#i didn’t really know where this one was going lol

[mggslover]

No Strings Attached

In which reader is on a mission to get her boss to relieve some stress, not realizing he'd end up doing the same for her.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: smut (18+) x fluff Content warnings: porn with plot, jessica and jack make an appearance, no mention of haley, hotch smiling (lol), reader being sad and a bit insecure bc she hasn't got laid in a while, mentions of drinking wine, no strings attached (but not really bc they're obsessed with each other), soft!dom hotch, praise, breast play, ass worship, oral (f receiving), p in v sex Word count: 4,7k A/n: first time writing a fic dedicated to Hotch and i fear i'm obsessed... also i had to do some acrobatics to make sure these positions work (they do) so give me a heart for the effort your feedback and support are highly appreciated!

Aaron Hotchner is a busy man. And these days, even more so. The responsibilities of being Unit Chief were always demanding, but they seemed to multiply now that he was balancing the weight of single parenthood as well.

As a profiler it was obvious to you how much he struggled with juggling between these professions, even though he always tried to hide it from the team. You noticed his slightly furrowed brow when he thought no one was watching, and the slow drag of his steps as he moved between meetings and paperwork.

Since you’d joined the team, you'd developed a deep respect for Aaron. Where others saw a hard-nosed, no-nonsense boss—a “drill sergeant” in Morgan’s words—you saw a man who held himself and his team to incredibly high standards because he believed in their potential. You saw a man who cared deeply, even when his personal life was slowly suffocating beneath the pressure of it all.

Even if he would never admit it, no human being can go through the difficulties he goes through without ever catching a break, without getting any help. So tonight, as you passed his office, a light still flickering inside, you decided to do something about it.

Your knuckle made contact with the door, knocking three times as you waited. When there was no immediate response, you quietly creaked the door open.

The sight of him behind the desk was familiar. His shoulders were hunched and his brows furrowed in concentration, as he scanned the endless stacks of paperwork that seemed to breed faster than he could handle them.

"Hey," you greeted softly, offering a small smile as you stepped into the room.

Hotch looked up from the pile in front of him, his gaze flicking from the documents to you. There was a slight exhaustion behind his eyes that he didn’t try to mask.

"Hey.” His eyes dropped to his wristwatch for just a moment, his lips curling into a subtle frown. "It’s late. Why haven’t you gone home yet?"

You waved off his concern. "I’m about to. Had to send a few more emails for the lab reports."

He nodded, but didn’t immediately return to his work. Instead, he watched you with that signature intensity of his, silently observing you.

"I- uh, I wanted to ask you something.” You hesitated for a moment as you moved further into the room, the door gently clicking shut behind you.

His brows rose slightly, an almost imperceptible shift of interest in his posture. "Go on."

You cleared your throat, your hands instinctively clasping behind your back. "You’ve been working a lot of late nights."

“That’s not a question.” He stated in an amused tone.

A small smile played on your lips. "I know, but it’s a… concern," you said. "And I was wondering if there was anything I could do to help you out."

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. His hands folded neatly in his lap, and he leaned back in his chair. It was hard to tell whether he was considering your offer or mentally debating the logistics of it.

"You want to help me out?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes.”

Aaron grabbed a stack of papers, knocking them into a neat pile on his desk, then looked back at you. "So, this is something you’re interested in?" His tone was laced with amusement as he nodded down at the amount of paperwork in his hands.

You winced at the sight of it. "Uh... not exactly," you said, trying to keep your tone light. "I was thinking more along the lines of taking care of Jack," you added, raising your voice slightly on the last part, unsure of how he’d react to your suggestion.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Taking care of Jack?"

"Yeah.” You met his gaze, trying to sound confident despite the uncertainty creeping in. "Just on the days we don’t have a case. I could go to your place and stay with him until you get home."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "You know Jessica’s there," he said, referring to his ex-sister-in-law who had taken on the role of taking care of Jack when he had to work.

“Don’t you think she deserves a break every once in a while?”

His expression shifted, becoming slightly defensive. "She offered to take care of him.”

"I know," you responded quickly, knowing he’d never force her into it. "But I’m offering too. I babysat all through university, I know what I’m doing."

He gave you a tight-lipped smile, his eyes flicking back to the papers in front of him. "That’s not necessary, but thank you," he said, his tone closing the conversation.

You weren’t ready to let it go yet. You stepped closer to his desk, hoping to draw his attention back. "Please? I want to help you."

He didn’t look up. "I don’t need any help," he stubbornly replied, his eyes still glued to the paperwork.

“Then let me put it this way,” you pressed on. "I want to help the team, because no offense, your stress is affecting all of us. And on top of that, I want to help Jack."

He glanced up at you, the wheels in his mind turning, and you showed him your best puppy eyes.

"Did you learn that from Reid?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Is it working?" you grinned back.

He chuckled breathlessly. "Alright, fine. One night. Let’s see how it goes."

You fought back a victorious grin. “Good. Just you wait, Hotchner. Once you see how great I am with kids, you’ll never let me go."

—

A week later, Hotch took you up on your offer. Jessica had a wedding to attend, and you’d agreed to look after Jack for the evening.

Though you’d spent plenty of time with Jack when he visited his dad at the office or at events outside of work, Hotch insisted on driving you to his place for a proper handoff.

He held the door open for you as you entered his apartment. You were immediately greeted by Jessica, dressed in a stunning outfit with a purse ready in hand.

"I’m late, I’m late!" she panicked, almost running as she headed for the door. But when she saw you, her demeanor softened.

“There’s my saving grace,” she said with a relieved smile. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

You waved her off with a grin. “It’s my pleasure. You look amazing, go have fun.”

She offered a final smile, then said her goodbyes to Hotch before quickly heading out.

“Hi, Dad!” Jack’s voice rang out as he bounced into the living room, his excitement palpable. You smiled, watching the little boy as he ran toward his father.

“Hey, buddy.” Hotch lifted him into his arms with a small groan. “You’re getting bigger every day.”

Your heart warmed at the exchange. Hotch was a completely different man when he was at home—more relaxed, more playful, the kind of father who carefully kept work and family separate.

He put Jack down, introducing you to him.

“I know who she is, Dad. We colored together. She’s really good at drawing Spider-Man.”

Hotch raised an intrigued eyebrow at you.

"I have more hidden talents than you know,” you playfully shrugged.

You turned to Jack, crouching down to his level. "Want to grab the crayons? We can make some more drawings."

Jack’s eyes lit up, and without hesitation, he scampered off in search of his favorite colors, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll find the red one!”

You chuckled at his enthusiasm and straightened up, turning back to Hotch. “You’ve got a sweet kid,”

Hotch’s eyes followed Jack as he rummaged through the drawer. There was pride in the way he looked at his son, but you could see the hint of anxiety that always seemed to lurk beneath the surface when it came to Jack.

You placed a reassuring hand on his arm, giving him a small, comforting squeeze. “He’s in good hands, Hotch. You don’t have to worry.”

He met your eyes, and for a brief moment, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift. His gaze softened with unspoken gratitude. “I trust you,” he spoke sincerely.

“Good.” You gave him a small smile and gave his bicep a final, reassuring pat. “Now get some work done. You might be able to make it in time for dinner.”

With a final glance at Jack, he turned to leave. The door clicked softly behind him, and you were left on your own with the mini version of him, who was already showing off his new crayons.

—

That evening marked the first of many. When you weren’t out on a case, you found yourself naturally heading to Hotch's after work—sometimes taking over from Jessica for the day or picking up Jack from school yourself. You often stayed well into the evening, even after Hotch came home, enjoying dinner together, playing games, or simply talking. There were even times where you stayed the night, sharing a quiet drink after putting Jack to bed. He’d insist you sleep in his bed while he took the couch. In the mornings, the three of you would share breakfast, with Hotch always ensuring the fridge was stocked with your favorite foods and knowing exactly how you liked your eggs.

You knew your colleagues would lose their minds if they’d ever find out, but for you, it never felt strange. It felt right. Comfortable. And whenever you were back on the field, you’d slip back into your professional roles—the accidental first-name slips the only sign of the bond you shared.

Being at their place made you realize how much your work had tangled itself into every aspect of your life. You’d moved away from family, struggled to maintain a personal life, and watched every attempt at dating falter because of your job. Despite how fulfilling your work at the BAU was, you’d forgotten just how deeply you craved a sense of belonging—a place where you were appreciated for more than just your professional skills or your ability to handle a weapon. Around Aaron and Jack, you could simply let go and be yourself.

Today was another day at the Hotchner house. You had spent the entire afternoon with Jack playing soccer in a nearby park until he was utterly exhausted, you practically had to drag him home. This time you didn’t mind though. Today has been a painful reminder of how single you were. The park had been filled with happy couples—some picnicking, some feeding the ducks, and others nervously sharing their first kiss.

You were grateful for how Aaron had allowed you to wiggle your way into his little family on days like these, but still it wasn’t yours. You still longed for one to call your own one day.

So, here you were—alone on the couch, watching a rom-com wishing you were starring in it, and finding comfort in the warmth of his house and the glass of wine in your hand.

You were so absorbed in the movie that you didn’t notice the door unlocking until Hotch stepped inside.

“Hey,” you greeted, reaching for the remote to pause the film.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, putting down his bag and hanging up his jacket. He loosened his tie and walked over to the couch, settling on the opposite end.

“Sorry, I opened a new bottle of wine”

He waved it off. “I’m glad that you did. It would’ve just collected dust on the shelf.”

You take another sip. “It’s a good one. Rossi’s?”

“You know it,” he replied with a soft smile, getting comfortable in the cushions as you put the movie back on.

The screen flickered with a romantic scene: a couple dancing in the rain, the male lead spinning the woman around in circles as they laughed.

“I miss that,” you murmured, a wistful smile tugging at your lips as you watched them.

Hotch glanced at you, a smirk forming. “It’s raining outside. Be my guest.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully dismissing the comment. “That’s not what I meant. Just look, Aaron,” you pointed at the TV, where the couple gazed at each other lovingly, before he pulled her in for a passionate kiss. “I don’t remember the last time someone looked at me like that.”

“Sometimes, I feel so desperate that I think about saying yes to the first guy who comes along, just to feel wanted again.”

Hotch straightened, concern flickering in his eyes. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“I know, Dad,” you teased, trying to ease the tension. “I’m unfortunately fully aware of the creeps out there.”

“On top of that, I’m not even sure anyone would take me up on it,” you added with a breathless laugh, your voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. “I haven’t exactly gotten much attention since joining the team. Maybe I’m not considered attractive anymore.”

“People can tell you know how to handle yourself,” he profiled. “Some find that intimidating. But you’re just as attractive—if not more so—than before you joined the team.”

You almost spilled your wine at his confession, the sudden heat in your cheeks betraying the flutter in your stomach.

“You don’t have to say that,” you mumbled, not wanting him to feel pity for you.

“Am I lying?” he asked, his voice steady. You met his gaze—his posture was open, his shoulders relaxed, and his eye contact was unwavering. It was textbook honesty.

“No,” you admitted quietly, feeling the truth of his words sink in.

“I don’t think you need some stranger or a serious relationship to get what you’re after.”

You blinked, not sure if you’d heard him right. “No?”

Hotch leaned in just a little, his voice lower now. “I think we could give each other what we need... without it being complicated.”

Your heart skipped, and you tried to process what he was suggesting. Your mind raced, the words hanging in the air between you.

“Are you suggesting a no-strings-attached relationship with me?”

He gave a small, wry smile. “I’m trying to be subtle about it, but it’s not going so well.”

You laughed, caught off guard, trying to mask your surprise as you saw the seriousness in his expression.

“How will this work?”

The corners of his lips lifted as you acknowledged thinking this through. “We would just… enjoy ourselves. Just when we’re here. Just when it’s the two of us.”

Enjoying yourself with Aaron Hotchner definitely wasn’t how you’d imagined this night going.

You stayed quiet, thinking it over. After a moment you slowly nodded your head. “Okay.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, waiting for confirmation.

“Yes. I am,” you responded, the words coming easier now.

You licked your lips nervously as he moved closer to you. His cologne enveloped you, making your pulse quicken.

As he continued gazing into your eyes, you decided it was your turn to make the next move. Carefully, you reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble against the palm of your hand. A small prayer passed through your mind, hoping you wouldn’t regret your next decision.

Then you kissed him.

The moment his lips met yours, the cliché of “fireworks” suddenly made sense—the feeling was intense, electric, a rush that left you breathless. His hands moved to the sides of your waist, pulling you closer. Before you could think, you were settled on his lap, the world around you narrowing to the heat of his touch.

A small, desperate whimper escaped you as his tongue brushed against yours. It had been so long since someone touched you this way—especially someone as strong and attractive as Aaron. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips as your hand slid over his chest, the other wrapping around his neck. He deepened the kiss, and the feeling was so overwhelming that it almost made you cry in relief.

He brushed his hands over the smooth curve of your waist and down the swell of your thighs, digging his fingers into the clothed skin.

Your soft moans were swallowed by your kisses, and you couldn’t help yourself as you moved your hips against his, feeling yourself get more aroused with each movement against the thin fabric of his slacks.

He let out a low grunt as you repeatedly rolled your hips against the hardening bulge in his pants. His large hands roamed up beneath your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You placed your hands over his, ready to take your shirt off, but just as quickly his hands closed around your wrists, stopping you gently.

“Not here,” he warned. “Let’s move to the bedroom.”

His words sent a rush of desire to your core, and though your legs trembled, you stood from his lap and followed him across the room. As he moved, Hotch unbuckled his belt with one swift, effortless motion. You paused mid-step, breath catching at the sight of the leather coiled in his hand, hypnotised by how seductive the image looked. You blinked a couple of times to get out of your trance, before hurrying after him, your legs trying to catch up to his confident pace.

You stepped into the bedroom, moving until you stood at the foot of the bed as he locked the door behind you. A flutter of nerves stirred in your stomach at the reality of what was about to happen.

Hotch walked toward you, slowly closing the distance. His eyes were dark as they took you in with a look of pure lust—one you’d previously never seen on him.

“Turn around for me.”

Maybe it was because you were so accustomed to his authority in the field, or perhaps it was the undeniable fact that you'd let him do anything to you at this point, but without a second thought, you obeyed, turning your back toward him.

His hands reached out to rub over your shoulders in slow circles. You instinctively leaned into him, your eyes closing as you let yourself melt into the comfort of his touch. He presses in closer, his chin resting against your shoulder.

“What is it that you’ve been longing for?” His voice is a soft, sensual whisper, his breath warm against your skin.

A shaky breath escapes your lips as his hands delicately trail over your collarbones, carefully moving lower, inching toward your breasts. The moment his palms cup them, your nipples harden.

He hummed, still awaiting a response.

“You,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible through the thick need.

You feel the faint curve of a teasing smile against your skin. “You already have me,” he murmured. “Tell me how I can make you feel good.”

His thumbs flick over your nipples, and you arch your back into him, feeling the solid press of his body against yours, the hardness in his pants meeting you once again.

“It’s been a while since-” your words dissolve into a moan as his fingers pinch your nipples.

“Since what?” he teased, his lips tracing the curve of your neck, each kiss setting your skin alight.

You swallowed. “Since… since someone’s gone down on me.”

“Is that so?” he hummed, the sound rich with interest. His tongue slides up your neck, before turning it into a kiss.

“Aaron, please,” you begged, grinding your hips into him.

“How can someone like you have been deprived of pleasure for so long?” he thought out loud, and he finally grabbed the material of your shirt, pulling it over your head.

His hands glide softly over your back, before he unclasps your bra with one smooth motion. Your breasts spill free, and he immediately cups them in his hands, holding them as if he wants to keep you warm and covered. The pleasure is even more delicious now that the contact is skin-to-skin.

His hands roam over your stomach, until he reaches the button of your pants, undoing it. He sinks to his knees behind you, his fingers curling around the waistband of your pants and panties, easing them down. A low curse escapes him as the fabric slides over your ass and down your thighs, revealing more of you inch by inch.

You held onto his shoulder for support, as he steadied your leg, guiding you to step out of your pants. The second he tossed the fabric to the side, he placed his hands steadily on your thighs, leaning in to press a heated kiss to your ass. You let out a moan, bucking forward, but he holds you firmly in place as his lips trail wet, lingering kisses over your cheeks.

“Place your knee on the bed for me,” he tenderly instructs.

You followed his order, lifting one knee onto the bed, your upper body arching slightly as it hovers just above the mattress. The cool air brushes over your exposed pussy as you’re displayed in front of him.

A loud moan leaves your mouth, as his tongue makes contact with your folds. The pressure is just right, each flick of his tongue drawing a sharp gasp from you as he licks up and down in a deliberate rhythm.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating through you as he speaks, “dripping down your thighs already.” His lips trail lower, and he laps up the wetness that has gathered on your inner thighs, his stubble tickling against your sensitive skin. You grip the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to.

Aaron’s tongue returns to your pussy, the tip of it firmly pushing inside, curling upward as he slides in and out, hitting all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure through you. Each thrust makes you cry out.

You let out a small whine as his tongue retreats, pressing a delicate kiss to the tender skin. “Don’t get me wrong,” he starts, licking his lips clean, “I love hearing you, but you can’t be too loud.”

You silently nodded, your breath hitching as his finger unhurriedly traced your sensitive folds. Just as he was about to enter you, you stopped him.

“I- I need your cock,” you whined, your hips pushing back toward him, desperate for more.

“Yeah? You need it that bad?” he teased, as he rose to his feet behind you.

You crawled onto the bed, glancing back at him. His lips still glistened with the trace of you, and his eyes were locked onto yours, filled with predatory focus.

“I need it, Aaron,” you repeated, biting your bottom lip as your gaze lingered on the hard outline of his length pressed against his thigh.

He groaned, his hands quickly pulling at his tie, tossing it aside before he began unbuttoning his shirt. His movements were confident—like a private performance just for you. You leaned back on your arms, your feet planted on the bed, allowing him to see just how much he was making you ache for him.

As he removed his shirt, the muscles in his broad shoulder flexed, and the trail of dark hair down his stomach led your eyes straight to what you craved.

He wasn’t shy as he pulled his pants down, eager to show you just how worked up you’d made him. His length stood hard, the tip flushed red and glistening with precum. You instinctively pressed your thighs together, giving you a soft release of tension.

He joined you on the bed, lying on his side and pulling you flush against his chest, spooning you. His lips crashed into yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his groans vibrating against your mouth. His hand explored your front, squeezing your breasts, while his arousal pressed insistently against your ass.

You moaned, your leg draping over his as you shifted, opening yourself up to him. He reached down, gripping his length, positioning it against you before slowly pushing inside, stretching you inch by inch.

You took a sharp breath, adjusting to the feel of him inside you. His cock throbbed, as if begging for you to move. Slowly, you rolled your hips, taking more of him in, and Hotch’s low growl rumbled in your ear.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with pleasure. “Taking me so well.”

He was fully inside you now, filling you completely, and his hand slid down to your exposed clit, his fingers moving in slow, rhythmic circles. His thrusts matched the pace, deep and deliberate.

Every movement sent shockwaves through your body, your breath quickening as the familiar knot of pleasure tightened in your stomach.

“I’m close, Aaron,” you whimpered, and he moaned in response, placing soft kisses along your jaw before sucking at your neck, marking you.

His fingers moved faster, pushing you closer to the edge, and your body twitched as your orgasm crashed over you. His arms held you tight, anchoring you as the sensations slowly subsided.

When he withdrew his hand from your clit, it slid down to your knee, bending your leg to spread you even wider. Without warning, he began pounding into you, the sudden change in speed making you cry out, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips.

“Be quiet for me. Don’t make me tell you again,” he warned. You involuntarily moaned at the way he commanded you, and he grunted in response.

With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, your body pressed flat against the bed. A sharp gasp escaped you as he grabbed your thighs, lifting them to raise your ass in the air, before entering you again.

One hand pressed firmly into your shoulder, holding you down, while the other gripped your hips, forcing you to meet each of his thrusts. The new position did its job—your moans were muffled into the pillow, leaving only the wet slap of skin and the sound of Hotch’s deep, guttural grunts with each push of his hips.

