#and both of them would actually go ‘what the actual fuck are you doing’ when they see me put a bowl of cereal in the freezer at night

[neostellarjpg]

inner mono-dialogue

the more time i spend being davepeta with you the more i realize almost every single problem in my life was caused by my obsession with being this unfeeling cool dude

but youre cool already

like in the way that actually matters

youre chill and friendly and just nice and thats all there is to it

youre shamelessly yourself even if everybody around you is a jackass and gives you shit for it

youre similar to jade and john in that way

i really envied that about them

but its different actually being at the control panel and feeling where that earnesty comes from

it makes me wanna match your energy and keep that pawsitivity ball rolling even if it ends up being weird or cringe or whatever

fuck man do you know how exhausting it is building yourself social hoops to leap through all the time and when you trip up even once its suddenly the end of the world

what kinda dumbass does that its like dealing with life in hard mode for no reward

fuck that noise

i like your way better

Nepeta's heart burns and shines inside you.

:33 < thank you :))

:33 < but you know

:33 < i dont think doing things your way is unrewarding

:33 < its like

:33 < a shield!

Dave scrunches up with discomfort.

X33 < i dont mean that in an insulting way!

:33 < the fact is that shields are just purractical sometimes

:33 < it doesnt make you cowardly to hide behind one

:33 < in the same way that it isnt cowardly for a predator to hide in the bushes when stalking prey

:33 < its just a way to make sure you dont get hurt!

:33 < purrsonally i found shields too cumbersome

X33 < im a hunter after all!

:33 < and i guess maybe the same goes for my personality

:33 < its not really that im purrticularly brave for being myself

:33 < i just didnt have a say in the matter in the furst place!

:33 < honestly if i had a choice i would have loved to be more like you dave

:33 < you can befriend people almost effortlessly

:33 < and its beclaws youre also just a nice person

Dave recoils in surprise, but Nepeta passionately pushes forward.

:33 < fur real! i f33l it inside you! theres a really strong sense of empathy there

:33 < its just like mine! just smarter, and a bit more analytical

:33 < whenever we encounter someone mew, its like i f33l you lock onto them, and you gather so many insights into their purrsonality without even trying

:33 < and you can use that to bond with others without giving every part of you away

:33 < which unfortunately

:(( < i never really knew how to do

Nepeta sours with unpleasant feelings. Your brows scrunch together with both pain and sympathy.

Nepeta has a big and complex heart. She tried her best to keep it from spilling over, but it always did in the end. And it was embarrassing. It was embarrassing when your friends dismissed your hobbies or focused in on your strange quirks. It was embarrassing when they revealed they knew about your crush on Karkat that you'd worked so hard to hide. And it hurt whenever he would say mean things about you. He and anyone else.

But you always puffed out your chest and sucked it up. You stuck to your guns no matter what. Because it was fun! The things you liked, the people you liked, were fun, and they made you feel good. Why couldn't anyone else see that? And why did it seem like they never gave a single thought to who you were?

You curl in on yourself. Your chest hurts. You suddenly really miss Equius.

And you miss Rose. You miss Jade. You miss John and Karkat and Aradia and Tavros and Terezi and all the others. You miss all the people you can go outside and see whenever you wish, and you miss all the people that you have no hope of ever seeing again. You feel the choral echo of all the times you've ever felt this need for comfort, this thrumming pain searing hot inside you, like hunger wracking your stomach.

You clench your teeth. You remember being on your bed, curled in blankets, not having eaten a proper meal in days. You remember holding your stomach and sneaking to the kitchen, turning your shoulder at every step to look fearfully behind you, only for your fingers to falter hopelessly on the handle of the refrigerator, knowing there was nothing for you inside.

You shake with anger. You know that feeling. The feeling of being chased by something much bigger than you, a hulking silhouette of menacing strength following your scent through the thicket. You'd clutched a beast carcass to your chest, barely breathing as you stalked clumsily through the trees, performance wavering from exhaustion and hunger.

You'd almost died. You'd almost died often. And then after escaping death so many times, it one day claimed you. Casually. Unflinchingly. And the world beat on without you, leaving you stunned by your own insignificance. You'd looked out onto every preceding moment of your life, wondering if there was anything to truly be proud of in the face of your friends accomplishing all these fantastical things. You'd felt lonely before, but after that, you were truly walled off from every single person you knew.

And now, despite everything, you're alive again. Twofold, together with someone.

A warmth coats the ache inside your body. The two parts of you swirl together, feeling and tasting each other, trying to understand themselves.

It feels like a hug.

[alchemistc]

Part One

Oh, I've got plenty to be thankful for

I've got eyes to see with

Ears to hear with

Arms to hug with

Lips to kiss with

Someone to adore

-bing crosby

He keeps waiting for someone to say something. To accuse him of lingering where he doesn't belong, or remind him he'd never actually made it all the way in. To tell him to go home, maybe get a halfhearted promise to let him know how Buck is at some point.

Maddie lays an exhausted head on his shoulder and Bobby sneaks him a slice of pumpkin pie he's apparently been hiding in the tote at his feet. Hen tosses him a power bank with a lightning cord and Karen makes a joke about his holiday attire.

When the coffee comes, Howie takes the trip to the lobby with him, pulls out his wallet and does his damnedest to strong arm Tommy into letting him tip the haggard looking girl another twenty bucks on top of the fifty Tommy'd figured was appropriate for having to balance a literal stack of hot beverages from the parking lot on Thanksgiving. She eyes them both with a smile and Tommy is more compelled the grab the drink carriers from her tired arms than stop Howie.

They're halfway back when Howie purposely slows his pace, and Tommy fights the urge to pick his up and avoid whatever's coming down on him. "So. Was this the wake up call you needed, or can I expect Buck to order a freezer on a Black Friday deal for my garage to store more baked goods?"

He doesn't know what that means.

He can extrapolate, though. "He's been baking?"

"Tommy, I cannot stress enough exactly how much he's been baking."

He'd tried his hand at a few things here and there, but Tommy's used to experimental chef Evan Buckley, not baking Evan Buckley. To be fair, if he'd seen Evan working a KitchenAid, apron tied loose and flour on a cheekbone, Tommy doubts he'd have actually had the time to finish whatever he had planned. That was then, of course.

"What was he doing on that trail, Howie?" That, too, he could maybe extrapolate. He doesn't want to, but he could.

Howie eyes him. Uses his free arm to elbow Tommy in the ribs. "You were the first person he ever invited to a 118 Thanksgiving, you know. My guess? He wasn't in the mood to be reminded of it while there was no room in the oven to bake away his feelings."

Yeah.

Jax had been over the moon when Tommy offered to take his shift, no trades necessary. What would the point have been, when Christmas and New Year's would be unbooked too?

Evan had bribed like six different people to ensure they'd be able to swing dinner on the day. Hobbes had sounded so thrilled to hear Tommy asking for the time off that he'd approved it without even looking at the shift.

"I'm just warning you in advance. The grovelling process is gonna involve eating your weight in loaves, most likely."

And that's that, apparently. No heavy handed warnings, no suspicion about why Tommy hasn't fucked off yet. Like it's some foregone conclusion that Tommy's not gonna panic and bolt a second time. Nothing has changed, yet Tommy gets the feeling they're all expecting some tearful reunion and a return to TommyandBuck.

Tommy slips the tea into Maddie's hands and watches her sniff it in distaste, which is an interesting nugget he'll have to revisit later if -

If.

There's no guarantees, here. That Tommy will be able to articulate how fucking terrified he is, that Evan will understand it. That the two of them will find a way through it together. All he has to go on is a solo hike on a day Evan should have been with family, an apparent bakery full of feelings spread between the 118, and the quiet calm that had washed over him when Eddie prompted him to make a decision.

Feet to the fire, he'd stayed.

---

Maddie's pregnant. It hits him between the eyes right around hour three of sit-and-wait. He's not an idiot, or a fool, and he hasn't spoken to any of these people in weeks so he's not going to announce it to the world, but somewhere in between the sporadic naps on Tommy's shoulder and the way she is attempting (failing) to power through her now cold tea makes him think. She and Bobby had driven here, and it's clear everyone else had been indulging. Maddie's no lush, but he's seen her knock back half a bottle of wine before when she's got nowhere to be.

She excuses herself to the bathroom for a third time, looking a little green, and Tommy ends up locked in a staring contest with Howie that only ends when Tommy mimes zipping his lips.

He still hasn't gotten the story about Eddie and why he's not here.

Bobby and Athena are apparently closing in on a new house.

Howie is less than a year away from having a second kid.

Athena's kids are apparently at Howie and Maddie's, attempting to keep Mara and Jee from destroying the house in the absence of adults.

And Tommy wants.

Wanting has never really been the problem, though. Wanting is the easy part. Wanting doesn't get him over the hurdle of knowing he's not enough. For Evan, for this family he's built that just keeps growing bigger and bigger. It'd been a relief, those first few days after, not to have to wonder which member of the 118 would land in the hospital next, not to have to rearrange something else on his schedule because Evan was convinced he was cursed, or Eddie'd had another shitty call with Christopher.

The relief hadn't lasted. A week in, he'd stayed up all night demolishing the half-bath off his dining room, because he'd been putting it off for months and he'd nearly texted Evan something that was startlingly revealing and left him exposed on all sides. Two weeks in he'd finished grouting the backsplash in his kitchen. And in between, he wondered how Eddie was doing, if he'd made any progress with his son. He'd wondered if Maddie enjoyed the bottle of wine they'd brought back from a spur of the moment trip to Napa. He'd wondered how Nash was doing, if he was readjusting to having his crew and his station back. He wondered how Hen and Karen were, how many things Denny had already gotten stuck in his cast trying to ease an itch.

He'd wondered, and he'd sat in it, and then he'd rewired the shoddy work an electrician had done in his spare room that he kept telling himself he'd get around to.

The wanting never goes away. He just finds new places to put it when he starts to care too much.

"Kinard and Buckley?"

Maddie's still in the restroom. Tommy - has no fucking clue why the nurse is staring at them like they'll just materialize the right people. She sucks in her lips and gives him a dead eyed stare before her eyes dart to his chest. More specifically, the nameplate on his chest.

Tommy blinks.

---

The having is where he's always floundered. Things are temporary. People are temporary. He's always been borrowing. Borrowing time, attention, affection.

For a few months there, he'd really started to think he could handle the having. That he'd get to keep it.

---

"I'm Buckley, he's Kinard," Maddie says from somewhere over his left shoulder, and he turns in time to see her adjusting her jacket, wiping at her lip. She stabilizes, looking unfazed, and stands tall. As tall as she can, at least. "You have news about my brother?"

The nurse glances around the room. No one is bothering to pretend not to be listening. Maddie hovers a wave behind her.

"Ignore the audience, we're all waiting with bated breath to see how obnoxious my brothers going to be. It depends entirely on whether or not he gets pie tonight."

She gives them all a disapproving look. This must not be one of their normal nurses.

Christ. They have normal nurses.

"Well, no pie tonight, but he should be able to eat a sandwich in the morning."

He's fine. He's fine.

Tommy knew going in that most of his injuries were superficial. The ribs had been a concern but with the pain meds and the collar he hadn't really had a chance to exacerbate those injuries. There's no reason he should feel quite so relieved to know that Evan will have a few annoying splints to work around and he'll probably need to rehab his ankle for a couple weeks once it's healed. The concussion isn't ideal, and he'll need help for a few days, but he's fine.

Tommy can feel the tears building.

"He'll likely be out for a few more hours, but I'll let you know when he's set up in a room. Two visitors at a time," she warns. "The concussion will effect his response time. Don't be surprised if he doesn't remember much, loses his train of thought."

Hen shifts somewhere behind him. It feels a bit like she's being held back from correcting the nurse about the normal side effects.

Things move on around him. The nurse leaves, Hen passes a Stanley cup around that definitely isn't filled with water, the normal sigh of relief is released while Maddie drops into the seat next to him with a groan, the team has a strange competition around him to battle for visitor position.

Tommy breathes.

I should go, Tommy thinks to himself, as half the people in the room raise their phones.

His own phone vibrates against his thigh.

A message from Howie, time stamped two minutes - Tommy squints to make sure - two minutes ago, an update on Evan. Another from Eddie reminding them all to give Buck a patent Eddie look from him while they were giving him shit. A selfie of Eddie, with Christopher somewhat reluctantly bending into the picture over his shoulder.

In another thread, he's got three messages from Eddie.

If I have to remove you from this group I'm sending my kid after you with his crutches.

You guys hiked Griffith Park for your Not-A-One-Month-Anniversary-We-Swear date, right?

Send Buck my love. Not like that, though.

Tommy sends back: When the fuck did he add me to his emergency contacts? and then decides he doesn't want to know anyway so he turns off his phone.

---

Maddie goes alone, and Tommy spends the time alternating between tapping his foot against the tile to distraction, and clamping his hand over his knee in an attempt to stop the tapping.

Bobby and Athena go next, then Hen and Karen. Then they're pulling on jackets and promising to save a plate for Buck.

Howie slips away for a few minutes and then returns, looking amused. "You think everyone else got the same greeting?" he asks his wife, who grins tiredly at him, pats his wrist. Her gaze turns to Tommy.

"Should we stay?"

That's a trap of a question. That's an assumption Tommy doesn't have a clue how to handle. He clears his throat. Shakes a few curls loose.

"What makes you think he'd want me to?"

Maddie's perfected the unimpressed eyebrow. It must be a parent thing.

Tommy barely holds in the sigh. "Go enjoy your meal."

---

Evan's been watching the door. It's clear the moment Tommy makes it to the threshold - he presses up, winces, tips sideways just enough to peek around the corner.

"Tommy," he says, and his expression melts.

Tommy's heard some iteration of that name a million times. Tom, from his dad. Tommy, fond and quiet from his mother, who'd never really learned how to speak up before she was gone. Thomas, in school, from teachers annoyed that he wouldn't just apply himself.

He was Kinard, to teammates, then fellow soldiers, to the firefighters he'd worked alongside for a decade before he ever let any of them know him.

No one says his name with quite so much reverence as Evan Buckley. He's convinced himself, over the last few weeks, that he'd been hearing adulation in that tone. But now it just sounds...relieved. Happy.

Evan slumps back and tries to cross his arms in a pout. There are too many cords and wires attached to him for it to work. "I'm pretty sure I'm mad at you," he says, and Tommy steps over the threshold.

---

Hobbes sounds fucking thrilled to find out he's going to be down a pilot for five days.

Evan throws a fit when he finds out Tommy's plan is to sleep on his own couch for the short duration of Evan's stay. Evan wins the proceeding argument and doesn't even complain that Tommy hadn't argued too hard

Bobby brings over enough leftovers to keep them in turkey sandwiches for a week, and Tommy doesn't think to ask how he got Tommy's address.

