night after you’d gone to bed? Joel had been sad and quiet last night, but you had just figured he was stuck in an old memory, something common for him. 

You reach across the table, taking Ellie’s hands in your own as you stop her from picking at her hangnails. 

“I don’t know if anyone ever really wants kids, especially in this world.” 

Ellie nods, her hands shifting away from yours. You stop her, though, gently squeezing her soft skin with your fingers to keep her at the table. 

“Kids, though, they give us a chance to be better. Sometimes the world will bring you what you need even if you don’t want it. It meets us where we are and makes us better.”

The scraping of a chair has you and Ellie breaking apart from each other. 

“Damn, when you’d turn into Shakespear?”

Tommy has pulled up a chair to your serene breakfast. He looks criminally good. Dark hair neatly trimmed, facial hair that has just started greying, looks at you as you take in the deep red button down he wears. 

“When you fucked off for your suicide mission.” You scoff 

Tommy’s smile falters, probably not expecting you to address it so soon. Ellie clears her throat. She knows all about you and Tommy; you’d spilled the beans one night after drinking too much of a whiskey Joel had found stashed in the floorboards of an old home a few weeks back. 

“I uh. I’m gonna go see Shimmer again. Is that cool?” Ellie stands up 

You want to grab her and force her to sit her ass back down. 

“Yeah, of course. Harry is workin’ today, let him know I said it’s fine and he’ll probably even let ya’ sit in the stable with her.” Tommy says 

“Sweet.” Ellie grins, walking off towards the exit 

You pick at the tablecloth, thinking about how you should’ve just stayed in bed with Joel. 

“So, uh, can we talk?” Tommy asks hopefully 

You look at him, pretending to really think it over for a second, give him some false hope, let him feel some of the shitty feelings you felt for so many years. 

“No.”

The cold air is refreshing as you scurry down main street. The walk would actually be semi peaceful if it weren’t for the man trailing after you. 

Men. They always ruined everything. Tommy was the worst of them all, even back in Texas you remember the time he spilled his beer on Joel’s new couch while the two of them and your dad were watching the Super Bowl back in 02’. If you close your eyes you can still hear Joel’s enraged voice as he yelled and grabbed a roll of paper towels and cleaner before shoving them into Tommy’s chest. 

“Would you quit, runnin’ from me?” Tommy asks 

“Fuck off, Tommy. Don’t you have shit to do?” 

“Yeah, I do but this is more important.” 

You whirl around to face him, “Annoying the shit outta me is more important?” 

“Look, I just wanna talk. Can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.” 

You push the front door open. Joel must still be asleep. Tommy makes himself comfortable on the couch in the living room you haven’t checked out yet. You perch on the armchair across from him, thinking of how you can escape this. 

Even in Wyoming, he manages to look Texan. Cowboy boots sit on his feet, a big belt buckle on his waist. All he’s missing is a damn hat and you’d think you were back in Austin. 

“Can you make this quick?” You ask wishing he'd just leave

“Your social skills are shit. Didn’t know traveling with Joel also meant becoming him.” Tommy comments

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t make me talk to him if I don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes 

You fidget in your chair, maybe you can telepathically communicate with Joel and get him up, have him distract his brother so you can run off into the woods and bury your head in the snow. 

“Look. I wanted to say I’m sorry. What happened between us, how I left ya’, it was a shitty thing to do.” Tommy says 

“At least he’s self-aware.” You sneer 

He grimaces, you hope he's feeling guilty as he sits on that comfortable-looking couch.

“I’m sure it was hard, but you’re here still. That counts for something.” Tommy says, his lips pressed together in a firm line

“Oh my god. Are you seriously mansplaining how hard my life has been when you weren’t even there for it?” You ask, glaring at him 

“What? No. That’s not what I meant, I just-” 

“Jesus, save it. You don’t belong telling me shit, not when you weren't there.” 

“Darlin’ I-” 

 You point at him, glaring at him accusingly, “Don’t Darlin’ me. You lost those privileges when you fucked off to save the world and left me in Boston to starve and sell myself for cards.” 

“You what?” 

Fuck. You slap your hand over your mouth. Too much info. You sit back, it’s out now, no taking it back. 

“Leave.” You mumble 

“No, I'm not leavin’, repeat what you just said to me.” Tommy grunts, leaning forward.

“I said, get out.” You quietly say, you don’t want to discuss this with anyone, least of all him.  

“And I said no.” Tommy says, “Tell me what happened in Boston. All of it.” 

You run a hand through your hair nervously, your voice rises as anger swirls in your stomach, standing up you move to exit the living room “Get the fuck out, Tommy.” 

Tommy crosses the room quickly, his large frame blocking you from moving further. You take a step back, appalled at the fact that he thought he could keep you here. 

“Talk to me.” He pleads

“Just get out, Tommy.” You groan, “Don’t you think if I wanted to talk to you, I would? I don’t want you fucking pity party so just get the fuck out of my way.” 

Tommy’s eyes stare at you, they look sad, but you can’t bring yourself to care. He steps to the side, his deep voice filling your ears, 

“Alright. I’ll find you before Ellie and I leave for Salt Lake, maybe you’ll wanna talk to me then.” 

The sound of the front door slamming shut rings through the house. You can’t find yourself to care as your legs carry you up the steps. You burst into the master bedroom, expecting to find Joel still asleep. Instead, you find him in the bathroom, staring at his reflection as he trims his beard. 

“You gave Ellie away.” You say, it’s a question that comes out like a statement 

“She ain’t a damn puppy.” Joel says, “It’s better for her like this. Safer. Tommy will get her there, he’s sharper than I am, stronger, knows this area better.” 

“You’re full of shit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean it. You’re full of shit, Joel. Pawning her off on your brother cuz’ you think you’re too old.” You say, grabbing the towel away from him before he can wipe his hands on it, “Do you know what she was asking about this morning?” 

Joel stares at you, waiting for you to continue. 

“She asked about Sarah and if you wanted her.” 

“She has no damn business asking shit like that.” Joel scowls, “Sarah isn’t any of her business.” 

“You don’t get it, Joel.” You roll your eyes

“Actually I do. I get that if I try to get to Salt Lake, she might die. I might die. I’m not as invincible as you fuckin’ think. What you don’t get, what she doesn’t get, is that I’m not her dad. You ain’t her mom, she’s not our kid, she’s cargo, something we were transportin’ for a payout.” Joel stares down at you, a frown etched on his face as he grabs the towel from your hands. 

He brushes past you and into the bedroom. You turn on your heel, watching as he tosses the towel on the bed before beginning to rummage through the clothes in the closet. You watch as his shoulders slump, like he carries the weight of the world on them. 

“Sarah once told me it was easy to make you cry.” You say, “I didn’t believe her until you stayed up with us one night, watched the Titanic with us and started crying when Jack died.” 

“Get to the damn point.” Joel huffs 

“My point is that you’re a human, Joel. Humans age, we cry, we laugh, most of all though, we form emotional attachments.” 

Joel doesn’t look back at you, but you can practically see right through him. Giving Ellie to Tommy with the excuse he’s too old to get her to the Fireflies, a load of bullshit. You walk towards him, hand brushing his back as you get him to face you again. 

“I get it, Ellie, she reminds you of Sarah, of the pain you can’t face.” 

“Stop it.” Joel mumbles, gaze fixed on the wall behind you, his jaw clenched 

“The grief you feel for her, Joel, it’s alright to feel that.” 

Joel sighs and moves to sit down on the bed, and the shirt he’d been holding slips to the ground. You follow him, sitting beside him.

“I know that.” He softly says, “I just…can’t have that gettin’ Ellie killed. Sarah, she…I miss her.” 

Joel’s voice is so quiet, you probably would’ve missed his words if you weren’t right next to him. 

You rest your head on his shoulder, a soft hum leaving your lips, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Joel had never been one to talk about Sarah. You knew he thought about her, though, always staring at his broken watch when he did. 

“No…I just wanna sit here, with you if that’s okay?” He asks 

You nod, it’s more than okay. 

You sit beside him in silence, listening to his breaths, feeling his body move as he fidgets with his sleeves. 

“Tommy was here. I heard you two arguin’.” Joel says after a few minutes go by

“He pissed me off.” You say blandly

“Thought I was gonna have to intervene,” Joel admits 

“I don’t think Tommy would ever hurt me.” You honestly say, sure he pissed you off but you didn’t think Tommy would ever raise a hand to you. 

“Tommy wouldn’t hurt ya’. Was talkin’ about you hurtin' him.” Joel grunts 

“How would I hurt Tommy?” You ask 

“Remember that time you threw a can of green beans at his head and gave him a bruise the size of an egg?” Joel asks, “I snt him to the shitty QZ doctor’s to make sure he wasn’t concussed.” 

“He started that.” You remind the older Miller brother 

“He made a joke.” Joel chides 

“He asked me if I was on the rag and then proceeded to tell me I was being a bitch.” You scoff 

“That’s not what he told me.” Joel laughs 

“Yeah well, he’s a pathological liar, that brother of yours.” You hum, taking a deep breath of Joel’s masculine scent 

Joel chuckles, wrapping an arm around you, “Listen, before he leaves with Ellie, I want you to hear him out. Let him apologize and get it out of his system.” 

“Do I have to?” You groan 

“Yes, you have to. When he comes back I can’t have two trying to rip each other in half.” Joel says 

You groan but nod anyway, promising Joel to let Tommy say his piece. 

“You’re sure we can’t take Ellie ourselves?” You ask him again 

“No, we can’t. She’ll be safe with Tommy. Safer than she’d be with us.” Joel says 

From his tone, you can tell it’s final. You accept his decision, wondering how Ellie will fare without you. Joel asks you what you had for breakfast, and when you mention the cup of coffee, he stands back up, declaring he needs to get down to the community hall immediately. 

“You’re an addict.” You chuckle 

“Haven’t had coffee since-” 

“Last night.” You remind him 

“That’s long enough,” Joel says, offering you a hand as he pulls you off the bed 

You laugh when he tugs too hard, and you collide into him, an oomph leaving your lips as he grunts in pain when you step on his sock-clad feet. You’re tempted to ask him to hold your hand as you walk down Main Street side by side. It’d probably be pushing it though. Joel didn’t seem like the PDA type. 

You still didn’t know what he really thought of you, Sure, there’d been that heated moment in the cabin, but nothing really since then. You had no idea if he’d even want a real relationship, now that you were literally across the street from Tommy, that might be too much for both brothers to handle. Besides, it’d probably be awkward being with Joel and him knowing that you’d been with his brother. 

As you walk, you pass the stables, you see Ellie laughing as Shimmer whinneys and takes a carrot from her hands. Guilt swirls in your chest as her laugh fills your ears. You can’t help it, the attachment you feel for her, it’s real, no matter how you try to push it down the way Joe does his. A sigh leaves your lips as you follow Joel into the hall, a singular thought crossing your mind as you enter,

How could you let her go? 

Next Part

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter; I carry the tags over to each part.

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[fandomfablesunleashed]

Tangled lives: Chapter Seven

Law x reader (she/her)

Chapter seven of Tangled lives

Words (for this chapter): 2.8k

Notes: Things are picking up, I guess. 🤷🏻‍♀️

🫶 @chillerkiller @deputy-azor, @henritherogue, @theprincesss5, @hopelesslover06 @forest-haven🫶

One Friday night, after another long week, you returned home. Your plan was simple. You wanted to grab a quiet evening, relax, and maybe catch up on the comics. But as soon as you stepped inside, you were met with the sound of laughter and loud voices.

You slipped off your shoes and carefully hung your jacket on the coat rack by the door. With a deep breath, you stepped further into the flat, curious about all the noise.

You froze nearby living room, eyebrows furrowing as you took in the sight before you: Law, sitting on the couch, surrounded by a group of his friends. The living room was littered with empty alcohol bottles, and the air was thick with the smell of beer and the occasional swig of something stronger. His friends, all animated and chatting away, seemed completely at ease, but what really caught your attention was Law himself.

He was drunk.

Not completely wasted, but definitely more relaxed, his usual controlled demeanor slipping away as he leaned back into the couch, a slight flush on his face. He was laughing, something you rarely saw from him—an unfiltered, carefree sound that captivated you straightaway.

“Yo! Come on in, join us!” Shachi noticed you standing in the doorway and waved with a teasing grin, clearly already a few drinks deep himself.

Law turned his head slightly, his expression softening when he saw you. “Oh, you’re home,” he said. 

Like it was nothing.

You tried—really tried—to ignore the way your heart clenched at that single word. Home. It shouldn’t have affected you the way it did, shouldn’t have made warmth bloom in your chest so suddenly, so fiercely. But it did. Because it wasn’t just about the space you shared. It was about the acknowledgment that, in his mind, you were a part of it. A part of home.

He straightened a little, as if trying to regain some composure, though the slight haze in his eyes betrayed him. It was obvious he was still buzzed. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Right, sorry,” you said, stepping fully into the room. You glanced around at the others, finding Bepo lounging on the floor with an empty glass in hand and Penguin singing along to some ridiculous song playing in the background. The scene was chaotic but strangely comforting.

Law gestured vaguely toward the bottles scattered across the table, his long fingers trailing passively through the air as if that explained everything. “Sorry about this,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real regret.

“It’s fine,” you said with a small shrug, suppressing a smile. “You told me they were coming over. I just expected a lazy hangout, not… well, this.”

Law chuckled quietly. “Yeah… it kinda got out of hand,” he admitted, his lips curving into a sheepish smile that made him look younger, less burdened. More approachable.“Guess they talked me into it.”

“Guess so,” you replied. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

You took in the scene again, the mess, the laughter, and found yourself entertained by it all.

Shachi patted the couch beside him enthusiastically. “C’mon, don’t just stand there! Grab a drink, sit down! We’re celebrating or… something!”