“They're so stupid for not wanting you,” he groaned. “You have me now. I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. After feeling this, you knew you wouldn’t ever be satisfied by anyone else. You would want no one but him.

“I’m going to come inside of you,” he breathed, bending over so his chest pressed against your back, his warmth enveloping you.

“Oh-“ Your breath caught as the sensation in your core tightened again. “Yes, please. Inside of me, please.” You couldn’t form a full sentence as the heat inside of your core builds up again.

He reaches under you to touch your clit, and the instant his fingers make contact, you come undone. Your legs tremble, giving way beneath you as the rush of pleasure takes over. Hotch pushes into you two more times before you feel him spill inside, the sensation sending you into another, deeper orgasm.

He presses soft, tender kisses to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers in your ear, “I’m sorry I got a little carried away.”

You hum in satisfaction, a pleased smile tugging at your lips. “I’m glad you did.”

—

You weren’t sure what time it was, but you had a quick shower together—Hotch giving you one more orgasm—and were now laying in bed, your clean bodies tangled under his sheets.

“Will you stay the night?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as he held you close.

It was endearing how gentle and shy he sounded, a stark contrast to what the two of you had just shared.

“Only if you promise to not move to the couch,” you mumbled sleepily, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

You turned your head to him, noticing the quiet that had settled between you both.

“What is it?” you asked, tracing absent patterns to his skin.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I was thinking… maybe we can attach those strings a bit more.”

You chuckled. “Maybe,” you playfully teased, pressing a final kiss to his lips.

[pshbites]

SUPER RICH KIDS ━ psh

pairing : richboy!sunghoon x fem!reader genre : sort of strangers to lovers, mix of angst and fluff but mostly fluff, sort of in an unspoken but aware relationship at the end warnings : mentions of fake friends, drug usage, and backstabbing, not proofread, excessive use of commas lol.. i think that’s it synopsis : the last person you expected to have a connection with was park sunghoon but you were proven wrong wc : 1.1k a/n : first fic of the new year LESSGOO. yes this is heavy inspo off of super rich kids by frank ocean AND this is dedicated to my lizzie bear larb u

if u enjoyed pls like & reblog, feedback is also always appreciated!!

“eating alone are you?” sunghoon spoke, making you look up from your lunchbox. he entered the dark corridor where you sat and looked down at you. “if you’re here to make fun of me then go away” you sighed out, taking a bite of the rice ball you made this morning. “i could, but that’s no fun is it?” he said, sitting down on the other side of the narrow hallway, stretching his legs out so they were right next to you. he crossed his arms and looked down in his lap. 

“surprised you’re sitting down, i figured a rich kid like you wouldn’t want to get his fancy clothes dirty” you scoffed making sunghoon roll his eyes at you. “oh shut it, i couldn’t care less about clothes right now, don’t you have any friends to eat lunch with?” you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “i could ask you the very same thing” you mumbled back, taking another bite of your rice ball. 

in your four years of attending this academy never has park sunghoon ever willingly talked to you. he acknowledged your existence which was better than what he did to most, but that never meant you were off limits to the constant teasing and remarks from his friend group. that was the norm for you, a non wealthy kid, to be going to a school surrounded by rich kids. always on the outside looking in. 

“isn’t it pathetic, i mean to not have any friends” sunghoon looked at you, tilting his head. you couldn’t tell if he meant that in a sincere way or a taunting way, either way your answer would’ve been the same. “i’d rather not have any friends than have ones who betray me” you said, mouth suddenly feeling bitter that the thought of your ‘friend’ who backstabbed you in the worst way possible. “i agree” sunghoon mumbled, now looking down at the floor. you furrowed your brows, “weren’t you just with them earlier?” making him roll his eyes once more. 

he shook his head, sitting up a little straighter. “you wouldn’t get it” you raised your eyebrow and sat up straighter as well, setting your lunchbox down, crossing your arms and staring back at him. “try me.” he sighed out and threw his head back, “i found out everyone in my life hates me, and my best friend slept with my ex-girlfriend.” you furrowed your brows, still looking at him. he adjusted his head straighter, looking back at you. “i feel like everything is so fake now, that this idea i had of them is just gone.” you nodded, pursing your lips in thought. you hesitated before speaking up. 

“i mean, did you really think they were your real friends?” 

“what.” 

you shrugged and threw your hands up, “your name holds value sunghoon, i’m sure you know that and i’m more than sure they did too.” sunghoon clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes again, clearly annoyed about what you were insinuating. deep down though he knew you were right, it was true. “guess no amount of wealth can get me a friend” he laughed dryly making you frown slightly. just before you could speak up, the bell for lunch rang out. you silently got together your things and stood up, sunghoon did as well. just before sunghoon left, you stopped him. “same time tomorrow?” you said, making him look back at stare at you before he walked off without a word. 

…

you didn’t expect much but sunghoon was there the next day and the day after and the day after. soon enough you had been eating lunch in that same hallway for one whole month. in that time you had gotten to know sunghoon more, causing the both of you to open up and confide in one another. you learned more about sunghoons fake friends and he learned about your friend, it was weird how one common thread could bring you two so close. 

“all they do is get high off their face, i don’t think im missing out much” sunghoon said, speaking of his friend groups infamous parties making you laugh. “and drinking ancient liquor” you added making sunghoon laugh along with you. the two of you sat next to one another, sharing whatever lunch you had packed for yourself that day. you quickly realized that sunghoon hadn’t ever had home cooked lunches, it was always dinner at a fancy restaurant or some world renowned private chef making luxury meals. it was odd, despite your differences you hadn’t expected sunghoon to grow so close to you. 

it fell silent between the two of you as you silently ate your food. sunghoon finally broke the silence with an interesting statement. “im finally gonna confront them, about it all” he turned to you, you giving him a shocked expression. “really?” he nodded, taking a sip of the water bottle you brought for him. “i have evidence and proof of everything so im gonna confront them tonight and i think it’ll all end.. my friendship between them” the two of you held eye contact in silence over sunghoons words, a part of you was proud of him the other part felt sorry for him. 

he looked ahead at the wall across from you two, setting down the sandwich you made. “it’s weird how i went from having it all to nothing. like no one even cares anymore” he sighed out, making you frown softly. you hesitated before reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers. “you have me, i care for you” you breathed out, making sunghoon look in your eyes. you both felt that. 

that weird feeling where everything clicks, where you feel.. okay after not feeling okay for months. that feeling where nothing else matters except the person sitting right beside you. that feeling when you tell this person more things that you don’t even tell your family. that feeling of pure infatuation and almost love. maybe you loved sunghoon or maybe you just strongly liked him. whatever it was it was real and you both could feel it but you could feel it even more in this moment. 

“i care for you too,” he said, still lost in your eyes. maybe that was your way of saying you liked each other but it didn’t matter because the message was across, he didn’t jerk his hand away from yours when you reached for it but instead he scooched closer to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you stared at the wall across from you. 

teenage love wasn’t something you desired but maybe, unknowingly, you found it when you least expected it. 

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[rubiehart]

LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: an alternative universe to my own bsf!reader, where her parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s relationship and the consequences of that.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

[gothicxreylover]

Can you do a Yandere male hashiras coming home and meeting their s/o distraught and crying cause they thought they were dead. Maybe they were gone for 4 or 7 months.

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

Hope you enjoy this! Thank you for your request! As you can tell I’m running out of gifs for these characters lol. I didn’t do Muichiro as I didn’t know what to write for him. And no headcanons for Obanai I only had motivation to do a small story.

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

જ⁀➴ Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi storms into your home just before nightfall, his haori tattered, his arms and legs covered in bandages. His survival is a miracle, but he doesn’t consider how his prolonged absence has affected you. He barely has time to set down his sword before he hears your choked sobs. Following the sound, he freezes when he sees you sitting on the floor, your face buried in your hands.

When you lift your head, your red, swollen eyes meet his. “Sanemi… is it really you?” you whisper, your voice trembling with disbelief. He doesn’t answer at first. He’s too overwhelmed by the sight of you like this—frail, broken, crying because of him.

“You’re such a damn idiot,” he growls, though the anger in his voice is directed at himself. He strides forward and pulls you to your feet, his grip firm but not unkind. “What the hell made you think I’d leave you like that? You think I’d let myself die knowing you’re waiting here for me?”

Your tears don’t stop, and neither does his frantic need to reassure you. Sanemi holds you close, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine, and nothing in this world can take me away from you.” His voice shakes, his usual harshness softened by a vulnerability he rarely shows.

Headcanons:

• Sanemi becomes obsessive about keeping you informed when he’s on missions. If he’s going to be late returning, he’ll send messages through crow, no matter how inconvenient it is.

• He becomes hyper-vigilant about your safety, rarely letting you leave the house without him.

• His possessiveness worsens after this, and he gets irritated when others try to console you. Only he can comfort you properly.

જ⁀➴ Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu enters silently, as is his nature, his footsteps almost imperceptible. When he sees you trembling on the floor, clutching one of his old haoris like a lifeline, his chest tightens painfully. “You’re back,” you gasp when you notice him, stumbling to your feet and throwing yourself into his arms.

Giyuu stiffens at first, not out of reluctance but because of how deeply your pain affects him. “I thought you were gone,” you sob against his chest. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

His arms wrap around you slowly, his hold growing firmer with each passing second. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you think that.” His guilt is overwhelming. He didn’t realize how much his absence would hurt you, but now that he sees the aftermath, he swears he’ll never put you through it again.

“I’ll never leave you,” he says, his tone as unyielding as steel. He cradles your face in his hands, his eyes filled with an intensity that borders on obsession. “You’re all I have, and I won’t let anything take me from you.”

Headcanons:

• Giyuu starts writing you letters during long missions, even if he doesn’t know how to express his feelings well.

• He insists on you staying close to home, where he knows you’re safe. If you have to leave, he’ll silently follow you from the shadows.

• He becomes clingier in subtle ways, often lingering around you without saying much but refusing to leave your side.

જ⁀➴ Kyojuro Rengoku

The sound of your crying reaches Kyojuro before he even steps inside. His heart, usually blazing with confidence, falters for a moment. When he enters the room and sees you kneeling by the hearth, your face buried in your hands, he rushes to your side without hesitation.

“My love, what’s wrong?” he asks, though the answer becomes clear when you lift your tear-streaked face. “I thought I lost you, Kyojuro. Seven months… no word… I thought you were dead!”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s silent. Then, he pulls you into a fierce embrace, his strong arms enveloping you entirely. “I am so sorry,” he whispers, his usually booming voice trembling. “I didn’t realize how much my absence would hurt you.”

Kyojuro tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, his fiery eyes burning with a mix of guilt and determination. “I am alive, and I will always come back to you. You are the flame that keeps me going.” His voice is full of conviction, a promise etched in every word.

Headcanons:

• Kyojuro starts planning shorter missions or taking you along to nearby towns when possible.

• He showers you with small tokens of affection, from flowers to handmade charms, to remind you of him when he’s away.

• His protective streak intensifies, and he begins training you in basic self-defense, even if you protest.

જ⁀➴ Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei hears your quiet sobs as soon as he steps onto the porch. His sensitive hearing and heightened senses pick up every tremble in your voice, and it stops him in his tracks. “(Y/N)?” he calls softly, his deep voice filled with concern.

You look up from where you’ve been kneeling, clutching a prayer bead bracelet he once gave you. When you see his towering figure in the doorway, your breath catches, and fresh tears spill down your cheeks. “You’re alive…”

Gyomei kneels before you, his large hands cupping your face with the utmost gentleness. “Why are you crying, my love?” he asks, though the answer dawns on him as he feels your trembling hands grasp his.

“I thought you were gone,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “I am here,” he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I am alive, and I will always return to you. You are my reason to fight, to survive.”

Headcanons:

• Gyomei begins praying with you every morning and night, offering thanks for your safety and his ability to return to you.

• He becomes even more attentive, often carrying you to bed when you fall asleep in his arms, whispering reassurances.

• He starts wearing charms or tokens you give him, seeing them as symbols of your bond and a source of strength.

જ⁀➴ Tengen Uzui

Tengen bursts through the door, expecting you to greet him with relief and joy, but the sight of you sitting on the floor, tear-streaked and shaking, halts him. “What’s this?” he asks, dropping his flashy façade immediately as he kneels beside you.

“Tengen…” You look at him as though you’re seeing a ghost. “I thought you were dead. Seven months… I thought you weren’t coming back.”

His jaw tightens, and his normally flamboyant expression turns serious. “Do you really think something as unflashy as death could stop me from coming back to you?” he says, his voice lower than usual. He pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on your back as he lets you cry against his chest.

“You mean everything to me,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “I’ll never let you feel this way again. I’ll find a way to stay connected to you, no matter what it takes.”

Headcanons:

• Tengen insists on keeping you in the loop about his missions, even if it means bending Demon Slayer Corps protocols.

• He becomes more physically affectionate, constantly touching your hand, shoulder, or face as if to reassure himself you’re still there.

• His yandere tendencies manifest in controlling who you interact with, believing only he can truly protect and care for you.

This detailed portrayal highlights each Hashira’s unique reaction to their s/o’s emotional breakdown, showcasing their yandere tendencies in ways that fit their personalities. Each is overwhelmed by guilt but uses that guilt to fuel their determination to never let you feel that kind of despair again.

જ⁀➴ Obanai Iguro

Obanai stepped into the house just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the faint golden glow of dusk casting long shadows across the walls. His footsteps were light and deliberate, but the heaviness in his chest made every step feel like a mountain to climb. Months of hunting down demons, with barely enough time to sleep or recover, had left him drained. Yet, none of that prepared him for what awaited him inside.

The sound of muffled sobbing pierced his senses like a blade. His body went rigid, Kaburamaru tightening slightly around his shoulders as his mismatched eyes flicked toward the sound. He followed it, his pulse quickening with each step.

When he reached the main room, he stopped dead in his tracks. You were kneeling on the floor, clutching one of his discarded haoris to your chest. Your body shook with silent sobs, your face hidden behind trembling hands.

For a moment, Obanai couldn’t move. Seeing you so vulnerable, so broken, stirred something deep within him. Guilt? Pain? Anger? He didn’t know what it was, but the sight of your tears ignited a fierce need to claim you, to ensure no one else would ever make you feel this way—not even the world itself.

“(Y/N),” he finally said, his voice low but steady.

Your sobs stopped abruptly, and you froze, your hands lowering slightly to reveal your tear-streaked face. When your eyes met his, disbelief flooded your expression. “Obanai?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You’re… you’re alive?”

He tilted his head slightly, Kaburamaru shifting in response to his unease. “Why wouldn’t I be?” His tone was calm, but the undercurrent of possessiveness was unmistakable.

The dam broke, and you stumbled to your feet, throwing yourself into his arms. “I thought… I thought you were dead! Seven months… no word… I thought I lost you!”

Obanai stiffened for a moment before his arms came up to wrap around you. His grip was firm, almost desperate, as if he feared you might vanish if he let go. “I’m here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I would never leave you like that. Never.”

Your hands clung to his uniform, your body trembling against his. “You don’t understand,” you sobbed. “I waited every day, praying you’d come back. When the weeks turned into months, I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”

His jaw tightened, the words cutting deeper than any wound. The thought of you suffering, believing he was gone, stirred a dark possessiveness within him. He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him, his mismatched eyes blazing with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and unyielding. “Nothing—no demon, no mission, no god—can take me from you. Do you understand?”

Your tears didn’t stop, but you nodded, overwhelmed by the raw emotion in his gaze. He pressed his forehead to yours, his grip on you tightening. “I’ll never let you feel this way again. Never. I swear it.”

The promise wasn’t just for you—it was for him, a vow that no force in the world would ever separate you again.

[stuffeddeer]

Idk if your like still taking asks since your last one was 2 whole weeks ago but i really just wanted to talk about 15!Dazai cause i miss my pookie and i reread your first kiss hc’s and ughhh being Dazai’s first ever crush, hes so smitten with you and doesn’t even understand why, maybe also forces Chuuya to be his unwilling wingman because he deadass uses cringey one liners on you and chuuya is sick and tired of it.

15!Dazai deserves to be a giddy infatuated teenager and kicking his legs like a schoolgirl when you give him your attention 🤧

Smitten 15!Dazai needing a wingman | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

nearly 8 months later i am here to complete this request!!! hope this is what you wanted (and was maybe worth the wait lol)

Chuuya doesn't really get the whole "Demon Prodigy" thing. Oh, Dazai is just soo smart and soo scary - what a joke. Chuuya has seen him spend ten minutes trying to figure out how to open a cereal box. Sure, the ginger didn't know either, but he figured it out quickly once the brunet gave up.

On the battlefield, Dazai can be quick-witted and ruthless, a foe worthy of his title. Yet right now, Chuuya watches with his arms crossed as the man beside him stumbles over his words while trying to talk to you about the weather of all topics.

It's sickening, almost - seeing the "genius" Dazai so blatantly ignore every signal you're sending. It's true, of course, that the brunet teen is exceptionally off-putting and non-socialized. The bandaged kid with unruly black hair and one emotionless eye (the other bandaged up and hidden away) is the type of weird befitting a title such as Demon Prodigy. While he is a mere 15 year old, his presence rouses unease wherever he goes.

Or so Chuuya was told. With him, the 15 year old is just that: a 15 year old. Dazai is bright but childish, boisterous and witty, ready to spar verbally until Chuuya has to walk away to calm himself down. The Dazai that Chuuya had come to know during their relatively recent partnership would never falter like this around someone his age - someone of equal standing. He isn't one to falter with those of higher standing, either.

Lackeys fear him, new recruits find him off putting and so on. But there are a few in the mafia - Chuuya and yourself - that are privy to see what he can really be like. Or, Chuuya, more exclusively. You... get an interesting version of him, to say the least.

“So that’s why it’s actually bad that it’s sunny out,” Dazai finishes, cheeks dusted an embarrassed red and hands wringing together. Is that… sweat? Dripping down his forehead? The man is always annoyingly cold, usually shoving a freezing hand onto Chuuya’s neck just to laugh while watching him recoil.

Jeez. Chuuya already knows how smitten Dazai is for you, but this is a new low he wasn’t expecting.

You politely smile, trying to act like his rambling made any lick of sense. “Well, I suppose I like flowers enough to concede. A little rain is good now and again.”

“We both like flowers!” Dazai points out. You idiot; everyone does.

Chuuya takes one hand out of his pockets to readjust his hat. “Dazai’s been tryin’ to get me to go to some flower garden on the other side of Yokohama,” he decides to lie. As if it wasn’t clear before, you pretending Dazai’s argument held any merit only proves that you like him back. Helping you is all he’s trying to do, because that stupid mackerel will never make a move on his own. “But I keep tellin’ him I’m not interested. Would be nice if you took my place.”

Eyes widening ever so slightly, you turn to Dazai with a timid expression. “I didn’t know we had one.”

“Wait, I— “

“It’s free admittance. Paid for by the government to clean up our city or somethin’ - Kouyou told us about it,” which is true, minus the part where Kouyou told Dazai as well.

The excited smile you give causes Dazai’s usually-controlled heart to leap into his throat. “That’s super cool! I totally wanna go, if you’re still up for it, Dazai.”

He doesn’t reply. The stupid, idiotic strategist that supposedly has been bolstering the Port Mafia’s defenses is left defenseless by a pretty smile. Seriously? This is what Chuuya has to put up with? He should just smack Dazai and take it all back. He’s never helping this lost cause again.

With one gloved hand, Chuuya slams it against Dazai’s head to force it into a nod. The slam is hard enough for Dazai to snap out of his stupor, but soft enough that you don’t notice how rough the ginger is being. “Say yes, idiot.”

And Dazai quickly follows through. He swats Chuuya’s hand away with an “I was gonna do that,” before clearing his throat. Looking back at you clogs it up once again and he gives an awkward smile back and a nod of his own this time. “Y-yep! I wanna go. With you. Well! Not like with with you, but like, with you. So, not like a date, just— I wanna go and you should come.”