Tommy breathes. Tommy thinks. Once Evan can hold a train of thought for more than five minutes, Tommy talks.

Evan listens.

---

"So no Christmas," Evan pouts, and Tommy wants to bite it. "And no New Year's."

Tommy shifts a hand over his shoulder, tucks his chin over top of it so he can't see the pout anymore. "We were both already working those anyway."

"Do people do anything to celebrate Presidents Day?"

"Evan."

"Tommy," Evan mocks, and pulls far enough away to catch his gaze. "In the interest of transparency that was mostly a cover so I didn't ask about Valentine's Day."

"Is this you not asking about Valentine's Day?"

His smile is deceptively sweet. "I need help with my sandwich."

Tommy's seen him balancing a glass of water, his phone, two books and a takeout bag in his one good hand. He's absolutely full of shit.

Tommy leans forward to grab the sandwich off Evan's plate for him.

---

"You should stay," Tommy says, an hour after midnight two days into the new year. He's tipsy on his second glass of cheap champagne and he can't think of a reason to keep this in, anymore. Evan crinkles a brow at him.

"I... wasn't planning to go?"

There's a gold crown perched in his curls, and Tommy still hasn't taken the cheap plastic 2025 glasses off. The house is quiet, and there'd been shockingly few fires started by fireworks this year, so he's less tired than he'd expected to be.

"I meant -." Tommy starts, and then pauses. "I meant permanently. You should live here."

Evan laughs. Takes a bite out of his cake, and rolls his eyes, and then...stops. His entire body stills. "What."

It's ridiculous. The very thing that had pushed Tommy up out of his seat just a few months ago, sent him out the loft door with wet eyes and a heaviness in his heart.

"Tommy," Evan prompts, and Tommy catches the hand frozen on the countertop. He'd planned to hold this back, wait until something significant or poignant. But Evan had baked them a red velvet cake and argued with him the entire drive back from dinner about the proper way to fold a towel, and Tommy's tired of denying this isn't everything he's refused to let himself want for decades.

"You don't have to say yes just to confirm you're not breaking up with me," he tries to joke, and it falls flat.

"Tommy," Evan murmurs, quieter but more insistent.

"I'm serious. I want you here. I want -."

"Yes," Evan says, and squeezes his hand before he ducks his head bashfully. "Sorry. Continue."

"I want a life with you." The tears tickle at the back of his throat. He's gonna fucking cry, again. He'd always fucking known opening himself up to this was just an invitation for more tears in his life.

He can't quite convince himself the rest doesn't make them worth it.

"Yes. Again. Tommy, of course." He tips his chin. Purses his lips. "If you're sure."

Tommy swallows down the lump in his throat. He's never been more sure or more terrified of anything in his life. So he tells him so.

The words are like knives, but he works his way through the soreness, fights up past the fear that he's not sure will ever completely go away, and claws past the reminder that it's been a blink of an eye since Tommy walked out on this.

"Well. You can't walk out of your own house," Evan points out when he's finished, and of all things, it's that that snaps the tension of for once in his life prioritizing something other than fucking survival. He tips a grin, curls his elbow to bring their entwined hands to his lips. "It's gonna take years to coordinate another Thanksgiving with everyone," he bemoans, looking suspiciously watery-eyed himself as he holds Tommy's own wet gaze.

Tommy can extrapolate from that.

[datschaos]

I wanna add that this... This goes for ANYTHING. Not just sexuality.

Religion? Absolutely. Political views? Definitely. Their personal anything? Yeah.

If someone tells you "Hey, doing x would make me feel safer and doing y would actually do something very negative to me and possibly even put me in direct harm's way financially, physically, emotionally, or all of the above. So maybe don't, please."

then if you're a good friend, you make the effort to fuckin' respect that boundary. Even if you don't understand it, get it. Even if they do not explain WHY they need this thing for their comfort/safety.

If you aren't comfortable with doing so for whatever reason under the sun you have, because your own needs are important to.... Tell the person privately. So they know that's how you feel, and you're going to avoid that situation and don't want to be in it. And then realize in yourself, perhaps you simply cannot make the choices that would allow you to mesh with X individual, and move on. The alternative is doing the above (directly ignoring their boundary line and crossing it), and then having that person *force* you out of their lives when they eventually, or immediately, move to protect themselves as well they should.

I just about died when I had a very good family member name one of my *other* friends as a witch to someone visiting our house. That word alone has such a hot-button trigger it's LITERALLY dangerous to tell some people; some people genuinely don't care what the truth is, they've decided that it means x thing and they're going to attack x thing because they think that's What To Do.

And frankly... in the wrong crowds, -any- religious / spiritual / whatever label can be dangerous.

I quickly explained to them, please don't just like. Randomly oust my friend's spirituality because it's literally dangerous for some people to know, and in fact members of her own immediate sphere she *literally cannot* avoid, would be VERY dangerous to know this shit. Like. Would actually factually try to hurt my friend in ways you can't get arrested for but fuck would it hurt her so, so, so deeply.

(My family member / guest both had no idea and were very pleasant about Not Doing That Again and fortunately it was all okay, but man, i was so glad i'd been there or it could have been Very Bad if they kept telling other people and it got out to the wrong person)

So yeah. Don't. Share other people's personal information without their permission. Err on the side of caution.

btw it's like. extremely inappropriate to go up to random strangers IRL and say you think they're gay/trans/queer/etc. it's not funny, it's terrifying and a huge overstep of boundaries

[insidekatmind]

nsfw alphabet of jobe bellingham

Request: done

Wearning: +18,smut, english is not my first language

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jobe is so sweet. He will take care of you immediately and always apologize for fear that he has gone too far but you will reassure him that it was perfect.

Jobe will fill you with sweet kisses and caresses

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jobe loves your beautiful face and smile that always helped him when he was sad.

He also loves your butt and boobs, in fact he can’t do at least to admire your body especially when you wear something tight.

He loves his smile because you once told him that his smile always made you feel good. He also loves his hair because he loves when you stroke him and scratch or pull them for a joke

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes to come inside you and in your mouth

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to fuck in his car

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has not much experience: you were his first time but both you are misunderstand what you like and what you do not like together. But he sure makes you feel very good

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves it when you are on top of him and you ride his cock so he can look at you, nibble your neck, suck your nipples and put his hands on your hips to guide you with the movements and especially love your expressions.

J = Jack off (handjob headcanon)

He doesn’t do it often since you started having sex

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

loves dirty words and especially loves when you praise him saying that it is making you feel good

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

in his bed, on his sofa, in your bed and especially in his car

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The intense kisses or when you provoke it

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that could actually hurt you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes to get blowjobs but also loves to eat your pussy

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

At first when you started having sex it was always sweet and slow for fear that it would hurt you but then you assured him that everything would be fine and then he began to fuck you harder and rough

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She loves quickies especially if you do them before leaving home

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t like to take risks: he will definitely give you a kiss, touch your thigh but he would be too afraid to fuck in a public place because they might find out.

But he loves to have sex in his car in a safe place where no one would come or in a dark parking lot where no one would see you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He lasts long enough

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He likes to groan and grunt especially when you give him a blow job

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Long and big enough to make you enjoy

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 2: support our son

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm still trying to figure out what app/site to make the texts on so if anyone has a good suggestion please help please i'm struggling

previous | masterlist | next

You used to come over to Jay’s place nearly every other day. But it had been two weeks, and you were nowhere to be seen. It was to the point that Heeseung, Jake and Sunghoon began asking if you would ever come over again, to which Jay was forced to answer that you were probably hanging out with Huening Kai. He didn’t know your actual whereabouts most of the time, but he guessed. Which made him internally cringe every time.

What he disliked the most, however, was his incessant urge to text you whenever the smallest inconvenient thing happened in his day. He was sure you would very likely reply, but he was scared of what it would be like now that the dynamic of your relationship changed. It should probably be the same, but what if your voice over text changed because now you were seeing someone else?

Jay wasn’t fond of the idea in the slightest. Did you even really like Huening Kai? Who the fuck was he to take you away from Jay? (Yet you weren’t his to begin with.) He missed you, but he could hardly voice it out to himself, let alone you.

The day he nearly killed a man on the spot was when he saw you and Huening Kai walking side by side on campus. It wasn’t just that, actually, because the two of you were holding hands, and you were laughing about something Kai had said. It was even worse because he was clearly walking you to class — a class that you shared with Jay. So you were bound to cross paths, and no matter how hard Jay tried to slow his pace down, you still managed to notice him.

“Oh, hey, Jay!” you called him over with a smile on your face. It was brighter than he remembered, and he couldn’t figure out if it was just his brain playing tricks, or whether you were genuinely happier than he had ever seen you before. “You know Kai, right?” you asked innocently, but it only brought back Jay’s anger from the Sanctuary Café.

Heeseung just wanted to take Jay out to an open mic. Neither of them knew that it would also be the day of your first date with Huening Kai. Jay hated every second of being there, but to you, it must’ve been an unforgettable night.

“And Kai, this is Jay,” you said with a smile, pointing at him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Kai stretched out his hand forward, but the gaze with which he beheld Jay told him that he knew everything about you and Jay. That you gave him every single gory detail of what had been going on before the two of you began dating, and that made Jay even more furious. Because he refused to acknowledge any other emotion he felt.

He ignored the tightness in his chest as he shook Kai’s hand with a nod. “I’ve heard nothing about you,” Jay replied, not lying, because he genuinely knew nothing about Kai besides the few pieces of gossip and what Heeseung divulged some time ago. Kai wasn’t surprised by that information at all. You hadn’t told Jay anything about him either.

“We have to get to class, but I’ll see you later, yeah?” You looked at Kai with such admiration in your eyes that Jay wanted to step between the both of you and push Kai out of the way. But he couldn’t do it. All he could do was stand and watch and constantly clench and unclench his fists.

“Yeah, of course,” Kai replied, bending down to kiss your temple, but you grabbed the collar of his band tee and brought his mouth down to your lips. Kai let out an involuntary giggle as it happened, and Jay had to abruptly turn away, incapable of not rolling his eyes.

“Bye,” you mumbled quietly, a soft smile decorating your lips.

“Band practice starts at five.”

“I know, Kai,” you laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be there. We need to support our son.”

Jay furrowed his brows, but with Kai’s knowing grin and playful roll of his eyes, neither of you was going to elaborate on what you actually mean.

Your son?

And yet that was the first thing Jay asked about once Kai was finally leaving you alone, his back turned to the two of you. “Your son? The fuck happened in the last two weeks?”

You chuckled at Jay’s confusion, an amused look brightening up your features. “Yujin’s still in high school,” you said, shaking your head. “The keyboardist. If you remember him. He’s actually just started his second year.”

“So you call him your son?”

“Yeah, he’s the whole band’s son. And mine, now.” You grinned proudly, just thinking about Yujin. “Anyways, I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact much lately, but I’m still getting used to this whole new dynamic of me having a boyfriend and all that.”

“Oh, you’re official already?”

“I’d hope so,” you said, shrugging. “What about you? Any new conquests lately? Surely, you already found someone else? Maybe you’ve already had someone on your roster, you know, that kinda stuff.” 

If Jay wasn’t too busy cringing at your words, he’d probably notice how tense your tone was, and how much you hated saying them, but he didn’t. All he heard was that you really didn’t care about him any more than a casual fuck and perhaps a somewhat close friend. 

“Nah, not really,” Jay replied anyway. “I’m actually kinda… I don’t know. Haven’t felt like doing much lately.”

“Right. So just you and Jane?” you asked teasingly.

“What?” And maybe it should’ve hit Jay instantly that you were speaking of his guitar, but instead he thought that you were suggesting he really was with somebody else already, and he did not like that. “Oh.” He realised moments later.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that.” He nodded. Jay had to count all his small victories of today among the losses, too, however, because you were actively speaking to him finally. And not just that — you sat down next to him in class.

tags: (send an ask or comment to be added!) @moonpri @addictedtohobi

[tossawary]

Recent "Star Trek" reboot universes have really tried to sell me on three different romances for Spock with other TOS characters whom he did not have romantic relationships (at least not positive ones) with in TOS, which makes it particularly annoying when some fans try to squirm away from the idea of ST ever doing a future reboot or remake in which Spock/Kirk are explicitly queer.

Like, "But it's not in the original! They want to be faithful to the original!" really, REALLY does not pass the "I think you might just be discomforted by queerness and you should work on that, rather than making appeals to the authority of textual accuracy to avoid being called a homophobe or transphobe" check here. Because it's not as though these reboots care about perfect faithfulness on pretty much any other front. We'll accept that the costumes and special effects get updated to move with the times, we'll accept wildly different characterization choices that essentially give these characters new personalities, we'll accept new timelines that change the entire political map of the galaxy, but you as a fan draw the line at "What if this character was bisexual this time?" Really???

To be clear, I am not trying to dunk on Spock/Uhura, Spock/Chapel, or Spock/T'Pring here, I am merely trying to illustrate a frustrating double-standard. TOS Uhura does notably flirt with Spock several times! I see it! I remember TOS Chapel's feelings for Spock being one-sided, but I also don't think it's a bad thing to try to update TOS's more misogynistic writing choices regarding female characters. TOS T'Pring did... kind of try to kill Spock because she didn't want to marry him, but again, I don't necessarily think it's immediately a bad thing to try to explore her as a character and her betrothal to Spock. It's fine! It's fine by me to explore new takes in new AUs.

It's just that none of that evidence from TOS for those relationships holds much of a candle to whatever the fuck Kirk and Spock had going on to inspire The Premise. "Amok Time" is an Experience. There's only so many times that Kirk can say something like, "The cost [of abandoning Spock] would have been my soul," before you want to put your face in your hands. They are taking shiny pebbles from TOS and trying their very best to sell them to me as the basis for romantic relationships in reboots, sure, while they are standing in the shadow of Spirk Evidence Mountain (TOS).

(Yes, I have seen the recent "Unification" short film. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, I will not consider Spirk "officially canon" until all plausible deniability for the squirmy folks has been completely, explicitly destroyed by a HUMAN kiss onscreen.)

And okay, I must admit, at the moment, I don't actually want Spirk to eventually happen in "Strange New Worlds" now that they've finally met. I'm mostly indifferent to their Spock and Kirk actors, personally, and the writing for every canonical romantic relationship in both SNW and "Discovery" so far has gotten a solid "well, they certainly are standing next to each other" from me. (Yes, even the gay marriage in "Discovery". I just haven't been into it so far.) I think the writers would fumble Spirk if they tried it in this specific show and then annoying fans would use the fumble as "evidence" never to try to do Spirk or queer retakes on other TOS characters ever again, or as "proof" against other queer ST in other shows characters generally.