Law shot him a halfhearted glare. “Stop trying to recruit people,” he said dryly, though the effect was ruined by the smirk on his face.

“What are you celebrating?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

Shachi opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Uh…” He exchanged a glance with Penguin, who was already halfway through his drink that he had just poured himself.

Penguin shrugged. “Dunno. Something good probably happened today?”

Shachi nodded rapidly. “Yeah!”

“Yeah,” Bepo echoed, his deep voice slightly slurred before he immediately hiccupped. Then patted his chest as if that would somehow reset his system.

Law leaned back, watching you over the rim of his glass. “You’ll regret letting them drag you into this.”

You chuckled. “Maybe. But that sounds like a problem for future me.”

Shachi whooped, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “That’s the spirit!”

You laughed, finally giving in. Maybe tonight wasn’t what you’d expected, but you weren’t complaining either. It felt genuinely nice to be included, to be welcomed into the group so easily. More than merely a casual gathering, it was a meaningful opportunity to spend time with Law's friends, to get to know the people who mattered to him and learn more about him that way.

The first sip warmed your throat, and soon you loosened up. As the night went on, the upbeat music and laughter filled the room, pulling you further into the lively chaos. It wasn’t long before Penguin managed to drag you into his antics, convincing you to sing along to whatever ridiculous song he was singing.

“You’ve got this!” Penguin cheered, swaying dramatically as he held an imaginary microphone. Emboldened by the buzz from your drink and the sheer absurdity of it all, you joined in, your voice shaky with giggles but growing louder as you went.

When you looked over, Law was watching you. You felt a heat spread across your chest as you met his eyes. His lips were curved in a small, genuine smile. The sharp lines of his face mellowed, his posture less rigid, and the tension that always seemed to cling to him disappeared as he watched you, as if he had momentarily forgotten the world outside the room.

A persisting warmth unfurled in your chest, settling deep and refusing to fade, even as you turned your attention back to the ridiculous performance. 

The night wore on, and eventually, the group began winding down. Shachi stretched with a groan, nearly collapsing on top of Penguin, his words slurring slightly as he announced, “Alright, I’m calling it. I need my bed. Or… maybe just the floor.”

“Floor’s taken,” Bepo said, patting the rug he was sprawled on. He yawned, his eyes drooping. “But yeah, I should head out too.”

Somehow, they all managed to get to their feet, though it looked more like a dance of uncoordinated marionettes. Shachi grabbed his jacket, only to put it on inside-out. You were about to point it out and help him get properly dressed when you heard something crash to the floor.

It turned out to be Bepo, who tried to walk but ended up taking a few unplanned steps in the wrong direction, nearly stumbling into the potted plant.

“I’m fine,” he slurred, grabbing the nearest chair for balance, only to tip it over.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Shachi muttered, his voice muffled as he fumbled with the door handle. There was a clumsy tug, followed by the unmistakable sound of him pulling it in the wrong direction. “Wait… is it locked?”

You heard a dramatic sigh to your left.

“I’ve got them” Penguin, somehow looking the most sober out of all of them, turned to you with an exaggerated apologetic smile. “Hey, uh, sorry for leaving you with the Captain like this. But you’ve got this, right?”

You smiled fondly. There was something deeply touching about how his friends still clung to his childhood nickname.

Your gaze drifted to Law, still seated on the couch, leaning heavily against the armrest. His head rested in his hand, his eyes half-lidded. He looked like he was hovering on the edge of sleep, but the flush on his face and the unguarded smile made it clear he was still drunk.

“Yeah, you’ve got this,” Penguin said, patting your shoulder before turning to follow the others. “Night!”

He yanked the door open, holding Shachi and Bepo by their arms, and practically dragged them out the door. You were left standing there with an amused shake of your head.

As you locked the door behind the trio, a tranquil atmosphere settled over the room, broken only by the music still playing in the background. With a slow, reluctant motion, you reached over and turned it off.

“Looks like it’s just us,” you said, moving closer to Law.

He blinked up at you. “Guess so.” He shifted to sit a little straighter, though it didn’t last long before he leaned back into the cushions with a tired sigh. “Sorry about… all of this,” he murmured, gesturing vaguely at the scattered mess around the room. “They needed it. I guess I did too. Or something.” He squinted, as though trying to piece together his thoughts.

You sat down beside him. “No need to apologize. You looked like you were having fun for once.”

Law huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe a little too much fun,” he admitted. He trailed off, his head tipping back against the couch, as if even sitting upright was too much effort.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you teased lightly, earning a small, self-deprecating chuckle from him. “You should drink some water and go to sleep,” you suggested.

Law pouted—a real, genuine pout, his lips jutting out slightly as he slumped further into the couch. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbled like a stubborn toddler. His head lolled to the side, and his hazy eyes found yours, his expression unusually open and yet, you weren't sure what you should see in it. “Can we stay a little longer like this? Just… sit here?”

You exhaled slowly. The way he asked tugged at your heartstrings. Despite being an incredibly tall man, he seemed so small right now, so needy, so open. You wished he would feel that comfortable around you without the alcohol running in his system. That he would let himself lean into you, just like this, not because of lowered inhibitions, but because he wanted to.

“Alright, but if you end up passed out on the couch, I’m not carrying you to your room.”

“You’re not that strong anyway.”

His usual confidence was still there, but it was tempered by the kind of honesty that only came with being this drunk. You decided to let it slide, shaking your head with a small laugh as you handed him a glass of water.

“Drink this,” you said firmly.

Law took it, though not without a deep groan of protest. “Bossy,” he commented, but he obeyed. He tilted his head back and drank it all in one swift motion, the liquid vanishing quickly.

You took the empty glass from him and set it carefully on the table. You were about to ask him if he needed more water or anything, but his words stopped you. 

“You’re… really something, you know that?”

“Something?”

“Something…good”

Your breath hitched, and you swallowed against the sudden tightness in your throat. “You must be drunker than I thought if you’re saying things like that.” you said, desperately trying to brush it off. To not make it something bigger that it was. 

“M’serious,” he insisted. 

“Sure,” you said, patting his head condeceingly. 

But Law wasn’t letting it go. “No, really,” he murmured.  As your hand started to withdraw from his hair, he caught it, fingers wrapping around yours with a concealed desperation. “I mean it,” he maintained, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin. He hesitated for just a second before he found the words.

“You’re…” A pause, a breath, a moment stretched taut between you. His grip tightened slightly. “Important. To me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected confession, and you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol talking or if this was something he’d been holding back. It was too late, and you were too tipsy to wonder about that now. Not when his words threatened to unravel something in you. So you did what you always did. You diminished it, turned it into something easier to hold, something safer.

“Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”  

That was it. The reason he was saying all those things. It couldn't mean as much as you were hoping for. 

Law pouted again, the expression somehow both endearing and absurd on him. “I’m not that drunk,” he argued, though the way he was leaning into you, practically draped over your side, said otherwise.

“You’re literally clinging to me right now,” you pointed out, trying to hide your growing smile.

“Because you’re comfy,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He let his head fall to your shoulder, the weight of him startling at first, but you didn’t push him away.

“Law…” you began, but he cut you off with a content hum.

“Just for a little while,” he mumbled, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “Let me stay like this. Feels nice.”

“Alright,” you replied slowly, relaxing back on the couch.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. “Thanks.” His fingers brushed against yours once again, and though you told yourself it was just the alcohol making him act this way, the sincerity in his voice and the way he clung to you felt… real. And too nice.

For a moment, you let yourself believe it was okay to melt into it, to enjoy his closeness without questioning what it meant. You allowed yourself to enjoy his presence without dissecting every gesture or searching for some hidden intentions. Just this once, it didn’t have to be complicated.

Then, he stirred, lifting his head slightly to look at you, his gaze dropping to your lips. The room seemed to grow impossibly still, and your heart pounded as you realized what was happening.

“Law, no,” you said gently, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him from moving any closer. 

The words felt like a betrayal because deep down, you did want him to kiss you. Desperately so. But not like this—not when he was drunk and this might be a fleeting, alcohol-fueled mistake he’d regret in the morning.

Law froze at your touch, his movements halting, as if a sudden clarity had pierced through the fog of his inebriation. His eyes widened slightly, and he pulled back sharply, creating a noticeable space between you. You immediately missed the feeling of his fingers on yours.

“Shit,” he muttered, raking a hand through his messy hair. “Fuck. I… I’m sorry.”

You watched him carefully, the tension in your chest easing only slightly. “It’s okay,” you reassured him, though your heart was still beating violently.

“No, it’s not,” he persisted, his voice heavy with self-reproach. His hands clenched into fists, resting on his knees. “I shouldn’t have—damn it. I don’t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as his head dipped further. “Fuck.”

“It’s fine” you insisted once more and you meant it. You said no and he stopped. Nothing happened. 

“It’s not fucking fine!” His voice cracked, rising in pitch as frustration and guilt bled through every word. His gaze was unfocused, a storm brewing behind his half-lidded eyes.

It was impossible to ignore how badly he was beating himself up.

“Stop apologizing,” Your words were meant to calm, to pull him back from whatever dark place his mind was slipping into. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You were about to gather the courage and tell him that you wanted him to kiss you. Over and over again, until the world disappeared, until there was nothing but his touch and the warmth of his lips. You wanted it, but not out of impulsiveness or intoxication. No, you wanted it when he was ready, when he could decide, with clarity, that he wanted it too.

But as you opened your mouth, Law groaned. “I’ll regret this tomorrow.” 

The words hung in the air, cold and cutting, immediately shutting you up. Then he pushed himself up unsteadily from the couch. He didn’t look at you as he moved toward his room and disappeared without saying anything else.

The door to his room clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed felt deafening.

And that was what scared you. You didn’t want him to regret it. You wanted him to pull you closer, to close the distance he kept so meticulously guarded, to press his lips to yours in a kiss so consuming it left you both breathless. You wanted to feel the heat of his hands on your skin, the certainty in his touch that he wanted this as much as you did.

But not like this. You didn’t want to be a drunken mistake or a lapse in judgment. You wanted him to choose it—to choose you—with a clear mind and open heart. To embrace that moment, fully and without hesitation.

And as you sat there alone, staring at the dim glow beneath his door, you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever would.

next chapter

[orangmint]

BOYS OVER FLOWERS chapter. 7 i know you (too)

masterlist

It’s been weeks since you’ve talked to anyone other than Gojo sensei, and occasionally, Shoko coming to check on how you’re feeling.

You ignore their texts, whether they’re trying to check up on you or just tell you what happened in their day. In Megumi’s case, it’s both. Not that you’d reply, anyway.

“I’ve been talking a lot less to you nowadays. I really hate myself for doing that. Well, Chiyu is still trying to… take your place… uh, quote unquote. I’ve realized it's not her. It can't be. You always talk about having soulmates and that… whatever. The red string? Red soulmate string. Or whatever. You always talk about it. I don't see a string for me and Chiyu. It's more likely I fall in love with Yuji than Chiyu. Whatever. I hope you get better soon. And please stop leaving me on seen. Or liked, or any other thing. I might come and check up on you later, with the spare key you left me in case you ever lost yours. Just saying.” (transcript of a voice recording he sent you. Not that you can talk and respond. Your voice is gone)

You stopped listening after he said to stop leaving you on seen.

You felt slightly better these past few days, with the medicine that Shoko made and leaving that god-awful group chat. But the flowers kept coming. They just wouldn’t stop. Your backyard is half filled with flowers. When counted, they’d total up to 30 (not including the unbloomed buds).

As you stood up to check on your backyard again, a loud thunder clapped high in the sky. It startled you. And… another flower landed on your floor. Shoko told you to take 5ml of the medicine every time you coughed out a flower, so you turned and.

There stood Megumi. He closed the door behind him.

“…Y/n,” he started, unmoving from his spot near your shoe stand. “What is that?”

You looked at the flower, then back at him. You shrugged. If he had any common sense, he’d figure it out.

“Hanahaki.

since when?” he knew the answer to that too.

You shrugged again, then proceeded to take the medicine Shoko gave you.

Megumi mumbled a quiet apology and left. He closed the door behind him.

This was to be expected. But why had he come? Why had he gone?

Later, he sent another voice message.

"YOU HAVE HANAHAKI???? BECAUSE OF ME??? Oh, I'm gonna beat myself up. I'm sorry. I really, really am. I should've realised earlier. I mean, how bad is it? I saw your backyard, so I guess it's pretty bad. Will you forgive me?"

His voice had an urgency in it, you'd never seen. How would you know, though?

You never listened to that one.

taglist: @loveyislost @love-me-satoru @radioh3adach3 @merciless-perseus66 @1l-ynn @infl1cted @linaaeatsfamilies

[katethetank]

Yours for the Night - Chapter 4

Rating: 18+ minors gtfo Chapter Summary: Eddie gets another date with Harrington, and a surprise he wasn't expecting. CW: Alcohol consumption, sex work Pairing: Escort!Eddie x Rich!Steve Word Count: 4.1k

Chapter 3<<Masterlist>>Chapter 5

It’s been a few weeks since the charity gala, and Eddie is standing outside of another expensive suite. He gladly accepted the date when Nancy sent over the request with “Harrington” on the client info file. He didn’t even bother opening it, he had a great time with Richard and didn’t need to know any other information than where to be and when. 

They’re going to a gallery in the Gold Coast, one of the places his artsy client has taken him to before. Not black tie, but definitely a place where you want to show up looking sharp, yet not like you’re trying too hard. He’s wearing Armani tonight. No tie. White shirt with the top two buttons left open. Dark blue jacket and matching slacks. And his favorite brown Louboutins. 

It’s a short moment after knocking on the door before it opens and he’s face to face with Harrington. Just…not the one he was expecting to see.

“Steve. What are you doing here?”

“Um…I hired you? Through the agency? Did Nancy not tell you?”