Chuuya did his part. Can he leave yet? God, remind him to never help Dazai ever again. This was embarrassing for Chuuya and the short man is just a bystander. Though, the flush on Dazai’s face and the excited grin on yours helps to keep Chuuya’s annoyance at bay. At the very least, now the two of you can finally move on from this awkward crush stage and he won’t have to see Dazai metaphorically drown himself in every conversation with you.

And when the two of them got back a week later out of breath from running, Dazai’s hands covered in dirt and you holding an uprooted bouquet of fresh flowers, Chuuya realizes that maybe he chose the wrong location.

[arcticmist0324]

There was definitely a huge wave of fannish music, specifically “wizard rock” (called wrock) in the late 2000s and early 2010s. In 2014, there was a MASSIVE shock to the community as many prominent creators were accused of a number of abusive behaviors (towards both other fans and creators). It was a mess. I discuss it a bit more in the tags.

Hank Green (who is someone who was involved in this space and has a reputation for being a stand-up human and not a creep) even made a video in response. It’s still up on the Vlogbrothers YouTube channel. It’s titled “Sexual Abuse, Consent, and Culture.” He doesn’t delve into specifies, but it’s a good sense of the things being discussed at the time. (A lot of the creators who were accused were tied in with the Nerdfighter community).

Oh, and I remember this but I don’t think many other do, but there was also Hunger Games-themed music called Rockingjay. There was overlap with Wizard Rock (which might be a reason it didn’t really go anywhere because… well 2014 happened).

I'm meant to be writing so naturally my brain went into asking the real questions— why don't we have fandom music? We have all forms of expressive art, writing, drawing, editing. The more physical forms of art, sewing outfits, forging swords, acting, even audi narrating fics. So basically all art forms in order to further explore our blobros and yet— no music? Why is it? I am genuinely curious why songwriting and music-making is the one form of art that is not present in the daily fandom life? Yes there's music video edits, even people recreating music from shows on piano etc— but that's not what I mean, I mean honest to god making a real, proper, lyric and music and singing original song for your blobro. Why don't we have that?

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I think William and Kate are real people and real people go through stuff and not everything is sunshine and roses, so I do agree that going through a big thing like cancer may have changed their relationship in ways we won’t even know. However, there can a be a hundred different reasons for small interactions and we can’t know for sure what they’re feeling in that moment.

For example, my friend who is casual with her interest in the royals saw that video of William and the kids waiting fot Kate and just thought it was funny and cute and didn’t think much about it. But I guess for us, maybe we know better or maybe we’re just more prone to overanalyzing their actions? Idk.

Anyway, as I said there can be a hundred different reasons. William may have been aware of how her “hurrying Kate” was perceived the last time (during the Jordan wedding) and wanted to avoid something similar. However, I think he used to have more gentle ways of reminding Kate to hurry before, so there’s that. But maybe it’s possible Kate has told him she doesn’t like being hurried no matter how he does it and he’s simply following her wishes.

Also, this is Kate’s first time to talk to the public since Christmas 2023, so maybe William had that in mind and didn’t want to be seen hurrying Kate in any way because he understood the public would want to talk to Kate. Maybe he also knew a lot of people would want to talk to Kate about her diagnosis, and William isn’t really the type to open up to the public during walkabouts about big personal things like that. He keeps it light: anecdotes about the kids or their dogs, Aston Villa, dad jokes. He probably didn’t want to be cornered and ambushed about a question about Kate’s illness that would make him vulnerable. Or maybe Kate wanted space to talk to the public about by herself. I also did notice that he was constantly looking for her or trying to see where she was during the walkabout.

I also think we can’t always interpret the change as William being callous as if William is the only one wearing the pants in the relationship and everything relies on the change in his feelings. In my own personal opinion and imagination, I think Kate has become more vocal about her boundaries. And if something has changed in their dynamic, I think it’s Kate wanting more individuality in the relationship. But idk this is just a feeling. I know I’m doing a lot of projection and I can’t be sure about my interpretations.

Anyway, maybe it could even be something as mundane as William having stomachache and needing to go to the bathroom and that’s why he was in a hurry lol. As I’ve said, there could be a hundred different reasons.

To be honest, I'd completely forgotten about the Jordanian wedding.

I was thinking about this moment from one of the garden parties.

(This is one of my favorite photos of them. I love how happy Kate is. I love the firm hand William has on her, like he knows if he lets her go she'll wander away again. I love how ladylike her trailing hand is posed. I love the soft feminine pink of Kate's suit contrasted with the sharp black of William's suit. I love everyone in the background cheesing at them. I love how Mary Poppinseqsue it feels.)

[madeby-meru]

Episode 11 Review (Jason & Thomas)

I actually have rather little to say about this one, overall it was an okay-ish episode and it didn’t have much in it for me (still keeping it under the cut to contain the yapping lol)

beware of spoilers!

One of th few times I saw both routes fully, i usually only go see Thomas' special scenes and illustration but I was pretty curious about this one and I am starting to like him more and more, the scene felt so shooooooorrrrt I wish they had talked more and discussed his finger licking habits 👁👁 the ilustration was very pretty too, i LOVE his expression~ I was a bit sad when we couldnt go to the planetarium :c I hope its a hint for a future episode, maybe an actual date?

Now Jason's route... I am a damn broken CD repeating myself over and over but I really and i mean REALLY dislike Ysaline. She is such a brat and such a pickme and so rude and judgy for no reason.

The whole "uuuuggghh i dont want to have dinner with himmmmm but i gave my woorrrddd but i dont want to be with hiiiimmmm" was so silly cause... dont go? say no? whats he gonna do sue you for hurting his feelings? why are u acting like u have a gun to your head lmao and also why are you acting like spending time alone with him is a torture? the last few times you two spend time together he was sweet and kind, he opened up to you, he helped you and clearly showed you that he DOES like you as a person!! what is there to hate at this point i dont get it, and youre also obviously horny for him get your shit together

And just dipping from his house leaving the dinner there.... I'm sorry that is extremely rude I cant deal with that. The reasoning is, again, so stupid. No, she is not betraying her company because (like Jason says) the rivalry is between him and Devon, Ysaline is not part of the equation she is not even a variable to consider. And no, she is not betraying her "friends" either because she has none! the game is very focused on the route to the point of our MC not making friends, this is not HSL where you got to constantly interact with the cast, raise their LOM, get to know them, etc. Here Ysaline is alone with her LI (and I cant take the argument of "the friendship happens behind the camera" cause thats just lazy af and leaving up to the VIEWER to fill in plot holes, for all I know she could also be addicted to cocaine and thats why she doesnt have money to pay the groceries).

Anyway, her bullshit aside, I actually loved Jason this episode! He is funny, witty, bratty in his charming way, he is so gentlemany, he cooks for her, drives her in his car (sighs like a teenager). I really like his character these past few episodes (it does bother me tho that this ep is SO bland without the special scene :/) and i hope he continues this way !!

Back to bitching- Just to quickly comment on the whole cameo thing: I am not a fan. I dont really mind them per se and I am not bubbling with rage, the cameos are well placed and they make sense and dont feel super out of pocket (amoris is a small city after all) but... I want our own characters, I want our own NPCs to interact with semi-frequently, I looooved the introduction of Devon's brothers and that cap remains my fav up to date (i want to rewatch it on Thomas' route again just to see Tasha and the boys more~). I want more characters that Ysaline can befriend and forge friendships with :c

That's pretty much all, like I said a mid chapter, not bad but not good. Pretty curious about the next one and how Jason will fit there!

[visionsofyouandme]

𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Something lurks in the woods, ravenous and feared. Joel finds solace in a cabin, and in the belly of the beast herself.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6.1k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: DDDNE. Joel Miller x afab!Reader. Post Outbreak. No Ellie. Dark!Reader. Spooky vibes. No use of ‘y/n’. Reader has no physical descriptions but has she/her pronouns. Age gap. fear of monsters in the woods. Blood. +18 MNDI DubCon (Joel is “under the influence”). Somnophilia? Smut. Dry humping. Unprotected P in v sex. Swapping bodily fluids as a ritual (you’ll see👀).

𝙰/𝙽: Soooo idk how this even came in my brain but god when I started I couldn’t stop. I wrote this for my own self indulgence and decided to share it, cause I know there’s some twisted MFers just like me out there LOL. So, if you’re sick like me and love this shit, I hope you enjoy<3 Alright. Let’s get down to it.

Here on AO3!

“Be careful in ‘them woods. A monster hunts there, worse than Infected. Get somewhere safe before dark.”

Joel wanted to scoff, but still heeded the old man’s warning. Having just left the safety of the old man’s cabin and into the Appalachian wilderness, Joel made his way through dense trees and stepped over protruding roots. He didn’t know exactly where he was until the old man had produced a map, showing Joel that he was still going in the right direction of Wyoming. Being somewhere in Tennessee, he got instructions from the old man to stay near the road, and it would lead him to a small, desolate community that was abandoned some time after the outbreak. He told Joel to not stop until he got to that little community, and to find a house to stay in. Shut the doors, let minimal light out of the house, and stay quiet.

Joel had strayed from the road in fear of roaming raiders and Infected. He was losing light fast, and tried to find his way back to the road, but felt sufficiently lost. This didn’t completely worry him, as he still headed in the direction the old man had given him. He did want to find somewhere to lay for the night, and the man’s words lingered in the back of his mind as Joel threw a look over his shoulder every so often. 

He finally set his sights on a small cabin, and after watching, saw no signs of life. Jogging to the safety of the porch, he nudged the door open with his rifle raised. Doing a quick sweep, he saw no signs that anyone or anything had been in there. There was still furniture standing- a kitchen table with chairs, a couch and armchair, what used to be a media console was now bare and dusted. He lowered his gun and did a better sweep of the house- looking in the pantry, in hallway closets, opening the closet doors in the upper bedrooms. He found clothes, bedding, blankets thicker than he had seen in a minute. In the pantry, he found canned food and figured he would finally have something other than sardines for once. 

Whoever was here before left a hell of a treasure trove. 

He made himself at home as best he could- stoking a fire in the fireplace, laying out blankets and pillows on the worn-out couch, setting his rifle in arms’ reach. He found a pot and cleaned it out to the best of his ability, putting one of the cans in there to heat up food and actually have a somewhat hearty meal for once. 

He set the small bowl aside, wiping his face. The solitude was not foreign to him, and he really didn’t mind it these days. Being on the road all alone kind of forced you to be content with yourself. 

Shifting his eyes to the open window, he stood up and walked to it, looking out. He remembered what the man said, and closed the curtains, even though night had fallen hours ago.

He found a book and struggled to read it in the dim light, but felt something make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Outside had gone quiet. Too quiet. No birds, no crickets, no rustling of wind in the trees. Until, he heard the softest cry.

“Open the door! Please, god- open the door!”

Distinctly female, Joel jumped to his feet and grabbed his rifle. He shifted the curtains and couldn’t see anything but darkness, and the voice that seemed to be drawing near. He ripped the door open, rifle raised until he saw a shape appear from the treeline.

“Stop!” he called, and the figure came to a screeching halt, nearly doubling over. Definitely human. Not Infected.

“Sir, please- there’s-” she said, and swiveled her head around behind her, but Joel heard nothing. A million thoughts flew through his mind, and he gave a strangled huff and lowered the gun, nodding at her viciously to come inside. She shot out like a bullet, and as she drew nearer, he could see her features grow more clear. When she barreled inside, he shut the door tightly and looked out the window into the night.

“What was it? Infected? Raiders?” he said, and turned his head to the panting mess of a woman behind him, who cowered by the couch. She looked at him, eyes wide with fear, and shook her head minutely. 

“N-no. Not- I don’t know.” she said, her voice small, trembling. He huffed, and looked outside, and quickly shut the curtains even tighter. 

Shut the doors, let minimal light out of the house, and stay quiet.

“Are you hurt?” he whispered, and she shook her head again. They stood on opposite ends of the room, assessing one another. Joel’s eyes cast down her- ratty clothes, gaunt features, bags under her eyes. She looked young and old at the same time- hard to pinpoint when you look like you’ve been to hell and back. He’s sure he looked similar.

“Who are you?” he questioned, his voice still low. Deep, sallow eyes watched him, and she whispered her name like it was a breeze. He nodded, offering up his own. 

“Joel,” she repeated, nodding like she was confirming it to herself. He nodded, and finally set his rifle down, raising his eyebrows and sighed heavily, the years suddenly tumbling onto his shoulders.

“Want something to eat?”

She was reluctant at first to eat, but he coaxed her into at least a can of chicken noodle soup. Even then, she didn’t eat much, her eyes moving between his like a frightened animal. He wondered if she regretted coming to the cabin for safety. 

He wasn’t much of a talker. He took the armchair, letting her stay on the couch. He looked at the fire as she pushed around the soup in the can, and he then looked at her a bit more closely in the firelight. She had bloodstains on her sleeves, her shirt. It didn’t look new, and he wondered how long she had been wandering with blood coating her thin shirt and jacket. 

“You… ya sure you’re not hurt?” he questioned, and she set the can down, looking over at him. 

“It’s not mine.” she said, regarding the blood, and Joel nodded. He leaned back in the chair, sighing with a bit of sympathy in his chest. In a world like this, everyone has lost someone. He just hated that someone like her- so delicate and fragile- had to be wrapped up in it, too.

“Where are you going?” she questioned, and Joel looked towards the fire. Did he really want to implicate himself in this? He didn’t owe her anything. But, he felt bad, sitting in silence. He cleared his throat, and shrugged, deciding to keep things vague.

“West. Hear there’s some people survivin’ out there.” he said, and she nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. The air was chilly, even with the fire, like life was being sucked right out of it. Joel stood up and put another log on the fire, twisting things this way and that to bring it to life again. When he sat back down, he could see her gaze still on him. Unwavering, cautious.

“Where are you from?” she questioned. Curious thing she is, he thought. No use in hiding, though. 

“Well, born and raised in Texas. After the world went to hell… well. That’s where things get blurry.” he said, and shook his head like it would erase the memory of life at the QZ. She nodded, and he felt a little uneasy under her gaze. He refused to give in to her, though, and kept his gaze on the fire. 

“What about you? Where ya going?” he questioned, trying to shift the course of the conversation away from him. 

“Was supposed to be going north. Canada.” she said, and he nodded, sighing deeply. He didn’t know shit about the situation up there, but he knew it couldn’t be much better than here in the states. 

“You lost your people on the way?” he questioned, and glanced at her at that moment. Surprisingly, her gaze was locked on the fire, the flames castng eerie shadows on her features. His eyebrows furrowed, and he could see something move over her face. Regret, maybe? Fear?

Giving Joel a slight nod, his suspicions were confirmed, but also put him at ease. She was alone. Good. Meant that there wasn’t much for stragglers, or worry that someone was waiting to ambush him. He nodded in response, and looked her over again.

“I have a spare shirt, if you wanna get out of that.” he said, nodding to her attire. She looked at him, a bit of gratefulness in her eyes and nodded. The exchange was quick- she left to the bathroom and emerged with his (very faded) navy blue shirt and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Settling back onto the couch, she looked at Joel and mumbled a thanks. He nodded, waving his hand dismissively. But, it felt nice to have someone to take care of again. After losing Tess, he felt pretty lost, the only hope driving him was that he may see his brother again. Or die trying to get to him. 

He heard her shift and saw her back turned to him as she lay on the couch. He sighed, his rifle next to his leg and he felt himself slowly succumbing to sleep, despite his best efforts to stay vigilant and keep watch.

When he awoke, it was dark.

Not just dark- but pitch black.

The fire had apparently gone out, and all Joel could see that offered light was the last dying embers of the fire. He began to sit up, his back groaning in protest, but he suddenly felt a heaviness on his chest. Not from anxiety, but like a light pressure trying to keep him down. He grunted, but felt a warm breeze fan his face, the scent sweet but tangy. 

“It’s okay, Joel,” a voice cooed softly. Warmth pressed against his face, and he turned to it out of pure instinct. A hand that was warm and soft like velvet brushed against his skin. Comforting. 

“Rest. It’s going to be just fine.” The voice was encouraging, soft and sweet and utterly enticing. His thoughts strayed to her, and wondered if it was she who was speaking to him now. Why was she so close? Why did she move from the couch? How was she making it so easy for him to… Fall… Back…. Asleep……..

When he awoke, he was covered in a blanket, the curtains drawn back, and the fire roaring steadily in front of him. He frowned, shifting in the armchair and looked around. His gun still sat at his side, and his eyes scanned the room for the girl. But, she wasn’t on the couch. In fact, it was her blanket that was draped over him. 

He called out her name, and sat up, rubbing his chest where he thought he could still feel warmth pressed there. Had he imagined all of that? Had it been a dream? It felt like one, but at the same time, could have been mistaken for an experience teetering on the edge of dream and reality. 

He grabbed his rifle, but heard a voice-

“Oh! You’re awake.” 

He turned to see her standing in the hallway, and she looked a bit better in the daytime. When she stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and to the living room, he could see she was definitely looking better- not as sallow, cheeks a bit more rosy, eyes a bit more relaxed. She still wore his shirt, and he nodded, wincing at the pain that shot through his neck. He reached up and rubbed it carefully, like he slept on it wrong. She frowned,

“Are you alright?” she questioned, and Joel nodded, and pushed the blanket off of him to stand but suddenly became lightheaded, the floor coming to meet him rather quickly. He heard her cry out his name as he fell. and felt her warm touch on his arm, pulling him onto his back. He blinked, looking up at the ceiling, and then her face that hovered over him. She was mumbling something, hands tracing over his chest like she was trying to find something wrong.

Warmth. Hands. Pressure.

That dream was starting to feel a little more real.

“Joel? Can you hear me?” she questioned worriedly, and he coughed to clear his throat that felt like it was closing up.

“Y-Yeah. Can you- help me up.” he said, his question turning to a soft demand, and she put her arm under his own and helped him to a sitting position. She broke away and handed him his canteen that he swiftly downed, the room finally stopped spinning.

Guess that canned food wasn’t as good as he thought.

He looked at her and could see worry etched across her features, and he smiled gently.

“S’alright. Must have had some bad food last night.” he said, and she nodded, though the concern didn’t leave her face. 

“Come on. Let’s get you to the couch.” she said, and helped him to his feet. He was thankful he didn’t have to walk far, and nearly collapsed onto the couch had it not been for her strong hold on him. He blinked, and looked at her, suddenly feeling exposed. Raw. Open.

He couldn’t afford to be sick with someone new in his sights. What if others showed up? What if she tried to rob him of his things and leave? He shouldn’t have ever fallen asleep. He should have stayed awake, and tried to have kept watch. Something. Anything.

“Here, I'll heat you up something.” she said quickly, and stood up to pick up the can of chicken noodle soup she had barely touched last night. Joel was too tired to care or worry if she had done anything to it, and she returned what seemed like hours later with the can and the spoon. She helped him sit up and he took it gingerly, beginning to shovel it into his mouth. She watched him warily, and tilted her chin down to study him more. 

“Whatever it is, you need to rest. You won’t survive out there without being able to stand.” she said quietly, and he nodded, hating he had to agree with her. He needed time to recover from whatever the hell it was that had a hold on him, whether he liked it or not.

Fuck, he thought. He gave the woman a passing glance. He didn’t know if he could trust her entirely, but he didn’t have a choice.

He was stuck with her whether he liked it or not.

He felt better over the course of the day. He was able to walk outside with her, and she pointed out a stream nearby where they collected water and boiled it to refill their canteens. Joel had eventually taken off his boots and laid up on the couch. He felt lazy, and was disgusted with himself. He had never taken a day off in the 20 years since the outbreak. Even if he got sick in the QZ he’d pop a pill or two and sleep it off, getting up the next day and going back to work.

This “break” felt forced. He hated it.

But her, on the other hand… he was somewhat grateful for someone to talk to for once. Seeing as he had nothing better to do, and couldn’t concentrate on reading, he focused on her. Asking her questions, keeping things light. She kept things vague, and he couldn’t blame her. When she questioned him, he did the same. They were guarded, watching each other, trying to see if the other was trustworthy. 