I'm mostly just mildly annoyed that I have to keep watching Spock specifically, famously read by many people as a queer man, be straight and messy about it, especially when I'm not sure that SNW has had a canonically explicitly queer main crew member in a relationship yet...? There has not been a queer relationship onscreen in SNW, at least, unless you count M'Benga's daughter Rukiya and her glow cloud friend named Debra, which I personally don't, honestly. There's definitely nothing yet that comes remotely close to the screentime that Spock/Chapel, Spock/T'Pring, and Kirk/La'an have all been given so far, unfortunately. (Sulu is not here yet. Scotty has just shown up. If Scotty gets to make out with a guy next season, or Uhura or Ortegas gets to make out with a lady, without it being part of some god-like-being's fantasy world, then I may be satisfied.) (Also, yes, I am aware of queer characters and relationships in other "Star Trek" shows, thanks. I very much enjoyed Mariner having her incredibly silly breakup with her girlfriend in "Lower Decks".)

"Star Trek" is one of those properties where the double-standards regarding romantic interpretations of the original series jump out. "They can't do Kirk/Spock because they want to be faithful to the original!" Get real.

[bloggerspam]

I'm a dummy and have fucked up the reblogs.

So I'm going to fix that and delete the incorrect posts so that the chapters are all in one place in the correct order. Please bear with me and I'm sorry for any confusion....

===

Gotham is unusually sunny, which works in Steph's favor by providing ample lighting.

Steph adjusts herself, posing just a little against a streetlight behind her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smooths down her skirt, her favorite black denim pencil skirt that makes her legs look long, for the millionth time. Her oversized jean jacket and fitted purple turtleneck keep her warm as she waits impatiently beside an equally posed Jason.

He's decided to cross his arms and casually lean back against Danny's bike, wearing a tight black thermal henley that really doesn't do anything to hide his muscles. His jeans look painted on, and his leather jacket is tucked safely in her car, parked a little ways away.

They're both pretending they're not acting like peacocks.

It's mostly working.

She's entirely grateful that Sam decided to bail the two troublemakers out, rather than Jason and Steph having to beg. Sibling solidarity can go a long, long way when cute boys and girls are involved, but it's better to err on the safe side when your main antagonist is your pesky nosy cop of a brother.

…Not that Steph's a Wayne by any means, but still. It counts.

The sound of bickering, familiar voices cause their nerves of waiting to turn into the nerves of anticipation.

"Fenton I swear to Clockwork I will end you if this happens again!!" Val's smooth baritone rasp is threatening, and even though it's playful, it still brings shivers down Steph's spine.

"What makes you think it'll happen again?" Danny challenges, Jason perking up beside her like a puppy.

"Because I know you, you dolt." Val growls, both of them coming into view now, "I bet you've already got plans on a better version knocking around in that empty head of yours!"

And fuck. Val's wearing a loose yellow crop top and low rider jeans, and with the way she jostles about with Danny, Steph can see a little peak of her abs every time she reaches up. Steph licks her lips at the flash of the other woman's dark skin, wants to bite at the pouch she's got going on that Steph knows means she's packing practical muscle.

Steph really, really wants to get her mouth on that woman ASAP.

If only Val would actually use said god damn muscles and pick up on the damn hints Steph's been leaving, that would be phenomenal.

"Just because you're right doesn't mean—oh!" Danny pauses, causing Val to stutter stop with him reflexively.

"Bossman?" Val squints, before her eyes widen, "Steph? Is that…Danny's bike?"

Jason puffs up his chest, proud, looking especially pleased when Danny beams and rushes towards them to check over his baby. It puts Danny all up in Jason's business, who refuses to step away probably for that purpose. Damn him, but he's smooth.

"Did you guys bail out the bike for him?" Val asks, smile soft as she comes to stand next to Steph, "You really didn't have to, Danny's not worth all that trouble."

"Oh, it was no big." Steph shrugs, peering down at Val through her eyelashes as best she can, "Between you and met? It didn't cost a penny." She winks. "We heard from a little birdy Danny quite likes bad boys."

"Yeah?" Val smirks, and gods is it hot, "And you totally didn't go along with it to, oh, I don't know, egg him on?"

Steph giggles, giggles like a schoolgirl! Ugh. She can't with herself sometimes. "Hey, who says he didn't need my expert help? I'm a beast with a lock pick you know."

Wait. That's not a normal thing to brag about. Abort! Abort!!

"Nice. I'm no slouch either, but I can't imagine it was easy." Val chuckles, shaking her head. "Which of you managed to crack Danny's security system? Your lockpicking skills extend to hacking too?"

…Apparently, it is a normal thing to brag about. Proceed as planned!

"We had a little help." Steph smiles her most winning smile, leaning a little into Val's space. The other girl's eyes widen, licking her lips, and Steph almost says fuck it, almost leans closer, if only—

"So I was thinkin' we could watch that new horror movie playin' at the threatre," Jason's voice is low, Steph almost misses it, if Val immediately swing her head towards him, "Carnage for Christmas, y'know, 'tis the season and all…"

Pouting at her missed opportunity, she looks over herself to see what the fuss is.

Danny is smiling helplessly up at Jason, who has a hand on the bike and is leaning over him close. They look snug, Danny fiddling nervously and looking besotted whilst Jason is eyeing Danny like he wants to eat him up.

Steph refuses to get jealous. Jason's got a head start, but that doesn't mean—

"Danny hates Christmas," To her credit, Val looks like she very much does not want to interrupt whatever is going on over there, "Plus, he's scared of ghosts."

Which. What?

Jason, mirroring her confusion, sputters. "But—I thought?" Jason's eye flick back and forth between a sheepishly embarrassed Danny and a reluctantly cockblocking Val. He settles on the safest thing to say. "Isn't Amity Park 'The Most Haunted Town in America'?"

Both Amity Parkers nod with a grimace.

"Aren't your parents ghost hunters?" Steph asks, though she regrets it when both of them stare at her with hard eyes.

"We never told you my last name." Danny's voice quavers, and he backs up just a tiny bit. "…Did you look into me?" Jason's expression crumbles, just that tiny bit, reaching over only to stop and bring his hand back when Danny flinches.

You mean his bully and his stalker? Sam had said. Fuck.

Steph and Jason both try to say no, only—only they did. Thankfully, Val steps in.

"Danny, they're Waynes." Her voice is forcefully calm. "It would be weirder if they didn't look into you."

That, thank all the fucking gods, does the trick. Steph bites her lip from refuting her Wayne status, watching tensely as Danny starts to cautiously relax, no longer looking like he's ready to bolt at any minute.

"Right." Danny breathes, relaxing enough to lean back into Jason's personal bubble, "Right, of course."

Steph and Jason silently resolve to give Val an expensive gift and a raise, respectively.

"Where did you find out about his parents?" Val asks, still in that forceful calm, silently urging them to…what, give a good excuse?

"From us, guard dog. Breathe a little." Sam's voice sounds out from the police station. "Not that I blame you, but we promise Danny is safe."

It's an odd thing to say, a concerning thing. She can tell Jason's already made a mental note to figure that shit out pronto. Boy's definitely gotten attached.

"Long time no see!" Tucker grins, waving at the four of them, "Sorry we took so long, that brother of yours had a lotta questions and Sam was not having it."

"ACAB." Sam deadpans, rolling her eyes and startling laughter out of Steph and Jason.

"He's not even supposed to be here," Steph rolls his eyes, "He usually works over in Bludhaven."

"He gave us some bull about police officer exchanges," Jason adds on, "which neither of us bought."

Danny relaxes all the way now, darting up a glance as a softly smiling Jason (gag) and even daringly leaning a shoulder against him. Jason preens.

"Wait go back," Val squints suspicious eyes at Tucker, "What do you mean long time no see?"

"It was a joke," Tucker's smile goes sly, "We met yesterday, committed our first crime in Gotham together and everything."

"Even got ice cream to celebrate" Sam smirks, "Swapped stories."

Danny looks up at Jason, wide eyes sad and mouth pouty, "You committed crime and got ice cream without us?"

Steph watches as Jason try to placate Danny, who is clearly joking and not having it, and feels all kinds of jealous and happy for him.

It just reminds her that she's gotta get going, so she leans just that little bit closer to Val, who is focused on Sam.

"What kind of stories?" Val crosses her arms, which. Delicious. Steph wants to bite them. Maybe Steph has an oral fixation.

She's okay with that. Hopefully Val is too.

"Oh…you know," Tucker drawls out, taking his sweet time, "Like how Danny's parents are ghost hunters turned ecto-biologists, a little bit about the ghosts and our town heroes…"

"…maybe a little bit about the Phan Club," Sam adds, not so innocently, "And how you were obsessed with Martina William's buck teeth in Junior Year because you thought they made her so cute, like Bugs Bunny—"

That seems to be the last straw. Val lunges.

Sam and Val chase each other, another, less monkey'd version of how Danny and Val brawled together.

It gave Steph more opportunity to observe their fighting styles, do a little more guesswork on the mystery that was Amity Park.

Danny liked to throw things, reliant on his apparent strength. Not for the first time, Steph wondered if Danny was a meta, if this was further proof that maybe Danny was Phantom, the blurry, hazmatted hero of Amity Park.

Val liked to flip and trip people up, even now, she was hooking her feet and flipping over objects on the street. She's been filmed on all sorts of security cameras, but her background doesn't discount her as Red Huntress, the newer hero that seemed antagonistic towards Phantom. Steph's not sure though, there isn't a lot of overlap beyond that in their fighting styles, and maybe it's the suit but Huntress' body type looked more svelte.

Sam, apparently, liked to use the other's momentum against them, stepping out and pushing against already moving limbs to twist them all around, topsy turvy. When Val went low to sweep a foot under, Sam stepped back and kicked it, turning Val all the way around and giving Sam a wide opening to the other girl's back, easy pickings

Steph squinted. Red Huntress liked to use weapons, so it was harder to really cement a fighting style, but she's seen Huntress use that move in one of the clips Babs sent over. And Sam was a little more on the petite side...

…Was Sam Red Huntress?

"You guys really like to brawl, huh." Steph said absently, trying to see if she could make any other connections.

"Everyone in Amity Park knows at least a little somethin' about brawling." Tucker shrugs, "It'd be hard not to, Most of the older generations were really into self-protection of any kind, even before the ghosts came around."

"Mom's a 9th degree black belt and Dad does judo," Danny agrees, "Jazz, my sister, took to Krav Maga like a duck to water, but got Dad's terrible aim."

"What about you?" Jason asks, peering at Danny's arms, no doubt remembering Danny's ease in tossing Val clear across a room and probably drooling about it. "Judo?"

Danny blushed, but it was Tucker that answered. "Danny's a whiz with weapons." He grinned a sharp little grin, "And yeah, he knows a lil' somethin' about judo. He's stronger than he looks."

Danny scratched the back of his neck, bashfully, "Mom was a little disappointed about the Krav Maga, I just don't have the head for it, but she perked right up when she found out I was good at handlin' guns."

Jason's eyes flared, and he leaned in a little closer with a gleam to his eye, voice so low Steph could scoop it up from the god damn floor. "Yeah?"

Ugh. Someone gag her. This does put the Phantom thing a little on the grayer side, since the 'ghost' hero relied more on their punches.

Steph shakes her head to clear her thought, looking hopefully over at where Sam and Val were still at it. She sighed, but turned back with a smile anyway. "And Val?"

"Val's dad works in Security," Danny's ears are so very red from Jason's attentions, "She's got some history in Hapkido, or was it Taekwondo?"

"Explains all the kicks," Jason whistles, "And all of Amity Park's like that?"

"Nobody realized how weird it was to have PE just be a karate class until Sam came around." Tucker continues, gesturing to the girls, "She came to town later, but she's also kind of good at most physical things."

"She's kicked my butt too many times to count," Danny grumbles, "Aikido is tricky to handle."

"At least you can keep up." Tucker rolls his eyes. "Leave some talent for the rest of us."

"Says the resident tech genius." Danny scoffs, but wisely keeps it at that when tucker rolls his eyes. "Besides, you're passable at guns."

"Passable," Tucker mocks, "Gee thanks."

The more she hears about Danny, the more she thinks he's too good for Jason. But then again, he also seemed perfect for him, so Steph called it a wash.

"So about that movie?" Jason decided to change the subject, probably impatient to get loverboy to himself. "We could watch something else, if Christmas or scary movies aren't your thing."

"The new Venom is out," Danny perked right up, turning towards Tucker for some reason, "We've been meaning to see that, right?"

"Uh," Tucker hesitates, gaze wide and frantic as it darts between Danny and Jason, "Y-yeah, buddy but I think—"

"The Marvel movies are one of the few movie franchises we can all agree on," Danny explains, turning back to Jason and looking up brightly, "We usually wait to watch on stream or something, but…" Danny bites his lip shyly, voice quieting, "…maybe we can watch it theatre just this once?"

Jason looks like he's trying his damnedest to not look disappointed, which—Steph feels for him, really. She and Tucker share a look, trying to figure out how to delicately navigate out of this disaster.

"Actually, I was thinking of—" Steph tries, only to be interrupted by a loud boom!

All six of them stiffen, bracing themselves and looking for the source. Those stories about Amity Park being a less Gothic version of Gotham is starting to hold water.

"Hello, Gotham!" A familiar grating voice echoes, "Welcome to my funtime jamboree!"

"Which one is this guy?" Val asks, still looking for the rogue.

"It's Riddler," Steph and Jason say at the same time.

Val groans, Sam rolling her eyes as the boys for some reason cheer.

"There are several bombs hidden throughout Gotham," Riddler continues over the police speaker system, "And each of them require some…shall be say creative problem solving!"

Steph gets tugged by the arm, pulled away before can even think about a way to separate naturally and disappear with Jason.

"Val?" Next to her, Jason has being herded by Sam, as Danny and Tucker conspire together over what looks like an old, beat up PDA.

"Danny and Tucker love escape rooms," Val explains, face scrunched up cutey in distaste, "I've been dragged to too many to count—"

"Wait—Riddler is too dangerous for citizens to—" Jason starts, trying to turn around to grab Danny, but is pushed forward by a surprisingly strong Sam.

"Yes, yes," Sam rolls her eyes, "We know, civilians etcetera and all that. Don't worry."

Steph and Jason try to argue, but are summarily stuffed into Steph's car—when did Val pick pocket her keys? Why is that so hot?

Before either of them can comprehend, Steph's been buckled into the driver's seat, Jason in the passenger, with the car somehow running.

The doors slam, and when both of them look through the passenger window, Sam has Tucker and Val in a rental car with her, Danny on his ecto-bike, already driving off.

Towards the commotion.

Steph and Jason share a look.

"What the fuck just happened?" Steph asks, stupefied.

"I didn't get Danny's number." Jason answers, equally confused but still buckling up and putting in a comm, "And you didn't even get to flirt."

"Hey!" Steph defends, putting in her own comm, "I'm not the one whose date thought they were asking the whole group to the movies!"

"Just drive," Jason growls, but it's lost in the sound of Steph revving her engine and their comms bursting into life with Babs' commanding voice and Duke's cheery timbre.