Eddie is fucking kicking himself for not opening that goddamn file. “I’m so sorry, this is really unprofessional of me. I um…thought it was Richard who booked me again.”

Steve looks a little dejected and Eddie feels like a total asshole. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you probably wouldn’t have accepted the offer if you knew it was me.”

“No! Steve, I just saw Harrington on the file and made the assumption. That is entirely my mistake. You hired me to do a job, and I’m happy to do it.”

Steve relaxes hearing that and invites Eddie in for a drink. They take a seat on the couch, Steve hands him a glass of bourbon with a side of flashbacks, and they clink glasses. Once again, it’s a good fucking bourbon. 

“So. This is the part where I usually ask a client more about something I read in their file. Since I obviously failed to do that, why don’t tell me something about yourself.”

“Are you always this formal?”

“I’m professional. There’s a difference.”

Steve takes another sip of his bourbon and licks his lips. They’re nice lips. “Something about me…well, for starters, I feel like a grade A dickhead for how I spoke to you at the gala. That’s…honestly why I tracked down the service my dad used. I wanted to apologize.”

“Steve, you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I do, though. I was drunk, and upset, and I was out of line. My issues with my dad…they aren’t your problem. It wasn’t fair of me to dump all my shit on you like that.”

Eddie sips his bourbon and gives Steve an easy smile. “No harm done. And like I said, no apologies needed. Though I do appreciate the effort you went through. Now I’m just wondering whether or not I should be offended that you only hired me to say you’re sorry and not for my stellar company.”

He was going for humor, but Steve actually blushes. “Well…I’d be a liar if I said that was the only reason.”

“Is that so?”

“You seemed…cool. Charming. And uh…Jesus Christ, I feel like a fucking flustered teenager. You’re hot, ok?! You’re really fucking attractive and I thought it might be fun to go out with you.”

Eddie chuckles and leans in a little more towards Steve. “Well I’m flattered, darling. You’re not so bad yourself. Now tell me. What’s this gallery thing we’re going to?”

Steve tells him all about his best friend Robin, who to Eddie’s surprise, actually runs the gallery. She’s doing a feature tonight highlighting lesbian artists in the Chicago area, and she’s been working on it for months. It sounds like a big fucking deal to her, and the way Steve talks about it and how proud he clearly is…well damn if it doesn’t warm Eddie’s heart.

They take a private car over to the gallery, and before they’re about to walk in, Steve stops him.

“Shit, I should have asked this earlier. Do you go by ‘Edward,’ or…”

“Usually for older clients. But honestly, I prefer just Eddie. And thank you for asking. Not many people actually do.”

Steve smiles and extends his elbow. “Well. Right this way, Eddie.”

He takes the offered arm, trying desperately not to compare it to the guy’s father, and they head inside. Steve points out his best friend immediately, beaming with pride as he watches her from across the room schmoozing with the many guests in attendance. Eddie’s definitely seen her here before, and loved watching how her manic kind of energy was such a contradiction to all the buttoned up elitists trying so hard to look aloof.

They grab some glasses of white wine and slowly make their way through the gallery, stopping to look at every piece on display. It’s all very formal and stiff until they get to a sculpture of a vulva made entirely out of carabiners and Eddie lets out an involuntary snort.

“What was that?!”

“Sorry,” he tells Steve. “But this might be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve stifles a laugh, covering it up by sipping his wine, and nods. “Yeah, I think you may be right.”

The mood lightens after that and they make their way through the gallery cracking jokes and genuinely having a good time. Steve is sweet. Gentlemanly. Easy to get along with. Eddie finds that he doesn’t have to try as hard or perform as much as he does with most of his other clients.

When they get to a painting of two women spooning in bed, holding each other close with content expressions on their faces, Steve makes a soft sound and whispers, “That’s so romantic.”

Eddie finds himself actually getting kind of smitten with this man.

They finish their loop around the gallery and Steve offers to get them another glass of wine. Eddie watches him walk away, looking really fucking good in his clearly tailored suit and maybe taking a moment to admire his ass. He tucks his hands in his pockets and slowly meanders around until he’s approached by Steve’s friend.

“I’m sorry so it took me so long to come over and say hi! I’m Robin, Steve’s platonic soulmate. You’re Edward, right?”

He chuckles and shakes her hand. “Just Eddie is good. I think I’ve actually seen you around here before.”

“I thought you looked familiar! You’ve been here with that lanky silver fox, right? Is he one of your clients?”

Eddie is temporarily stunned. This woman has managed to totally throw him off his game In a matter of seconds.

“Oh, it’s ok! Steve told me all about you, or what he knows anyway, and it’s totally fine! No judgement here. I’m honestly just glad to see him smile like that again.”

“Uh…thanks? Wait, what do you mean by that?”

She glances across the room where Steve is excitedly talking to a petite woman with strawberry blonde hair and looks back at Eddie. “Look, I don’t know if I should even be mentioning this, but he’s had a rough couple of months. He was in a relationship with this guy, and they had to keep it on the DL because of his dad, which by the way, the internalized homophobia with that man should be studied. Anyway, Steve really liked him and was hoping it would go somewhere serious, but the guy pulled the rug out from under him and told him if he couldn’t nut up and be out in front of his dad, it was over.”

“That’s fucked.”

“Totally fucked. And Steve’s been under that dickhead’s thumb his entire life, and felt like he couldn’t do anything. So. The guy left. And he’s been devastated since then. Now his dad is like, single and out and taking men to charity galas like it’s nothing? Steve had to be closeted around all those same rich douchebags forever, and seeing his dad just…flaunting his new arm candy - no offense-“

“None taken.”

“Cool. Well…it kind of broke him all over again. So, back to my point, I haven’t seen him smile like this in a really long time. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

Eddie doesn’t even have a chance to respond, much less process everything Robin told him, before Steve has returned with a fresh glass and the little blonde. Robin’s girlfriend Chrissy, apparently. She’s cute as a fucking button. They make pleasant small talk until their glasses are empty again, and bid the ladies farewell. Steve leads them back outside and into the private car, where Eddie assumes the night will be ending. 

“It’s still kind of early…would you want to grab another drink or something?”

Steve looks so fucking sweet as he asks, with his goddamn puppy eyes. The more time Eddie spends with him, the more he thinks that this guy might just be a golden retriever in human form. “Sure, why not.”

He asks the driver to take them to Broadway and Lawrence and Eddie spends the entire ride trying to think of why that intersection sounds so familiar. They pull up to a bar with bright signage and he smiles. It’s been years since he’s been to Green Mill Lounge. All these wealthy men who take him out always bring him to the swankiest places the city has to offer, and he wrongly assumed Steve would be doing the same.

“Is this place ok? I know it’s not like…super fancy or anything, but it’s fun.”

Eddie places his hand on top of Steve’s and gives it a squeeze. “Steve, it’s great. Honestly, this place is much more my speed. Can we uh…ditch the jackets though? We might be a little overdressed.”

Steve gives him that smile that Robin must have been talking about and shucks his suitcoat. Eddie removes his too, and they leave them draped on the seat as they climb out of the car and head inside. It’s dimly lit, just like he remembers, with candles on all the tables and a small jazz band playing at the back of the room. It’s busy, but they’re able to grab a couple open seats at the bar and order some cheap beers. It’s a welcomed change from champagne, and Eddie moans as he takes his first sip of PBR.

“Fuck, this tastes like home.”

Steve grins and turns in his seat toward Eddie, giving him his full attention. “Yeah? Where’s home?”

Eddie turns and faces him as well. “Indiana. Just this small little town nobody’s ever heard of. I lived there with my uncle and we used to throw these back while working on his truck.”

“So how did you go from trucks in Indiana to escorting in Chicago? Sorry! If you don’t mind my asking.”

He takes another sip of his beer and shakes his head. “I don’t mind at all. I’m not ashamed of my job. Definitely wasn’t something I could do back in Hawkins, that’s for goddamn sure. I tended bar out there at a shitty club my band used to play at-”

“You’re in a band?!”

“Was. Was in a band. We all mostly went our separate ways except our drummer, Gareth. My best friend. He came out here with me a while back. Hawkins wasn’t exactly an accepting place. Small town in a conservative state and all. I got out as soon as I had the money to move and we settled here. I was a bartender for a few years before Nancy found me. She came in one night and offered me the job, made it sound pretty fucking good. I figured I’d just try it once and see how weird it was, if I would even be good at it. I ended up having a lot of fun and it just kind of took off from there. Haven’t had to stand behind a bar in about a year.”

Steve has been hanging on his every word and the attention is pretty fucking nice. “That’s so cool. And you like it? The job?”

“I do, yeah. It’s not always great, but I’ve been able to go to a lot of cool events, dine at restaurants I never would have been able to afford before. My wardrobe has greatly improved,” he laughs.

Steve gives him a quick look up and down. “I noticed the Armani label. Nice. And the Louboutins? You look good.”

Eddie smirks at him. “Why thank you, Stevie. And might I say, you wear the hell out of a suit.”

The lighting is low, but Eddie can still see his cheeks flush a bit. He’s adorable. “Thanks…it’s uh…really cool that you were able to just get out and do your own thing. Live your life the way you wanted to.”

It feels weighted, and Eddie is overcome with the urge to just wrap Steve up and tell him everything is going to be ok. He just wants to see this man smile again. A real smile. The one Robin told him about. “So tell me. What do you do to pay the bills? Longshoreman? Elevator mechanic? Professional bridesmaid?”

There it is. Steve’s smile lights up his face as he throws his head back laughing. “Those cannot be real jobs! At least not the bridesmaid thing!”

“Oh, it is! You can Google it!”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. No, I uh…I actually work for my dad. It sucks. I hate it. He’s always had this vision of a family dynasty, but I have zero fucking interest. I guess I’m just putting up with it until I can find something I’d actually like doing.”

Eddie slaps the bar top and leans forward. “Ok. We’re gonna play a game. Being in this place,” he says waving his hand around, “has me inspired. You know they filmed a scene of-”

“High Fidelity!”

“Yes! John fucking Cusack, oh my god. He’s the reason why I ever sought out this bar in the first place.”

Steve nods excitedly after taking another gulp of cheap beer. “Oh yeah, me too. I’ve had a crush on him since I saw-”

“Say Anything?!”

“Yes!”

“Lloyd Dobler, fucking hell. He’s the fantasy, am I right?” Eddie sighs.

“Absolutely. What I wouldn’t give to have him holding up a boombox outside of my bedroom window.”

Eddie chuckles and nods his agreement. “Period. So anyway. The game. Top five dream jobs. I’ll tell you mine, you tell me yours.”

“Deal.”

He’s got Steve grinning from ear to ear now and his chest feels oddly full at the sight. “Ok. In no particular order. Rock star.”

“Obviously.”

“Right?! Ok um…I have to take a page out of High Fidelity’s book, it would be sick as hell to own a record store. Then, let’s see…writer. Like, coming up with the next great American novel, but maybe spooky and probably pretty gay.”

“I love that for you.”

“Thank you, Stevie. Alright two left…Ooh! Hosting a travel show where I can go around the world and just eat a fuck ton of good food for free.”

“Oh shit, that’s a good one.”

“Fuck yeah it is.” Eddie scratches his chin and ponders his last dream job option. “Got it. Last one. Archaeologist. Live the childhood fantasy and just dig in the dirt all day trying to find bones and shit.”

Steve sighs with a wistful look on his face. “Shit. Yeah that would be so fun. Ok…my turn.” He takes another sip of beer and straightens up in his seat. “Pitcher for the Chicago Cubs.”

“Booooooo.”

“What?! Sorry, I was really into sports when I was younger and my dad always pushed me towards basketball, but I had so much more fun playing baseball.”

“Ok,” Eddie nods. “I’ll let that one slide. Get it? Slide? They do that in baseball right?”

Steve makes a very undignified snort and Eddie loves it so goddamn much. “Yeah, they do that in baseball. Alright, next job…baker. It would be really fun to own a bakery. I used to make all kinds of pies and cookies and shit with my Nona and it’s some of the best memories I have.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

“Thank you. Wait, that wasn’t also a bad joke, was it? Sweet? Bakery?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort and he buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god, that was terrible. I wish I did think of that.”

“Good thing one of your jobs wasn’t stand up comedian. You’d suck.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “You are such a little shit! And you owe me three more jobs, so let’s go!”

“Ok, ok! Third dream job…Actor. But not like, a Brad Pitt or something. Smaller shit. Independent movies, maybe a cool tv show or something.”

“Oh, yeah, I could totally see that for you.”

Steve blushes a bit and takes another drink. “Job number four…let’s see…Oh, park ranger! I always wanted to travel around and see all the national parks. It would be so cool to be able to just wander around those spaces every day, see redwoods and mountains and geysers. Keep them all safe so future generations can appreciate them too.”

“Fuck, Steve, that’s actually really beautiful. I love that.”

“Thank you. Ok…last one. You know it’s actually kind of tough to narrow it down, but something with kids. Social worker or teacher or something. I just really love working with kids.”

Eddie’s heart is about to melt out of his chest. “Do you work with kids often at the investment company?!”

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Oh god no! No, I uh…I volunteer, actually. With the Big Brother program. I’ve been doing it for a few years now and I guess it just kind of scratched an itch I had growing up as an only child.”

Yeah, there goes Eddie’s heart. It’s in a puddle on the floor. “That’s really cool. Has it been the same kid this whole time, or does it like…rotate? I have no idea how that all works.”

“I had a few different kids my first year doing it, but then I got paired up with Dustin. He kind of sunk his hooks in and hasn’t wanted to let me go,” Steve laughs. 

Eddie gets it. “So what do you guys do together?”