And by the way she diligently took care of him, even if he was a stranger to her, he was starting to believe she was just a fellow human desperate for human connection. 

She sat on the armchair that he had vacated early that morning as he sat up on the couch. With water and some food in his system, he felt better. She entertained him with a story about her former party- something about a friend formulating a new game to entertain children with as they traveled. When he heard that, his heart fell into his stomach. She had been around a decent group then, and a family at that- he was jealous. But also deeply, deeply sad for her. She talked about them fondly, and he could see a sad glint in her eyes. He felt a pull to reach out and comfort her. 

That distracted him for a moment. Why was he so… caring for her? He wasn’t a touchy-feely guy. Never one to encourage physical touch, or any kind of intimate moment. His days of softness were long gone, so this surprised him. 

“I hope they’re okay, wherever they are.” she said at the closing of her story, pulling at the frayed edge of the blanket that lay next to her on the armchair. He nodded, knowing the feeling all too well. Hoping that whatever kind of peaceful afterlife there was, that all of those people he loved and cherished were there.

Nightfall came, and Joel knelt next to the fire, shifting the sticks to make the fire burn a bit brighter. She had somehow found some firewood, probably by former inhabitants, and they were using that to heat up the cabin living room. 

“Here, i’ll take the chair-” Joel said gruffly, turning to stand and he saw her looking at him with a hard expression. She cocked an eyebrow, and he did the same.

“Joel,” she said sternly like a mother disciplining their child. “You need to actually rest, okay? I know that’s a tough notion to wrap your head around, but still.”

“We can alternate, then.” he said, trying to figure out a compromise. Another first for him- compromising was not in his blood. But, he wanted to appease both of them. “You can take the couch, and I’ll take the armchair. Tomorrow-”

“Joel, take the damn couch.” she said, her tone not unkind but softly demanding. Like the wind had been knocked out from underneath him, he sat down onto it with a grunt. He shook his head, and she smiled. In the dim firelight, her teeth looked oddly white and straight. This was probably the first genuine smile he had seen from her, and it was radiant. 

He sighed, trying to show his disdain for giving in, and she shook her head with that same smile, looking towards the fire. He looked to the window where the curtains had been drawn again, and he could hear the sounds of the night beyond them. He sighed, sliding his boots off and threw his body onto the couch. He pulled the blanket halfway over him, his hand over his stomach. He could barely get the words out to bid her goodnight as his eyes fell shut and he floated away from reality. 

He must have been dreaming. There couldn’t be any other explanation.

He felt the warm heaviness on him again. This time it felt like it was straddling his waist, the same warm hands on his chest. Arousal twisted in his stomach, and his hips shifted involuntarily, meeting something solid and warm.

He hadn’t had a sex dream in a long while, hell, probably years-

He opened his eyes, the ceiling dark but discernible in the dying firelight. The warm heaviness covered him, and his neck felt sore again. His hand reached up, and found a warm, clothed waist.

Sensing movement from the corner of his eye, a head lifted. It was her, and she looked surprised. Her mouth was covered in some kind of dark substance, hard to tell in the light that was barely there, her lips dark with it as it trailed down her chin. Her hand smoothed over his chest, and she smiled sweetly, noticing the smallest bit of teeth exposed from under her upper lip. 

“You’re okay,” she cooed quietly, and he felt warm fingertips brush his lips. Feeling a soft roll of her hips, he groaned softly. Whatever this dream was, it was both thrilling and terrifying. “It’s okay, Joel. Go back to sleep, I’ve got you,” and her head moved back down from his view, and he felt the ghost of warm lips on his neck.

With no other choice and no strength to fight it, his hand dropped from her waist and complete darkness overtook him again.

When he awoke, the sun was barely peeking through the curtains, and he felt heavy, his head spinning like he was drunk. He shifted, trying to bring feeling into his limbs again, and he smelled something oddly appealing. 

Meat.

He slowly sat himself up right and saw the fire was still going steadily, more firewood sitting next to the fireplace. He heard movement behind him and turned to look back but winced, rubbing his neck, feeling like the muscle was spasming. He pulled his legs off the couch, and rubbed his eyes. When they cleared, he looked to the kitchen to see her at the kitchen table, canteens sitting and a plate of food waiting. She was pouring over a book, and he stood up slowly, his joints cracking lightly and making him wince.

She looked up at the sound and smiled, closing her book. 

“Made you something,” she said cheerily. He nodded, craning his neck to see what was on the table. “Got a squirrel this morning, hope you don’t mind I used your rifle. I don’t know how to set traps, so…” she said, and he walked over to the kitchen table slowly, settling in the seat. Shooting her a look, he wondered how the hell he slept through the shot. Was he really that tired?

He could see some vegetables from a can that were steaming next to the seared meat. His stomach grumbled, and he quickly took the (somehow clean?) fork and dug in. He realized he probably looked like an animal, and slowed down, his eyes raising to her. She grinned, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“Good, isn’t it?” She laughed, and he nodded, swallowing.

“Sorry.” He murmured, a bit ashamed of his lack of manners. She laughed, and shook her head,

“No, it’s okay. I had some food myself before you woke up. You should have seen me… Probably looked like a monster or an animal or something.” She laughed, and he grunted in response, continuing to eat. Feeling like life was literally coming back to him, he sat up and back. He regarded her with a guarded expression, trying to piece together what his dream meant. He could still feel the impression of hands on him, and he rubbed his chest absentmindedly.

“How are you feeling?” she questioned, and he shrugged, looking out the kitchen window that showed the sun was high in the sky. How long had he been asleep?

“Fine.” he said, rubbing his face and letting it fall into his lap. She nodded, and picked up the plate and fork, walking over and setting it in the sink like she was a dutiful housewife performing tasks. He half expected her to turn on the water and wash it. But, she turned and faced him, smiling lightly.

“You look better.” she noted, nodding to him. He scoffed, and shook his head, wincing at his neck pain again.

“Wish I felt as good as I look, then.” he said, rubbing his neck absentmindedly. She watched him, tilting her head to the side. She pushed off the counter, and walked over to him. She gestured to him, like she was asking permission to help. He looked at her and frowned,

“I don’t need- I’m fine. It’s alright.” he said, waving her off and she rolled her eyes, scoffing.

“Don’t be such a man. It’s okay to accept help every once in a while.” she said, and walked behind him. He shifted uneasily, and then felt her hands on his shoulders. Light, careful… warm.

He tensed when she began to rub, and she laughed lightly,

“Joel, if you don’t relax, you won’t help yourself.” she said, and he frowned down into his lap, and willed himself to relax. But, he just couldn’t. The thought of someone being so near, and a woman at that- he was just a man, after all. She worked at a particular knot in his shoulder and he flinched. He felt her shift behind him, and as she leaned forward, he could feel her face nearly against his ear.

“Relax.” she breathed quietly, and like a switch had flipped, he sunk into the chair. It felt like he was weightless- floating in the ocean, carried wherever the tide took him. Not a care in the world. Nothing mattered in the moment- not the Infected that roamed outside, the threat of raiders, the overall state of the world- nothing. Just bliss.

He let out a soft sigh, his head lolling forward as she continued to rub at his shoulders, her lithe hands moving to his neck. He sighed as the warmth enveloped him, feeling almost hot at this point- but the heat soothed his neck, making him even more lax. 

“Does that feel good?” she murmured, and he lifted his head slightly, mumbling a “yeah.” He could feel her hands working at his neck delicately, like she wasn’t massaging anymore but just… feeling. He really had been deprived of human connection, human touch, that he let out a soft moan.

His eyes opened gently, and he saw her kneeling in front of him, her eyebrows knitted in concern. She was calling his name, back down from the cloud he had been floating on. He blinked, and she put a hand on his knee.

“I think you dozed off.” she laughed lightly, and he looked at her, then the hand on his knee. He cleared his throat, sitting up straight but couldn’t tear his eyes away from her hand. She didn’t move it, even as he tried to regain composure.

“Yeah, uh… you must have magic hands.” he said, and she grinned. If he thought her teeth were bright and straight last night, it was even more so apparent today. And her lips were a deeper shade, like she had been putting on lipstick or receiving too many kisses. He swallowed.

She stood up slowly, and he watched her with soft brown eyes. He felt rooted in the chair, caught in her orbit. She nudged his knees apart gently, and he spread them dutifully, leaning back in the chair with a heavy stare. She tilted her head to the side, her hand moving out to touch his chest. He raised his hand, placing it over hers as it pressed over his steadily beating heart. She smiled, and he felt utterly entranced. Every movement was slow, graceful. He didn’t even notice when she settled into his lap, her other hand moving to the back of his neck. 

His free hand moved to her waist, where it held her gently. She was silent as the grave, but her body language and gaze spoke volumes. He could see this look in her eyes- soft, sultry, and maybe a bit pitiful. He raised his hand from his chest to her face, where he cupped her cheek gently. He leaned up slowly, like he was trying to emulate her easy movements, and she bent her head to meet him halfway, joining their lips in a kiss. 

The hand that rested on the back of his neck became firm, her hand curling up and holding his hair at the base of his neck. She leaned into the kiss and he sucked in a breath through his nose, feeling a hunger come over him. His hand on her waist became possessive, grabbing her and pulling her close and he heard her gasp softly against his lips. 

“What do you want?” he whispered against her lips as he went between kissing them and hovering over them. His jeans grew tight in his lap, and he could feel her smirk against his lips, giving her hips a roll. He groaned, his eyebrows furrowing and he pulled her down to guide her movements. 

“You,” she murmured, moving to kiss his cheek, his cheekbone, then jaw. He sighed, his eyes falling shut at her warm lips pressing against him. “I want all of you.”

When she moved to his neck, she lay a few careful kisses on the skin, moving to his pulse point. He grit his teeth, bringing her pelvis down to his to grind against him, his cock harder than it had been in years. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, taking her face back in his hand and crashing his lips against hers. She leaned into him, moving her hips in a way that made him moan. His hands found their way under her thighs and in a moment of sheer strength and lust, he lifted her up and carried her to the couch.

He lay her back on it and she huffed, looking up at him with glassy eyes and a smirk on those pretty lips. Her eyes moved down his chest, and he began to undo the buttons of his flannel, not even needing her to ask. She pushed herself up as he let it slide off his shoulders, pulling his undershirt off not too long after. She raised a hand, pressing against his stomach, up to his sternum, then chest. He leaned down to her and her hand snaked around his neck, pulling him towards her. He crawled over top of her, and she smiled, kissing his lips deeply. 

He sighed into her mouth, and ground his hips against hers. Hand moving up her side, under her shirt, he reveled in her warmth. She pulled away to pull her shirt off, and he was surprised to see nothing underneath. Fine by him, since he dove in and took a nipple into his mouth, giving it a hard suck. She whined, her hand curling in his hair again. He grunted in response to her flexing against his hair, and he bit down on it with just enough pressure to make her gasp, her hips lifting to his.

“Joel…” she whispered, her voice sounding familiar. Comforting.

He moved to her other breast, his hand moving up to fondle the other that he had abandoned. He laved against her skin, tasting her sweetness and soft, supple body. Everything about her seemed magical, other worldly- like she was an angel coming down to please him and him only.

He breathed her name into her skin, trailing kisses up her breast, her chest, her neck, her jaw. She whined in response again, and it only made the hardness in his jeans a bit more unbearable. He felt a tug at his waistband, and he undid her jeans, sliding them down and he stood to rid himself of his own pants. When his cock sprung free, hard and red and weeping with precome, she looked like she could salivate on the spot.

With their bodies now fully exposed, Joel settled between her legs, his hips grinding against hers. His cock brushed her slick core, and her body twitched in response. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him, just thinking that she was just so wet. And all for him? He was a lucky man.

He felt her hand move down his side, then to his front where it wrapped around his cock. He sucked in a breath, feeling stiff and like he needed a release as quickly as possible. She dragged his cock over her pussy, and he shuddered. She looked up at him, pulling him up to meet her gaze.

“You want this,” she asked, but it ended up sounding more like a statement. He looked at her with a pleading expression, nodding gently, and she smiled like she had won the lottery. She kissed him deeply, and lined him up against her core. Without much more encouragement, he slipped inside her. 

Their chorus of moans echoed around the room, and Joel’s hips began to move as if on their own accord. He was completely out of this world by now- he didn’t feel like he was in control of his body. He felt like he was just sitting inside, feeling, and watching it happen. 

But god, was it not all so fucking good. Every sense was afire, his skin feeling as hot as the surface as the sun. He even began to collect sweat on his forehead, and down his spine.

He moved his hips against hers, dipping his head into the curve of her neck, laying soft kisses there. She tensed beneath him, and it caused his hips to falter just a bit, his cock twitching within her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and was able to take him deeper. He felt like his arms would give out from holding himself up with the way she twitched and moved her hips against his. The way his tip hit her cervix was making him tense. He felt her lips on his neck again, and he gripped the blanket beneath them so much his knuckles turned white with pressure. 

“God- goddamn.” he huffed against her skin, and he could feel her grin against his skin, laying a soft kiss on the side of his neck.

“God has nothing to do with us.” she said quietly, and he nodded, feeling like he was going to combust. His movements got more erratic, more frantic, the couch shifting beneath them as Joel continued his assault on her body. 

“I’m gonna- fuck-” he choked out, and she kept her legs tightly around him, feeling her heels dig into his ass. 

“It’s okay, baby. Let go.” she whispered, and he could feel the pressure rising in his lower stomach, and then suddenly it was as if a dam had burst. His hot spend began to release in her womb, and he then felt a pinch on his neck, lightheadedness coming over him. 

“It’s alright,” she cooed, and he somehow managed to keep thrusting into her through his high, panting into her neck. He felt warmth run down his shoulder, and her hand moved to his back to keep him against her. Her hand that lay on his neck curled in, keeping him locked in place. 

He didn’t know what came over him, but he turned his face to her neck and bit down. Hard.

She cried out, her body spasming around him and he almost came again, tasting something bitter and of iron on his tongue. Her body convulsed around him, and his hips were slowing down. Her head stayed pressed against his neck, that pain he felt turning into a dull throb. She laid her head back down, and he pulled away to see blood drip onto her chest from his lips. 

He panted, looking down at her as she looked up at him with stars in her eyes, her lips tinged with red that dripped from the corners of her mouth. He leaned down and kissed her there, licking up the liquid and hearing her sigh against him softly. He pulled out of her at last, his spend dripping out of her weeping hole. He collapsed on top of her, but managed to keep one arm up to keep looking at her. Her hand moved to his parted red lips and swiped the blood from his lower lip gently. 

She raised her finger in her mouth and licked, smiling up at him. Her hand moved to touch his cheek, bringing his forehead against hers as he panted, trying so hard to not pass out.

“I have been waiting for you.” she whispered, and he could only look at her in awe. She really was beautiful- exquisite. Ethereal. Divine. Like she didn’t belong amongst unremarkable, average humans.

He wouldn’t know this now, but when the next day would break, things would be different. Very, very different. Almost alarmingly so. 

But for now, he leaned his head into the crook of her neck that still seeped crimson, and pressed his lips there. He sighed, relaxed, and his eyes fell closed with the feeling of her hand moving steadily through his dark curls threaded with silver. 

Comment, like, reblog, anything is appreciated! Divider by @/saradika-graphics!

[zepskies]

Oooh I'm just gonna dive RIGHT in!!

As he impatiently watched a set of doors once more, he pondered if he was still seeing things clearly or if his kooky mind was playing tricks on him. Adjusting to civilian life wasn’t always easy.

Loll I'm loving how you're writing his internal monologue -- matches his quirky personality well. 😂

Ever wondered why there was so much street construction seemingly everywhere and yet America’s roads were still full of potholes? Russell didn’t.

Again, lmao great personality color, and so freakin' relatable!

“Are you fucking insane?” You stormed towards him, shoving his chest. Whoa, broad! Shit, what had he done? Spent more time at the gym? “No, wait, don’t say anything. I already know the answer to that one!” “I’ll second that,” Colter chimed in with a groan and dusted off his jeans.

LOLL. That's so very Colter. 😂

Full disclosure: There might have been a little bit of a plan. Just tiny, really. Not worth mentioning at all.

Riiiiight. Not at all. lol

There had never been a day in your relationship where you had denied that man a thing – till that last day at least.

Ooooh more questions, more questionssss!

“We worked together when we were both stationed in Baghdad. You know how it goes. We met, and a couple of hours later, we were doing it on the kitchen island of some safe house.” Well, alright, that was braggy. There was a lot more going on than that. Best night of his life, really. But Russell considered it classified.

LMAO. Classified, indeed. 😏 Can I hope for one of your legendary flashbacks in the future??

“Oh, not the UFOs again,” Colter sighed with a shake of his head. “It’s UAP, man. U… A… P,” Russell corrected him once again and let the last letter pop from his lips for emphasis.

Get that nomenclature right, Colter. 😂 But omg I love the brotherly teasing -- Russ just HAD to bring up Reenie multiple times, didn't he? It's feeling very much The Misadventures of Russ and Colter, and I'm so here for it. 🤣

“Well, lookey, what do we have here.” Russell’s eyes zoned in on a plate of apple pie, rubbing his palms in delight.

Of COURSE he's an apple pie fan. Love that little Deanism. 🥧

He was hairier than you remembered. That you knew for sure. If you went back even further, he was also a lot broader, too. When you’d met, he was just a kid – as were you. It was only in the last few years of your relationship that he started to gain some serious muscle and really began to fill out his uniform. And all of a sudden, the tall and broad-shouldered soldier became more threatening – and more protective.

Oooh do tell. 😏 But really, it's clear these two have a long history. (Also, not the "midlife crisis beard" 🤣)

But OMG they were married?!!! And why would she send the papers just to get his attention? Good Lord, so many questions...

A part of you thought this day would never come, so maybe Colter being here was indeed a show of good faith and Russell was finally, finally dealing with his shit.

Ahh, makes sense. It tracks that Russ would be hard to pry open, even to someone he loves and has been in such close quarters with him for such a long time. (LOL Denver Airport. 👌🏽)

“I know. But… he kinda was yours too, right?” Russell’s green eyes meeting yours confirmed your statement. “He still talks about you on his good days. God knows you couldn’t throw a football before you met him.” “Hey, that’s not true. I could throw the old pigskin around perfectly fine,” Russell defended.

Just layers and layers of history between these two. It's so sweet to think Russ had a surrogate dad that actually treated him like a normal kid, teaching him how to throw a football, etc.

Fighting the tears in your eyes, you forced a smile to your lips. “He’s good. He’s a sweet boy. Keeps asking questions about his daddy that I don’t know how to answer…” you scoffed humorlessly but decided to forgo the pettiness. It would be so easy to be mad at him, but not even on your darkest days could you do it. “He’s starting school this fall.”

Oh my GODD. They have a son together too?? What the hell happened between them? She left and took their son with her?

He knew if he continued talking about what he’d missed, he wouldn’t make it out of that chicken coop for the next several hours, sobbing uncontrollably in the hay with the hens.

My heart is truly breaking for him, and now I need to know what the hell he did to make her actually leave him, even though they have two kids. 😭😭

True to typical Wayne, this is an intricate cobweb of a story, Russell AND the reader are infinitely complex, and I'm very interested to see where you take this from here. 💜

The Exit Strategy – Part 2

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, minor injuries, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, a reunion, more secrets and revelations 😉

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Guess, the cat's outta the bag! Couldn't reveal too much about the reader beforehand without ruining the surprise now, could I? 🤓 Cozy up in your favorite chair with eggnog. Hope you have some lovely holidays, guys ❤️

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Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

If Russell hated one thing in this world, it was playing The Waiting Game. The thought of being helplessly stuck inside a car with his hands metaphorically tied behind his back nearly wrecked his sanity. Well, whatever was left of it, anyways.

Colter had a point. Russell knew he could be a little paranoid sometimes, but considering everything he’d seen and done in his life, who could honestly blame him? It was only natural to feel a certain level of paranoia in his particular line of work. It kept him on his toes and, therefore, alive.

But maybe it had nothing to do with the job as he had always told himself. It might have been just a family trait he had inherited. And, well, he hated that fact even more than The Waiting Game.