Riddler first, then dates.

Hopefully.

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[delta-06]

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬t

𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 ☞︎︎︎ 𒊹︎︎︎𒊹︎︎︎𒊹︎︎︎

SFW

Ok now we need some proper Simon Riley appreciation post. The majority of people (not all of them) think he is some kind of heartless man and would hurt you but that is not the case, YES he is introverted and YES he may be a bit hurtful with his words as a kind of defence mechanism with people he doesn’t know and doesn’t wanna know anything about them, but what about his boyfriend? He would still joke with you and treat you like a friend because a lot of trust is required to be someone’s s/o. Knowing this, we now may be at a cross point: is he a really fond individual or is he just a more casual type? For me, he is more on the casual side. Nothing fancy and nothing too involving for sure but he makes sure to maintain this relationship.

The first time you confessed your love to him he was like: ‘’Oh cool, I have a boyfriend now…is it some kind of friendship?’’. Didn’t know anything about how to be in a romantic relationship as he had been in denial of his feelings for you since the Task Force was formed, and then he straight up walked away.

After he processed everything, you and him took things slowly. At first everything was just as normal as before but now you two knew that behind these ‘’good morning’’ or ‘’stay safe’’ there was something more behind.

At Valentine, since Ghost and the others were on a mission in some remote place lost in the wilderness a thought in his mind crossed and dashed away everything he was thinking of. At the end of it, he came up to you as he had in his blood-stained bare hand a small bouquet of yellow, violet and red local flowers, both tall and small. When you took them in your hands and thanked him wishing back a happy valentine, he swinged your back to make it face the others, who were speaking with the general on the computer screen for breefing, pulled his skull mask up his nose and whispered a low ‘’Such a good boy on the field eh? Following my orders perfectly, I wonder if you can do that in bed too…’’ while sliding his hand under your black t-shirt.

With that he gently placed a gentle kiss on your cheek and went away putting his mask over his face again. He didn’t show it but his mind was a mess of ‘’What the fuck did I do!!! Stupid repressed animalistic thoughts…betraying me like this??’’ and so on. Little did he know that he actually voiced what he wanted deep down. The kisses you two exchanged were always quick and hugs were sparse and sometimes too sudden to even feel anything, not even the other’s warmth, so he unconsciously voiced what he wanted. A small break for the two of you without people interrupting and the need to always be on guard if someone is approaching.

He didn't really call you with pet names such as "my love" or "baby" as he didn't really have a need to use them, but when he discovered you liked them he...kinda had to search online when to use them as he was a mess in all sorts of romantic things. He eventually came to a halt and just gave up so he now had to figure things out for himself. I have to imagine this guy on google or reddit asking on how and when to use them💀.

NSFW

Make out sessions were quick, hell…they left you two frustrated! Everytime things were getting serious a call or a problem with recruits ‘’happens’’ to be there. You two gave each other a look of ‘’I am going to end someone’s life today’’ and parted ways.

The first time he called you a good boy red appeared on your cheeks and small inner jumps of joy filled your love-depravated mind in that moment.

It was a quiet night, finally, some time for yourselves as you had your boyfriend all over you leaving kisses and bite marks. He had you pinned under his weight as a sort of ‘’try and escape this bitch’’ to show off the hard won dominance. His skull patterned balaclava was on his face (the mask stays on during this type of private time, no buts), just above the scarred bridge of his nose, with one hand, he held your upper back down and with the other he supported your stomach area. Usually he was a bit more calm but now he didn’t truly care, he held a steady pace, not that you minded, but you noticed he didn’t let out any kind of sound, just the occasional grunts. But then everything changed as he stopped and lowered himself near your ear: ‘’I wasn’t wrong after all before, eh pup? Such a good puppy for my love? Taking what is yours without uttering a word-’’. If you didn’t scream of joy in the mattress under you now, you didn’t know where and when else. Your cock twitched with enthusiasm and when Simon saw it, he laughed deeply while smiling: ‘’You truly do like it, eh? Being called "pup" or "good boy", I didn’t know, really!’’, you laughed too and put an arm around his head that was on one of your shoulders as you pouted back a ‘’Fuck yes if it comes out your mouth!’’. He gently kissed the area where his head was in agreement and nuzzled the crook of your bare and warm neck. After that round, he promised to call you ‘’pup’’ from time to time since your mouth curled up in pure joy every time he said that, of course… only when you two were alone and maybe very lowly and near your ear only when Price was around and wasn’t really listening (he is the only one who knows about you too).

[lieslab]

Broken hearts club

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Bang Chan X gn reader

Summary: Unexpectedly, you find yourself face-to-face with the leader of a gang, but you'd never imagine how your relationship would end.

Genre: Angst with no happy ending

Word Count: 3.8K

Trigger warning: Mentions of homelessness and insecurities/struggles surrounding it, fear of love, gun violence, casual crime, and murder.

A/N: I'm going to tell you now that if you struggle with feeling unlovable, you might want to skip this one. I have big feelings and this was like an hour long vent write for me. Please remember that it's fiction and this Chan does not exist (thank fuck)

_ _ _

It was like the home you never had. Two years ago, Bang Chan found you filthy and half-dazed in an alleyway. You were just trying to survive on the streets. Life isn’t kind to the homeless. When your dignity is stripped as you dive into dumpsters for food, you start to feel less like a human and more like a testing specimen. 

The world kept spinning, families enjoyed their time indoors, but not you. You were left out in the cold like an abandoned dog. Without a house, without a home, without a family, and without love. The world conspired against you, it always had, and you were certain it’d be this way until the end of time. 

Your clothes hadn’t been washed in days. You were one quarter short from being able to wash your clothes at the laundromat. You had enough to dry them, but washing them cost a whole quarter more; just another cruel way that the world laughed at you. The stench that radiated off you was a mixture between sour milk and sweaty socks. 

You used to have an extra pair of socks to warm your hands. They were stolen by another homeless person when your back was turned. You thought the two of you were friends, but you forgot that when people are where you are, it’s survival of the fittest. Not everyone is genuine when you hit rock bottom. Humans will do what they can to survive. 

You pulled the socks from your feet and used them to warm your hands. They hadn’t been washed and they were soaked in your old sweat and skin cells, but desperate times called for desperate measures. When you kicked off your shoes for a moment of rest, the scent of decay filled the air. 

On that night, your body was burning up at the slightest touch. The Texas heat had nothing compared to what your body was going through. The weather was chillier, your cheeks were red from bitter winds, your nose was frozen to the touch, but your body was on fire. 

A fever engulfed you and there was nothing you could do besides ride it out. Pharmacies didn’t care if you were homeless. Corporate greed had no compassion for the starving and the crippled. If you couldn’t afford to wash your clothes, you certainly couldn’t afford a bottle of cheap over-the-counter medicine. 

You didn’t mean to stumble into Chan that night. You were certain you were going to die. Actually, you craved the sweet release of death. Without deodorant, you could smell yourself. Your hair had been saturated with grease for two days. 

Every part of you felt filthy and worn. You felt disgusting and awful. You knew you needed to shower, but you were so delirious, you couldn’t even distinguish left from right. The gym was on the opposite side of town, your head was heavy, and your legs were on fire. Trying to make it would be a certain death wish. So, you stumbled forward instead. 

Chan was supposed to be keeping an eye out for some guy he had been watching. His gang was well-known around town. They ran the streets and were on top of everything. Cops stayed silent about their crimes. Chan’s group was a bunch of vigilantes, they played both sides. 

As long as the cops could run traffic stops and do the most of their jobs without concern, Chan and his heathens were let off the hook. All it took was one call and they’d be off into the dead of night again; disappearing into the sound of faint sirens, barking dogs, and the orange warmth beneath streetlights. 

You didn’t have a choice when you stumbled into Chan. It was merely an accident, but his reflexes were fast. His gun swung and before you knew it, you were pistol whipped. The cold metal felt glorious for a moment and then you free fell. Unforgiving concrete, blurred vision, and the incriminating stare of a stranger above. God’s abandonment tasted like salted sweat and iron. 

Blood oozed from the gash in your forehead. Chan didn’t have time to ask your name or gather any identifying details. Your eyes rolled back into your head and that was that. Sounds stopped, the earth kept spinning, and your soul was silenced. 

You expected the devil to greet you when you woke up, instead you were met by a man wearing a pleather jacket. Black eyeliner rimmed beneath his eyes and an eyebrow piercing sat above his left eyebrow. A stern gaze, messy black hair, and a death sentence. 

You were sure this was the grim reaper. He looked like heaven and hell combined. Along his cheek, a scar had healed, but the spot where stitches stretched skin together hadn’t. If you narrowed your eyes, you could still make out the exact spot where each stitch stretched honey-soaked skin together. 

Your fear tapered out the moment he handed a water bottle in your direction. The plastic sides dripped with condensation. It cooled your overheating body the moment you took it. Maybe this wasn’t your enemy, but your long-lost savior instead. 

He was too serious. Too serious all the time and you hated him for it. You grew to love him and his seven other goons. He was good at what he did. Always directing, always pushing and pulling, always carrying the gang. Dealing with enemy antics while fighting the stupidity and occasional incognitiveness forged in his own group. 

They weren’t perfect, they had their issues, but they had Chan. They had a leader and a fighter. A whirlwind of chaos, power, and strict determination. They had a lot of things as a group, but they didn’t have you. You fit right in once your fever broke. 

Your quick banter, sarcasm, and wit gave them a reality check. Even the best witted ones were out-smarted by you. After a shower, some new clothes, and a full meal, you felt like a person again. Chan and his crew became your family, but families don’t always stay together. 

~ ~ 

“What the hell is this?” A manila folder flung your way. It landed on the table in front of you with a harsh thud. You had been studying the layout of a mansion for the next mission when you felt the first fissure. 

Chan’s words pulled you from your planning and you glanced up at him. “What is this?” You pushed open the folder to find a thick stack of papers. 

“That’s what I want you to tell me.” 

You didn’t like the accusatory tone in his voice. Laced with venom, he was a copperhead waiting to strike. Every hair on the back of your neck stood up. Something was wrong, but you couldn’t place it just yet. 

Paper after paper you flipped through. Photocopies of text messages, emails from your email address, and photos of security camera footage of you with different people. They weren't just anyone, they were rival gang members. Rival gang members were strictly off limits. Any act of breaching Chan’s gang’s trust was an act of treason. If you wanted to sign your own death sentence, it was the perfect way to go. 

“I’m only going to ask you one more time.” His arms folded across his chest. “What the hell are these?” 

“Photocopies and security camera footage.” 

His nostrils flared and his eyes rolled. He stepped forward and tipped over you. The scent of some unknown spicy cologne with hints of vanilla and amber hit you. His hand smacked the wooden table, beneath it was a photo of you in a hoodie. A rival member stood across the way staring at you. He was identified by the obvious dark tattoo on his forearm. 

“You know there’s a rat.” 

Of course, you did. Someone had been leaking plans to someone. Information oozed out and missions were compromised. Compromised missions meant distrust and disorganization. How easy it was for a gang to slip up and have a member go missing, get injured, or be killed. 

It hurt like hell, his words, the way he said them with no mercy. That fever of yours was two years ago. Two years of learning his ways and what made him tick. The way he touched his ear when nervous. The constant bouncing of his leg as he spoke about new missions; the proof that he was eager to get started. You swore you knew everything about him, but he couldn’t say the same about you. 

He hesitated bringing you in. His gang was perfect, but he remembered how cruel the world could be. He saw the defeat in your eyes. The way you strolled along the side of abandoned factories and drug yourself along, trying to get just another step. He pitied you back then and clearly, it was all just a stupid mistake. 

“I know what this looks like, but I swear to God, this isn’t what it seems. This-” You picked up a photo of you and a different rival gang member. “This isn’t me. I mean, it is, but it’s not. You really think I’d rat you out?” 

“Well, it’s someone!” He snapped angrily. “It’s someone and look at this shit!” His arms waved in distress. “It’s clearly you!” 

“They have to be fake. I’d know if I was a rat. Listen,” you pushed yourself from the stool you sat upon, “I’ll prove it. These emails and texts, they can be disproven. Stay here and I’ll be right back.” 

You rushed out of the room before he could stop you. You had holed yourself in the small study. You always did that when you were studying for a mission. It was quiet and you liked to sink into that oversized leather chair beneath the books. 

The scent of weathered paper and worn leather. You sat there so much, the leather creased from where it had been worn. The secrets of the shelves watched over you. The lamp on the window beside you had been thrifted before you were a member. Despite that, you were the one who always used it the most. 

You came back with your laptop and your phone. You placed them on the oak desk and unlocked them. Your hands gestured to the objects. “Go ahead and look at them, you won’t find anything.” 

He stared at you, but you were adamant. “Come on,” you waved him closer. “Go ahead and look.” 

With a sigh, he dropped himself on the stool you had been sitting on. Blueprints were meticulous and you liked to keep your stuff straight. When you weren’t in that leather chair, you were on this stool studying things out and trying to make puzzle pieces fit together. 

Tension kept brewing and your stomach churned. You weren’t the rat, you knew that, but Chan didn’t. You’d never have it in you to turn your back on this group. This was the family you never had. The love you always craved, it had been found here. Within the past two years, you felt enough love to last a lifetime. 

You flipped through the papers. The text messages were fake and someone was good at impersonating you. From the text messages to the emojis, it was all spot on. The more you dove into the photos, the more you doubted yourself. There weren't any mistakes anywhere. Even the photos of you with rival members were photoshopped together seamlessly. Whoever did this, they were good. Better than good, they were damn great. 

The sound of your laptop shutting pulled your head up. Your eyes met Chan’s with desperation, but his dark eyes gave away nothing. He still looked the way he did two years ago, so broadening and mysterious. 

The only difference? You now knew the man behind the persona. You knew how he loved without him saying it. It was the way he passed food to you first and let you eat before him. It was hidden in the reminders he gave the members to buckle their seatbelts. It was found in the way he reassuringly checked for fevers, when members were sick, by gently using the back of his hand; the same exact way he checked yours two years ago. 

“Did you forget that text messages and emails can easily be erased?” 

“But why would I rat you out? The group? Why would I go against everything I love?” 

He scoffed and shook his head. You stepped closer to him. “Please, you have to believe me! Chan, I don’t even know these people!” 

“How did they get your email?” 

“I-I-” You stuttered trying to find the words. “I don’t know!” 

“Because you’re the rat. You gave out your email and yo-” 

“Stop saying that! I know how bad this looks, okay? I understand it!” You desperately flipped through the papers trying to find one small mistake to prove your innocence. “You have to believe that this isn’t me. Please, Chan, please.” 

“How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Because you trust me.” 

“I used to trust you.”

It was so much worse than the betrayal of the homeless lady you befriended. You asked her to watch your stuff and she took off with your socks. You had been working up a friendship for two weeks and you disappeared into a store to use the restroom. When you came back she was gone. 