“Oh, god, all kinds of shit. He loves arcades. We go to movies all the time and he always manages to sucker me into getting way too much shit at the concession stand. He’s so fucking smart, loves going to the Museum of Science and Industry and Shedd Aquarium. I’ve taken him to the Field Museum too, but it’s always weird seeing my family’s name on plaques and shit there. Dad always makes a big fucking deal out of the money the company throws around, but he doesn’t actually do anything you know?”

The difference is actually staggering. Sure, Richard writes the checks and happily accepts the awards for his philanthropy, but here Steve is…actually taking time out of his days to hang out with a kid who needs someone to just be with him. There’s no contest of who the better person is. “Yeah…yeah I know. So tell me more about Dustin. What’s he into? I have zero frame of reference for what kids are about these days.”

“He’s a total nerd. And I mean that in the best way! The kid is endlessly entertaining even if he sometimes talks to me like I’m a total idiot. Which…fair. Him and his friends are all into this tabletop game with like…wizards and monsters and shit.”

Eddie leans in close. “Steve. Don’t fuck with me. Are you telling me these children are playing Dungeons and Dragons?”

He snaps his fingers and points at Eddie. “Yes! That’s it! It’s all they want to talk about! Wait…how do you know about it?”

“You’re looking at the finest dungeon master Hawkins, Indiana has ever seen.”

Steve just stares at him blankly. “Is that like…a sex thing?”

Eddie nearly falls off his chair laughing. “Oh my god! No, Jesus Christ, Steve! It’s the person who runs the games, comes up with the story, the evil bad guy everyone has to fight.”

“OH! Sorry, oh my god, I feel like such an idiot.”

“No, no! You’re good! That was fucking hilarious though, goddamnit!”

Steve looks like he has a lightbulb moment and it’s cute as shit. “Oh! The DM! Dustin keeps telling me about how his friend Will is the DM for their games and I literally had no idea what that meant. I never asked because I didn’t want to be ridiculed by a 12 year old.”

“Fair,” Eddie tells him. “Kids that age are ruthless. Fuck, that is so cool, though. That game was my entire life through middle and high school. Good to know there are still kids who play. I figured with the rise of the iPad, all they’d want to do is sit in front of screens all day.”

“Yeah, definitely not these kids. They take every chance they can get to pretend to be elves and goblins or whatever the fuck.”

Steve’s cluelessness about the game shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. And with any tension long gone, they fall into an easy flow of conversation until the lights in the bar turn on and everyone is kicked out.

Climbing back into the car, they keep bantering back and forth, and Eddie finds that it’s just…so fucking easy to talk with this beautiful man. He doesn’t even realize until they’re back in the suite, too busy arguing over their favorite celebrity crushes, that Steve never even asked him to come up. They just went there on autopilot and settled on the couch right next to each other.

“Conan O’Brien? Seriously?” Eddie asks.

“What?! Humor is an attractive quality,” Steve argues.

“Ok, fine. You got me there.” Eddie can’t stop smiling. He hasn’t had this much fun with someone in a long time. 

Steve looks over his face with a sweet little smile. “I haven’t laughed this much in months. You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

“So are you, sweetheart.”

There’s a very loaded pause, and then Steve is leaning in. Eddie meets him halfway and god his lips are so soft. His eyes slip closed and he loses himself in the kiss. The warmth of Steve’s mouth. The little click sound every time they part before coming back together. The hum that comes out of him when Eddie takes his bottom lip between his own and teases it with his teeth. How Steve opens his mouth to accept Eddie’s probing tongue, moving slowly and lapping up the lingering taste of the beers they shared. 

Steve’s hand comes up to cup Eddie’s jaw and he moans into the kiss. And Eddie freezes.

This isn’t a date. Not a real date anyway. 

“Eddie?”

He opens his eyes and puts a bit of space between them. “Steve, I um…I’d really like to keep doing this, but if it’s going to go any further…it’ll cost extra.”

Eddie feels like a piece of shit for having to let reality crash in like the fucking Kool Aid man through the wall. And watching Steve’s expression twist into something akin to hurt only makes it worse.

“Right. I’m so sorry. I uh…kind of forgot what this whole thing was.”

“Honestly…so did I,” Eddie admits. “Look, Steve, I had a really great time with you. Genuinely. I think I actually…might really like you. As stupid as that may sound coming from an escort.”

Steve doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. “I think I actually like you too.”

Fuck. No way in hell could Eddie have ever seen his night going this way. He figures he should probably try to keep this professional. Feelings are messy. Feelings are something he shouldn’t be having for a client. “I should head out.”

Steve just nods and gets up off the couch after Eddie, following him to the door. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight. I had a really great time.”

Eddie gives him a small smile as he opens the door. “So did I. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Eddie.”

He steps out and hears the door click shut behind him. And stops. Counts to ten. Turns back, and knocks.

Eddie is face to face with Steve again and his heart is racing. “Hey. So, I was really busy at work tonight and just got off my shift. Would you want to hang out?”

The smile that blooms on Steve’s face is everything he could have asked for.

He reaches out, grabs Eddie by the collar of his shirt, and pulls him inside.

Chapter 3<<Masterlist>>Chapter 5

HERE! WE! GO!

Taglist is open!

@mrsjellymunson @the-unforgivenn @watermelonmite @micheledawn1975 @wordynerdygurl @live-laugh-love-dietrich @connected-dots-st-reblogger @wheneverfeasible @cheersdannyx2 @stellashades @renfrisol

[megumismyhusband]

A+ for annoying

ᝰ.ᐟ chapter: 02

after weeks of endless studying with karasu, you were pretty sure you’d developed a love-hate relationship with the guy. you hated how smug he was, how he always seemed to be a step ahead, but there was something undeniable about how well you two worked together. the competition was only just starting, but you knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

the first round of the competition came fast, and before you knew it, you were on a bus heading to the host school. karasu was, predictably, half-asleep, headphones in, not giving a damn about anything around him. you, on the other hand, had your notes spread out, mentally prepping for everything that could possibly come your way.

“don’t stress yourself out too much,” karasu muttered, barely looking at you.

“i’m not stressing, i’m preparing.”

“same thing.”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring him as the bus ride continued.

the competition itself was intense. teams from other schools were sharp, quick, and focused. but you and karasu? you and karasu were in sync. somehow, you both managed to breeze through the challenges, with karasu handling the logic-heavy stuff and you focusing on the strategy and coordination. by the end of the day, you both made it to the next round without breaking a sweat.

after the round finished, everyone started to mingle. teams from other schools were chatting, laughing, comparing notes. you were in the middle of grabbing a drink when someone approached you.

“hey, you did really well out there.”

you turned to see a guy with bright eyes and a relaxed grin. he looked like he had come from one of the other schools.

“thanks,” you said, offering a small smile.

“i’m reo,” he introduced himself. “i was watching you during that last round. really impressive how you handled that problem so quickly.”

you shrugged. “it was nothing, really.”

reo laughed. “nah, i don’t think it was nothing. you’ve got some serious skills.”

just as you were about to respond, you felt the familiar weight of someone staring at you. you glanced over to see karasu, arms crossed, watching the interaction with a frown. he was doing that thing again where his expression was unreadable, but there was no hiding the annoyance in his eyes.

you raised an eyebrow. “what’s up with you?”

karasu didn’t say anything, just turned his head away, clearly irritated.

reo, not picking up on the tension, grinned again. “i’ll see you in the next round, yeah?”

“yeah, for sure,” you said, giving him a quick nod as he walked off.

you turned back to karasu, who was still scowling. “seriously, what’s your problem?”

“nothing,” he muttered, his gaze avoiding yours.

“uh-huh, sure.”

a few days later, it was time for the second round. this time, it was out of town, which meant overnight travel and staying in a hotel. you didn’t mind the idea of getting out of town, but what you didn’t expect was the room situation.

the team arrived at the hotel and was given room assignments. you looked at your paper and headed up to the room, your suitcase rolling behind you. when you opened the door, though, you froze.

karasu was standing there, looking just as confused as you.

“what the hell?” you said, staring at the bed.

in the middle of the room, there was only one single bed.

karasu blinked and then glanced at you with an eyebrow raised. “guess we’re roommates.”

you stared at him for a moment, trying to process this. “are you kidding me?”

“looks like the hotel made a mistake. either that, or they’re trying to see if we’ll kill each other.” he shrugged. “could be a test.”

“this isn’t funny,” you muttered, eyeing the bed. “there’s no way we’re both sleeping in this.”

karasu let out a small laugh. “we’ll figure something out. or, you know, you could just sleep on the floor. i’m not picky.”

“i am picky,” you snapped, already regretting every decision that led you to this moment. “i’m not sleeping on the floor.”

karasu chuckled, tossing his bag onto the bed. “guess we’re stuck here. might as well make the best of it.”

you shot him a glare, but it was already too late. this was going to be one hell of a trip.

“does the universe just want to see me suffer?” you muttered under your breath.

chapter 01 𐃘 chapter 02 𐃘 chapter 03

series MASTERLIST

taglist: @x3nafix @kaidostwin @dontmindtheevie @katzline @yzzxo @reyoony @aztec-ahuizotil @arlecchinoftl @elliehenry24 @dantwls @whosliu @midnight-drives-with-sunarin @fierceastheocean@chmeesecake@sindulgent666 @notmayseepetah @mo072806 @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @peachesvault @r1o0nly

[misssparklingpaws]

Shadow in the Flame

Chapter 26: I really like pastor and big bouquets.

The tower was silent, long past midnight. The kind of peace only found in the rare hours when the city stopped breathing so loudly.

Inside their suite, the lights were dim, the sofa was a warm cocoon of blankets, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla tea and lavender lotion. Bob sat with his back propped against a pillow, glasses low on his nose, fully absorbed in a book titled "What to Expect When Your Partner’s Growing a Human."

Aria lay sprawled across him like a cat, head on his thigh, watching an old black-and-white mystery movie on the tablet in front of her. One hand occasionally drifted to her barely-there bump, as if unconsciously checking on it.

“Did you know,” Bob said softly, turning a page, “that by twelve weeks the baby is the size of a lime?”

Aria hummed. “Then why do I feel like I’m carrying a watermelon?”

He smiled, resting one hand on her shoulder and gently brushing his thumb back and forth.

A few more minutes passed. The movie played on. Bob reached for his tea.

And then Aria moved.

Without warning, she shifted, slowly climbing into his lap and straddling him with quiet purpose.

Bob blinked, startled. “Uh—hi?”

She sat upright now, knees on either side of his hips, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Her bump, just beginning to make itself known, pressed softly into his abdomen. She wasn’t smiling, but there was something new in her eyes something awake.

“I’m hot,” she said simply.

“Yeah, you’re glowing, beautiful,” he said with heart eyes, heart already thudding.

“No, I mean, I’m horny” She leaned in, pressing her forehead against his. “I haven’t wanted anything for weeks. Not food. Not touch.” Her voice was low. “But now all I want  is you.” She said unfastened his sweatpants.

Bob’s hands slid instinctively to her tights. “Are you sure?”

Aria kissed his throat, slow, deep, deliberate. “Don’t make me second-guess it, Reynolds.”

He let out a breathless laugh. “Never.”

And just like that, his book was forgotten, the tea cooling beside them.

He held her gently, reverently, like she might shatter and burn him all at once. She wasn’t fragile, God, no, but he felt like the luckiest man alive to be wanted by her again, to feel the heat and steel of her love returned full force.

Aria threaded her fingers into his curls, and for the first time in weeks, her body felt like her own again.

Still changing. Still complicated. But hers.

And his.

Their kiss deepened, and in the quiet hum of their little corner of the world, nothing else mattered not the team, not the secrets, not the chaos waiting outside the door.

Just them, the baby between them, and the fire still burning.

And his.

---

Aria lay quietly on Bob’s chest, the low thrum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek steady and grounding. Her fingers traced absent shapes over his skin, slow and absentminded. The tower hummed with its usual late-night silence too many stories up for city noise to reach them. For once, no training, no missions. Just them.

She spoke without looking up. “I think I’m… maybe more like my father than I thought.”

Bob tilted his head just enough to glance at her, brows knitting in quiet concern.

“Stubborn. Obsessed with work. Emotionally avoidant. And now… an out-of-wedlock baby.” Her voice didn’t flinch. “I’m repeating a pattern.”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Wait, hold up. That’s not even fair. You’re way less of a public menace.”

She ignored that. “My firstborn’s a bastard, Bob.”

He stared at her, scandalized. “Okay, first of all, no. Don’t call our kid that.”

She propped herself on her elbow, giving him a look. “Bob. I’m not insulting them. I’m stating a fact. The term is accurate.”

“It’s medieval,” he grumbled. “You say it like you're giving them a birth certificate and a sword.”

“I would give them a sword,” she said calmly. “They’re a Stark.”

Bob threw a pillow at her. She caught it mid-air.

“You didn’t even asked me to be your girlfriend,” she added, like it had just occurred to her while dismantling his dignity.

“I—what?! I live with you.”

“Yeah. So did my dishwasher for three years. Doesn’t mean I dated it.”

Bob sat up a bit, wounded. “I thought when you let me move into your suite, that meant something.”

“It meant I was tired of you breaking your bed. And I needed you within arm’s reach in case you went full Void again in the hallway.”

“Wow. So romantic.”

She sighed. “I just realized… you never asked. And in my culture, my Mexican side,the guy’s supposed to ask the girl. Doesn’t matter if she can rewrite neural networks in her sleep. It’s tradition.”

Bob blinked. “Wait, the same culture where you eat mac and cheese out of a mug and call it breakfast?”

“I never said I’m traditional. I said I’m half Mexican,” she said, deadpan. “There’s a difference.”

He was quiet for a beat. “Okay… do you want me to be your boyfriend, Aria Stark?”

She looked at him like he just asked if she wanted lukewarm soup. “That sounded like a hostage negotiation.”