As he impatiently watched a set of doors once more, he pondered if he was still seeing things clearly or if his kooky mind was playing tricks on him. Adjusting to civilian life wasn’t always easy.

What normal people would see as a perfectly nice, faithful woman picking up mail from the post office, Russell saw as a dead-drop pick-up.

There was a construction crew about three hundred yards to his right that seemed to be on constant break by their lack of work ethic. They also took turns to watch the supermarket closely. Ever wondered why there was so much street construction seemingly everywhere and yet America’s roads were still full of potholes? Russell didn’t.

And then, there was the cashier who handed you a flyer of some sort, which you accepted with a polite smile and stuffed in your purse. Live drop, Russell noted as he watched you walk out of the store hand in hand with your supposed husband.

It was all so abundantly clear to him, he almost couldn’t believe no one else could see it. It certainly worried him that Colter couldn’t.

What if…

What if he was in fact seeing things? Things that weren’t actually there. Ghosts of his past. No drops, live or dead. No secret surveillance in disguises. No fake husband – just a very real one.

Was that even legal? He figured it was under your new identity.

Russell shook the uncomfortable thought out of his mind and concentrated back on you. You stopped short by a row of shopping carts, exchanged a few words with your “husband”, and headed back inside. His little brother, of course, was hot on your tail, following you back in too.

That was when several alarm bells went off in Russell’s body. His head felt like the Liberty Bell on the Fourth of July. Experience told him: If it smelled like an ambush, it usually was.

Jumping into gear, Russell’s gaze snapped to your husband, who not only unloaded the groceries into the trunk of the car but also loaded a pistol and hid it underneath his sweater vest before heading toward the supermarket again.

Russell sprung into action rather quickly then, snatching his own semi-automatic from the glove compartment. Soon enough, he heard two familiar voices flowing out from a back alley behind the main building. There was no doubt in his mind that it was you and Colter.

As he rounded the corner, he had to stifle a laugh once he saw his little brother down on the ground, straddled by your legs. Russell had found himself in similar positions with you, but they had been mostly out of pleasure.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw.”

Russell watched as your hold on his brother swayed and shock claimed your expression.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he greeted your eyes with a cheeky smile as warmth spread through his heart.

Fuck, he had missed you.

“Russell?!”

Your jaw had fully dislodged itself as you slowly got back onto your feet and let go of your prisoner. But the shock of seeing your ex here of all places didn’t last long till it made way for your anger.

“Are you fucking insane?” You stormed towards him, shoving his chest. Whoa, broad! Shit, what had he done? Spent more time at the gym? “No, wait, don’t say anything. I already know the answer to that one!”

“I’ll second that,” Colter chimed in with a groan and dusted off his jeans. He stretched his sore muscles briefly before glaring at his older brother, who only offered him an apologetic smile and a half-assed shrug of one shoulder.

“Did you tell him to follow me?” you asked and pointed an accusatory finger at his younger brother while still glaring daggers at Russell. The similarity between them suddenly struck you, and you cursed yourself for not putting the puzzle pieces together sooner. “What was the plan here, huh?”

“Oh, trust me, he had no plan,” Colter muttered sourly, still recovering from your attack.

Russell clicked his tongue and sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, he’s right. There wasn’t a plan. I just-… I had to see you. But once I did, well… here we are.”

Full disclosure: There might have been a little bit of a plan. Just tiny, really. Not worth mentioning at all.

You scoffed and shook your head. “You, of all people, should know better. You could’ve blown our cover. Months of work down the drain…”

“I think your cover’s still good,” Russell assured you with that same old lazy grin of his that was scarily charming and glanced at your partner. “Might wanna call off the cavalry, though.”

You shared a look with Tom, your partner during this mission.

“I’ll signal them. Clean up here,” he said, unamused, and disappeared back to the parking lot.

“Road crew in front of the store?” was all Russell asked. You confirmed it with a simple nod. Internally, he celebrated his little win. His instincts were still intact.

You exhaled a deep breath and threw your hands up. You had been so incredibly relaxed before that menace of a man waltzed back into your life – with a goddamn wrecking ball, no less. Now, the tension was crawling back into your shoulders.

“Russ, what the hell?”

Your question wasn’t filled with anger, however. You were just exhausted by today’s surprising turn of events. The life of a spy…

And probably the life with Russell, too.

“I know. I know, okay?” Russell held up two placating hands. Large hands. Warm. “Can we just talk? Somewhere… I don’t know.”

With some reservations, you still nodded. “There’s a church picnic at First Presbyterian tomorrow. It starts at one. We can talk there.”

There had never been a day in your relationship where you had denied that man a thing – till that last day at least.

“Church picnic?” Russell cocked a brow but was only met with your glare.

“Don’t mock. Be there,” you told him firmly and walked back inside the building. You still had to buy that damn milk. Covers were complicated to maintain – much like relationships.

Once you were out of sight, Russell let out a long sigh of relief, followed by a laugh of happiness. Step One was done. Only when the high of his meeting with you subsided, did he notice his brother’s exasperation.

Colter threw his hands in the air and stared at his sibling with incredulous eyes. “What the hell, Russell? What was that, man?”

“Right, yeah.” Russell bobbed his head calmly, smacking his lips. He knew he owed Colter an explanation at this stage of the mission.

“So, I’m guessing she’s not an old Army buddy of yours,” the younger Shaw started.

“No, not quite. She’s in the CIA,” Russell explained at last. He couldn’t help the grin. He was sure Colter would laugh about it eventually, too. Well, here was to hoping he would. “We worked together when we were both stationed in Baghdad. You know how it goes. We met, and a couple of hours later, we were doing it on the kitchen island of some safe house.”

Well, alright, that was braggy. There was a lot more going on than that. Best night of his life, really. But Russell considered it classified.

“Romantic,” Colter scoffed with sarcasm lacing his voice. Honestly, a part of him was happy for Russell. Another part, though, was incredibly furious for obvious reasons. “But I’m sorry – you had me stalk a CIA operative? During, what I assume is, some elaborate undercover mission?”

“It’s actually not that elaborate,” Russell quipped with amusement. “You shoulda seen half the things I’ve seen her do, so…”

“Oh, hilarious!” Colter shook his head at his childish brother. “Are you nuts?!”

“I think we’ve already established that,” Russell chuckled.

“You know, if Reenie finds out about this, she’s gonna kill me,” Colter said, and Russell swore his brother seemed close to breaking into a sweat. “Oh, you think this is still funny, huh? Guess who she’s gonna kill right after? You.”

Russell rolled his eyes at the unnecessary theatrics. “She’s not gonna find out unless you tell her, brother.”

With pursed lips, Colter nodded in defeat. “Can’t say I like you a lot right now, Russell.”

His older brother only snorted a laugh in response. “Oh, c’mon!”

“You probably would find it less funny if you had been beaten up by a 5’4” woman,” Colter continued and pressed a hand to his ribcage, wincing. “Yeah, pretty sure she cracked a rib or two…”

“Don’t be a baby. Soldier up! You’re fine.” Russell patted his back roughly and inspected the swelling nose for good measure, causing Colter to groan in pain once more. “And by the way, pretty sure she’s only 5’3”.”

“What?! No! She’s at least… 5’4”, okay? Probably even 5’5”,” Colter argued, following Russell back to the truck.

Russell’s lips rose to a teasing smirk. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself whatever gets you to sleep at night, little brother.”

“I will, thank you,” Colter deadpanned and unlocked the car. “So, you’re gonna go to this church picnic thing tomorrow?”

“Oh, no, not just me. We are going to this church picnic thing tomorrow,” Russell said with a cheeky grin and slid into the passenger seat.

“Well, you know, technically, I’ve already… found her. This is usually where my job ends,” Colter said with a tight smile and popped the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Russell replied, chuckling. “This ain’t a Colter mission. This is a Russell mission.”

“Oh, I got that, yeah. Thank you,” Colter said with a laugh that made his bruised ribs ache. “You know, you could’ve at least told me she was in the CIA.”

“Yeah, probably. But this was more fun,” Russell grinned.

“Did you know this whole time this was a clandestine operation?”

Russell sheepishly twitched his shoulders. “Well, not when we first got to town, but once I saw her in that outfit, I had a pretty strong inkling. I’m tellin’ ya, even if she had changed her entire life and personality, there’s no way she would have accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and savior. I mean, maybe if she suffered a traumatic brain injury…” Russell mused and then grinned. “Or if she got abducted by aliens!”

“Oh, not the UFOs again,” Colter sighed with a shake of his head.

“It’s UAP, man. U… A… P,” Russell corrected him once again and let the last letter pop from his lips for emphasis.

“Uh-huh… Did you even need me for this?” Colter leaned back against his seat and quirked an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah!” Russell assured eagerly before changing course. He dialed his enthusiasm back a little. “Well, honestly, I just needed your op analyst. I could’ve used one of my guys, but then that would’ve flagged it with someone upstairs, so… But c’mon! This was fun, right?”

“I don’t know, Russell. I usually prefer my fun to look a little different,” Colter deadpanned.

“With Reenie?” Russell wagged his eyebrows. The huge smirk on his face spoke volumes.

“Would you stop?!”

“‘Sides, this is nice, isn’t it? Us… hanging out?” Russell’s sly grin then morphed into a much softer and genuine smile.

“I guess, yeah,” Colter reluctantly agreed and shrugged his shoulders. But the tiny smile on his face wasn’t missed by Russell.

“Alright, let’s get some fuel,” Russell announced and playfully slapped his brother’s chest. “I’m starving. We also need to find a place where we can park that Airstream of yours. Maybe get a nice fire going, drink a few…”

“What is this? A sleepover? Did you just invite yourself?” Colter really wasn’t used to family members dropping in like this, but he couldn’t deny that it felt sort of nice, too.

“Yeah, I am. I mean, you didn’t offer. Would’ve been the polite thing, you know, considering I saved your ass last time,” Russell retorted puckishly.

Colter exhaled a humorous breath, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Alright, okay… Consider yourself invited.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Russell’s nerves leaped through the roof as he set foot onto the church grounds. A part of him expected his boot soles to leave burn marks in their wake on the perfectly green and trimmed lawn, considering his extensive list of sins.

Families, children, couples, and the elderly had all gathered in front of the church. There were picnic tables, blankets, even balloons and a banner. His green eyes, however, landed on the giant buffet, his mouth already beginning to water.

That’s also where he spotted you, handing out cupcakes and slices of pie with a pious smile on your face. Your hair was stuck behind your ears, a headband keeping it tightly in place. Your dress looked the same, only the flower pattern varied, with a tight cardigan around your shoulders that hid any naked skin.

Deceptively innocent, Russell thought, causing his mouth to water for a different reason.

“You okay? You nervous?” Colter checked with a curiously raised brow.

“Nervous? Me? No.” Russell gave a quick shake of his head, but his eyes were transfixed on you. “Gotta admit. That outfit’s doing something to me, though.”

Colter patted his shoulder blade. “Yeah, might wanna keep it in your pants, Russ. Pretty sure you get kicked out for impure thoughts.”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

The Shaw brothers then made their way over to your stand. Russell’s heart thumped louder with every new step he took towards you. And once he was so close he could smell your irresistible perfume, his smile only widened.

You, on the other hand, played your role flawlessly and pretended you didn’t know either brother in front of you. Your brows knit in question, but your devout smile remained the same.

“Gentlemen, how can I help you? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” you said and subtly gestured your head to the pastor next to you.

Russell’s brow raised in understanding. He cleared his throat. “Oh, me and my brother just moved here. Looking for a new church. Heard this is the place,” he stated loud enough for the pastor to hear. “You know, we are very devout Christians. I mean, especially my brother here. If he doesn’t pray at least ten times a day, he gets real cranky.”

Colter threw him a look but decided to play along. “Oh, yeah, I just-… I hate that. Can’t pray enough, right?”

“Amen,” you said with all the sincerity you could muster. On the inside, however, you were bursting with laughter. Leave it to Russell to make you smile brighter than the sun.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place,” the pastor chimed in with a cheerful smile that spelled kumbaya all the way through as he shook the brothers’ hands. “I’m Pastor Jeff. Welcome to our little congregation, folks.”

“God can never have enough sheep, am I right?” Russell quipped and wondered how long you’d already been undercover, playing your dutiful role as a Christian housewife. Five sentences in, and he already was at his limit.

“That’s right!” The pastor grinned broadly. “Please help yourselves to our delicious buffet.”

“Well, lookey, what do we have here.” Russell’s eyes zoned in on a plate of apple pie, rubbing his palms in delight.

���Oh, you have to try the pie,” the pastor eagerly suggested and put an arm around your shoulders. “Our Nora here is an excellent baker. Her desserts are a real trend in our community. It is downright sinful. But shhhh, don’t tell the big man upstairs.”

“Secret’s safe with me, pastor,” Russell grinned slyly before meeting your eyes for the briefest second. “Say, do you do marriage counseling too?”

The glare you shot him had enough power to kill him from afar. You might as well have ordered a missile strike on him.

“Oh, my, yes, of course!” the pastor eagerly replied, causing your frown to deepen. “Are you married? Having a little trouble with the missus?”

“You could say that,” Russell earnestly played along and propped up his hands on his hips. “Everything was going fine, you know? And then one morning, just whoosh, gone. No explanation, no letter, no anonymous call from a pay phone…”

“Wow…” The pastor was stunned and enthralled by Russell’s colorful storytelling at the same time. You weren’t, however.

“Well, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you feigned your sympathies with tight lips and a fierce glare at your former lover. “But you know what they say, the Lord giveth and he taketh away…”

“You know, Nora here is right. Our Lord does work in mysterious ways,” the pastor chimed in agreement.

“Amen, Pastor Jeff,” you said, smiling contentiously. “Do you have any idea why your wife left?”

“Oh, I’m afraid she’s as mysterious as the Lord,” Russell replied.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you forced a tight smile. “I don’t mean to overstep, but it sounds like someone was having a little trouble with commitment.”

“It does,” Pastor Jeff agreed. “Why do you think that is?”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Russell’s head bobbed, his tongue poking the insides of his cheeks. He was definitely feeling a spotlight on him. Even Colter seemed to curiously lean in. Then, the oldest Shaw clicked his tongue. “Rough childhood.”

Amused, Colter scoffed under his breath behind him. “You could say that.”

“Oh no.” The pastor sent the brothers a pitying look and turned his attention to the younger Shaw. “And what do you do?”

“Oh, uh… Well, before I moved in with my brother here, I lived in a trailer and traveled all over the country.”

“Sounds… lonely,” Pastor Jeff stated worriedly.

“Yeah, this one is a big lone wolf. He has commitment issues too,” Russell replied, earning him a scolding look from his brother.

“Uh, I don’t think we need to overshare, Russ.” Colter gave an awkward smile, turning to you and Pastor Jeff. “He’s kidding. I don’t have commitment issues.”

“It’s a sin to lie, Colter,” Russ noted. His tone was serious, but the twinkle in his green eyes was impish.

“What happened to your face there?” The pastor cocked his head and inspected the younger Shaw’s injuries.

Oof, he looked rough. The skin under his eyes and bridge of his nose were swollen and bruised, ranging in color from blue, purple to black. A thin burgundy line also graced his throat. You had done quite a number on him.

You should kick Russell’s ass for setting you both up like this. Who would do this to their little brother?

“Uh, you know, moving boxes…” Colter stammered with a shift of his weight from one foot to the other, pursing his lips.

Russell was a better liar than him, you noted.

“Yup, walked straight into one of those wood planks,” Russell added, oozing just the right amount of charm and humor to wrap the pastor around his finger. “Tiny thing, honestly, but still got him good.”

Oh, he was so proud of that too, you could tell. He smirked right at you. Well, they were both terrible liars.

“Not that tiny. Big, big plank,” Colter corrected. Apparently, you had bruised his ego, too. “Lucky to be alive, really.”

Yeah, he really was.

“Well, speaking of taking things away, I still have to get the eggs from the chickens,” you said, segueing the conversation to an exit strategy. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, you have chickens here?” Russell enthusiastically slapped Colter’s arm. “Did you hear that? They have chickens.”

“Yeah, uh, very exciting,” Colter said, subtly clearing his throat.

“We’ve always wanted chickens,” Russell clarified for the pastor, joining you by your side as you rounded the table. It wasn’t true, though. The brothers actually had a chicken coop at the cabin when they were kids and hated it. The hens were noisy, the rooster was the worst, and it was always a mess to clean up. “I love those clucking little buggers. And now that we have a big backyard… Mind if I come along and check out your setup?”

“Not at all,” you replied with a friendly smile.

“Great. Be right back,” Russell told his brother, hurrying after you before he eloquently made a U-turn back to the stand and grabbed a plate of pie.

“Take your time,” Colter said through a pressed smile, although he wondered how long he’d be stuck here for with the pastor and your fake husband.

“Clear,” you said and held the creaking wooden door of the coop open for Russell to follow inside. As soon as it fell shut behind you two, you crossed your arms. “Okay, talk.”

“What? Here? Now?” With squinted eyes and a cocked brow, Russell looked around the small and dark space full of farm fowl, hay, and feathers.

You threw your arms up in exasperation. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk. What’s wrong with this place?”

“Nothing,” Russell said timidly and swallowed. He scratched the back of his neck. “You know, I just imagined this conversation a thousand times in my head, and it never happened in a chicken coop on church grounds.”

“Adorable,” you commented unamused, your brow knitting even more.

“All I’m sayin’ is, this just takes some time gettin’ used to…”

“Get used to it faster.”

Russell sighed. Then you did.

You softened your stance, crossed arms falling freely to your sides. “I’ve missed you,” you said earnestly and gifted him a small smile, taking in his changed appearance for the first time in detail.

He was hairier than you remembered. That you knew for sure. If you went back even further, he was also a lot broader, too. When you’d met, he was just a kid – as were you. It was only in the last few years of your relationship that he started to gain some serious muscle and really began to fill out his uniform. And all of a sudden, the tall and broad-shouldered soldier became more threatening – and more protective.

Now, clean-shaven, young, somewhat naive, and rule-following was replaced by a rebellious, midlife-crisis beard and the matching hair.

Ah, the t-shirt… Mötley Crüe. He found that thing eleven years ago at a thrift store in Arizona. It had a (bullet) hole on the left side of his lower back that you had patched – thrice. Once even with teething floss in a tent.

“How have you been?”

Russell’s head bobbed. He shrugged. “So-so.” Then he smiled. Soft and warm. The first few rays of sunshine on frozen winter skin. “I’ve missed you, too.” Then, the smile disappeared from his lips, replaced by contempt. “Got your divorce papers. Not signing them, by the way.”

“Good.” You smiled weakly. “I didn’t want you to sign them. I just sent them to get your attention.”

The relief that surged through Russell’s body was ineffable. For months, he thought he’d lost you – that you’d finally given up on him for good.

“How’s the new job working out?”

Russell’s lips drew a smirk, flirtatious charm glimmering in his forest green eyes. “What, you keeping tabs on me, sweetheart?”

You matched his expression. “Who do you think recommended you, huh?”

Russell stumped for a beat. His lips pursed, eyebrows drawing into a wondering v. “Well, they said someone did. Just didn’t think it was you.”

All this time, he’d believed you had crossed him out of your mind with a red pen as soon as you’d walked out the door that very morning.

“I told you. I’ll always look out for you,” you replied simply, a caring smile dancing on your lips. “So? Did it help? Are you any closer?”

“Yeah, guess so…” He paused for a moment, his gaze focused on the tips of his boots as he thought. “Not sure it was worth it, though. Actually, I’m fucking sure it wasn’t.”

You exhaled a long breath. You knew this day would come eventually. You knew he’d come back for you. Granted, you had expected him on your goddamn doorstep years ago, but he never showed. Sending divorce papers was a last resort in hopes he’d wake up then. That had been nine months ago.

“Why are you here, Russ?”

“Things have changed.”

Ah. That made things perfectly clear.

Lifting a brow, you crossed your arms again. “Is that why you brought your little brother along? As a show of good faith?”

“Kinda.”

“Poor Colter… How’s his nose?”