You only knew her for two weeks, but how different two weeks was from two years. Two years of building up your own grit and determination. Building up a foundation of a body, fighting for the muscle you lost when starving on the streets, gaining back your dignity when the world ripped it away. 

“Don’t say that,” your voice cracked. You blinked rapidly, trying to hold back your tears. “You do, you trust me. You trust me because I’m one of your members.” 

His gaze went back to the papers strewn along the desk behind you. He’d never show you how he truly felt. Deep down, he was devastated. He wanted to scream and grip you. He wanted to tug you into his grasp. He wanted to show you the love and admiration that he had neglected giving you these past two years, but instead he stood still, the evidence was too damning. 

“Prove to me you’re innocent,” he finally uttered. His heart fluttered with hope. A silent prayer was recounted from years ago. The memories of pews and biblical artifacts were dusty, but it was there. A basic prayer from Sunday School, one that was easy enough to remember, a five year old could quote it. 

“I don’t know how. I-I showed you my electronics, those are the only ones I own. I don’t know what more you could possibly want from me. You can search my room. You can do anything, just please, please, please believe me.” 

You didn’t want to admit it, but this was no longer a matter of Chan’s integrity and the gang’s security. This was a matter of life and death. You were no longer fighting for your innocence, you were fighting sudden death. 

He made the rules so crystal clear two years ago. A major fuck up and you were gone. Something so quick and easy, a bullet to the forehead. Brains pulverized, neurons ripped apart, the soul slipped away so easily. A single gunshot stood between traitors; a one way ticket from this life into the next. 

“Prove it,” he tried again. He wanted you to beg. To get down on your knees and weep. To repent for your sins and admit it all. He would find a way to forgive you, no matter how much the truth hurt, but you didn’t. 

You couldn’t. How could you? How could you possibly explain that none of this was real? The screenshots, the security footage, someone clearly wanted you gone. You didn’t understand why Chan believed it so easily, maybe he was the one who wanted you gone. Why wasn’t he fighting for you?

“Chan?” You finally whispered. The reality of your situation was settling in. He never responded, but you spoke anyway. “Can you just…can you tell the guys that I love them?” 

Betrayal clamped down. It was a confession in his eyes. The sting of a bee, the teeth of a cobra, a shot of gin mixed with rejection. After everything you had been through with the gang, he didn’t expect it to feel like this. 

Those eyes used to hold warmth now and then. In the sunlight, they lit up like pools of chocolate. You saw those eyes at bonfires during the summer. It was the oozing chocolate between roasted marshmallows and graham crackers. You saw them in the dirt smeared along your jeans after you ducked, dived, and dodged your way through each dangerous mission. 

It was a rarity, but it was special, your own personal Halley’s Comet. It was replaced with resentment and bitterness now. An anger had been uncapped and no matter what you professed and claimed, it couldn’t stop it. 

“That’s all you have to say after everything we’ve been through?” His hand reached back behind his back. You knew what was coming. “You wanna die? I’ll fucking kill you myself!” 

That black pistol was always loaded. His reflexes had been quick since you knew him. It was the same pistol that knocked you out two years back. You never had a chance to dive then and you never had a chance now. 

“Fuck you and fuck your love! You’re nothing, but a liar and a goddamn traitor and yet, you want me to lie to them? To tell them you loved them after you put them in danger? You put us all in danger!” 

“I-” You couldn’t get the words out. They lodged in your throat and you didn’t know how to force them out. You didn’t want it to end up like this.

“Fuck you, your love, and everything about you! Die knowing that no one will ever fucking love you and you’re dead to me.” 

Bang! 

The memories of the past two years flashed before your eyes. The fear building up in your gut on each harrowing mission you went on. The board games you played around the dining room table. They used to end with someone getting mad and throwing the board. You all collapsed in a heap of laughter at the pettiest members. It changed every time. 

You used to find comfort within Chan. Every time you struggled, you’d find him and explain your problems. He wouldn’t offer hugs or sympathy, but he leant a listening ear. He wouldn’t pity you, he’d just listen. Sometimes you never wanted advice, you just wanted proof that you weren’t alone, a gentle and familiar reminder that you were loved. 

Your body fell through the air and your brain stopped, but not in the way you wanted it to. Chan’s back turned to you, you didn’t realize it, you couldn’t. Not when you were like this. 

The carpet was as hard and unforgiving as the pavement was two years ago. Warmth soaked your chest and you could still see. You tried to breathe, but there was no air left to take. In his fit of anger, Chan didn’t shoot you in the head, but he hit your heart instead. 

The bullet lined directly with the center of your heart and his bullets never missed their target. One more cruel reminder from the world that you were unlovable. People didn’t throw pity when you were surviving on the street, instead, it was accusing glares, as if you were nothing, but a pesky vermin. 

It was your biggest insecurity, feeling unloved. How could you after everything that happened in your life? No family and no friends. The only family you had was this gang and now it was all unraveling and slipping through your fingers. It was falling apart and it left you bleeding on the floor. 

A gasp mixed with a squeak. Chan’s eyes squeezed shut. His fingers were still wrapped around the gun. He didn’t dare turn around to face you and admit what he did. He couldn’t. Deep down, he loved you. You flickered a spark that he thought died out years ago.

He was never one for being a coward, but something changed. You startled him and woke up something that was supposed to lay dead. The feelings for you weren’t supposed to wither and squirm this much. Rat or not, maybe it was just easier to accuse you of something and kill you before a flicker grew into a roaring flame. 

Letting you in was a mistake. Building up a friendship, striking up feelings of something more, it was a pile of kindle that was always meant to burn. He’d always be a monster and you were just a person. Too innocent, too vulnerable, too sweet for someone with his past. 

Your vision clouded as a tear slipped down your cheek. The person you loved most put you here, but you still couldn’t hate him. In fact, maybe you were grateful deep down. You were a bird with a broken wing and never meant to fly. It was better that an animal got to you rather than wither and rot away in the elements. 

The door to the study burst opened. One of the guys rushed inside. You heard him speak, but you couldn’t distinguish who it was. Blood was seeping out so quick and you were growing weaker. 

“What the hell did you do?” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Someone help them!” 

Footsteps rushed towards you. Warm hands touched your chest, but it was too late. Your limbs were weak. They never got to see the last bits of light fade from your eyes. They fluttered shut just before the door burst open. 

“Wake up! Just wake up! Please” 

“Call the doctor!” 

“What did you do? What did you do? What did you do?” 

Someone sobbed. Salted tears mixed with the blood on your shirt. Desperate fingers pushed down to stop the bleeding, but it’d never be enough. Love surrounded you, but you didn’t get to see it for the last time, before your heart stopped. 

Across the way, Chan’s bottom lip quivered. He dropped the gun and it landed with a clatter. Despite the sob that fell from the leader’s chest, they couldn’t find it within themselves to approach him. He collapsed in defeat and curled his hands around his head. The one person he truly loved and cherished, he took them out himself. Your blood on his hands would never be washed away. He thought it’d be easy to take you out, but now, his members would never look at him the same way. 

Eight hearts around the room beating and the final one still bleeding.

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[banquetwriter]

୨୧ Gardening buddy ୨୧

pairing: Joel Miller ♡︎ Fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ porn with plot, sorta sub!joel, shy Joel, Tommy being an ass, softdom-ish!joel, pussy pronouns, Reader has hair long enough to “gather” (tho it doesn't matter much) with female anotomy, pnv and f receivng oral

summary: ʚ you have some plans to expand the garden and poor Joel just can't resist you ɞ

Words: 5.2k

A/N: lets pretend it didn't take me 22 days to write this lol

P:1 P:2 P:3

Joel swirled his whiskey slightly. He didn't even really want the damned thing. However, he would never decline a free drink. His jaw clenched slightly, eyeing the crowd. It was one of the many community events Jackson liked to host. Joel hadn't gone to many of them if he was honest but Tommy being the ever-intrusive brother he was, he pretty much had no choice but to show up tonight.

Plus you were gonna be there tonight, which was always a bonus.

It was no secret to Joel (or anyone else for that matter) how beautiful you are. You were younger, younger than him at least. He wasn't one hundred percent but early thirties he was guessing. 

You were funny, talented, and had a level head. Dangerous combo for a man like Joel. He'd seen you around of course. You didn’t go on patrols but you did run the gardening area when it came time and helped teach when it was cold.

Joel had noticed you but never had a real reason to say much to you so he didn't. That wasn't until Tommy had introduced you both. Fucking Tommy. You wanted to expand the garden, so you went to Tommy. 

————

Joel had just gotten off an extra patrol shift. He didn't have much to do nowadays so it was either sit around and play his six-string or go out and try and help out.

He had made a promise to Maria to stop by tonight for some planning. He wasn't too sure why, seeing how Joel didn't contribute much. As he knocked on the door and Maria’s half smile greeted him his curiosity grew. 

Everyone knew Joel was a little shy even if he would never say that. He heard your voice, he'd seen you teaching the littles outside enough times to recognize your voice by now. Why the hell were you here? 

“They're in the kitchen. Go ahead and head on back. I'll be right there.” Maria said with a soft smile and a strong hold on Joel's shoulder. She released her grip on the man, smirking to herself and she walked away. As her boot heel clicks got further away it dawned on Joel he had to now navigate a social situation with his brother and a person he didn't know too well.

Great. This oughta go well.

His face was neutral as he walked in. “Oh, there he is! My big brother, ladies and gentlemen.” Tommy walked around his kitchen island to hug his brother. Joel didn't have a moment to prepare as his younger brother's arm came crashing down around his shoulder. His eyes flicker to you who is, In defense, looking away but quietly giggling at his brother's actions. 

“Jesus Tommy, what is all of this about?” he says, fighting the way a red tint covers his face, neck, and ears. Embarrassment floods his system. Tommy loosens his grips eagerly looking at you. “Go ahead tell him.” you raise your eyebrows in surprise at the sudden spotlight. 

“Oh! Well um, well I sorta run all the gardening and whatnot here as well as teach the younglings how to garden and- sorry I'm rambling,” you say waving your hand a bit with a wide smile. You take a deep breath and lean into the kitchen island pointing to a paper, probably a map.

“The garden needs an expansion. There are a lot of people here, and everyone has a mouth to feed. I'm not thinking huge but bigger,” you said gesturing with your hands. Joel nods, walking over to the workspace. “Alright,” he states. Seems like a reasonable plan. “What’ you need me for?” his hands find the counter.

Your eyes flick down but just as soon as they look down they look right back up. “Well I came to Tommy- well actually to Maria THEN to Tommy but he said you're the man for the job,” you said placing your hand on your hip. Course Tommy would sign him up to do the grunt work for a pretty girl like you. 

The old man's eyes shifted to his brother who was now feeling less confident in his skills. “It ain't a big job Joel. We’d get the supplies in a few weeks max.” Tommy said encouragingly. He thought for a few moments.

He should say no. He's old and he ain't got time for no gardens.

————

His stomach swirled with anxiety for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. He told himself he was simply observing the dancing crowd. But he knew who he was looking for. You. He was looking for your awfully friendly smile. Your worn but cute jeans. 

He had spent so much time searching, eyeing the crowd he didn't see the very object of his affection damn near skipping up to him. “Hey gardening buddy!” you shouted holding out your arms. 

Joel's eyes widen at your contact. Your wave of joy crashed into him. “Woah don't kill the old man now!” Tommy shouts from the bar before getting a not-so-playful nudge from his wife. You pull away looking back to rolling your eyes at the younger Miller.

“What an ass,” you mutter, eyes fluttering back to Joel. Joel smiles looking down too nervous to look at you. “But how are you? Enjoyin’ the dancing?” your hand found its way to his shoulder. Your fingers smoothed over the fabric of his jacket, dipping under and pulling his flannel out.

His eyes watch your fingers drop the fabric as you chuckle to yourself. “What?” he finally manages. You were so touchy… it was weird. He didn't mind really. It wasn't anything that would cross a line. Just friendly things. 

Or he thinks.

He hopes it's more, secretly. There are several reasons why it could never work out between you two… You are younger, sweeter, softer. 

He can't think about it too long. He's alone most days now. And thinking about how fucking soft you are will ruin him. When those thoughts bubble up into his mind they don't just stay there. They find their way into his bloodstream… his bones.

He can picture your smile, the way your lips feel against his. The curve of your back, ass, thighs… anything his large rough hands could get on. He'd want all part of you. You smell like honey, or maybe you actually smell like honey. 

He blinks back to you smiling looking at him expectantly. “Yeah uh…” he scratches the back of his head, taking a deep breath in. You do smell like honey. “Ain't much of a dancer, to be honest darlin’,” he sighs. You nod your head with a smile, it is your turn to look down now. “Yeah sorry, I ain't buyin’ what you selling honey.” 

His eyebrows raise as his lips follow in a smirk. “Yeah?” he asks, placing his bands on his hips. Your arms cross with defiance, “Yeah.” your confidence oozed off of you like a waterfall. 

Maybe it was the drink you had or maybe it was you trying to ignore the beating in your heart whenever you saw Joel but you needed a dance.

————

You stood in the front room of Tommy’s looking at all their pictures as Maria shifted around her drawers for something she owed you. Joel, having just agreed to help you expand the garden, had gotten a hard smack on the back from Tommy, a warm smile from Maria and you guessed it a hug from you.

Joel rounded the corner to see Maria approaching you with something small in her hand. “Hey thanks,” you said taking it from her and pushing it in your pocket. “Anything to take the load off.” she winked at you. 

His sister-in-law looked at him and with a quick nod and a “Joel.” it was just you two in the living room. “Thank you again Joel for helping me with this and I promise I will help as much as I physically can,” you said walking up to him. “Quit thanking me, it's not a big deal.” not needing to put his heart in any more strain. 

You let out the (cutest) giggle and stepped back slightly. “Heh- sorry. My name is y/n by the way. I feel like I didn't introduce myself earlier.” 

It felt silly to Joel you felt the need to introduce yourself to him. Like you two haven't met before. Of course, it dawned on him. You just don't think about him as much as he thinks about you. Why would you? He's just Tommy's older brother.

“I know what yer’ name is darlin’.” A slight awkwardness hangs in the air, just like the Christmas lights in December. There to look at and admire. “Right, sorry. I know who you are too. Joel Miller. Tommy’s handsome older brother. You've got quite the reputation.” you said with a wide smile trying to use it to cover up how your face was starting to burn.

If your face was burning Joel’s must be on fire as he opened his mouth to speak but not a word came out. Not only did you know who he was but you called him handsome. That's when the schoolboy crush began in its full form.

No longer could he pretend he just thought you were pretty; those pesky little feelings found a way to weasel into his heart. “Handsome, huh?” he asked, not able to make eye contact.