“Right, sorry. Uh…” He cleared his throat, trying again with a little more flair. “Aria Lucía Stark, genius, legend, scary but hot—will you be my girlfriend?”

She gave him a look.

“…Please?”

Now she smiled. Just a little. “Okay.”

He groaned and flopped back onto the bed, dragging her with him. “Fine. But I’m still putting my foot down about the terminology.”

“What terminology?”

“Our kid is not a bastard,” he mumbled. “They’re just… dramatically born to emotionally complex people who aren’t married yet.”

Aria smiled faintly. “That’s a long way to say ‘bastard.’”

Bob grabbed another pillow, ready to launch.

She grinned, grinned and rolled away before it hit. “I’ll be your girlfriend,” she said over her shoulder, already reaching for her tablet. “Just work on your delivery for next time. With flowers. And a mariachi band. And maybe don’t wear your sweatpants.”

“I like my sweatpants!”

“Our kid is already going to be born a Stark. Let’s not curse them with your fashion sense too.”

Bob groaned into the pillow. “I can’t believe I’m the normal one in this relationship.”

“Bob,” she said, not even looking up, “you glow.”

He did, in fact, glow.

---

The kitchen was already buzzing by 8 a.m. Yelena flipping protein pancakes like it was an Olympic event, John screaming at his toast for burning, and Bucky trying to pretend he wasn’t regretting every decision that brought him here.

Then Aria walked in.

She wore black leggings and one of Robert’s soft sweather, her hair up in a messy knot. Her skin had actual color, her eyes had slept, and, most shocking of all, her mouth curved just enough to be mistaken for something dangerously close to a smile.

“Good morning,” she said.

Everything stopped.

Yelena blinked, spatula mid-air. “She spoke.”

John dropped his toast.

Bucky turned from the coffee machine slowly, like he was checking for signs of a shapeshifter.

Behind her, Bob entered, curls still a little damp from the shower, lips tugged up in that lazy, sunshine grin he only wore after something very good had happened.

He looked… smug.

Aria looked smuggier.

Yelena leaned over to Bucky and whispered, “They definitely did it.”

Bucky didn’t even blink. “You think that’s what cracked her?”

“She said good morning. She hasn’t said that since she got here.”

“She growled once,” John offered, stunned. “That’s the closest I’ve heard.”

Aria calmly poured herself tea and hummed. Hummed.

Bob sat next to her like a man completely at peace with the universe.

Yelena narrowed her eyes, whispering now like a war strategist. “They’re hiding something.”

John whispered back, “You mean the pregnancy?”

Yelena scowled. “Obviously. But now they’re smug and having sex again. That’s another layer.”

Bucky sighed, sipping his coffee. “We’re doomed.”

Meanwhile, Aria took a bite of her toast, glanced at Bob, and whispered something that made him turn red and nearly choke on his coffee.

And for once, the chaos of the tower couldn’t touch them. Not yet.

---

After breakfast, Bob stayed in the kitchen, searching for support from his self-proclaimed sister Yelena Belova and her complicit partner, Ava.

Yelena finally spoke. “Let me get this straight. You live with her. You kiss her. You ‘sleep’ with her, and you haven’t actually asked her to be your girlfriend?”

Bob stopped mid-pace. “Technically, no. But also, yes. I mean, it’s complicated.”

Ava raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t be. Either you asked or you didn’t.”

“I thought moving into her suite kind of… counted,” Bob mumbled.

Yelena threw up her hands. “No! That counts as cohabitation, not a declaration. You skipped the whole romantic part.”

“I thought it was romantic!” Bob protested. “She let me organize her lab drawers. That’s trust!”

Ava gave him a look. “Bob, she also lets J.A.R.V.I.S. update her firewall. That doesn’t mean she’s dating the AI.”

“Okay, valid,” he muttered.

Yelena tilted her head. “Why now, though? Why the panic?”

Bob paused. Just a second too long. Then.

“No panic. Just… realized I want to do things the right way. For her. Culturally. Respectfully.”

Ava narrowed her eyes. “You sure there’s not… more to this?”

Bob gave them both the calmest, most unbothered smile he could manage. “I just want her to know I’m serious. That’s it. No secret mission. No hidden agenda. No… growing family units or anything like that.”

Yelena stared at him a moment longer, suspicious.

Ava shrugged. “Hmm. Okay. Fine. We’ll let it go. For now.”

Yelena nudged her. “But we will circle back if she starts glowing.”

Bob clapped his hands. “So! Can you help me?”

Yelena grinned. “Obviously. First of all: you need mariachis.”

Ava held up a hand. “Wait. Real or playlist?”

“Depends how dramatic you want to be,” Yelena said. “Aria is half Mexican. She’ll appreciate the effort.”

Bob wrote Mariachi?? in his notebook, underlining it twice. “Okay, what else?”

“Flowers. Big bouquet. Not corner-store sad roses. I mean statement flowers. Like she just won a Nobel and a grammy at the same time.”

“And tacos. Trust me. Emotional vulnerability goes down easier with pastor.”

Bob scribbled like his life depended on it. “This is gold. Thank you. I love you guys.”

Yelena smirked. “Save it for your girlfriend. If she says yes.”

“She already said yes,” Bob said, more certain than anything. “I just want to earn it.”

The girls exchanged a look part amused, part touched.

Ava raised her soda. “To Thunderbolts matchmaking.”

Yelena clinked hers. “And to not raising a nerdy demigod baby by accident.”

Bob froze. “What?”

Yelena smirked. “Nothing. Just a vibe.”

---

It starts too well. The terrace has been cleared, the city skyline glowing in the background, fairy lights strung across the edges. There’s a table with tacos (three kinds), an absurdly large bouquet of red flowers that looks like it should be given to a soap opera matriarch, and…

MARIACHIS.

Five of them. In full charro suits. Playing “Sabor a Mí”.

Aria walks out of the suite, expecting silence and maybe Bob with a bad playlist. She stops dead when she sees the scene and hears the trumpets.

Her eyes widen. Her jaw drops.

And then she just melts.

“Oh. My. God.” she gasps. “Are you kidding me?!”

She claps both hands to her mouth like she's trying to stay composed, but it’s too late. Her Mexican instincts override all Stark programming.

“¡Omg babyyyyy!” she says, genuinely delighted. “¿mariachis?!”

She starts tearing up and laughing at the same time. “You actually did the mariachis?!”

Bob, nervous in a button-up shirt he definitely did not know how to iron, steps forward with the bouquet and a sheepish grin. “I figured I should do it the right way. You know. Respect your heritage. And also your terrifying expectations.”

She puts a hand on her heart. “Bob. They have trumpets.”

“I noticed.”

“I can smell beef. Is that—”

“Tacos,” he confirms. “Three kinds. With lime. I YouTubed how to fold tortillas properly.”

She lets out a tiny happy scream, completely forgetting her usual flat, sharp-edged tone. Oh my God, you’re perfect!”

The mariachis finish their song. Bob clears his throat and hands her the flowers.

“Aria Lucía Stark,” he says, voice steady but nervous. “Will you officially be my girlfriend?”

She stares at him. Her face does something it rarely does: it lights up.

“You brought me a mariachi band,” she says in awe. “You made it a whole thing.”

“Was that a yes?”

She grabs the flowers, leans up, and kisses him hard.

“That’s a yes, Bob,” she breathes.

Just behind the open terrace doors, Yelena and Ava peek around the corner with popcorn and smug grins.

“Okay,” Yelena whispers. “She’s glowing.”

“She always glows when she’s emotionally compromised,” Ava whispers back. “It’s rare. Like a solar eclipse.”

“No,” Yelena narrows her eyes. “This is a different glow.”

On the terrace, Aria is now dancing with Bob awkwardly as the mariachis start playing again. She’s talking animatedly in Spanish, gesturing wildly with her free hand, half-laughing, half-crying.

Yelena squints. “You still don’t think she’s…”

“Pregnant?”

“Mmhmm.”

They both look at Aria again. She suddenly notices them.

“Stop spying chismosas!” Aria yells, “Go steal some tacos and mind your business!”

Ava and Yelena retreat, whispering.

“She didn’t deny it,” Yelena says.

“She never denies anything. She’s too smart for that.”

“I give it a week,” Yelena says. “Max.”

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Surprise Visit Pt 2 (Thor X Son!Reader)

Characters: Thor Odinson X Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: None

Pt 1

Request: Hi, I'm just finish Poco's udon world, and right of the batch I thought what if Poco is Thor's son, Poco has some of his feature too and I remember your fic Surprise Visit. Can you please do a Part 2 of it?🥺 reader is like Thor but he quite shy and always bring with books that his mother read before bed they bonding by activities together Thor bring him to Asgard to meet his grandparents Loki read them books, tell them stories, show and teach them magic (Harry Potter) with Freyaa and all fluff❤

The first few days after finally meeting your dad had been awkward to say the least. You were spending almost every waking moment either with him, or your uncle. You had expected that Loki would be a lot more awkward with you- or straight up wouldn’t like you from the get go, but it ended up being kind of the opposite. Thor had been a bit too eager from the get go to play the fatherly role, and you found it unnerving, and when Thor realised that (with help from Clint and Steve pointing it out for him) he backed up and started to just try and get to know you, your interests, your dislikes, and take things a little slower. Loki, on the other hand, was nowhere near as pushy, gave you space, and didn’t force conversation on to you. Eventually though, you ended up finding something to bond with Loki over; Books. 

You had been interested in the books he read, even if you couldn’t read the language, and worked up the courage to ask him about it, and after an explanation, he asked what kind of books you liked, and it was a start of an actual long and meaningful conversation. Loki took that, and hinted that Thor should look into those books. The next day, Thor showed up to your room with a pile of books in his arms and a grin on his face. 

Things since then had got a lot better between you and your dad. Instead of forcing it, or acting the part for the sake of it, Thor had naturally fallen into the father role that made it a comfortable change for you. Thor had little interest in books, but you had the ritual with him now of him buying a book for you, you read it, and after every chapter, you give him a rundown of what happened in detail, and you’d discuss it. You’d opened up a bit with him over the weeks, about what your life was like growing up with mum, holidays, key memories for you, and the rituals you two had- including reading books before bed together, which was where your love for books came from. Thor soon got you some of the books you mentioned, so you could do it with him. You got into a nice rhythm of living with and being around your dad and uncle, to the point where you were expecting it when an advancement was suggested. 

“How do you feel about going to Asgard with Loki and I, tomorrow?” Thor asked, as you were tidying up after another late night discussion about a book you had been reading- this one actually a recommendation from your Uncle Loki. You stopped what you were doing, and looked over at Thor, who waited patiently. 

“Uh… sure. Okay.” You agreed hesitantly, and immediately his face lit up. You had long guessed this conversation would happen, so you had time to prepare for it, though you knew that was actually impossible. What could prepare you for going to the land of gods- where you know you didn’t belong, even if Thor was your father? “Do… Do they know about me?” You asked cautiously. 

“Of course!” He immediately answered. “As soon as I returned to Agard after we met, I told mother and father about you, and my friends! I wanted to tell the entire kingdom, but mother- your grandmother, insisted we wait till you met them all first before telling the rest of Asgard. Freya, your grandmother, is the most eager to meet you.” He gushed to you. You’d heard a lot about your grandparents through both Thor and Loki. Admittedly, Thor was the only one who talked about Odin, and while Loki didn’t talk much about them, when he did, it was always about Freya, about how she was also a bit of a bookworm, and how she taught him magic.

You got up early the next morning, mostly due to struggling to sleep from the anticipation, and you didn’t have to wait for either your dad or uncle to be ready either, though you couldn’t tell if it was due to excitement or nerves, or maybe they were both feeling those things- your dad the excitement, and Loki the nerves. It didn’t help that your dad was a raving optimist, and your uncle was a pessimist, so you couldn’t tell who was feeling the right way, so you just adopted a bit of each of their emotions. Cautiously excited.

You honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when you actually got there, or even the process of getting there in the first place, but as soon as you left the Bifrost, you were in awe. Sure, they had told you all about Asguard- the rainbow path that led to it, the great kingdom, the beauty of it all, but none of that was in comparison to what you were actually seeing. You remained in stunned silence the entire walk up the bridge, actually entering into Asguard, past the several hundred people who came to welcome them back and ask about you, up until your father actually called for you, after seeing you distracted by something else further away. You turned, seeing several people stood with your father and uncle, looking at you smiling. “Y/N, these are my friends, Fandrall, Hogun, Volstagg, and Sif.” Your father introduced you.

“So this is the little prince?” Sif questioned with a smile. 

“Little? Thor, you said he was a boy! Give it a few years and he’ll be ready to be king!” Volstagg laughed, though the mention of such a role made you look at Loki quickly, and then your dad. 

“He is a boy! The very idea of being king is still a long way away- you make it sound like he’ll outlive me.” Thor defended. 

“Speaking of Kings.” Loki spoke up, placing  hand on Thor’s shoulder. 

“Right! Haven’t had the chance to introduce him to the rest of his family. We’ll pick this up later, promise.” Thor told them motioning you over, and guiding you deeper into the kingdom, down several expansive corridors, before you turned a corner, and spotted a group of women talking in the hallway ahead, and your father and uncle stopped. “Loki, stay here with Y/N.” Thor requested, before going towards the group, and you looked up at Loki confused, who patted you on the shoulder. You watched as your father approached the group, made some small talk, before all the women except one left down another hallway, and Thor stepped to the side, motioning the woman towards you and Loki, and you realised who she must be. Freya. Your grandmother. 

As soon as she saw you properly, she smiled warmly, hands clasped and pressed against her chest with excitement, and any fear you had- fear of not being liked, or not meeting their standards, of being a disappointment, being looked down on for being half human- it all faded. You could feel the love and acceptance radiating off the woman as she reached out her hands, and took your own. “Y/N, words cannot describe the absolute joy I feel to finally be in your presence finally after all of Thor’s descriptions.” Freya told you, gently squeezing your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile too. 