Russell wiped your sincere concerns away with a shrug. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. Just a scratch.”

Just a scratch…

“It’s weird… seeing you two together,” you said. For more than fifteen years, you had wondered. A part of you thought this day would never come, so maybe Colter being here was indeed a show of good faith and Russell was finally, finally dealing with his shit.

That man could easily fill the Denver airport with his baggage.

“You look good,” you noted. You were trained to control your heartbeat, but he had always made your job harder. “Different.”

His fingers brushed his beard as if to emphasize the newness. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Well, uhm, I don’t hate it,” you said rather coyly. Did you want to give him a win? No. But if he stepped any closer, you would falter. Your cheeks blushed as the tip of your shoe drew circles in the sandy ground. Why did your ears suddenly feel so hot?

Russell smiled as heat crept to his cheeks as well. “Your new look is somethin’, too.”

“God, shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re allowed to take the Lord’s name in vain here,” Russell teased. “Don’t let good Pastor Jeff hear ya.”

You laughed, scoffing. “I hate that man.”

“Pastor Jeff? I can tell,” Russell chuckled in amusement and finally stuffed his face with the first bite of pie, chewing a mouthful as he spoke. “But c’mon, he ain’t half bad.”

“Really? You don’t wanna shoot yourself after spending five minutes with him? ‘Cause I do. And it’s been months for me,” you said. “You don’t know what that man does in his office.”

“You bugged his office?”

“And the confession booth. Two words: game changer,” you said, wide-eyed. Russell whistled lowly. You narrowed your eyes at the half-eaten plate in his hands and the pie crumbs in his beard. You raised a scolding brow. “Did you really have to bring the pie?”

“Do you even know me at all? Of course I did.” Russell then shoved the last bite into his mouth to prove his petulant point. “Did you actually bake this?”

In expectant offense, you stepped back a little, crossing your arms again. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s good.”

“Do you even know me at all? What d’you think?”

“Thought so.” Russell gave a shrug of his shoulders. “The first bite of this didn’t give me immediate food poisoning.”

“Fuck you. I’m a great cook,” you huffed but couldn’t help the grin on your face. You had missed this – the bickering, the bantering, the fun. And Russell, the sly asshole, knew that, judging by his own smirk.

“There’s a lot of reasons why I love you, but your cooking skills ain’t one of ‘em, sweetheart,” he quipped.

“I’ll use you as shooting practice, Shaw,” you threatened playfully. Russell laughed, but it sounded more secretive than a laugh about a joke. “What?”

Russell’s eyes found yours. “Nothing. This is nice, right? We slid right back into it. Like the last three years never happened.”

“Russ…” You sighed, your heart hurting. For you, they happened.

“Just saying it was easy. That’s all,” he said with placating hands. “How’s the family? How’s your dad?”

That caused you to suck in a breath. You had wondered when he would finally dare to ask. You knew this was the real reason why he was here. “Dave finally married Jill last spring. It was a nice wedding. Florence, Italy. Got to wear a sun hat.”

“That’s good.” Russell smiled softly, although it stung that he wasn’t invited. He had always imagined he would be, once your brother popped the question to his longtime girlfriend. After all, Russell was the one who introduced the couple in the first place.

“They wanted to do it sooner, but because of the pandemic…”

“They shoulda done it ten years ago. I kept telling him to lock it down,” Russell quipped, the irony not entirely lost on him. He knew even if something was locked down, didn’t necessarily mean it would stay forever.

“You did,” you remembered with a fond smile. “They wanted you there,” you added, noticing his saddened expression. “It’s just-…”

“No, I know. Don’t worry about it,” Russell brushed it off with all the coolness he could muster at that moment.

“Russ…”

“I said it’s fine,” he repeated and forced another smile. “So, how’s the old man?”

Silently, you bit your lip and sent him a look that spoke volumes.

“Uh-oh. That bad, huh?”

“It’s the reason why I moved back here. To be closer… As close as I can be with this job. Figured it was best for everyone,” you explained. “In the beginning, he had a lot of good days, you know? Now they just all seem… bad.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry,” Russell replied, dumping his empty plate by the chickens. He stepped closer.

Uh-oh. Now, you were in trouble.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Russell’s brow jumped up. “What are you sorry for? It’s your dad.”

“I know. But… he kinda was yours too, right?” Russell’s green eyes meeting yours confirmed your statement. “He still talks about you on his good days. God knows you couldn’t throw a football before you met him.”

“Hey, that’s not true. I could throw the old pigskin around perfectly fine,” Russell defended.

You snorted. “You could not,” you argued with a teasing smile. “You knew how to kill sweet little forest critters and turn your pee into drinking water. But you did not know how to throw a damn ball.”

“You’re never letting the pee thing go, are you?”

You shrugged. “It was a very memorable trip.”

Russell laughed at that. Then the melancholic sadness returned to his face. “How’s-, uhm, how’s Lewis?”

He’d made it through the list of your relatives, finishing with the most important one. And it stung so unbearably much it broke your heart for him. But in the end, you knew he’d done it to himself.

Fighting the tears in your eyes, you forced a smile to your lips. “He’s good. He’s a sweet boy. Keeps asking questions about his daddy that I don’t know how to answer…” you scoffed humorlessly but decided to forgo the pettiness. It would be so easy to be mad at him, but not even on your darkest days could you do it. “He’s starting school this fall.”

“School, huh?” Russell huffed a devastating chuckle, the tears brimming in his eyes as the lump in his throat only grew. “Shit…”

It was getting to him, you could see, and he hadn’t expected that it would. Knowing Russell, he probably figured he could push through the pain and be fine. But he had never really been fine since the day you met him – and he wasn’t this time either as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink the tears away, and turned his back to you with a hand clasped over his mouth.

“Should I stop?”

It felt like you were torturing him with a cruel new method of some PsyOp. Even if you had cursed this man for the past three years, your heart refused to see him hurt.

But Russell shook his head, finding your eyes again. He offered you a weak smile. “No, uh, don’t. Just tell me something about him, okay? I’m fine. Please.”

Sighing, you nodded in acceptance. “When my dad was better, he and Dave would take him fishing a lot. He loved it. He’s in his ‘backyard adventures’ phase,” you said, giggling softly. “He’s catching frogs and releasing them in the house. Never imagined I’d wake up with an amphibian on my head. It’s been a delightful experience.”

Russell laughed, but it was feeble at best. “I can imagine…”

And I can’t imagine I missed it all, he thought self-punishingly. But the hard part still hadn’t come yet.

“And, uhm…” Russell wrung for words, taking a deep breath. “How’s the baby? Is it–”

“She,” you stated, watching him swallow upon your correction. “Her name’s Amelia. She turned two in April.”

“Huh, girl…” His heart beat faster, grew bigger, and painfully yearned. His feet trembled to get home, wherever that was, and see them, but he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t so easy, after all. “Guess I was right…” he said with a sad smile.

You had been sure you’d have another boy. However, Russell had bet you ten meatball subs – your craving at the time – that it wasn’t.

“What happened to Ann? Thought that’s the name we picked,” Russell teased in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Yeah, well, if you wanted a say, maybe you should’ve been there…” you retorted.

Russell should’ve known winning you over wouldn’t be as simple as spelling the ABC.

“You’re the one who left,” Russell muttered finger-pointing-ly under his breath.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why,” you bit glaringly.

Russell swallowed lightly, nodding. “You’re right. I do. I’m sorry.” Pausing, his eyes glanced around the coop before he gestured with a hand at your outfit, looking you up and down. “So, speaking of the kids, what’s going on here? Thought you were done with the deep-covers,” he changed the subject with a clear of his throat.

He knew if he continued talking about what he’d missed, he wouldn’t make it out of that chicken coop for the next several hours, sobbing uncontrollably in the hay with the hens.

“I was. Had a desk job. Kinda…” A desk job in the CIA still never really was a desk job. “I was station chief in Paris.”

“Paris, huh? Fancy,” Russell said, but the joke didn’t reach the crinkles around his eyes.

“It’s the job I took after I left. We only moved back to the States in the beginning of the year,” you explained. “The kids loved it there, though. Lewis still gets a craving for crêpes every once in a while.”

Russell chuckled, even though every story added another bruise to his heart.

“Anyways, I got a job at Langley. Desk. Bought a house not too far from here, actually. It’s nice. Got a big backyard. Even bigger oak tree,” you told him with a smile. “Lewis wants me to build him a treehouse, but I’m not sure I can swing it.”

“I could help,” Russell offered, trying to keep his eagerness at bay when truly all he wanted was to race there and build the damn thing now. “I mean, if I can come by sometime…”

Your heart sank. “You can always come home. You always could, Russ.”

Home.

That four-letter word filled him with so much warmth and longing it brought back the tears in his eyes.

“So, uhm, why are you here and not there then?” This time, he switched the topic because he would’ve kissed you if he hadn’t. “You running a sting on the pastor or…?”

“One of his sheep.”

“Ah.” Russell nodded. “Need any help?”

“From you and Colter?”

“Yeah.”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, c’mon, just lemme help. The faster you get this done and over with, the sooner you can stop clutching your fake pearls and get home to the kids,” Russell reasoned.

You sighed, knowing he was partially right. You did hate your disguise as much as you hated the annoyingly nosy pastor. Moreover, you missed your children a fucking lot. It had already been three months. Fall was coming soon, and you had promised your son you’d be home by his first day of school.

“C’mon, how did they lure you back in, huh? Who’s the naughty little sheep you’re working?”

“Can’t talk about this here,” you told him, automatically lowering your voice. It was hard to remember who you were right now, when what you were used to be was standing right in front of you.

Russell quirked a brow. “Did you bug the coop, too?”

“No, the pastor’s scared of the chickens, which is why I didn’t bother. But you never know if someone else isn’t listening. We’ve already shared too much. We shouldn’t do this here,” you insisted, and Russell nodded in agreement. He knew the dangers as well as you did.

“Then where?”

You exhaled a deep breath and thought for a moment. You wanted to see him again. You knew he didn’t just come find you to catch up and then leave again.

“Come by the house tonight. Make it look natural. I’ll invite you guys to dinner as a sort of friendly welcome wagon to the neighborhood. The pastor is gonna buy it in a heartbeat. Just give me a good reason to invite you over.”

Russell nodded in understanding. “Alright.”

Part 3: This Is a Heart-To-Heart – SOON 💚

Welp, seems like Russell omitted having a wife and two kids... 🙈😂

I'll post the next part in the beginning of the new year or straight after Polaris has finished. We'll see ☺️

Enjoy the rest of your holidays, loves! Can't wait to read your comments on this one 😉🤍

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[sharp-silver4795]

Liu’s Birthday (12/21/1988)

He is officially 36 years old, mfers!!

This likely will NOT be posted on his birthday cuz of the holidays and shit- I put him as 36 on my age HCs bc I just rounded lol

Before Jeff

Prior to Jeff being born, Liu would have small parties that really no one else came to.

His mom would go out and buy him a red velvet cupcake and make him a grilled cheese sandwich (he loved them as a kid after being introduced to them)

Those were some of his best memories.

He didn’t have a lot of friends, so he would celebrate with just his mom. Peter never celebrated with him.

Before Death

Once Jeff came around, his birthday was ignored. In fact, Jeff didn’t know Liu’s birthday until he was 12 years old… Liu would die less than 3 years later…

He didn’t really care much, though. It’s not like they thought they were a big deal.

That was until he saw Jeff’s birthday celebration. He admittedly was jealous, but he bit his tongue and celebrated with his brother.

After Death

Once Liu’s grave was made, Jeff made a point to visit him every year, especially his birthday.

After all, he couldn’t remember a time where his older brother’s birthday was recognized… hell, he couldn’t remember a time Liu was recognized for anything.

Jeff would bring iced coffee and a cinnamon roll in the morning and a small cupcake in the evening. He didn’t know what Liu liked for his birthdays, but he considered it enough.

Jeff didn’t know this, but Liu would receive those foods in Hydra. Death made sure to get it delivered to them.

After Un-Death

His birthday still wasn’t celebrated. But, once again, he wouldn’t complain.

Most members of the mansion got a day off but, Liu? No. He already took off a lot of time to help EJ with his seasons, Slenderman couldn’t afford any more lost time.

However, Jeff would still bring her an iced coffee.

In Hydra

His birthday is finally recognized.

He gets to celebrate with his friends and even people she was on rocky terms with.

Jeff still brings them iced coffee. EJ keeps the RV cupcake and grilled cheese tradition alive.

He gets to visit Jane and Toby at a bar. He doesn’t usually drink too much so that he doesn’t fuck up the occasion.

There’s no gifts. No special privileges. And he genuinely likes it that way. Just give him food, recipes for food, and iced coffee. He will be 100% content.

Divider Creds: Sister-Lucifer

They aren’t FNAF dividers idk what you’re talking about 👀

Header Creds: MEEE!!!

Have these pictures btw:

[vivianthepigeon]

Reading the HP books for the first time

So I love Harry Potter but ive only ever seen the movies and all the information ik about the books comes from my friends who have read them. Recently I’ve been getting back into the Harry Potter fandom and I decided it was about time I started reading the series, and to make it a little more fun I wanted to document my thoughts about them on here!

So far I’m in chapter 11 of the first book and here’s my thoughts so far, sorry if my notes are a little scatterbrained 💀 (spoiler warning obvi)

First of all couple of side note but I thought it was interesting that the wizard that Mr. Dursley bumped into was so open talking about wizarding world stuff to a muggle, not a very smart move if ya ask me. Also omg! Hagrid got his motorcycle from Sirius?? Also a cute little detail I loved was the fact that the owls get paid for delivery lol! I wish that was kept in the movies.

Harry is genuinely SOO funny in this! His little remarks and comments make me laugh so hard. Also freaking Dudley is even worse in the book! This mofo is awful! Mostly blame his parents for that but he pisses me off (I could go on a whole rant about the Dursley family). On the flip side, the Weasley family is soooo darlingggg! When Ginny starts crying when the train starts leaving and one of them says they’ll write to her is so sad and sweet especially as she starts running after the train.

Something I thought was really funny was when Harry first met Draco while getting his robes and Draco saying something about bullying his father into letting him take a broom to school and thats genuinely so funny that he said that.

Something I thought was real interesting was all the Slytherin hate, from the adults especially. It surprised me a little to see Hagrids biases about the house.

I love how the books go into more detail about the classes, for example even though Harry thinks it’s the most boring class History of Magic sounds so cool! Especially since it’s taught by a freaking ghost! Also good to know that zombies exist in the Harry Potter universe, professor Quirrell says that he fought off a zombie or something and even if he didn’t fight one off they still exist apparently! And ik it’s controversial but I love Snape, his beef with children makes me laugh tho I’m upset with how he called Neville an idiot.

Speaking of which why is literally everyone so mean to Neville?? My poor baby’s got the worst luck in the world and people are rude to him for it 😭. I’m glad Harry stood up to Draco for him but even then Harry was avoiding being his partner in charms class, WHY HE IS SO SWEET AND A PRECIOUS LITTLE BOY

I do have a question tho, and maybe I’m just a dumb dumb but why did Hermione lie about the whole mountain troll situation? It’s the same in the movies. But couldn’t she just says “oh I was in the bathroom and didn’t know about the troll and Harry and Ron came to warn me and ended up saving me”? Was it bc she didn’t wanna say that she was crying in the bathroom or was it to make Ron and Harry look even more courageous? I feel like the whole thing wouldn’t have ended up the same just minus her getting lowkey in trouble

Oh and! When prof Quirrell was off fighting vampires or something is that where he got parasite Voldy?

I’m such an indecisive person and I can’t decide who my fav character is rn! I love Ron and I love Hermione but I love Harry and Neville! I’m also obsessed Fred and George but that might just be bc I’m a twin and I can relate to them lol

On another side note, I can’t wait to read how Ron and Hermione’s relationship progresses bc they are my fav ship ever and young love is sooooo cute 🥹

[wishchip106]

Hi just wanna yap in ur inbox about Erik's flying ability because I am obsessed on how he floats and I have no one else to talk to 🧍

Magneto in movies have really goofy and 'stiff' flying scenes but they makes sense to me at least like he can't "fly" like jean or any characters that can fly normally, he's literally using his body like a giant magnet...I feel like that's a really hard thing to do...like when you put to different magnets together and theyre pulling away from each other....and I think that's makes him extra cooler and he's already one of the coolest marvel character ever

I feel like he can't really relax everytime he levitates...he have to concentrate..and balance that's why his leg is always like that. Like dude is literally defying gravity... using only the metal around him.

he looks more relax in his flying scenes In apocalypse because he's powers are enhanced by Oscar Isaac

The fact he can just ride a sheet of metal and floats anywhere he wants is really awesome...

I really love that one scene in dofp where he just launches himself on a moving train... he can't fall on top of it because he can just makes him feet stick to the metal roof....he can literally walk on walls or ceiling if it's made of metal...god why is he so cool

I imagine he always carries a piece of metal with him...just in case in he needs to fly somewhere doesn't want to use his body...he can just makes a big metal circle, sit on it...and go anywhere.

(the flying scenes in the stadium in dofp...you can literally *feel* and *see* the wires 😭)

idk if it's the same for comic magneto so I am talking about movie!magneto only :D sorry for the bad English lol

i’m now just imagining Erik using a piece of metal to fly like mary poppins 😭

it is very silly seeing him float around ramrod straight but also it does make sense with him pushing off the electromagnetic waves

honestly i just wish we got to see how tf he figured out he could fly in the movies

like he just randomly starting floating at the end of first class WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN??

like he didn’t fly at all in that movie up until that point 😔

sighh i’ll probably never know 💔😿

he’s a bit silly 😿

[foxs0x]

SilverDyne with some Johnny / V flavour if you squint

Just a warning: Johnny's being an absolute cunt to Kerry

LONG POST

Some whump. I also basically rewrote and reordered some scenes from the game lol. Set around the Rogue / Johnny date mission.

Not sure what this is but I wrote it when I couldn't sleep last night.

2012

They argued before and after every gig like clockwork. This time was no different. Kerry had followed Johnny off stage, yelling at him over the roar of screaming fans trying to flood the backstage.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Kerry snarled, shoving past a stagehand. “It’s not your show, choom! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Johnny didn’t stop walking, didn’t even turn around. “What I always do. Saving your ass from boring the crowd.”

“Fuck off!” Kerry barked.

Johnny finally stopped, pivoting sharply to face him. The grin on his face wasn’t friendly — it was a wolf baring its fangs. “Fuck off? That all you got? Jesus, Ker, where's the creativity? No wonder nobody'll remember your name unless it’s next to mine.”

The words hit him like a slap to the face. He could see the way Kerry’s hands shook, how his fists formed at his sides. But no punch came. Like always.

“Know what your problem is Kerry? You’re a parasite. Always have been. Feedin’ off my rep, hopin’ people don’t notice how fuckin’ mediocre you really are. Second fiddle, Kerry. Always.”

Kerry’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly. His pupils were blown wide, rage and hurt warring in his eyes. But as Johnny expected, the punch never came.

“Know why you’ll always be second fiddle?” Johnny continued. He leaned close enough for his breath to brush Kerry’s face and lowered his sunglasses, meeting him naked eye to naked eye. “Because you don’t have the spine to take the spotlight for yourself. You’re too busy standin' in my shadow and whinin' about it like a goddamn child.”

Kerry’s breathing grew heavier, nostrils flaring. Johnny could see the hurt. Could see the years of frustration and resentment bubbling to the surface. Could see how his eyes were growing wet with tears. And something ugly in Johnny liked it.

“You’re a fuckin’ pussy. And you're a quitter. Every time you had a chance to step up, you back down. Hell, even now, I’m right here, practically askin’ for you to hit me, and what do you do? Stand there, lookin’ at me like a kicked puppy. Pathetic.”

"You — John —"

“— Go on,” Johnny goaded. “Do it. Prove me wrong for once in your goddamn life.”

But Kerry didn’t. Like always.

Johnny laughed and took a step back from him. “That’s what I thought."

“Fuck you."

Johnny scoffed and roughly shoved him back with his metal arm. “Whatever. Now kindly ghost. The fuck. Off.”