You bit your lip at his nervousness, toe-ing forward slightly. “Well sure,” you explain. “Hard to miss those big ol’ muscles of yours riding into town,” you said. Your words may be teasing but your tone wasn't. You were more quiet now. 

That's right. The old shift he and Tommy would do usually had him coming into Jackson as soon as you were bringing the littles on a walk around. That means not only did you know him, you saw him. Nearly every damn day. Did you miss him on days he wasn't there? Ever think about sayin’ hi?

“Yeah uh, I remember now. You used to have the kids out about the same time every day when me and’ Tommy’d bring in the horses.” he said gesturing to nothing.

“Yup, that's right. Hey, why don't you do that shift anymore,” you asked, shifting your weight on your feet. It was weird that this didn't feel weirder. Felt like y'all had been friends a while and not for 30 minutes over talking about some garden bed plans.

It still was awkward. It seemed like a tidal wave could hit and you still wouldn't shake the nerves. 

It had been a while since he did that patrol. “Oh well, they can't have an old man on the new guy shift eh?” he said, trying to ease ever-flowing anxieties. It was also a reminder for himself. He is older than you. Therefore out of reach for you and him. Couldn't help it, however. Thinking of the older man. You say older like he isn't a mere 20-something years older. 

“Old man? I've seen the way you wrangle those horses. Old man, where huh?” you teased, arm reaching out for your coat on the rack. He chuckled following your lead pulling his old and tattered Carhart piece on. “Yeah well, I ain't young like I used to be. Think Tommy started to notice finally.” 

He thought back to when he first got to Jackson. Begging Tommy to take Ellie from him and save her. He felt like he was going to get her killed, no he knew he was going to. He was right. He ended up hurting her worse than any scar could.

Now he had no one. Except Tommy. Stupid Tommy.

————

“Well unfortunately for you I was just about to head out.” Joel declared. He wasn't planning on it but now was as good of a time as any. Wasn't it? “Oh leave? Oh no no sorry honey I'm not letting you leave without at least one dance. Are we clear?” you tease poking his chest slightly. 

You laced your fingers with his guiding him to the ‘dance floor’ of the tipsy bison. He felt the warm feeling of your skin bleed into his. He felt the eyes of other patrons on you both. An old man and a young girl. 

The slow country song filled the air. Once you settled on a spot a little far away from the watchful crowd. You twirled around settling your arms around Joel's neck. You start a small sway back and forth to the music. His eyes didn't meet yours, instead swam through the sea of faces

What were they thinking? Were they judging him? “Hey cowboy,” his eyes flutter down. “Eyes on me.” he looks away but not for long, his eyes fall back

To yours like a comforting hug. “Why are you doin’ this?” His voice is low but not mad. “Cause you're cute,” you whisper back faces inching forward. 

There's a beat of science before Joel feels like a familiar feeling bubble in his lower belly. His arms slink down to your waist, his rough hands gripping slightly. His face dipped down to your neck next to your ear, his beard tickling your skin. “You wanna uh- get outta here?” he asks slowly, trying not to make his idea very public.

“Thought you'd never ask.” 

You both chose an Irish goodbye as the safest option. Quietly slipping into the quiet cold night. Your dancing outfit was less than ideal for the colder weather. The freezing air nearly pierces your skin, and if god had heard you just then a blanket of warmth comes down and encapsulates you. 

You turn your head to Joel who has now wrapped his very thick and warm jacket around you. “Thank you,” you said leaning closer to him as you both walked toward your road. No further words were said but your heart seemed to be beating faster than it had all day. 

You rushed to your house's front porch eager to escape the cold. You opened your front door shuffling in and letting Joel in after you. He took in your space. It was cute. A few books were on your coffee table. He would need to ask about those later.

He watched you idly as you kicked your shoes off, tossing them into a shoe bin. You ran to all of the lamps in your living room, turning them all on. It gave the room a homey feel. The realization of what he was about to do started to sink in. 

He wanted to fuck you.

Fuck felt like such a disrespectful term. You were a lady and he was a man. Making love? That felt too cheesy. But maybe Joel was just a cheesy guy... God, 5 years ago he would haven't even considered you romantically, let alone get nervous at the thought of having sex with you.

But here he was watching, getting increasingly nervous as you started a fire in your fireplace. He started to rub his shoulder slightly, watching as you were satisfied with the height of the fire. 

You shrugged his Carhart jacket off placing it on the couch. Joel’s eyes followed you as you approached him. His heart jumped as he felt the air get warmer and it wasn't the fault of the fire. He saw you glance at his lips as you got closer and closer. 

“Are you nervous?” you asked in a teasing voice noticing his quietness. He stood there without making a noise. His silence answered any questions you had. “It's ok,” you took one final step towards him. “We can go at your pace.” 

Your fingers found the sides of his face. Your hands were so soft unlike his, “S’ been a minute since v’done this. S’all.” he breathed out looking down. “That's ok, we can go as slow,” your hands found him pulling them around your waist. “Or as fast as you want this to go. No pressure baby.”

He kept his hands on your waist. Big rough mounds of flesh gripping your waist. His breaths are shaky, he can feel you. He needed to feel more. Joel takes the leap of faith. He pushes his lips against yours. The rest of your body follows as you get pulled flush against him.

You're so warm. He can feel your warmth against his crotch. The flesh of your stomach warms and rubs against him from under the fabric of your clothes. Your lips are soft and you taste like the wood flavor of a good whiskey.

His mouth engulfs yours. His body needs you, craves you. Your fingers find his hair, begging to pull him close. “Joel…” you manage as you press your nose against his. “Come on baby,” he whispers back, nudging your nose slightly. 

He pressed his body against yours encouraging you to start walking backward toward your couch. Your knees hit the plush on the furniture. You let yourself fall back as your chest rises and falls rapidly. He stands over you watching. His pupils are blown.

His skin feels so hot like he needs to jump out of it. On the other hand, he feels like his skin would ignite with yours to create the most beautiful fire. He can't believe he is gonna do this. You feel the same. You watch as he slowly sinks to his knees, choosing to ignore the small pop noise you hear as he settles closer to you.

His old, dark but kind eyes bored into your soul as you leaned closer to him on the couch. Your legs spread open to create room for him. Your mouth collided once more, this time with less urgency. Softly and slowly his tongue explored your mouth. 

Making sure every single inch of him tasted every inch of you. Your hands found quick work of his flannel nearly ripping it off of his body. He watched in awe as your soft eyes filled with lust. You needed him. Was he going to be able to give you everything you needed? 

You seemed sure he would. After making quick work of his flannel your hands started to pull his shirt up enough to expose his round soft belly. Something he is not particularly proud of. But he would be lying if he said the look in your eye didn't give him a slight ego boost 

To you, he wasn't a flabby old man. He was a damn near work of art. He couldn't bell but hesitate taking his shirt off the rest of the way as he watches your eyes track his torso. The only thing snapping him out of his state was realizing you were now looking right at him. 

“Huh?” he asked, staring up at you. You gave him a knowing smirk, “Do you wanna take your shirt off? Or keep it on?” you asked, biting your lip. In a preferable world, Joel could keep all of his clothes on for this. He can't… not easily that is. 

So he took a deep sigh. “Whatever you want honey,” his drawl bleeds into his words and your bearing heart. “Are ya sure? Cuz’ if I have my way you ain't wearing anything.” you said, dragging your finger down his chest. He shivered slightly.

You wanted him. “S’fine by me. Want you the same way.” a flash of heat finds its way to your core. He wanted you. “Oh yeah?” you asked, shuffling back to him and pressing your lips against him, fingers dancing to rip his shirt off. 

He lets you, it's hard to calm his breath enough to kiss you and not freak out. But soon enough his shirt is gone, and you guide your fingers to his having him dip under your shirt. He for a second isn't sure what to do, his brain only being able to think about how soft you are. Jesus, he is losing it. Eventually, he allows his hand to glide up your back.

Fumbling for a second with the bra strap before undoing it. It was at this moment that Joel slowly remembered who he was. He was dominant, soft, and experienced. Your eyes go slightly wide at his ability to snap your bra off. 

“My my he has many tricks up his sleeve,” you say with a smile as he pulls your bra completely off your body. “This ain't my first rodeo darlin’” he comments, unable to hold back a small smile. “For your sake, I’d hope not.” you joked. He rolled his eyes. The atmosphere shifted again. You gripped the bottom of your top pulling it off yourself.

His eyes and some drops. Your perfect tits sat looking right at him. “Christ,” he murmured, moving closer to you. His mouth instinctually moved to your collarbones, his hands slipped up your stomach. 

You breathed out at the feeling. He was wonderful. A breathy “Joel,” flew past your lips as his mouth went further, taking your nipple into his mouth. Slowly licking and sucking on your mound. Your fingers found his hair. The tips and nails tubing against the roots of the salt and pepper locks. 

He pulled away, a single string of spit still connecting the two of you. His mouth found your other tit, replicating the same love did to the other side. The slow-burning ache started to fill your system. You pressed down onto the couch trying to find any sort of relief from the pressure. 

Joel saw your struggle. His rough fingers slid down to your ass, even in jeans his touch felt so good. “Oh, we’ll get there.” he whispered, pulling away from you. “Please, Joel. I need you,” you whined. 

He pulled further away and he crept to your buckle, his eyes searched yours for permission. “Go ahead,” you whispered with a nod, he turned his attention back to your pants. He fumbled a second with the button, then in the blink of an eye had the button undone and the zipper down and was pulling your pants off. 

They were down at your ankles and then they got tossed aside. Joel eyed your thigh and stomach like an animal waiting to pounce. The feeling of his rough calloused hands rubbing against your soft flesh sent waves of pleasure down your heart. 

A prominent wet patch formed on your panties. Joel's touch was both gentle and comforting. Your finger dove under his chin holding him to look at you. “I need you, please…” you repeated. God, you sounded so whiny. 

“M’gonna m’gonna, ya gonna need to be patient f’me,” he whispered before he started kissing the flesh of your thigh. The words alone send you gushing into your panties. His scratchy beard added another sensation all welcomed.

You clench around nothing desperate for pressure. After he was satisfied with making out with your thighs making sure you were nice and wet for him, he pulled away. You watched as he moved to the top of your cunt hovering just above you. His hot breath sent shivers up your spine.

You breathed out and his mouth collided with your clothed heat. He covered you with kisses, slowly but deep, and the passion grew in your lower belly. His fingers slowly hooked into your panties. He slowly dragged them down.

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, your entrance was glistening with slickness. All for him. Had he really done that to you? “My god baby, you trying to kill me,” he whispered. His thumb slowly spreads you open, and his finger gently brushes you.

Your legs jolted and he knew he found your clit. He watches your face as he slowly begins to rub circles. Your eyes gleam over with love. He maintains eye contact. You slowly began leaking your pussy fluttering around nothing.

Joel licked a big stripe up gathering all your juices on his tongue. You let out a soft groan. He slowly began to stick his tongue in hitting your G-spot. “Wait-” you breathed out, smoothing your hand over his hair. 

He pulled away, lips glistening and pupils blown. His heart sank to his ass, what had he done? Why did he think he could do this? He wasn't any good, not anymore at least. Maybe he never was. 

“Can I take off your pants? But leave your boxers still on,” you asked with a sheepish smile. He blinks for a second before standing up. The world seems to rush up with him, he can feel you tugging at his belt but he gets so dizzy all he can do is slowly rub his thumb across your cheek as he looks down at you.

He could get used to this view. He begged you'd look real pretty down there, taking him in your mouth. The thought alone makes his cock jump, or maybe it was the cold air as you pulled his pants down. His hard cock begging to be released.

You don't answer his prayers as you scoot back on the couch with a content smile. Joel discards everything still left on him minus his boxers. His knees make a familiar pop as he settles back in between your legs. His kisses return and so does his tongue as he begins to re-light the fire growing in your belly. 

His hand flexes up to yours grabbing yours and putting you right on your clit. His strong arms wrap around your thighs, pinning your legs open. The cold sting of his watch sends a shiver up your spine. You rub your clit trying to keep up with his pace.

It was hard to keep in rhythm, your legs shook around his head and in his arms. You felt the coil threatening to snap and you couldn't take it anymore, you removed your hand and gripped your couch cushion. “Joel- I'm so close.” 

He hummed into your sex, your back tried to arch off the couch as he kept you pinned. Your legs shook as the coil snapped. Your orgasm deafening any other stimuli. “Ohhh fuck Joel.” you whimpered into the air.

After a second his ministrations stopped, and your legs were sore but a good kind of sore. The kind where you can feel pleasure for hours. You work to catch your breath as the older man on his knees for you slowly stands up. “Jesus.” is all you can say with a smile.

“Still got it in me huh?” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Oh no Joel you had it in me,” you whispered standing up to meet him. “Oh yeah?” he asked, letting you invade his space. “Yeah,” you whispered, pulling him into a kiss, your taste still on his tongue. You let out a small noise. “Taste yourself, baby? Sweetest pussy I've ever had.” and you moaned again. 

You needed his dick right now. 

Your fingers fumbled for the fabric of his boxers. They were hot and so was the rest of him. Chest tinged with a slight red color. You pulled down as you kissed him, and his hard member sprung up. Joel hissed inwards at the sudden cold air.

And Jesus was perfect. He was long, or at least longer than anyone you had ever seen in real life. And big. God, you were gonna feel this man in your toes. You looked up at him with a loopy smile. “Not too bad for an old man,” you mumble, your tease must have been good because at that moment his rigid cock jumped slightly up.

That was your cue to begin. Joel shot you a warning glance with his eyes, but a smirk tugged at his lips. You slowly begin to tease him, fluttering your hands around his hips and thighs. Before you can sink to the ground his strong hand gathers to the back of your head. He guides your head back up, and you're confused.

Worry starts to flood your system. You cock your head to the side trying to figure out why he wouldn't want you to suck his dick. He was already hard, he ate you out just moments ago… none of it was adding up in your brain.

“That's not how this is gonna work,” he says as his large hands find the sides of your arms. He gently moves you to the couch. You plop down, still confused. “Work? Work how?” you ask. “You don't needa suck m’off just cause I did what I did.” 

You shake your head with a smirk, “I don't need to do anything. I want to, Joel.” you mustered up your best puppy eyes. “No baby what ya’ need,” he starts walking towards you. Your knees hit the couch again as you flop down. His hand meets your knee, spreading your legs for him. “What you need is me in that pretty little cunt. She's begging for me,” he whispers in the last part.

Your mouth is slightly agape. Have you really just heard that? No way… right? Joel came down to meet you, his hands roaming your body tentatively. He lined himself up to your entrance.

“Sure you wanna do this with an old man? We can stop.” he reminds you. “No we can't,” you said

With a smile. “Yes, we can. This can end now. You don't have to do this.” and while his words were so sweet, you needed him to fuck you. “Joel, pleased I've waited so long for this,” you whispered. He nodded, positioning his hard length in you.