“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you too from dad and uncle Loki.” You told her, and her smile grew, before she pulled you closer and wrapped an arm around you. 

“Thor- Loki, go tell your father that you’re here with Y/N- I’ll give Y/N a tour of the palace- we’ll be in the library when you’re done. We have a lot to talk about.” Freya decided, already walking away with you, and you didn’t fight it, leaving with her. 

Thor and Loki did as ordered, finding their father, letting them know they’d also brought you, and after a bit of back and forth questioning where exactly you were, and Loki explaining their mother had already stolen you away herself, and Odin simply sighed, and got up to follow his sons to head to the Library. 

By the time they met back up with you and Freya, you and her were already getting along like a house on fire- she’d asked about your mother, her health, your childhood, her own expieriences that related when raising Thor and Loki, and when she heard about your little tradition with Thor with books, she picked out a book for you to take home to read, and to keep. You felt comfortable enough with her to ask about Loki and Odin’s relationship, the comment Thor’s friends made about being King one day and how you weren’t big on the idea, and also how according to how your dad and Loki talked about Odin, you were much more worried about meeting him than her. Freya had answers your questions, reassured you of your worries, and promised Odin would be on his best behaviour, and she helped your first meeting with Odin a lot from the get go. 

As soon as Freya saw her husband, she stood first, smiling. “Odin, thank you for joining us. I was just about to ask Y/N if they’d like a private family dinner. What do you think?” Freya asked him, wrapping an arm around you again, and you smiled nervously at your grandfather, who was a lot more intimidating than you had anticipated. Odin didn’t talk at first, stepping a little closer, and you panicked internally, not knowing what to do, if you were supposed to do something- but Freya had kept her arm around you, gently rubbing your arm in reassurance. 

“That can certainly be arranged. It’ll let us get to know our grandson. Thor, will you come with me to make the arrangements?” He asked, of his oldest, who nodded. “See you at dinner, Y/N.” He told you, before making his leave, Thor smiling at you, before following after him. 

“In the meantime.” Freya spoke up once the two were quite a distance away. “Y/N, want to learn some magic?” She asked. 

“Mother, I don’t know about that…” Loki fussed. 

“Just beginning spells, nothing serious… we’ll save that for later. Maybe you could mentor Y/N as well when back on Midgard.” She suggested, and you realised that maybe, just maybe… Loki got some of his mischief from his mother. 

“Am I able to do magic? Since I’m half human?” You questioned. 

“I believe so, it’s worth a try. You coming Loki?” Freya questioned her son, who simply sighed, and followed after, deciding to be apart of his mother’s antics, knowing that Thor might lose his mind when he finds out about this. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my Gif

TAGS: @insanityismysanity12345 @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[phillystrega]

To Be Gorgeous, To Be Seen 2/5

Yes the chapter count went up. I accidentally wrote two responses for this weeks prompt. I don’t want to talk about it.

Part One | Part Two on AO3 or below the cut

Buck didn’t fully know what to expect from the LAFD Queer Committee meeting, but he definitely didn’t think they’d spend as much time talking about practical work things as they did. He went in thinking he’d meet a few more people like him, embrace his own identity a bit more, and he ended the night stacking folding chairs and contemplating adding Tommy as his emergency contact to his HR paperwork.

“I don’t know why, I guess I assumed we’d have to get married first,” Buck admitted. And then at Hen’s shark-like grin he quickly added, “not that we’re ready for that. Right now.”

“Right, sure,” Hen said, shaking her head. “Yeah the policy was changed before gay marriage became legal. And you know, some gay people never want to get married, so…”

Buck frowned at that and stopped in his tracks, chairs dangling from each hand. “They don’t?”

Hen smiled that devious smile again and called out to a slender man towards the front of the room who was busy packing up a snack tray. “Hey, Sanchez, give Buck your anti-marriage speech.”

Sanchez looked up from his veggies and rolled his eyes. “Really, Wilson?”

“I just love it so much,” Hen said. “Especially when you gave the ten minute version at Gwen and Mary’s bridal shower.”

“I will never live that down,” Sanchez muttered darkly before turning his attention to Buck and delivering a speech he’d clearly practiced and delivered multiple times. “A marriage is validation of my relationship from a state that has literally never once cared if queer people live or die, why on earth would I want it. To save on taxes? I’m a civil servant, I didn’t get into this for the money. My boyfriend knows how I feel, we tell each other when we sleep with other people and we’re both on Prep. It works for us, and I, for one, don’t trust his taste in rings.”

“Huh,” Buck said. “Uh. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Sanchez said and then sighed again. “Look, the best thing about being queer is we don’t have to do what straight people do, we’re allowed to make up our own thing.”

“Yeah, that…” Buck nodded. “I get that.”

Sanchez abandoned his veggie tray entirely at that point and walked over to Buck. “Okay baby gay, where’s your phone?”

Hen started cackling behind them and Buck, not sure what to say and still holding multiple folding chairs in each hand, nodded towards his back pocket. Before he totally knew what was happening Sanchez was reaching in, pulling his phone out, holding it up to Buck’s face to get it to open up and swiping away.

“Wow, no scruff, no grindr, not even a tinder to be found,” Sanchez said, tsking. “Well that’s easily corrected.”

He walked off with Buck’s phone and Buck was left, still holding the folding chairs, not sure exactly what was happening. He turned to Hen, who was still laughing and said, “what?”

“He’ll give it back,” Hen said, waving a hand. “But if you haven’t had some very specific conversations with Tommy, you may wanna delete those later.”

Buck remained confused until he was gifted his phone back by Sanchez, along with a ziploc baggie of crudite, and discovered there’d been five new apps added. Buck smiled, shook his head, put his phone away and forgot all about it until he was at Tommy’s for dinner later.

Buck had connected his phone to Tommy’s bluetooth speakers and was playing some random playlist full of mellow background music while the two of them prepped for dinner when suddenly the music was interrupted by a swooping, chirping noise.

“Don’t know what that was,” Buck said, glancing back at his phone, confused. The confusion grew when he looked at his boyfriend and saw that Tommy was leaning heavily against the kitchen counter, shaking with laughter.

“Evan,” Tommy managed to say finally between giggles. “Did you download grindr?”

“What! No!” Buck looked from Tommy to his phone and back again and suddenly remembered Sanchez. “Well, okay, technically. Sort of. I didn’t download it but someone at the Queer LAFD thing tonight may have…put it on there.”

Tommy laughed again. “It was Mike Sanchez wasn’t it?”

“You know him?”

Tommy shook his head. “Yeah, he’s great. He’s just, you know, a bit of a flirt.”

Evan squinted at Tommy. “Is that, like, polite midwestern talk for ‘he fucks a lot’ or…?”

“Maybe,” Tommy admitted and Evan mentally added it to his ‘Iowa nice to English’ dictionary.

“I was going to delete them,” Buck said quickly. “But then I got distracted double checking I had all the ingredients for this recipe, and, you know…”

“Evan, it’s okay,” Tommy said. “I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” Buck said slowly, squinting at Tommy like this was some kind of weird fake out.

“I mean, we should probably talk about this, but I’m not mad,” Tommy said.

“Do you have grindr on your phone,” Buck asked as it suddenly occurred to him that this could be the case.

“No,” Tommy said definitively. “But I got a little burned out on the whole app experience, I haven’t really gone back in a while.”

“I’ve only tried online dating for straight people but that…also wasn’t great,” Buck offered, shrugging.

“Yeah, gay online dating is…in some ways the same, in other ways, just, not.” Tommy shrugged. “Some people really get something out of it. It helped me a little bit, in the beginning, right after I came out.” Tommy chuckled a little bit and then said, “but in those days I wasn’t doing so much online dating as…online cruising?”

“Got it,” Evan said, nodding. “That was your, uh, casual hook up phase.”

“My phone had so many dick pics in it,” Tommy said, sounding mildly haunted by his past and those dicks and Evan started giggling uncontrollably, he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, okay, I really…don’t think I need strangers sending me photos of their dicks,” Evan managed to get out between laughs.

“I’m surprised you didn’t look into the app thing,” Tommy admitted with a shrug. “You’ve done so much other research…”

“Well I’m not looking for other dicks, I just wanna see yours,” Buck said. “Wait, I mean–”

“That was so sweet but so weird all at the same time,” Tommy said, grinning. Then he leaned over and turned the oven off, which told Buck this was probably going to be a longer conversation than either of them originally budgeted for. “You know I’d get it, though, right?” And when Buck just stared at him in response Tommy added, “ If you decided you DID want to see some…other dicks?”

“Like…dating?” Buck frowned. They’d already had the talk about being exclusive. Buck swore they were on the same page there, but maybe he was wrong. He began to panic just a little, remembered he was supposed to be preparing fries for dinner and blindly grabbed a potato.

“No,” Tommy said quickly and Buck breathed out a small sigh of relief while bringing his knife down too hard. He’d planned for neatly sized oven fries, but potato wedges would do in a pinch, he thought to himself semi-hysterically.

“I’m not interested in being poly or anything,” Tommy said. “ I just want to date you, but if you ever want to have sex with other people…” Tommy trailed off and shrugged.

Buck laughed awkwardly and wondered how they got here. Next Committee meeting he was throwing crudite at Sanchez’s head. “I, uh. Yeah. I think I get that. I just. I’m enjoying this. With you. And just you. Right now. I don’t super feel the need to, like…bring anyone else into this.”

“Okay,” Tommy said in that tone he got sometimes that suggested Buck had only engaged with half of the conversation. “I feel the same way,” he said firmly, “but I just…I want to make sure you know. If you did ever want to…have some fun. With some other people–”

“Not just dicks, whole people now.”

“–it wouldn’t be a deal breaker,” Tommy finished, and he had his ‘singularly focused’ face on that Buck found so hot in the bedroom and oddly discomfiting now. “Okay?”

Buck sighed, put the knife down on the cutting board, and turned towards his boyfriend. He wasn’t prepared for the earnestness that was evident on Tommy’s face. He looked a little nervous himself, but like he was having this conversation for Buck’s benefit, so Buck knew his options, and suddenly Buck dropped his anxieties about this being some weird trap or prelude to being dumped and actually, properly, considered the idea.

“Okay, so,” Buck said slowly, allowing himself to shift from mild panic to daydreaming mode. “Let’s…say we’re at a club. And some guy comes up. Asks to suck my dick.” He brought his hands up to rest on Tommy’s chest, his fingers idly drifting along the seams of Tommy’s shirt as they curved down his shoulders. “You’d be okay with that.”

Tommy made a show of humming and considering the hypothetical. “This guy.”

“Yeah.”

“He just wants to suck your dick?”

“Yeah,” Buck felt himself go a little breathless at the idea. “Maybe in one of those backrooms or something. One and done.”

Tommy tipped his head forward to rest against Buck’s. “Hmm, could I watch?”

Buck couldn’t control the way his hips tilted up into Tommy’s if he tried. He grinned, a little devilishly. “Maybe.”

“Then yeah, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Again,” Tommy said with a little laugh. “He just wants to suck your dick?”

“Right.”

“Then we’re good.”

Tommy’s hands creeped down into the back pockets of Buck’s jeans and Buck felt himself practically go limp in Tommy’s hold, which Buck would feel mildly embarrassed about if he had enough brain cells to be able to dedicate to feeling anything else right now other than totally overwhelmed, in a good way, by his boyfriend.

“Sometimes sex is just sex and if you wanna have that with other people that’d be okay,” Tommy said before slipping one of his hands out of Buck’s back pocket to press two fingers to Buck’s chin, tilting his head up just a bit so their eyes could meet. The slight tremble of his fingers gave away his nervousness, but he powered through, saying in one breath, “I want to be the one you build a life with.”

Buck wasn’t sure what happened next, but it felt like his whole chest hiccupped in response and he was suddenly breathless. “Oh my god,” he muttered. “Why is that suddenly the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me?”

Tommy laughed again and the best way Buck could think to shut him up was to kiss him.

[tojiluv]

EYES DON'T LIE — choso kamo [chapter nine]

description: in which a girl unwittingly becomes involved with a handsome stranger in a club, oblivious to his true identity of being in a famous boyband… OR in which you and Choso must conceal your secret meetings from your friends and his bandmates, especially from his younger brother and your best friend, Yuji.

warnings: nsfw near the end. sexual tension. choso’s a flirt.

notes: last chapter for now as i will be taking a break for my exams for a week or two. i'll update again if i have time but please be patient and wait for the comeback lol.

You didn’t even attempt to get off at your stop; instead, you waited for the next one to come by before realizing you were heading to his and Yuji’s home with an anxious heart. Still clad in your work uniform, you made it up the steps with a boost of confidence, only to crumble at the sight of the front door.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you hesitated to ring the doorbell. You knew Yuji wasn’t home today; he had informed you over text that he was watching a late-night basketball game with Toge and Megumi.

You kept pacing, your purse swinging against your side with each agitated step, thoughts swirling in your head about how to approach this. What if he didn't want to see you? What if your theory about his confession was wrong? What if he rejected your attempts?

But before you could overthink it any further, you took a deep breath and rang the bell.

A few seconds passed, and you found yourself second-guessing your decision. “Fuck, this was a bad idea. I should go —”

Before you could even attempt to bolt, the door swung open, revealing Choso standing on the other side... shirtless, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"Hey," He said, his voice soft and welcoming. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Uh, Yuji’s not home —"

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of how to begin, struggling to keep your eyes from wandering to his naked chest. "Uh, I know. I’m actually here to see you… can I come in?" You confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Choso’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting that, before nodding quickly to let you in. Stepping into the home, you felt your anxiety ease slightly as the atmosphere was always cozy and inviting. The comforting scent of incense filled the air, and the soft glow of the television in the living room added to the peaceful ambiance, always welcoming you.