He then ripped the dressing room door open and slammed it in Kerry’s face so hard the walls shook, finally leaving him in blessed silence.

The smell of cigarette smoke hit him before anything else.

Alt.

“Said you weren’t comin’ tonight.”

Alt sat on the worn couch, one long leg crossed over the other, and cigarette dangling from her cybernetic hand. Her other hand was busy using her cyberdeck. She didn’t even look up at him. “Was that Kerry again?”

Johnny didn’t answer. She didn’t need one when the answer was obvious. Instead he went to the dressing table, rummaging for the cocktail of pills he’d stashed there earlier. A couple went down with a swig of tequila, followed by a quick line of synthcoke. The heat in his chest blurred the edges of his thoughts and dulled the sharpness of everything else.

Then the rest played out like it always did. Her nails digging into his back as they fucked against the dressing room door. The inevitable argument that followed. The door slamming hard enough to rattle the hinges as she left.

And, like always, Johnny followed after her, pretending he was on the same level as her. Pretending that she wasn't too good for him.

"Alt!" He called out after her. She ignored him, just like every other time they do this.

He weaved through the chaos backstage where the crew were packing up for the night, and the buzz of the synthcoke already wearing off.

That's when he saw them from the corner of his eye. Johnny stopped dead in his tracks.

The stairs weren't lit and deeper shadows swallowed the corners, but there was no mistaking the familiar shape of Kerry pressed up against some random groupie Johnny didn't recognise. His hands were tangled in Kerry’s hair and Kerry’s mouth was on his, moving with purpose. The soft, wet sounds of their kissing filled the space between their gasps.

Kerry’s eyes opened mid-kiss, and that’s when he saw him. Their gazes locked.

It lasted only a second, but it felt like a lifetime. Long enough for something heavy to settle in Johnny’s chest. A twist of jealousy? Loneliness? Rage? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

But Kerry didn’t stop. He didn’t push the joytoy away, didn’t flinch, didn’t even acknowledge the moment beyond that sharp, deliberate eye contact. If anything, Kerry leaned further into the kiss, his hands sliding down the guy’s back, making it clear: this wasn’t about Johnny.

Except, Johnny knew better.

He tore his gaze away, his chest tight and his throat burning, and delta’d out of there. Past Kerry. Past the stairs. Past everything.

By the time he got outside, Alt was gone. There was nothing left but the glow of her car’s taillights disappearing into the dark. She wouldn’t be at tomorrow’s gig, and maybe that was for the best.

Everything was easier when it was broken.

2077

V came to, jolting out of Johnny's memories with the sharp tang of blood and asphalt on his tongue. He groaned, pushing himself up on unsteady hands. His head throbbed like it had been put through a blender. Fragments of static flickered through his mind. Glimpses of Johnny's date with Rogue, tangled with vivid memories that weren’t his. Memories he slipped into while Johnny had control.

“How’d the date go?” V muttered, wiping at his mouth as he staggered to his feet.

He half-expected Johnny to launch into a smug monologue about how Rogue was still into him, but Johnny didn’t even meet his gaze.

“Fine,” He said, his voice distant. “Until it wasn’t.”

“You fought.”

Johnny’s construct flickered into view, leaning back against the only burned out car in the drive-thru. His silver hand tapped an idle rhythm against his forearm. “Dunno what about. She just… got mad and left.”

V squinted, trying to piece together the fragments in his head. He remembered Rogue asking Johnny if he’d change anything if he could go back in time. He couldn’t recall Johnny’s answer. Then she was walking away. And Johnny — he’d just stood there. Confused. Hurt. Alone.

“Maybe she finally lost interest in you,” V offered cynically. “It’s been over 50 years, Johnny. People change.”

Johnny scoffed. “Nah. It’s not that.” He hesitated, then frowned. “Take me to North Oak. By the sign.”

“Why?”

“Tell you when we get there.”

The Porsche hummed along the road, the city lights a neon blur in the rearview mirror. Johnny sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet.

“You know why Rogue left, don’t you?” He asked finally. “You saw it, didn’t you? In that skull sponge of yours.”

“Bits and pieces.” V admitted, glancing at him. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

Johnny snorted softly, his gaze out the window. “Maybe she figured it’d never change. Me. Us. It was always the same song and dance. Hot one second, cold the next. I cheat, she leaves, I charm her back. Rinse and fuckin’ repeat.”

“And now she’s sick of it?”

“Course she is. She was sick of it 50 years ago. But she always came back. Guess I thought… hell. Doesn’t matter now.”

They stopped at the overlook by the North Oak sign, the city sprawling below them like a living, breathing creature. Johnny’s construct flickered into view by the edge of the water, a cigarette materialising between his fingers.

“Kerry’s got himself a buck-a-mansion up here,” He said, staring up at the sign. “Done real well for himself.”

“And where'd you hear that?”

“Oh right, you weren't there.”

“Your big night out. Right.”

“Yeah.” Johnny flicked the cigarette into the puddle. “Picked up a few things about him, actually.”

“What things?”

“He’s depressed. Tried to end it.”

The words hung in the air and V wasn't sure what the expected response was. Sympathy? Understanding? He was never good at this kinda stuff.

“Oh.” He said simply. “That's why we’re here?”

“Yeah, wanna talk to him. Help him.”

“You sure? He might be goin’ through some real personal shit right now.”

Johnny’s face tightened. “Kerry’s always been a mess. Always personal shit. Always waitin' for me to throw him a fuckin’ bone. I never did.”

“And now you want to?”

Johnny turned to look at V, his expression raw. “I don’t know how, V. But I figure it starts with showing up.”

“Greeeaaat.” V sighed. “Yet another front-row seat to Johnny Silverhand’s ‘fix my mistakes’ tour. Can’t wait.”.

Johnny didn't respond. He was staring at the North Oak sign but not really seeing it.

He’d thought about Kerry more often than he cared to admit. The band days. The gigs. The fights. Always so much noise between 'em. Noise Johnny created to drown out the shit he didn’t want to think about.

Kerry had been the constant in his life, the one thing that didn’t evaporate like smoke. Alt came and went. Rogue loved him but (rightfully) never trusted him. But Kerry was always there, always lookin' at Johnny like he wanted something Johnny couldn’t — or wouldn’t — give him.

Kerry had always been searchin' for something. Love. Connection. Maybe just someone to notice him. And Johnny — selfish, fucked-up Johnny — had never been brave enough to be the friend he needed. To give him what he needed.

He swallowed hard at the burn of shame that crawled up his throat.

Maybe he wanted Kerry.

Once.

That was the part he couldn’t deal with.

Even now, the thought of wanting Kerry — of being wanted by Kerry — tangled in his chest like barbed wire. And then there was V.

He glanced at the young merc.

Johnny didn’t do feelings. Didn’t do attachment. Because if he’d let himself feel it back then, really feel it…

“I treated him like shit, V,” He finally said. “Kept him at arm’s length ‘cause I was scared of… fuck.”

“So what, you wanna make amends now? Might I remind you that it's been over fifty years, Johnny?”

Johnny shook his head, looking out at the city. “I don’t know. I just… I owe him, V.” He turned to look at the young merc again, his voice surprisingly earnest. “Means I’ll need to borrow your body again, though.”

V gave him a flat look. “Uhuh. Any other last requests?”

“C’mon,” Johnny said, a coy grin tugging at his lips. “I behaved last time, didn’t I? Gave you your body back, like I promised.”

V rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

[writingsfromhome]

The Ex-Text

Epilogue: what’s next

A/N: this isn’t so much an epilogue than a part two but it just fit better to call it one lol. But it’s the final instalment in the Ex-Text so make sure you read the first two. As always, ty for reading this far <3

Prologue (text) / Main (ex) / Epilogue (what’s next)

—————————

It was a bit of a wet morning but I was determined to have a good day. And it’s like the world listened because by the time I got my morning coffee the sun had decided to kiss my skin hello. It was a Friday, I had a weekend of bachelorette festivities—our last girls weekend before Taz officially married next weekend. And I was going to a job I loved after changing roles last year, and getting promoted to the position I’d been chasing after.

It had been a year and 7 months since the night I decided to change. It wasn’t linear by any means but I had a better sense of who I was and what I wanted nowadays. I stuck up for myself, and felt less end-of-the-world if someone didn’t like me. I wasn’t perfect all the time, but things were better.

I’m so excited for tomorrow, I read Taz’s text in the lift up. I’d set up a spa day for the bridesmaids, and then a potentially rowdy evening across a few bars with a scavenger hunt. As the maid of honour I took my duties very seriously. I was friends with most of the invitees either from childhood or through Taz—there were a handful of girls from high school that Taz and I were friends with who I hadn’t seen in a while. It was going to be an interesting weekend.

***

“So YN,” Taz’s cousin slides in beside me wiggling her phone. This was our second pub on the list and she had the lead for the scavenger hunt by two. The group had enough drinks that everyone was loud and comfortable even though not everyone knew each other well. “How far along are you?”

“I’m not playing,” I made the game. I tell her that.

“Oh c’mon!” She looks at the girls sitting near us. “You’re just trying to get out of some of these! Like kiss a stranger, or find a way to write your number on someone’s arm? You’re cheeky with these—find someone to do a musical number with—“

“That’s how I know I’m not winning the hunt,” Felicity says. “I’m shite at dancing.”

“No you was so good back in school,” Taz giggles as she catches up. “Dots was even better, remember when she went with that wanker to the year 11 dance and oh what was his name-“

“I heard my name,” Dots pokes her head through. “You lot are loud.”

“Have you heard them?” Taz’s cousin points to the other end of the table. Someone’s getting a shot poured directly into their mouth.

“Taz are you participating in the hunt?” Felicity waves her phone that has the app pulled up.

“I’m getting married in a week so…only the PG ones.”

“No one’s going to say anything if you do number 7,” Dots winks. I smile uncomfortably, remembering the grip the peer pressure these girls had in high school that lead me to some pretty bad decisions.

“Taz is too much of an angel to do anything like that,” I try to swoop in for her.

“Then you should do it for her.” Dots says, her eyes alight with mischief. “Since you’re not playing. That way the bride-to-be has a chance to win.”

“Yeah!” Felicity jumps right into the plan eagerly. “It’s not like you’re dating someone right?”

“I…”

“I don’t need to win that bad,” Taz tries to come to my rescue but the plan is too enticing for these girls.

“Oh yeah YN you never got back on the horse after…Ethan?” Taz’s cousin mouths the word like he was going to appear if she said it too loud.

“No it’s…” I’m tempted to lie. To look good. Everyone leans in to hear the end of my sentence and I blurt out. “It’s complicated.”

“Ooh what’s that mean?” They move in closer and I feel crushed. I avoid Taz’s eye, she knew I hadn’t dated in forever. Not for lack of wanting, but I found opening myself up to new people was more exhausting than it used to be. Being in one long term relationship after the other, then taking a huge break, now dating felt like learning to walk again.

“Um,” I try to backtrack on the lie. “It’s just complicated but technically I’m not dating someone right now!”

“Wait so you’re not bringing a plus one to the wedding?” Someone asks.

“Well I-“

“You should invite the guy! If he comes you know he’s serious and if he doesn’t…”

“Yeah!” Felicity grabs my arm. “Invite him! I want to see Ethan’s rebound that manwhore.”

“It’s not really a rebound when it’s been years,” Taz says. I agree, but I’m also touched by the vehemence in Fel’s voice when she talks about Ethan.

“Well screw the guy. If he’s complicated, you can kiss anyone you want at any bar you want. So?”

“YN,” Taz’s murmur catches my attention. She shoots me a warning, I had to put my foot down. Not give in because I wanted to please. I should but with this many eyes on me I chicken out.

“Fine. But maybe pick number 7 at the next bar, this group looks uni aged.” I feel Taz’s disappointment beside me.

“So? I had a thing with a 21 year old last summer,” Fels shrugs.

“Ew. Didn’t you feel like his mother?” Taz asks and I laugh, a bit of the pent up energy releasing with it.

“No, he was a big boy. He knew how to take care of himself.” She grins. The topic shifts to her and I think I’m forgotten until the hour hits and we decide to move places.

“Okay YN I know you’ve mapped this all out but if we’re trying to get you a good number 7 I know a better place where I used to live. Last summer actually.” Felicity links her arm through mine as we walk out.

“We know how well that went,” Taz’s cousin teases.

“Exactly! May I? Girls! Change of location on the third cuz Taz has to win tonight-“

“I really don’t want the gift card that badly.” Taz says but it’s drowned out by everyone cheering. God we were all well on our way to drunk.

***

“That one,” someone whispers to me. She points to a tall blonde with a cardigan on.

“Mmm too bookish,” someone else says. Somehow the whole group was debriefed on the way over that I was to have the most epic kiss with a stranger for Taz’s sake. Because even though she had three other missing items on her list, doing this would make her win.

“Well that creep over there just bought me shots,” Taz slurs. We look to where she points, it’s a guy who had been a potential kisser. The group crosses him out as well as the line item on her list. Now she was down to 2 to win.

Felicity had led us to her old local area, one I hadn’t spent much time in but sounded familiar. Even though I’d planned the pub crawl to the detail I had to let go of the control and go with the crowd.

“Okay YN you have to do this now,” Dot says. “You can kill two birds, then Taz is free to win.”

“Doesn’t anyone else want to win?” I ask pathetically.

“No!” The group encourages me. “You need this too YN!”

“Him,” Fels points to a guy sitting at the bar. He’s talking with the bartender who’s laughing at whatever he’s saying. “Look, he’s funny and nice enough to talk to the bartender. He’ll give you a nice smooch.” She kisses my cheek with this statement.

“Oh he’s cute,” Taz says and I glare at her.

“You can’t even see his face.” I tell her.

“Yeah but his hair is nice,” she rubs my cheek where Felicity kissed me. “And his shirt stretches nicely over-“

“Okay bride-to-be,” she was such a traitor.

“What? A girl can’t look?” Taz asks. She wraps an arm around my shoulder and leans in. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” but with all these girls waiting on me to I didn’t have another choice. I just had to get over it. Plus I hadn’t kissed someone in over a year so I wasn’t complaining if he was cute. And Taz was right, from the back he was cute. “Fine.”

I step away from the crowd and they all gasp. They get ready for the show and so do I. I clear my throat, push my shoulders back—my cleavage looked great in this dress so I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt, and head over. My stomach drops with nerves but I take a deep breath and tap the bloke on the shoulder.

My lungs deflate like a released balloon when the face looking back at me is Harry. Harry the ex-texter.

He blinks, then blinks some more. Meanwhile I stand there staring.

“YN!?” Harry turns the barstool to face me. His neck must’ve started cramping.

“I-uh,” I glance back at the girls and they’re all pretending not to stare but it’s a bad attempt. They’re staring.

“It’s you-I-“ Harry stands up, it seems like he was going in for a hug but he thinks better of it almost immediately. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi,” I say lamely. I feel the shame of the last time we spoke. That YN feels like someone else. Someone people manipulated easily. Like him.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he laughs nervously and his eyes roam up and down my body. He runs his fingers through his hair and looks back. “I think there’s a massive group of women there staring at us? Have you rounded up a gang to kick my-“

“Ignore them,” I quickly take a seat beside where he was sitting. He takes one last glance at them and sits back down.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“No no,” my mind is occupied. I couldn’t kiss him. This was the worst person in the world to have picked, why was he here damnit?

Then I remember why this area was familiar to me. His address was only a street or so over, this is close to where I’d picked him up that day.

“Actually, I’ll do a a vodka soda.”

He orders for me while I try to sort out my thoughts.

“So are you in a cult? Am I some sort of blood sacrifice?” Harry throws another glance over his shoulder.

I finally look at him. He looked good, of course he did. He’d decided to do something about those razor blades—he’d thrown them out; he sports a mustache and stubble. His hair is styled, nicer than it was when I met him. His eyes are murky waters and I don’t look at them too long. I spot the gym bag by his feet, so that’s why his shirt fit so well…

Omg.

“Actually,” I consider what he’d just said. “You’re not too far off.”

“Wait really?” His eyes bug out. “You’re joking.”

“Well the cult is actually a bridal party,” I say. “And the blood sacrifice is a number on our scavenger hunt.”

“Oh,” it dawns on him. “I’m fresh blood. You already have my number, wait is that why you came up to me?”

“No I actually didn’t even know it was you,” I say honestly. “They picked you out from the crowd.”

“Really?” Harry looks back, now intrigued that this group of women found him fit enough to pick out.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” I roll my eyes. My drink had landed in front of me so I take a sip.

“Well? You have my number right?” When I just nod he laughs. “Wait. You need something more.”

“Well obviously I’m going to lose this scavenger hunt,” I scowl. “Don’t worry.”

He chuckles and looks to the front, meanwhile I try not to squirm. Being around him wasn’t the best feeling, especially on my way to drunk. I felt hot with embarrassment and yet the intrigue of who he really was still stayed with me. And it stays because even now, despite not trusting him or liking him very much I felt like I had room to just be myself. He was an easy presence despite his baggage. Or maybe because of it.

It seems we were good at silences because we drink without saying a word. It’s like our brains are catching up to our sudden run-in.

“How have you been?” Harry asks quietly.

Fine, I’m going to say automatically. But I answer truthfully. “Alright. Life’s been better but also nobody’s tricked me into going to a cheating ex’s wedding so life’s been a lot worse!”

He laughs awkwardly and clinks his bottle against my glass. “Yeah. I deserve that.”

“Yeah. How about you?”

“Better. A lot better.”

“Good to hear,” I say genuinely. Despite my grievances it was nice to hear he was past whatever he’d been in when we first met.

“I think about you often,” he says while still looking forward. Oh god this felt like being in a car with him. I turn my body towards him and tap my knee against his. He looks at me, like we’re having an actual conversation. “I do. About what I did to you…I’m sorry.”

“Yeah you’ve said.”

“Yeah,” he grimaces. I wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. Being manipulated and lied to like that still stung. It was rock bottom for me in a way. “I was a dick. I’m deeply sorry and I’ve thought about how to make it up to you but I thought I should just stop texting you ever. Trust me that was rock bottom for me and you didn’t deserve to be dragged down with me.”

I try not to look surprised when he says it was his rock bottom, like I was thinking seconds earlier.

“You got one thing right,” I tap at his phone. I wasn’t going to tell him I forgave him, or that I understood even though I did. I didn’t like him very much, I didn’t trust him, but I knew he was sorry when he said it.

I remember the wedding—there was something I wanted to apologize for, “Well now that we’re unloading apologies, I am actually sorry for uhm, slapping you that night? That’s not me. And I don’t know where it came from! I feel bad about that.”

His laugh is quiet, to himself. “You shouldn’t be apologizing for anything. Anything at all YN.”

God, the way he says my name is addictive. He said it like everyone else, but in his voice…

“I know. But that crossed a line…”

“Nah don’t worry. Plus I don’t mind when a woman slaps me around a little,” his face splits into a grin when I give him the reaction he was looking for.

“Harry,” I scold. “You’re teaching children with that mouth?”

“That’s why I’m quitting.”

“You’re quitting!?”

“Yep. Phase 3 of my plan, to live the life I want. I’m finishing the school year and looking for a job in my field over the summer.”

“Wow,” I was impressed. “Wow Harry. Good luck with that.”

“Yeah I’ll need it thanks.” The way he looks at me makes me nervous. I think I’ve been single a bit too long. And right on cue he asks: “So YN how about you? Are you still doing your single thing?”

“I feel like you’re still talking about it like you don’t believe in it,” I tell myself to calm down every time he says my name.

“No I-“ he plays with his bottle. “I believe you. I’ve tried it, it’s been good for me. But I started dating again this year and I found I really love that too.”

“Yeah?” I ask him more about it. He tells me he’s dating knowing what he wants now. What kind of woman he’s looking for.

I felt like focusing on myself has helped me with that too. The only issue is I was finding it hard to open myself up to men again.

“I haven’t been dating much,” at all. “But I’m open to it now.”

“Show anyone your mean side lately?” He jokes but in there is a serious question.