It felt like he was piercing you. As he pushed into you you mewled out. He instantly stopped,” You alright?” he asked his warm rough hands creating the greatest sensation in the world. “Mhm, just stings a little that's all,” you whispered nodding at him. Joel doesn't move his eyes searching for permission to keep going. 

“Go ahead, m’ ok.” you encouraged. He nodded pushing in about halfway, it was his turn to make a noise. You were so tight and warm and ready for him that he nearly keeled over at the feeling. God, he wasn't gonna last long. Once he pushed all the way in he dove down to kiss you. 

His hips began snapping against yours as your mouths melted together. You pulled away the feeling of his dick prodding your tummy become overpowering, to say the least. Your fingers scratched down his back leaving long traces in your wake. 

He breathed heavily, his forehead planted on yours. “Mm fuck me,” he muttered gathering your hair and yanking your head down to look at where the two of you met. To see you swallowing his cock whole. “Look at you, baby. Your-” he took a deep breath in. “Fuck, you're doing so good baby,” you whined out in response. 

Joel could feel his orgasm approaching. He gritted his teeth together, “Fuck! Come one baby m’ so close. Needa to come first. Make me all wet.” he cursed. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your throat. You were so close, he had fucked your brain quiet.

Any sort of thought beyond his dick, hands, or voice was a lost cause. The coil in your stomach snapped, your walls clenching around him violently. It was enough to draw out his orgasm. “Fuck.” you both whimpered as you clung to him.

[maudie-duan]

First Series!!!

Series Summary: For nearly two years, Harry has been fighting to keep his relationship with Olivia afloat. At what point does he make the choice to either endure or let the stain of the world defeat his ambitious hopes of a lasting relationship? Or will a single night and a fleeting encounter be enough to change the projection of Harry’s path? Maybe our ‘Mystery Girl,’ Shiloh, will just happen to be in the right place at the right time. 

A/N: You guys, this is my first series; bear with me. In no way, shape, or form is this meant to follow Harry’s actual life, nor are the facts or timelines real. This story will be from Harry and Shiloh’s POVs. I like switching between them. I’m nosy, and you get more details this way. So, if you like details, you’re in the right place. This story will be a slow burn, so hold tight. I’m glad you’re here!!! ENJOY!!!!

Word Count: 2K

Warning: Strong language, minor angst, eventual smut, emotional.

Harry’s (POV) Part 1- Mystery Girl

***

I don’t usually think of how my relationships will end, but I’ve been thinking about our ending—the consequence of our beginning looming over our heads as if it were a pleading prayer whispered into the night. When “I love you” no longer sufficed, the emptiness stretched between us and how fickle we were. How we continued seeking tiny moments, desperate to fill that void—A revolving door of new faces and places where we lay tucked away, pressing our bodies together like puzzle pieces, hoping that one day they would fit together—indefinitely.

Surely, we knew this wasn’t going to work, right? From the beginning, we’ve been on two different parallels, trying to make this work, trying to force a path through murky water when neither one of us knew when or how the tide would roll in—and here I am, miserable out of my fucking mind. In a shit headspace just waiting for this evening to end because there’s nothing worse than getting into a massive blowout right before an event. I can’t figure out what’s worse, the fight or the forced niceties. The last place I wanted to be was in public, but this is my life.

Olivia was on about something—actually, I don’t even remember what the fight was about this time, and that’s what it’s been lately. These bullshit fights about petty, senseless matters that take more energy to create than they do to fix. It’s just that she’s gotten so jealous and paranoid that I’m growing distant, that she’s the only one fighting to be in this relationship, and maybe she’s right.

—Side note: Before tonight, I really hadn’t been interested in anyone. Honest to god, I was truly in this wholeheartedly.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m constantly in the public eye, even if I think I’m lying low. There’s always a chance that someone will recognize me. The chances of someone taking a picture are even greater because everyone needs proof, or it didn’t happen, right? I personally don’t believe in this—but to each their own—If you know me and who I am, that’s precisely what you get. She knew this when we met, yet she insists that every move I make is for the world, like I can’t comprehend all of the sacrifices that she has made to be with me. Trust me, I know, and as of late, she’s taken every opportunity to throw it back in my face. 

In all honesty, I know that relationships take work, but isn’t there supposed to be balance? Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost that. We both jumped in feet first and now life seems to be catching up even faster—the constant push and pull in every direction is getting old. Everyone wants something, and she wants the most. It’s like she doesn’t understand the sacrifices that I’ve made. It’s not easy being the world’s biggest pop star and falling in love, but I felt she was worth it at the time.

And now she wants more—Roots that I can’t seem to give her. It’s like I’ve only just begun to find my own footing, stepping into the skin that finally feels right, that’s mine, and she wants nothing to do with it—She wants the control. She wants me to align with whatever she thinks our life should be.

I mean, I get it. I understand wanting the security of always knowing your next move or having a better grasp, but surely Olivia knew what she was getting herself into. It can’t be this big surprise that our life together isn’t panning out into what she had imagined, and the shittest part about it is that I don’t even want to try anymore. I don’t want the things that Olivia is trying to project onto me with every fight that ends with her begging me to choose her—is that not what I’ve been doing this whole time?

I’m lost in thought when Olivia whispers something into my ear. She had gone on and on about this Gucci Cruise show and was pissed when I decided I didn’t want to sit front row. I didn’t want to distract from the show or draw unwanted attention. Especially after that fight—God, that stupid fucking fight that left her in tears, her makeup a wet smear all over her face, almost making us late. 

Tonight was supposed to be memorable. How many people get the chance to attend a Gucci show? This was my first. It’s an honor that I wanted to appreciate and take in with the gratitude I feel not only for the brand but also for the friends I’ve grown quite close to.

“I just feel like the whole point of coming to a fashion show is to sit in with the audience and have a genuine experience of the clothes and the people—” Her comment is pointed and sets me off, so I do the asshole thing and walk toward someone I know leaving her alone with her underhanded comment.

Eventually, I walk over to the edge of the curtain, peering out into the crowd, trying to pinpoint faces I’ll see later, making a list of people I want to see or possibly avoid. As I skim the front row, my eyes land on a woman who looks vaguely familiar. Still, I can’t put a finger on it. She sticks out like a sore thumb. For instance, she is one of the few wearing dark sunglasses in a dimly lit room. Making her stand out in all black, except for the few accents that set her apart from everyone else around her, who are dripping with vibrant colors, something you would expect at a Gucci show—wild statement pieces, different patterns, and textures that ebb and flow amongst each other.

She was magnetic in a way that made it hard for me to look away. The light played off her features, creating a soft aura. A delicate ray of pink traced a faint glow around her. I couldn’t tell if it was an illusion or a trick of the mind in my rose-colored glasses. When I lowered my frames to get a clearer view, I found that she was just as stunning without them—and still, to this day, I can’t explain the feeling; it was like my soul took the lead, reaching out, hoping to find a tether. A single piece of thread that could tie me to her.

And there I stood, my mind spinning out of control. I don’t even know how long I stood there. How long I continued watching her, captivated by how the light which seemed to dance with the shadows every time a model passed in front of her. Another thing I noticed was her ruby-red lip. How they spread into a shy smile, the light catching the gleam of her white teeth—a sight I imagined could be seen from anywhere in the room if you were fortunate enough to catch it. I observed her as she straightened upright and crossed her legs, almost as if she had suddenly become aware of her surroundings. Was she nervous? 

Her hair was slicked back into a sleek bun, tight against her scalp, making her features more pronounced and giving her a tidier appearance than everyone else. This timeless look could set anyone apart from the crowd, but what really caught my eye was the gilded chain dress that hugged her all-black attire underneath. I wanted to see her stand up. I wanted to know how the light played off the delicate beads draped from the woven metal. I wondered if it was uncomfortable for her or if she realized she stood out more than the celebrities around her. She had to be someone important, right? Not just anyone can sit front row at a Gucci show—Who is she?

As if she sensed my gaze, her head abruptly turned toward the curtains, causing me to jump back and bump into Olivia. “What the hell?” I hissed. 

Olivia stepped back, eyes wide, my words landing with a bite. I thought, “fuck is she about to make a scene?”—and yes, the bitterness was unnecessary, but it came more from defense than anger. I didn’t want to be found out. What was I doing anyway? How long had she been standing there? Could she see what I was looking at? Or could I pretend that I was trying to get a better view of the show, which was technically true, right?

“Can we please start over tonight?” she asks, almost pleading. “I know tonight is special for you.” Olivia runs her hands up my chest and cups my face.

“Okay…” I exhale. I want to have a good time, but a part of me knows I would enjoy myself more without her here, and it’s this very feeling that will haunt me all night, my thoughts like demons filling the room—unwanted guests that I’m no longer sure I want to keep at bay, and I know this isn’t fair. 

I couldn’t tell if it was the afterparty or the drinks that came with it, but eventually, the mind fog that plagued me throughout the evening began to lift. It was like a breath of fresh air, each drink diluting the pressure; the animosity threaded into every conversation Olivia and I had was evaporating. I could let go of the stress and relax into the theme of the night—and that was to have fun and fucking enjoy myself because I work hard, dammit.

It was getting easier to play into Olivia’s game of putting on for the coward. This was the part she liked; she loved putting on in a room full of people. She fucking thrived on the attention—she loved wearing me like a glove she could take on and off whenever she pleased. 

I was already three drinks in when I spotted my “mystery girl.” It surprised me—she was much shorter than I had imagined, but something was compelling about her presence. When she finally looked my way, I instinctively put my arm around Olivia, feeding into the lie, feeling like a fool when her eyes flitted over me with no recognition, piercing my ego in one swift look. I didn’t know what I thought would happen…actually, I’ll tell you exactly what I thought would happen. I thought my presence alone would be enough to garner her attention. Instead, I stood there stunned when her eyes lingered on Olivia, sending her a friendly smile as she mouthed the words, “I love your dress.” pulling at the strap of her dress to drive her compliment home.

Astonished, I stood by, holding my breath as the transaction morphed into Olivia mouthing a returned compliment, making ‘Mystery Girl’ beam and my chest swell with jealousy as she turned away, not even sparing me a second glance. She moved through the room effortlessly, like a hummingbird, moving from flower to flower fast yet graceful, donning that beautiful smile that had me begging her to look my way—just one more time. That’s all I would need. 

Was she a journalist? It seemed like everyone knew who she was. She spoke to everyone she encountered with such ease that each conversation I noticed flowed as if they were friends—though perhaps they were, but how was I to know? At some point, I lost her in the night, or maybe I knew I had to release her from my thoughts. I wanted to end the night on a high note, not go home with a suspecting partner to whom I would have to explain myself later. 

So, by drink five, I was being pulled onto the stage with Stevie, duetting a few songs, and as I closed my eyes, singing out the lines:

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above? 

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

I opened my eyes as we swayed into the chorus, browsing the crowd. My gaze locked with Olivia’s, who was crying, tears streaming down her face, a pained look of grief stealing her features. We shared a look of understanding. Maybe even realization, but it hit me hard, the sadness creeping up my spine as she turned and moved away from the crowd, and I noticed her bump into Alessandro, who caught her by the arm with a concerned look on his face. I pulled away from the microphone, my voice choking up, and I let Stevie take over. We both knew that our world was crumbling right before our eyes and when I glanced back over, searching for Olivia, she was gone. 

A/N: Ya'll let me know in the comments what you think. I'd love to get your feedback. If you think I should continue?? Hope you guys enjoyed!

[ellouchi]

Jimmy dating headcannons (sfw/gn reader)

Disclaimer: this work contains unhealthy interpersonal practices and elements of abuse.

Side note: this was going to be LONGER and include nsfw but I've decided it's better to divide everything into parts. Finally getting this out because there is a critical shortage of Jimmy x reader works (cries and picks up a pen). Let me know if I missed something or made a mistake.

Enjoy!

— ok starting with the fluff: Jimmy feels too embarrassed to properly hold your hand, like some small shy boy. He will make it seem like you've the one who acts childish of course, holds your hand if you plead enough and only for a minute in public, for a bit more when in private. You can be lucky enough to tag after him holding his sleeve if he feels like it. Jimmy secretly loves to hold your wrist, especially in a tight grip, feeling your pulse beating under your skin (he is like a handcuff).

— Jimmy doesn't say "I love you", not in a usual sense. Instead it's always alternatives like common "You make me feel all warm and stupid inside" and the most rare "You mean a lot to me" spoken in a quiet sincere tone. Unfortunately "I love you"s are reserved for manipulation. He knows it gets people very compliant or/and defenseless. It doesn't do any harm anyway because he's merely speaking the truth. It's actually a litmus test if you love him or not, so be very careful with your words during those moments.

— primarily uses your name or alias you go with instead of pet names. Sometimes, Jimmy would use baby, babe, sweet cheeks (bear with me); dear, darling and love when he's pissed off or he tries to be condescending.

— Jimmy has a preconceived notion that your parents/family wouldn't like him, he has enough self awareness for that. Because of this, he'll try to make it seem like he's better than he is, so you better play along. If your family hates his guts, Jim doubles down, resulting in both parties wagging a war. Doesn't give a fuck about them at all after that disastrous first meeting. However, if somehow you family did take a liking to Jimmy, he's glad....but also puzzled. I think Jim has had shitty childhood, so when he is treated like a proper family member, he's lost. He doesn't want to see your family often because of his complicated feelings, but makes exceptions for the special occasions.

— Jimmy knows and remembers things about you to the points it's both scary and impressive: likes and dislikes, fears, dreams, ambitions etc. On the more positive side, this includes songs, books, movies, comics and anything like that — even if he doesn't like it, he has an understanding of what it is. If you call him out, Jimmy either says he doesn't care (he does, so much actually) or says "Of course I do, you can't shut up about [thing]" (lies).

— Jimmy doesn't have a lot of free time on his hands. If both of you are free, that means you are spending this time with him. No, your plans won't matter if they exclude Jim out of the picture. This involves discouraging you or outright sabotaging you. As per usual, he wouldn't find anything wrong with this kind of behaviour. You should just stop being unreasonable and spend some time with your lover. Look, he even went out of his way to find a movie you two would enjoy watching.

— birthdays with Jimmy are weird (if you could tell from the game). If you look forward to them, so does he; if you don't, well he congratulates you when the day comes and that's about it. It's much worse when the gifts are involved, because Jimmy will actually try to get what you want, and the more expensive it is, the more positive reaction he expects from you. He saved up throughout the year, denied himself pleasures and worked his ass off — if you don't shower him with appreciation and gratitude, he will make a scene about how selfish you are. On your own birthday.

— Jimmy keeps your gifts and trinkets in his drawer (if they small enough). He has some photos of you together, small souvenirs from trips, cute notes you left him — you name it. This habit will get creepy: the things having a lot of sentimental value to you, your trash like discarded perfume bottle and cream tubs, even your underwear. He wouldn't care if you made fun of him, but god forbid you misplace or throw away anything from that drawer.