"Take a seat. Uh, let me go grab a shirt," He murmured, realizing he wasn't dressed properly in front of a lady, before rushing back to his room.

You nodded and sat on the couch, wringing your hands together as you tried to gather your thoughts. A few seconds later, Choso came down the stairs, this time wearing a gray sweater. You felt a tiny bit disappointed, but his presence beside you was calming and reassuring for some odd reason.

He cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting slightly. “Do you want anything to eat or drink…?”

You shook your head, a small smile present on your lips from his offer. “I’m okay, thank you though.”

Choso nodded, his gaze flickering around the room for a bit before taking a seat on the couch beside you, his eyes back on you as he waited for your reason for showing up.

Shit, this is a bit awkward, you cried inwardly.

“I’m sorry for coming here unannounced. I didn’t have your number, and Yuji told me you would be home today… so yeah,” You rambled a bit, your voice trembling slightly from the nerves.

Choso looked at you, concern evident in his expression. “I understand. What's on your mind?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to reveal. “It’s about that interview… the one your group did yesterday,” You began, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I watched it last night. I didn’t really expect you guys to show up randomly on my TV.”

You let out an airy laugh, the nerves kicking in much harder as you rambled. However, Choso let out a small chuckle at your joke, helping to ease the tension.

You continued, “I don’t know if I’m overthinking it but… what you said about the future girls of your dreams,”

He listened quietly, his expression unreadable in your eyes. 

“Was that about… me?” You felt somewhat embarrassed asking him this. “I—I mean like, uh, you know —“

Choso reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and comforting. You slightly flinched at the familiar coldness of his hands enveloping yours, glancing down as you grappled with your true feelings for the man in front of you. Was it desire or something else?

“If that’s what you’re asking, then, yes, it was,” Choso confirmed, observing your face heat up at his direct tone.

I was right then… But why?

Seeking reassurance from his comforting touch, you gathered the confidence needed to be more direct. It was now or never.

“So, about that and never forgetting that moment… why did you say that on live television?” You didn’t quite grasp that part; why confess something so personal and than swiftly change the subject?

Choso rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand, his eyes flickering between yours with a palpable tension.

“I know you’d come that way,” He stated, his desire for you evident in his expression.

Your mouth parted, caught off guard by his response, especially his indication of wanting something more. Yet, deep down, you understood. The tension between you had been palpable, evident whenever your eyes met or during natural conversations like the one in the kitchen a few days prior. However, you couldn't comprehend how he could be okay with this, knowing that you were Yuji’s best friend.

Choso waited patiently for your response, sensing the conflict within you. He didn’t want to pressure you; instead, he simply wanted to express how he felt, true to the promise you both made not to hide anything.

He sighed. "I know this may be too much, especially given the circumstances we're under. I just thought you should know... but I understand the promise we made,"

“I don’t regret it.”

You tightened your grip around his hand, lifting your head to convey the depth of emotions stirred by his words. Choso looked puzzled, unsure of your intentions.

"The night of the party, you said you didn’t regret it even after knowing who I was… I feel the same way,” You confessed, glancing down at your intertwined hands.

“I just didn’t know if it was right to admit that too, especially knowing that I was keeping this secret from Yuji. But no matter how many times I try to push it away… I’ve been feeling different about what happened between us.”

You pushed past the boundary you both promised not to break, unable to retract the words you'd been struggling to admit. Quickly turning your head to focus on the television channel, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his intense gaze any longer, feeling shy after your confession.

But earlier, you had told yourself to move on from this, yet now you were doing the opposite.

Suddenly, two fingers gently pressed underneath your chin, tilting your head upward to meet his eyes once more. This time, you could see a hint of yearning in his gaze, causing your body to feel much warmer than before.

Choso tilted his head, studying your features intently as your lips parted, the minimal distance between you now barely existent. You caught the sly glance he made at your parted lips before he returned his focus to your eyes, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

"Tell me what you want," He voiced, his fingers still holding your face to ensure you wouldn’t look away from him again.

You gulped quietly, the sound of the television fading into the background as your beating heart became the only thing you could hear. The way he was speaking to you was causing you to fumble over what was right and wrong, and right now, what you both were instigating definitely went against what your mind was shouting.

Yet, despite the internal conflict, your body leaned further into his touch.

What do I truly desire?

“I—” Another glance was made towards the movement of licking your lips. You could feel the distance decreasing with each passing second as you spoke, your breathing erratic and your heart beating faster than you thought it could handle.

“I want you, Choso.”

His eyes darkened, humming with interest. "Do you?"

"Yes," You breathed out, the words barely audible in the tense air.

You could feel his breath against your lips, your mind blanking on what could happen if you just moved a bit closer. Your body was pushing for the lust and desire of what you craved, yet your mind stayed focused on the first task you wanted to handle.

"I just don't want to lose my friendship with Yuji," You admitted, ensuring that you both understood the potential consequences your actions could cause if you were caught.

"You won't," Choso stated firmly, squeezing your hand reassuringly with the other. "Your friendship with Yuji is strong, and it can withstand anything. And as for us... well, whatever happens, I'll be here to help."

You knew what this meant and quickly agreed to it inwardly, your body's needs overpowering your subconscious. Leaning closer to him, you placed a hand on his thigh as you both stared at each other with the same craving.

"Then tell me, what do you want?" You asked sensually, your eyes heavy-lidded as you raised a hand higher to place it against his chest, just like the first time.

The priorities of Yuji and the promises made earlier were no longer a concern for either of you. Instead, you both focused on the matter at hand, anticipation causing your thighs to press together.

Choso's eyes narrowed, his skin flaring up from the way you stared at him with such need through your seductive eyes, your body flush against his. Unable to resist any longer, he gave in to your temptations.

“I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you again, pretty girl.”

Your body burning from his lewd words, morals thrown out the door, you leaned up higher and smashed your lips against his. All signs and chances of pushing him away faded from your mind as you focused on the feeling of his wet lips molded against your own.

The kiss poured out the bottled-up passion and thirst you both held in since you laid eyes upon one another weeks ago, each longing to recreate those moments of ecstasy you experienced. His lips hungrily kissed yours, his hands lowering to grip your waist with tension before pushing you to sit on his lap. You could already feel his excitement growing underneath your uniform skirt, your underwear pressed against his bulge as the clothes were the only thing blocking any further contact.

Kissing each other deeply, you both parted to catch your breath, heavy breathing mixing between the two of you for a few seconds. Then, he moved again to kiss you even harder than before, not allowing the chance for second thoughts on the decision you both made to linger.

You retracted your earlier words, succumbing to the allure of his burning touch. You never wanted this feeling to end, despite the secrecy of it all, as you found yourself once again engaging in a forbidden affair with your best friend's brother. Unlike the first time, you didn't have an excuse for this encounter.

As his hands slid underneath your shirt to reveal your bra, the front door opened loudly, and a voice rang throughout the house, causing both of you to immediately part lips. Eyes widened and hearts dropped as you recognized who it was.

"Big bro, I’m home!" came the familiar voice, shattering the intimate moment and filling the room with unease.

Yuji was home.

⇽ chapter eight | chapter ten ⇾

© 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐯 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[luvsymai]

FAKE BOYFRIEND; Shoto Todoroki

CHAPTER 8: PARTNER, YOU’RE ADORABLE

Genre: Romance, fluff

Warnings: none

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___________________________________

“Good morning!” was what greeted you once you entered the classroom.

When you stepped foot into the lively classroom, you felt like someone was watching you. It was Todoroki, he was eyeing you but you ignored it as you replied to Mina, who greeted you.

You smiled at her and she returned the gesture. You strolled past her and sat on your seat, making yourself comfortable.

You felt someone touch your shoulders blade, to which you looked back, being met with heterochromatic eyes.

“Good morning.”

Your lips parted slightly, not quite expecting the greeting to come from him. Once you got to your senses, you smiled sweetly and greeted him back.

“Good morning!”

Certainly, it was a good morning for you.

After a few minutes had passed, Aizawa-sensei came into the classroom to take attendance.

“For today’s task, I will be grouping you up into pairs and the two of you must photograph scenarios that are pleasing to the eyes. Deadline will be by next week. Be as creative as you can with your output.” Aizawa-sensei explained, looking at us lazily.

“How will we be paired up, sensei?” Iida asked.

“Well… just be paired with the person sitting behind you.” He replied, to which you automatically turned behind even though you already knew who was sitting behind you.

Todoroki stared back at you which made you awkwardly smile at him as you faced forward.

“If there are no more questions to be entertained, then I’ll be going now.”

Since no one asked anymore questions, Aizawa-sensei left the classroom. Just like the speed of light, everyone started talking to their partners. You, included.

You faced Todoroki, who was writing down notes in his notebook. You coughed purposely to get his attention, to which you succeeded as he looked up at you.

“So… I guess you’re my partner now?” You asked, and he looked at you, lost.

“Aren’t we already?” Your brows furrowed in confusion at what he said.

“What do you mean? Aizawa-sensei just announced the pairings not long ago.”

He looked enlightened at what you said, apologising. “Ah, my bad. Sorry, I thought you meant partners as in lovers.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to contain your smile but failed. You let out a small chuckle at what he confessed. He looked puzzled at your reaction, titling his head slightly to the side.

“Sorry, did I offend you?” He asked, concern written all over his face.

“No, not at all, Todoroki! In fact, I found you adorable. It’s fine, I swear!” You waved your hands profusely to show that you were not offended at all.

“Ah, is that so? Then, that’s good to know…” He replied.

The topic changed and the two of you started to discuss what you’ll do for the task.

“When are you free?” He asked.

“I’m free anytime. How about you?” You hummed, resting your palm on your chin.

“Hmm… does Friday sound good to you?”

“That’s fine with me. Friday it is, then?”

“Friday it is,” He nodded. “By the way… can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean when you said you found me adorable?” He asked, curiosity in his eyes.

You almost choked on air, not expecting him to ask that. “Oh, uh… Your reaction was adorable…”

You decided to say the truth— well, half the truth, that is. Technically you weren’t lying, it was true. You found his reaction to be cute, but he himself was adorable, too.

He nodded to himself at what you said. “Oh, is that so?” You nodded, and he continued. “Then, can I say something?”

You gestured for him to go on, which he did.

“I find you adorable. Very, very much, too.”

Your eyes widened at what he said, stunned.

Before you could react or reply, the teacher entered the classroom, leaving you a blushing mess as your back faced him.

If you had paid more attention to his facial expressions, you would’ve noticed the way his lips curled upwards a bit.

(A/N) Hello!! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I just wanted to say that i’m very sorry for not updating for a long time. My mental health hasn’t been the best, and i had no motivation to do anything. I apologise. I’ve gotten way better, so i’ll make sure to finish this series! —Mai

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Taglist: @eempxth @1ovesiick @meikoo @serxndipity-ipity-blog @visual-freak @h3artz4soph @flvr4ane @whoisgami @poemzcheng @epicaimsey @blurryperrtymoonlight @kiromiix

[darknight3904]

Every Breath You Take

Chapter Fourteen- The Red Arm Chair

Summary: Tucked away in Lincoln, Joel watches over you from the comfort of a red armchair. Together, you bond over late-night reading

Warnings for this part: Canon typical violence, themes, language, gore, and horror.

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / The Last of Us Masterlist

Spoilers for the first few chapters of Game of Thrones by GRRM.

2019 Lincoln, Boston 

Bill and Frank’s home was quite possibly your favorite place to be. Sure, the food was great, so was the conversation, but the real star of the show was upstairs; the shower was 95% of the reason you made the ten-mile hike out here. Hot water, real hot, not shitty QZ hot, plus a pretty porcelain tub that sparkled when the sun hit it. Much better than the dismal standup shower that was in your apartment back in the QZ. 

You were careful with the hot water privileges, turning it off when you were shampooing and letting your conditioner soak, and of course, making sure the faucet handles were correctly shut off when you were done, lest you encounter the wrath of Bill. 

The beds were a plus too, soft and always smelling like happiness. You towel dried your hair, sitting at the foot of your bed as you appreciated the softness of the rug beneath you. You’re beat, the long walk here was made even worse by the pouring rain that had forced you, Tess, and Joel to take cover for an hour while it passed over. The soft knock of a hand at your door has you turning. 

Joel pushes the door open, his own hair damp, slicked back to his head. 

“Hey.” He grunts 

“Hey.” You greet 

The two of you stare at each other, as if he’s forgotten why he’s here. 

“You uh, just wanted to check if you were doin’ okay,” He says, “You have everything you need?” 

“Yup, all good…just like always.” You say, reminding him you’d been here many times, enough that Frank made sure your favorite sheets were on the bed each time you showed up. 

“Right.” Joel nods, staring at you like he doesn’t know what to do next, his hands resting on his hips.

“Do you have everything you need?” You ask stupidly, like you’d have the courage to ask Bill for anything Joel might want. 

“Uh, yeah. M’ good.” Joel nods, like he’s trying to convince himself instead of you 

Silence falls over the two of you as you stare at each other. He’s got more grey hairs than you realized, it makes sense he’s nearly 51, birthday just a few months away. You make a mental note to scrounge up some form of present for him. 

“Did you need something?” You ask 

“No…” Joel says, “What uh were you gonna do with your night?” 

“Well, after I’m done drying my hair off, I was gonna read, Frank lent me this book.” You say, gesturing to the book that sits tangled between your turned-down sheets 

Joel nods, fiddling with his fingers like he’s nervous about something, “Could I uh…do you mind if I sit in here? I won’t bother you or nothin’ got my own book actually.” 

Joel holds up a well-worn copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. 

“Yeah, that's fine.” You say, “Is that armchair fine or did you wanna share the bed?” 

Joel settles into the plush red armchair that sits next to the bed, “M’ fine here, you can have your bed to yourself.” 

The two of you sit in silence for twenty minutes, each of you reading your own books. At one point, you look up from yours, taking a break from Dany and her strange brother Viserys, only to find Joel already looking at you. 

“Are you even reading?” You ask breathily, not expecting his eyes to already be on you 

“Can’t focus.” Joel sheepishly admits, “Got alot on m’ mind I guess.” 

“Is it Tess?” You blurt out accidentally. Fuck you hadn’t meant to do that. Shit now he was probably gonna shut down, give you a glare and stalk off to do Joel things somewhere else. 

Joel gives you a look before suddenly speaking, “Yeah, it is actually.”

“I thought things seemed off between the two of you the past few weeks.” You admit, “Kinda hard to ignore you sleeping on the couch now.” 

Joel gives you a pity chuckle, “Yeah, we ain’t gettin’ along the way we used to.”

He just means they’re not fucking anymore. At least theres less of a chance of you coming home to the two of them fucking over the kitchen table again, after that incident you hadn’t been able to look either of them in the eye for a week. It’s been four months, and you still shudder thinking about it. 

“You don’t gotta worry though, business s’ stayin’ the same. Can’t fuck up a good thing over stupid shit that don’t matter. We all need cards, so nothing's changing. 

You nod slowly, trying to discern the look on his face. Joel was always a hard one to read. It wasn't always like this but since Sarah you never knew what he was thinking. Thinking quickly you decide to change the subject, catching him off guard. 

“How’s Narnia?” 

“Honestly, I haven’t read a single word.” Joel admits sheepishly, he nods to your book in your lap, “How’s uh, Game of Thrones.” 

“Pretty good. These sibling dynamics are kinda odd though.” You admit 

Joel nods, kicking his feet up on the side of your bed, sock clad feet standing out against the light blue blankets, “Read it to me.” 

Normally you’d tell a person asking you to read to fuck off. They could pick the book up themselves and read it on their own. But, this wasn’t just anyone, this was Joel Miller. Stick up his ass, I hate the world, Joel Miller. God only knows when you’d get a chance like this again so you turn the page and start reading all about Daenerys Targaryen and the Dothraki. 

The next time you open your eyes, your book is gone from your lap, pillows propped up under your head and blankets up to your chin. Snores that aren’t your own fill the room. For a moment it feels like Tommy has reappeared, turning on your side you half expect him to be in bed with you. Instead, Joel Miller is slumped in the armchair beside you, head lolled to the side, mouth open as he sleeps and snores away. His arms are tucked across his chest, making his biceps look bigger as your eyes scan his sleeping form. He looks peaceful like this, dark hair messy atop his head, curls falling over his forehead. Sporadic freckles line his face, something you’ve never seen before; they’re probably from the many hours he spent in the sun as a contractor. Tommy had them too. In a certain light he’s actually kinda handsome, if you’re into the total hardass grump vibe. 

Joel scares the shit out of you when his eyes fly open and he jumps back. 

“Shit.” You gasp, staring at him with wide eyes.

He glares at you, like you shouldn’t have even been looking at him in the first place. 

Joel glances around like he can’t remember how he got to where he was. He surveys the room like you’re keeping him captive. Standing up briskly her mumbles something about the bathroom before disappearing into the suite. You heave a sigh, there goes whatever touching moment the two of you had last night. 

You meet Frank downstairs, the scent of eggs and bacon wafting out of the kitchen while Bill’s music plays from the player they keep on the kitchen counter. 

“You slept in.” He greets, pushing a steaming mug of coffee towards you 

“Stayed up late reading that book.” You say, “Fell asleep partway through King Robert’s arrival at Winterfell though.” 

“Oh, is that the only reason you were up late?” He smiles 

“Uh, yeah.” You blink at him unsure of what he’s trying to say 

The day is filled with boring yard work. Bill needs help with a section of the fence so he and Joel are off, digging holes and rolling out wire while you and Tess help Frank with the gardening and the chickens. 

Frank can’t do as much anymore; whatever he was sick with was weakening his limbs. Instead, he did the easier stuff, verbally directing you and Tess when it was needed. You’re pretty sure the reason Bill is working on the fence is because he knows they’re vulnerable like this. Most of 

the time it was just the two of them here, and with one of them slowly losing mobility, they were prime targets for raiders. 

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Joel and Bill argue about one of the fence posts, both of them pointing and tossing their arms up in the air, god, they were such old men. You kneel in the dirt, pulling carrots up and placing them in the wheelbarrow beside you. 

“So, you talkin’ to Tommy still?” Frank asks 

“Not much.” You say 

“He upset you?” Frank asks 

You roll your eyes, you know exactly what game he’s playing, asking about you and Tommy like he’s captain of your relationship or lack of with the younger Miller brother. 

“No we just, we’re done y’know. I mean it’s nice to know he’s alive and all but I don’t need an update every time he radios, that’s Joel’s thing anyway.” You shrug 

Frank lets out a huff, tossing his shovel down. 

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Tess asks, concerned at the way the older man’s brow pinches together, a deep frown on his face, “Should I get Bill?” 

“No, no. No pain. I just thought you two would get married. Could’ve had some ceremony here in Lincoln. Was hopin’ you’d pop a kid out I could chase around while my legs still work.” Frank sighs 

Ah, there it was, honesty from your favorite Lincoln resident. 

“Yeah well…shit happens. Fireflies ruined any chance of that.” You say, squirming at the thought of marrying Tommy.

 It was an idea you used to entertain, especially after you realized how long the two of you had been together. Instead, you’d watched him pack his stuff and leave, off to try to save a broken world that couldn’t be fixed. 

The rest of the day goes by in a haze. You work in the garden, help Frank into the patio so he can paint for a bit, then you and Tess feed the chickens and shovel an immense amount of shit. Seriously they were so small, how did they poop that much? Bill must have been slacking, letting it all build up for you to clean up. 

Before you know it, you’re freshly showered again, legs tucked under the blankets as you read to Joel, who sits in the red armchair, a dark green t-shirt with grey sweats to match. Water drips from his hair to his shoulders, the shirt deepening in color as he looks at you. 

“Hold the phone.” Joel stops you, “Ain’t they siblings?” 

You skim the page, “Uh yeah, twins actually.” 

“And they’re fucking…in an abandoned tower?” Joel’s eyebrows look like they’re about to shoot off his forehead 

“Yeah…I guess so.” You say, eyes taking another glance at what you’re reading about Jamie and Cersei Lannister. 

“Jesus.” Joel grunts 

“Yeah, they could probably use some of that…” You joke

Joel doesn’t give you a reaction beyond shaking his head and crossing his arms across his chest, “Keep goin’.” 

You continue, voice filling the quiet as Bran is confronted by Sir Jamie. Needless to say you and Joel are both shocked when Jamie tosses Bran from the tower. 

“Well shit, I think that’s overkill.” You grumble, turning the page to find Tyrion’s name at the top of the page. Oh great, more Lannisters, hopefully this one’s better than the incesterous twins. 

Joel puts his hand up, stopping you before you can even start. He stands up slowly, approaching the window with quiet steps before inching the curtains apart. 

“Is something out there?” You whisper, shutting the book slowly 

Joel is squinting into the night, his hand still raised as his back is towards you. Then, all at once he’s spinning around and getting in your face. 

“Get your gun and knife. You stay here, stay hidden and quiet, lock the door after me, and turn the lights off.” Joel orders 

“I can handle infected, Joel.” You whisper, standing up and grabbing your gun from the dresser, “Have a million times before

“It ain’t infected,” Joel says sternly, turning on his heel.

Joel disappears down the steps, quiet as a mouse as he goes off to grab his own gun and probably Bill who has access to the whole armory you know is beneath the house. He can deny it all he wants, you know he’s got enough guns for a small army down there. 

You think about locking the door, listening to Joel and sitting in the closet til’ he comes back for you. But then, Frank crosses your mind. Defenseless Frank who takes muscle relaxers before bed so he can sleep at night. He’s the most vulnerable here right now, not you. 

You tiptoe down the steps, gun ready and safety off. Joel, Bill and Tess are nowhere to be seen and the house is dark and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Down the hall is Bill and Frank’s room, you don’t even get the chance to knock before it inches open, Frank peering at you through a space of two inches. 

“You should be upstairs.” He whispers, pulling you into the room. 

Frank sits in a wheelchair, his eyes droopy and tired as he meets your eyes. 

“And who would protect your drug riddled ass?” You ask, motioning to his entire body.

“Fair point. Lock the door.” 

You and Frank hover in the corner of the room, the moonlight being your only source of light as you try to urge Frank into the closet. He insists on staying out here with you, behind the bed, gun pointed at the door. You're pretty sure he doesn’t have the reaction time to shoot anything right now. At least you knew all the damn pills you helped Joel and Tess with worked. 

The sound of creaking floorboards fill your ears, pushing Frank behind you, you keep your eye on the door, gun raised high. The knob jiggles for a second, a grunt from the other side, then a deep voice. 

“Why don’t you c’mon out? Make it easy on me?” 

You almost scoff but then you remember Joel’s line about shutting the fuck up. Perhaps he’ll think no one's in here, that this is just some locked-up room. 

The door flies off its hinges faster than you can process. A huge man stalks into the room, his gun firing before yours does. 

“Motherfucker!” You yell, falling to the ground as a bullet makes its home in your upper thigh, tears spring to your face as you grit your teeth, trying to shoot back to keep Frank safe. 

“An old man and a pretty girl. Must be my lucky day.” The intruder comments 

You can’t see much of him, dark clothes, a baseball hat on his head, bushy black beard, wild unhinged eyes. Whoever he is, he has awful plans for you and Frank. Your gun has disappeared under the bed, it’d flown out of your hands when you went to cradle your now injured leg. Blood oozes steadily onto the carpet as you grunt in pain. 

The man walks over, easily knocking the gun from Frank’s hand, cursing the pills now wishing they’d been placebos and that Frank would get his ass out of that chair and save you both. 

The sound of gunshots fill the air, followed by yelling. 

“Three people out there to defend all this?” He scoffs, “You were all askin’ to be attacked.” 

You’re hauled to your feet, a gasp leaving your lips as your leg burns, warm blood covering your shoes. You’re barely able to balance on your good leg, eyes darting around for a way out of this

“Is she your kid? You look old enough man.” The stranger addresses Frank 

“Let her go, take me instead.” Frank offers desperately from his chair

The man scoffs, “I’m not gonna fuck an old man who can’t fucking walk. Sides’ I ain’t a fucking fag.” 

The man’s rough hands turn you around, pulling his gun out from his holster. Grabbing your hands, he wraps them around the gun and then covers your hands with his bigger ones. He turns his head to you, bending down to whisper in your ear as his warm breath makes you squirm. 

“First you’re going to kill him, then you’ll lay down on the bed and be really good to me.” 

You shiver, scared out of your mind as you shake your head, “No.” 

A mean laugh tumbles from his lips, his hand landing on your uninjured leg, roughly slapping the wound, laughing at your pained grasp, “Go ahead, fight it, don't think you’re gonna be goin’ anywhere, shot ya’ real good.” 

He presses his lips to your neck as you twist in his grip wildly, trying to shove his body off you. Frank is yelling something, trying to get this to all stop. 

The man, breaks away from you for a moment, “Shut the fuck up old man and I won’t kill her when I’m done.” 

He cranes his neck to glare at Frank who falls silent, lips gaping as he’s torn between continuing to beg or hoping that the stranger keeps his word about keeping you alive. You  stare up at him and then you see it, soft flesh that pokes out from his dark clothes. His fucking neck. 

Your assaulter dips back down but before he can get close to your  face again, you lunge up, meeting him in the middle, sinking your teeth into his neck. You bite down, hard. A loud yelp leaves the man above you as you gather all your strength, using your good leg and arms you shove him off, gritting your teeth as you do and forcefully turning your head to the side. 

A loud thump sounds as blood covers your face. You’re blinded as you spit out the flesh you took from him. You stumble, landing on what feels like the bed as your hands scramble around your face and out in front of you. 

“Frank?! Frank?!” You call, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, unsure if he’s entire unharmed

“Here, I’m here.” Frank’s voice soothes you as you try to wipe your eyes clean 

A big hand cradles your face as you flinch, “It's me, it’s just me.” Frank whispers  

Frank wipes your eyes clean with what you can only presume is the bedsheets, “We’re safe, don’t worry.” 

When the metallic haze is gone from your eyes, you look down at the floor and at the still twitching body of your attacker. A hand is raised to his neck as he tries to keep his blood in from the gaping hole you’d created. He doesn’t even reach for his gun that sits on his belt, obviously too scared of dying as he wheezes, trying to get words out. 

The sound of footsteps as you sliding off the bed, a whimper leaving your lips as your leg continues to bleed. You scoop your gun out from under the bed, fixing it on the door, this time you’ll shoot first. 

But, instead of another raider, Joel enters, face sweaty and clothes bloody. Behind him is Bill and Tess, both of them equally dirty. 

“Joel…”You murmur, lowering your gun as your hands fall to your leg, holding it as your face scrunches up 

Joel glances at you and then the dead man. Probably putting two and two together as he looks at your face. You probably look terrifying right now. Bill flips the light switch, rushing to Frank’s side, a thousand questions on his lips. 

“Joel. She’s-” Tess’s voice fills your ears as you slowly blink. It feels like someone's stuffed cotton in your ears as you look at your bloody leg. Oh right, that’s a problem isn’t it? 

“Shit.” Joel’s deep voice fills your ears, he must be looking at your leg.

Joel eases you into the ground before ripping his belt off, “Bill, Bill we need medical supplies, now!” 

The last thing you see is Joel staring over you, his voice telling you it’s all going to be okay. Then, his belt wraps around your leg, and blinding pain fills your senses, overloading them one by one.

Next Part

This was barely edited...sorry for any typos.

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