— Jimmy loves when you rely on him. However, to a degree because this man quickly gets tired of running errands. If he offers to do something it's safe to agree, asking too much will get him worked up so don't overdo. With that said, Jimmy always does small things, like making your preferred beverage during the day, calling to remind you something, doing small chores unprompted, basically covering your bases. It's hard to feel unloved when you are remembered and cared for in that way. Also gives him an ammo for fights in case you forget how much Jimmy does for you.

— Jimmy insists on driving you everywhere (so people would know that you belong to him). Also it means Jim has lots of good punishments at his disposal when you two fight: lock the car from the inside? Leave you somewhere you don't know? Or just not pick you up altogether? Better leave all the arguments for later or don't bring them up at all...

— you are one of few people to see Jimmy's playful side: he just loves to joke around you. He wouldn't like it, but your sense of humour would rub off him greatly. If that wasn't enough this man loves to prank you in small ways: it's childish stuff most of times, like hiding or misplacing an item in your house and playing innocent. Other than that, Jimmy will whistle and catcall you when he sees you and will slap your ass in public when you leave. You are encouraged to prank him in return too, but you will be pranked harder next time. Grins, snickers and snorts a lot but laughs very, very rarely. However, it's one of the most healing things you could experience. Literally restores years to your lifespan.

— Jimmy doesn't like seeing you upset actually. He's not super soft or doting, he will pry the reason for your distress out of you whether you like it or not. If he deems it's unimportant, will tell you to suck it up, maybe even make a sarcastic remark. If it's serious business, he involves himself. Of course half the time it makes your situation worse and him angrier at himself which translates to Jim being angry at you.

— when Jimmy is upset, it's best to wait it out. I headcannon Jimmy used to have terrible anger issues but with years managed to control them to a degree. It doesn't mean he wouldn't lash out on you, his partner, it does get ugly. Him hugging you for comfort is actually more frequent than you would expect. As long as you don't address his tears or say much, Jimmy would calm down with little to no issue. Don't bring it up later too, he won't respond and will pretend it never happened.

— finishing with the reminder that you will be carrying Jimmy's emotional baggage as well as your own if you have any. I hope you have strong and healthy arms and back for that. If you're not careful enough or *cough cough* stay ignorant of Jim's bad influence on you, he will bring you to his level and mold you into who he wants you to be. But it doesn't work one way: in theory, you could "fix" some of his unsavoury outlooks but don't expect too much. After years of blood, sweat and tears it's possible to finally convince him to go to therapist. Praying he would continue on his own wouldn't be enough and you would need to actively encourage Jim to not give up on his mental health treatment. Way to go!

[monophobix]

Ekko and Mel......now that was personal. They really gave them the Magical Negro™ treatment and no time to explore it. And oh boy, am I tired of it. I hate the narrative of black characters having to self-sacrifice for people who would not do the same for them. Could you imagine being fucked with by something like the Arcane or LeBlanc for allegedly a year or so,just to immediately go to war the moment you're back in normal surroundings? Do they get a break at all? Like damn.

Neither of these characters nor their trauma was ever taken seriously. I haven't forgotten how this fandom acted towards Mel in season one because of her entanglement with Jayce and the blatant slut-shaming and misogynoir that came with it. Nor have I forgotten how Ekko and his dynamic with Jinx was hyped up for the past three years to market season 2, just to barely get screen time in said season (outside saving everyone's ass in the finale).

(Insert the Rose McGowan saying "Imagine how tired we are" meme.)

ok so there are some aspects of this that i agree and disagree with

- the self-sacrificing part i disagree with. yes both characters have miserable endings but other characters also sacrificed themselves for others i.e. jinx, viktor, jayce so i don’t think this specifically is just a mel and ekko thing. i also do believe that atleast ekko has characters who would 100% sacrifice themselves for him aka jinx, maybe vi. as for mel, she is very alone and it’s miserable but she’s also the character most likely to be in the show forwards (noxus seasons) so i doubt this is the end for her.

- i agree that we should’ve seen more consequences of what they went through. the black rose and mel and leblanc deffo should’ve had more emphasis and it’s really annoying we didn’t actually learn shit about that. again, hopefully the noxus show will elaborate. as for ekko, we did get an entire episode focused on him but i still agree that we should’ve seen more from when he got back. with the amount that timebomb was hyped up we absolutely should’ve seen more of it and the fact we didn’t was a massive shame and entirely netflix’s fault (the finale was supposed to be over an hour but was forced to be cut down). i rlly hope they release those scenes :((

- i agree that the fandom definitely needs to fix up on mel. i understand people disliking her when season 1 released because there were a lot of unknowns but anyone who hates on mel just to serve jayvik deserves to be shot maddie style. you don’t have to like a character but people also need to learn to not be a misogynistic twat too.

generally, i get where your coming from because things were really rushed and we didn’t get to see as much development as was actually written, but i don’t see it as a race issue since it’s not only mel and ekko who were done dirty like this but also many others (vi, jinx, isha, sevika) who didn’t get the on screen time they deserved. idk lol

[decepti-thots]

☕ ~ trans woman whirl?

I love trans Whirl headcanons but I think I love them for totally different reasons than I usually see, tbh? That is- I think a lot of the time the fandom just goes 'oh! Girl Holoform Spotted! now this character is girl, and we can say character is trans girl because in the comic they are called he/him' and tbh I find that attitude as fandom often implements it annoying for a couple reasons; one, it often feels like a kind of 'if character Looks Like Girl, well, character Is Girl' deal which tbh feels kinda shallow to me ngl, and two, it (and similar under-expanded upon headcanons) not infrequently seems to be a way for the fandom as a whole to justify the general lack of content for the very explicitly canon trans characters by instead being like 'all the material we make for these characters not treated as such in canon proves that we definitely love trans characters. don't think about how lug or anode or arcee don't get that same attention, or that this content only offhandedly actually deals with transness 90% of the time', you know? Bit mean, but I can't help but feel that's a repeated tendency in the fandom, tbh. I would feel less like this if the fanon trans headcanons did not just vaguely go 'oh. also ig they are trans, how nice' with no follow up and instead actually treated these characters as having opinions about being trans, but in too many cases they unfortunately... don't. (And no, them being robots is not an excuse. Anode has opinions on this. Arcee has opinions on this, a lot of them!) But we're here to talk about Whirl, and I want to talk about why I do love trans Whirl, so.

I love trans Whirl for reasons far outside of that, and I think taking that approach to the idea does it a disservice tbqh. Specifically I like trans Whirl for the same reason I like reading Verity as trans, because it adds to Whirl's character arc about being denied agency over identity and clawing it back on purpose in a way where the trans reading feels especially resonant and like it genuinely adds to the overall subtext of her arc. Whirl's entire character is one where the violent removal of agency in her life is so much a focus it changes the course of history; Whirl refusing to let the functionists that ruined her life win is why Elegant Chaos plays out as it does. Whirl is a character whose entire sense of self as a person with the ability to make any choices at all was viciously ripped away from her, and in turn a character whose response to that is to make her ability to choose exactly what she does so utterly undeniable that even if you hate her, even if you think she's repulsive, even if you want to throttle her, you cannot pretend she is not in control. In that specific context, adding in the idea that she would choose her own gender, in defiance of a Cybertronian culture that implicitly treats gender as an alien unwelcome influence, so she can have what she wants- that rules. There's also such a line to be drawn there between Arcee's arc and Whirl, I think, that is so great. That's where I see why it is so good. Being seen as just a gun to be aimed that everyone professes distaste for but still wants to stick around and do dirty work, but you insist upon your interiority being seen as just that; your interiority. And all the things the people who want to do to you which you hate being what you embrace. It's fantastic. I simply prefer that as an angle through which to view the ideas than like... haha well Whirl's holoform is Girl With Guns how funny. You know?

And one of her most "humanising" moments is when she extends that to someone else. I'm thinking of when she tells Tailgate that Cyclonus was lying about his injuries; that part where Cyclonus is trying to protect Tailgate in a way that is ultimately toxic for them both. Sure, everyone else agrees that the best way to handle this is to lie for your own good so you don't make a decision people don't want you to. But that's not fucking fair, and who gets to decide what's "your own good"? Viewing that in light of a Whirl who is not just vaguely a woman but specifically linking that to the way Whirl's rigidly defined role under a functionist heel ruined her sense of identity, because they know what's best for you whether you like it or not- damn, that is COMPELLING. And I find that just. So much more compelling than what fandom so often does with the idea. Whirl, above all else, knows how important demanding agency is. I think that makes Whirl a character ripe for a reading as trans, and I love that for her so much. she'll grab you by the throat and make you acknowledge her. and she's right every step of the way, no matter how much you want to look away. i love her.

tl;dr WHIRL TRANS WOMAN GOOD. LOVE IT. no really i just, it's so good.

[eowynstwin]

So, Ikea and Bunny. I need to talk about them too, though no one has explicitly asked about them.

The truth is, I am still so fucking angry at those two. There is not a kind thought in me for either of them. Either my worst suspicions are true, and they conducted the whole affair from behind the scenes, or they were willfully stupid enough to swallow Myka’s story for the sake of their own blog engagement. Because I sure never heard of either of them before this happened.

Those two were needlessly and joyfully cruel to me. They languished in attacking my character, my maturity, my intelligence, the way I phrased things, or that I did not say what they thought I ought to. They called me a sociopath. Ad verbatim they said my brain "doesn't fucking work right."*

I have been VERY open for a while now about being autistic. I certainly already had it in my blog description by the time they came after me.

They went on to accuse me of poor reading comprehension, bullying, and abuse. They accused me of setting my followers on Myka. When I referenced one separate occasion in which I had a public disagreement with another blogger earlier this year, they spun that reference out into a HISTORY of influencing my followers to go after others I didn't like. (There was no request for clarification on my part before they took that and ran with it.)

Bunny even went as far as to explain what Myka's original post meant, the way a third grade teacher might, to prove her point about my lack of reading comprehension.** Bunny, just call me a fucking retard and be done with it.

Then, as people began to point out that they were in fact doing the same thing they accused me of doing, they had the audacity to remind everyone not to harass me. So it's okay when you forget about that, girlies, but guillotine for me because I forgot?

When the truth finally came out, they backpedaled REAL quick. I even got some apologies in my inbox.

Genuinely. From the bottom of my heart. Absolutely fuck the both of you. I didn't have you blocked until I left. In fact, the both of you FOLLOWED ME. You never ONCE tried to talk to me first anyway. You two saw your chance to tear me to pieces and you fucking took it.

Disclaimer, because I know these two people by now: this is no call to action for anyone to go after them. I doubt you could anyway, since all of their blogs have been inactive since June. (the-original-honeybun is crashtestbunny's main.)

But these two did permanent damage to my reputation within this fandom. Even if they were to delete every single post they made about me, there would still be versions of them circulating. Their blogs are still fucking UP, ostensibly for accountability, but exactly how accountable are they if they haven't actually been there to take it?

*Specifically Ikea. Scroll her blog if you need proof. The post is still up. **Also still up on her blog, crashtestbunny.

[carmenilla]

incoming anti-milkvan rant but pro-elmike rant (and some byler mixed in there because you know me)

my rants aren’t very organized so i apologize :,)

mike and el haven’t been together since like the first season, and their relationship has been descending since then.

the most they’ve spent by each other’s side was in season three, and even then they were in a group setting like the whole time and it wasn’t them, together. also we’ve all seen the season three blocking. they are almost never next to each other

with will it’s the opposite. mike and will spent no time together in season 1, but spent 90% of the time together in both season 2 and season 4 (el was barely with mike in either of these seasons) and while season three had them be less of a pair, once again, the season three blocking comes in clutch and makes sure to pair mike with will in every group setting

they even spent the end of season 4 together. even after mike confessed his “love” for el. el and mike aren’t talking, they aren’t with each other, they’re not even paired together in the blocking of the final shot. (we all know who is, though.

when are mike and el ever together since they’ve been dating, excluding scenes that further the deterioration of their relationship? they’re barely together at all.

el continuously has a plot/subplot of coming into her own. being independent. not being defined by papa, or her dad, or mike (as max says in season three). obviously she wants to have a family and loved ones. she deserves to have that. she does have that - but that’s not going to be taken away or lessened by her standing on her own two legs without anyone else telling her how they want her to do so

all of this has been leading to a milkvan breakup. it’s been built up for multiple seasons now. they’ve laid the ground work. mike and el were best together and understood each other the most when they were friends.

notice how i didn’t say “just friends” - romantic relationships are not actually any stronger than friendship. just different. in fact, friendship is stronger, and while romance can heighten that (like with other pairings in the show) sometimes it just doesn’t (like with mike and el).

mike and el haven’t been friends for a while. like how people say “just friends”, they’re just dating. they’ve been doing this since they were so young and they’re still so young and they don’t understand the importance of the friendship aspect of romantic relationships. they only understand what girlfriend and boyfriend are supposed to do, and they can’t even try to do that without it all falling apart.

they need to be friends again. their relationship would be so much stronger. i miss their friendship. they were so sweet and so understanding and so good together when they were actually friends. a lot of couples are both friends and dating, especially in stranger things - look at lumax, my favorite example of this and why i love them so much. but mike and el aren’t. and they should be. they were best when they were

i fucking love elmike and there’s no chance of me getting them back if they keep trying to date each other “correctly” instead of, i don’t know, trying to be friends again. making genuine connections with each other. being true to the nature of their relationship. they are such friends, and maybe if they were friends and dating it would work out, but they’re not and it’s clear they’re not going to be. so if it’s one or the other, they should pick friends. they are amazing together as friends. they were always best as friends.

and then when we flip over to the byler side of things. mike and will have had a long time being friends. they’ve been friends, best friends, since kindergarten. in season 5, they’ll be in junior year, and they will have been best friends for ten years. they’ve had time to have their relationship develop, unlike mike and eleven. they are so clearly very good to each other and with each other as friends - but there is something grating on their relationship and friendship recently. something bubbling beneath the surface, making smooth sailing not so smooth.

yes, this is a metaphor for homosexuality. homosexuality is banging on their door. these bitches GAY. and it’s straining their friendship. they’re still friends, obviously, and they still want to be, but by ignoring this whole other piece of their relationship, they start fighting and misunderstanding each other for the first time in the history of their friendship. something clearly needs to change here.

when byler does become canon, there is zero doubt in my mind that they will still also be friends. that is the backbone and most important part of their relationship, and that is why their relationship will work. and that’s also 80% of the reason why i ship them, especially over milkvan, who just aren’t friends anymore like they were in s1.

something needs to change here in both mike and el’s relationship and mike and will’s. something that will benefit all these characters individually and their relationships. something that the creators have been laying the groundwork for for multiple seasons now. and i cannot wait to watch it happen. i love all three of these characters so much and i need them to get their happy ending