“That’s only reserved for you,” I say, then realize how flirty it sounds and clamp down on my tongue. Maybe I should stop drinking. I didn’t even know Harry very well. But when I peek a glance he looks flushed.

I liked this version of Harry better. I wonder if he was like this before, before he had his heart broken, or even before he started dating Vanessa. But I don’t tell him that, I didn’t want him to think we were friends or anything.

We fall into silence again, not an uncomfortable one though. I look at him, he looked the same but different. Like a change had taken place underneath the surface. I imagine he’s studying me the same way. He smiles and I return it.

A body pushing into the side of me interrupts us. Dots is there with Taz and they wave the bartender down for a drink even though they could’ve ordered from the table. I roll my eyes and turn to them.

“Hi,” I look between them. Dots looks mischievous as usual and Taz seems curious.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us YN?” Dots asks.

“Oh, this is Harry,” I eye Taz when I say it. She’s a bit slow but when I introduce them to Harry it dawns on her. Her face darkens as she pinpoints who he is.

“Harry is it?” Taz asks. “I’ve never met a Harry I liked.”

Dots looks over at her like she’s grown another head, clued out and assuming I was still here to kiss him.

“Oh well…” Harry looks just as confused at her sudden intensity. “I hope I can change your mind about that?”

“Too late for that,” she nearly spits out. I watch his eyes widen and then go to me. I’m biting back a smile.

“Taz, right you’re Taz.” He sounds like he remembers her.

“And I’m Dots,” Dots repeats. Poor girl was clueless. “We’re just doing a bachelorette thing and YN seemed to think you were cute enough to ditch us right?”

“Really?” Harry takes pleasure in playing along.

“Well no I—ow!” Dots interrupts me by smashing her elbow into me. I sigh. “Right. Yeah. You were irresistible, I had to ditch my friends for a man like you.”

“Sarcasm,” Harry says just low enough for me to hear. He’s smiling.

“YN you should come back,” Taz tries to grab my arm but Dots is like a pro as she cuts that off.

“No we’re just doing the same thing back there. Talking and drinking. You two enjoy. You should give him your number here.” She drops a sharpie in my hand. “Let’s go Taz.”

I try to warn Taz with my expression, please don’t tell anyone I know him. None of these girls knew I went to Ethan’s wedding, it was an embarrassing story on my timeline I didn’t need to share. I didn’t want them to know the story of how I knew Harry.

“Your friends are scary.”

“I guess,” I turn back to him. My drink was nearly empty and I did think it was time to go back. “I should go back to them.”

“Oh,” he looks disappointed.

“What?”

“I thought we were having a nice time.”

“Yeah well we were catching up. And now my drink’s finished and I’m-“

“I can buy you another?”

“I think I’ve had enough. This is our third place on our night crawl so…”

“Fair.” Harry looks at me like he has something to say. I stand there and wait but in the end he just sighs and sits back down.

“Oh yeah I’m going to write my number,” I grab his arm and pull his sleeve up. Holy muscles. “on your arm. If that’s alright?”

“Sure,” he smiles and his dimples make an appearance. It’s boyish, like we’re teenagers exchanging numbers.

I write it down even though he had it, cap the marker, and look up. We’re so close; his eyes flit to my mouth and away so quickly I almost miss it.

“I’ll get this tattooed,” Harry jokes.

“I’ll change my number if you do,” I warn him. He just shrugs like he didn’t believe me and I shake my head, turning back to my friends.

I get back to a group of disappointed women. They give me a hard time and tell me how upset they are that I don’t care about Taz winning. They try to tell me how good we looked together, how I looked with him.

“We’re not leaving until you kiss him,” Felicity says.

“Leave her alone! He smelled like bad news,” Taz says. She was well past drunk now so no one listens to her.

“Ethan was bad news,” Fels states. “This guy is just a random man you can kiss and invite as a plus one. Have some fun with him. Get back into the pool where all the fish are. C’mon YN we know your dating life is shite!”

“Remind me to never get drunk with you lot,” I stare at them. They were scary. “I gave him my number, at least Taz can cross that out!”

“Wait! Harry!” Everyone begins to shout his name as they spot him leaving behind me.

I catch him turning with a wary expression. He points to himself. The girls shout “Yes!” and earn some dirty looks from the other patrons.

He walks up to our table like a sacrifice to an ancient ritual. “You ladies need something?”

“Yes,” a few voices say but Felicity is the loudest. She points to Taz who has her head down on the table. I should check on her.

“See this beautiful creature here? She’s getting married! Married! And we have a scavenger hunt. And she can almost win! But she needs to kiss someone at the bar. But she’s getting married! And you look decent enough to help this bride-to-be! So YN her wonderful friend is helping out. And she chickened out up there. So she wants to kiss you. Does she have your permission?”

“Does she?” He turns to me. God I was helpless with the pressure around me. My eyes lock onto Harry and I hope he can read the help etched into them.

“This is silly,” I tell him. “We don’t need to do this. I don’t think Taz even cares.”

“I don’t!” I guess she was conscious because she lifts her head to answer me. But everyone crowds her out, her cousin actually guides her head back down.

“You owe her a kiss,” Dots says proudly.

“I owe her a lot actually,” Harry says to me. My heart races as we look at each other.

I would be lying if I said the idea of kissing him doesn’t intrigue me. He was attractive! And his facial hair made him more so. But I didn’t want to complicate anything.

What’s there to complicate? I ask myself. It’s not like he’s in your life. Plus maybe this will be the push to start dating again. Kisses are nice right?

“Okay whatever,” I take a step towards him. “It’s not like this means anything. It’s just a kiss.”

A cheer goes up with the group.

Harry drops his bag to the floor and takes the other step to me. “It doesn’t mean anything?”

“No,” I say more to myself. “It’s just a kiss with a guy.”

“Just a kiss with a guy,” Harry repeats. “If you say so.”

His hand reaches up to my neck and he pulls me gently to him, with his height I crane my face up and his warm lips come down on mine exactly how I imagined it would feel. That’s when I realize I had imagined how he would feel. But it’s too late by then.

It feels like hearing music live for the first time, I can suddenly hear every atom of the song. I can feel it, taste it, even smell the soundwaves pounding through the room. That’s what the kiss feels like. Ultrasonic and consuming as hell.

He’s gentle but I can tell he’s holding back with the way his hand grips the back of my head tight. And that sends my senses into overdrive. Even though his moustache is a bit tickly, he was a really good kisser.

When we part, I laugh because I’m nervous but also he has lipstick on his face.

“That was hot,” someone in the group says but we can’t take our eyes off of each other. I’m trying to remember how to breathe and it seems like Harry is doing the same.

“You have-“ I laugh nervously again and reach up to wipe the lipstick from the side of his mouth. This close his pupils are blown out and it only confirms to me that he was holding back. Because he looks like a man who can barely contain himself.

“Uhm,” he finally breaks his gaze to look at all the women staring. “I hope that was satisfactory enough.”

“That was movie worthy,” everyone begins shouting scores out. Some of then fan themselves with the menu. Harry clears his throat, picks up his bag, does an awkward half-bow, and stiffly nods to me.

“G’night YN.”

“Yeah…thanks.” I didn’t know what to say after having the most intense kiss of my life. To Harry. The ex-texter.

“I need some water after that,” Felicity climbs over me out of the booth and I slide in by Taz.

“I’m sorry,” she wraps her arms around my shoulder. “We have really shitty friends.”

“You have amazing friends,” Dots says. “We just broke YN’s dry spell. Did you see that? That was chemistry YN. That was wow. I hope you got his number.”

“I have it,” I sigh.

I decide I was going to drink more. I didn’t want to remember this night anymore.

***

It’s the Friday after and I’m at work, it’s a slow day so I’m scrolling through my phone when a notification pops up.

Hi

It was Harry.

Hi. I text back. I’d been thinking about him a lot this week, about the kiss, and about dating again. I wouldn’t admit it to my friends but it was a reminder that chemistry existed somewhere out there.

I don’t want our whole relationship to be wedding crashing so I want to run something past you.

???

Your friend Felicity invited me to Taz’s wedding. Tomorrow. She said you knew but you haven’t texted me all week so I think she’s setting you up?

I couldn’t believe it. I text Felicity and she responds immediately with a kissy emoji and a tongue sticking out.

I’m sorry I didn’t know, Fels just confirmed. You don’t need to come she’s just on this mission to get me a date.

She said you have a flaky boyfriend?

Oh my god the lie had spread. So embarassing, I was going to strangle Fels.

Really I’m alright. Sorry about that.

I would like to see you again. Even if it’s at a wedding. But I’ll only go if you invite me.

Wow. I read the message another time then put my phone away. What was I supposed to do?

I take my phone into the toilets and call Taz. She picks up, it sounds like she’s in a car.

“Hi you free?”

“Yeah I’m just getting back from the salon, what’s going on?”

I tell her. I tell her it all, the conversation Harry and I had and how I was feeling and what Felicity did.

“That one does not know how to keep her nose out of people’s businesses.”

“I know,” I groan. “I could not invite him and get a million questions from everyone who knows Fels invited him. And I keep him out of my life. Which is fine because I barely know him (even though that kiss felt like I’ve known him for all of eternity). But if I invite him, I’m telling him I’m okay with what he did to me. That we’re okay.”

“YN listen,” she sighs. She says something to someone on her end and I hear a car door close. “Look—sorry just getting in. You’re not that person anymore. I don’t trust him more than you do but just tell him that. So he knows you’re only taking him to get everyone to shut up. Like…use him as a date like he used you.”

“Hm,” that was a good point. “Yeah. That could actually work?”

“Really? I thought I was just saying shite,” Taz laughs. “Okay I really have to go my in-laws are here. Are you alright?”

“Yeah yeah you focus on your stuff. I’ll be by this evening.”

“Love you, bye!”

I call Harry immediately after. He doesn’t pick up so I go back to my desk and consider what to text him when he calls back.

“YN I was still in class sorry.”

“Oh god sorry I forgot!” I look at the time. “Sorry I just assumed you were free.”

“No it’s alright,” he answers. “Are you calling about tomorrow?”

“Yeah…” my mouth is suddenly parched. I get up and walk away from where people could hear me. “So, the thing is my friends are giving me a hard time because I don’t have a date and all that. So sort of the way you used me as a date at that wedding, I could use you at this one. Like if would be doing me a favour?” I cringe as the words come out.

“Oh. Sure…yeah if you want.” He sounds…offended?

“Like if we’re being honest we’ve not really spoken since that night. And I have no reason to trust you and whatever. So this is just…”

“Returning the favour.” He puts it simply.

“Yeah? Yeah! Right. Exactly.” Why was this coming out so horribly.

“I get it,” he says. “I’m glad we talked. I’d be happy to be your plus one tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” I find myself smiling.

***

Taz’s wedding is a dream. An absolute dream. I tell her a million times after the ceremony and I gush to her how much I love her and am proud of her during speeches. Her bridesmaids give their toast, and every person who was at the bachelorette makes sure to tease me about bringing Harry who had been nothing but supportive tonight. He stuck to himself when I was doing maid-of-honour duties, and squeezed my hand encouragingly before my speech because public speaking was not my favourite thing. I had to admit it was nice to have someone here just for me. It had been a while.

When Taz told me she got engaged a couple years ago I always thought it would be Ethan by my side. It was weird that Harry was here, because of Ethan, but also the way he came to be here.

“Hi!!” I shout at Harry after doing shots with the bridesmaids. I was officially tipsy but most of the major wedding traditions were over. We were waiting for the cake cutting and bouquet toss and the first dance. And then it was all fun.

“Hi,” he holds out an arm to guide me to my seat.

“I hate these heels,” I unstrap my feet and groan when I put my feet on the bare floor. “That feels sooo good.”

“Hi!” A chirpy voice says to my right. I peek an eye open and groan again, Felicity has joined the table.

“Hi, Felicity right?” Harry says.

“Fels,” she nudges me. “You glad he came?”

“Whatever,” I shrug.

“She’s happy you came,” Fels tries to make up for my rudeness. “She’s not usually this rude.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Harry says. I cut him a look.

“Oh no she’s very nice. She’s just a bit grumpy probably all the maid of honour duties,” she tries to convince a Harry that’s just sharing an inside joke with me. It does something to me.

“It’s okay,” I put a hand on Fels’. “He’s teasing. I’m allowed to be rude to him.”

Harry laughs and Felicity realizes too late she was sitting in on two people that didn’t need her help to get along.

“Well I’m going to find my date, play nice!”

“Nice suit,” I tug at Harry’s lapels once she’s gone. It was nicer than what he wore the last time we met.

“I borrowed it from a friend. I only have one suit and…well you’ve seen it.”

“Teachers don’t wear suits to work?” I tease.

“Thank god no.” His eyes roam over my bridesmaid dress, an off the shoulder sage dress that honestly reminded me of a folky tinkerbell. “You look beautiful.”

“Flattery won’t get you extra points.” I say whilst flattered. The dress had also reminded me of the colour of his eyes when he greeted me today. Now his eyes stay on me all evening.

The announcement for cake cutting goes off so I walk with Harry to watch. Taz looked beautiful in her embroidered dress and she glows even while narrowly missing cake all over her face. Everyone toasts and she readies for a bouquet toss.

“You’re standing here,” Taz’s cousin centres me. “Because there’s no way I’m catching that.”

“I don’t even have a boyfriend,” I say but the other girls crowd me so I stay put. The bouquet is tossed high and I don’t make much of an effort but it glances off the hand in front of me and lands on me. I squish it against me to keep it from falling.

“YN!” My friends tease me and I hold it up in mock excitement. Taz laughs from up front and I go up to hug her, I’m handed another flute of champagne and I toss it back with my best friend.

“YN’s next,” one of the bridesmaid says. “Cheers!”

I get another drink and down it with the girls. I can’t stop laughing about it. I try to look out for Harry to see how he feels about the bouquet but he must be in a darker corner. I don’t spot him.

I refuse the next drink pushed my way and move to my seat as the couple gets ready for their first dance. Harry’s not there but he sits down shortly after I do.

“Look!” I show him the bouquet. “I caught it!”

“I saw,” he smells the flowers. “I got a picture of you.”

“Let me see!” I hold my hand out and wait for him to find it.

“Oh my god,” I laugh as I zoom into my face as the flowers hit me. “Look at my face! And look at her! This is a great pic…” the words die on my lips. I’d accidentally swiped to the camera roll zooming out and I see dozens of photos of me.

“Oh,” Harry takes the phone from me. “Is that creepy? Sorry I was taking photos to send you since you’re busy having fun I-“

I feel tears threaten my makeup and I clench my mouth closed. Despite all the drinks I suddenly feel incredibly sobered.

I take his phone back and swipe through, he recorded my speech and took a million photos of me with Taz. My chin trembles.

“Hey I’m sorry,” Harry takes the phone back. “I didn’t mean to upset you I’ll delete-“

“No!” I stop him. “Don’t. I want all of them.”

“Why are you…” his confusion is all over his face. “Are you upset?”

“No,” I blink away any tears. “Sorry. No. I’m okay! I’m alright.”

It was stupid but Ethan never took photos of me. Even on important days like birthdays, Christmas, holidays. I had a million candid photos of him but I had to beg and remind him for photos of me. Harry took so many without even asking, just because he knew I would want to look back on the memories I was making. It was such a basic thing to do but it felt like the world to me in this moment.

“Thank you.” I say when he doesn’t make a move. “Honestly thank you. Sorry, ignore what my face is saying! But make sure you send every single one okay?”

“Yeah I will,” he promises. He swipes a fallen tear with a gentle smile. I draw back from his touch and use a napkin to dab at my eyes instead.

“YN you know I’m really sorry,” he says just as the first song comes on.

“No I’m fine!” I shift my chair to face the dancefloor. I position it slightly ahead of Harry so he leans forward to speak to me.

“I mean about the other wedding we went to.”

“Yeah I-“ he looks serious so I stop what I was saying. I turn slightly so I can look at him. “Can we talk about it later?”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Okay,” I smile and turn back to admire the couple but I can sense the emotional turmoil beside me. I push my chair back enough to be side by side with Harry. I lean my head on his shoulder as I watch the married couple dance the first dances of many. When Harry puts his arm around me, his thumb rubs my shoulder. A finger pokes my arm and Dots face pops in beside me to waggle her eyebrows. Was everyone watching me with Harry tonight?!

When the DJ invites everyone else onto the dancefloor I pull Harry up.

“So what was it you were saying?” I ask as we wrap arms around each other.

“I like you a lot YN. A lot. Even when we first met, I started liking you right when you returned my bullshit with sarcasm. You rolled with all my jokes. It was a breath of fresh air.”

I don’t say anything; he had more to say.

“I wish I didn’t do what I did. I sabotaged everything because I was hung up over the wrong girl. And now I’m just a guy to you. A guy you kissed once, I’m just a favour returned.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” I ask.

“Just in case you felt anything, if you thought we could…”

“Harry you lied to me. Embarrassed me. You weren’t a very nice person.”

“I know-“

“I do like this Harry better.”

“Uhm,” he thinks. “Thanks. It’s old Harry, before my life went to hell. Old Harry mixed with some lessons learned. I’m telling you I was at rock bottom when I did what I did.”

“I believe you.” I did.

He sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

We dance quietly for a bit. Until I speak, “I’m trying not to date losers.”

He flexes his jaw, fixating on a spot behind my shoulder.

“I thought you were one,” I tell him honestly. “But I’m not so sure now. But this feels like asking a lot Harry I…”

“You don’t need to respond now,” he urges. “Just think about it.”

“I can’t,” I was terrified of agreeing to a relationship that would hurt me all over again. “I do like you Harry but I don’t know if I can agree to what you want…”

The truth was that Harry was showing me that the glimpses I’d gotten of him throughout the last week were more telling, more consistent than the guy he was when we first met. I was deathly afraid of getting hurt again, and I’m not sure I was willing to take the risk. If that kiss was any indication, I know Harry was telling the truth on his end but I didn’t want a relationship with a guy who started it off by lying.

“I’m-excuse me,” Harry stops mid-dance and walks away. I feel awful but I let him go, watch him disappear to the lobby, and I sit back in my seat. Dots tries to wave me by but I ignore her. The lump in my throat sits heavily and I feel like shit. Especially when a few dances later Harry returns and announces he was going home early. His face is splotchy and it feels awful.

“Are you sure?” I ask him.

“Yeah,” he holds my arm. “Thank you for tonight, and again I’m really sorry about everything.”

I just pull him into a hug, with no words equivalent to what I should say. He squeezes once and lets go.

“Tell Taz thank you for the invite. I’ll see you around.”

“Okay…bye Harry.”

That’s the last I see of him. I head right to the drinks and drink enough to feel okay. I dance with my friends and get as many pictures as my phone can handle in.

At the end of the night I go home to an empty flat and drunkenly download all the dating apps I swore off of. Swiping through like a catalogue, by the time I wake up the next morning I’m well on my way back to the dating scene.

***

I stare at the man in front of me. His profile on the app was exactly the kind of guy I was looking for. And he’d actually made me laugh a few times tonight which was a bonus. But something feels like it’s missing—they all have this last month as I became a serial dater. I was really putting myself out there but nobody made it past date two.

“So how about heading out?” He asks after the bill.

“Yeah! Sure,” I grab my purse and we walk out. He grabs my hand as we step out.

“Want to share a ride?”

“Are we going to the same place?” I ask.

“If you want,” he pulls my hand and places it on his shoulder. He was cute, I could kiss him.

And I do, but it’s just a kiss. Just two mouths kissing. I don’t feel the spark, or the passion.

“Actually,” I pull away. “I forgot I have an early morning meeting so I think I should behave and head home by myself.”

“Oh,” he looks disappointed. “Well maybe we can do something on Friday?”

“Yeah I’ll text you?”

He pecks my lips, “Sounds good.”

I get a car and as I drive away from the date my hands stray to my lips. I remember another kiss, and then I slam the door shut on it. You can’t keep comparing all your kisses to that one!

Except the thing about telling my mind not to think about something, I do. I think about Harry, and question myself like I have been ever since the wedding if I made the wrong choice. Did I push him away too quickly, out of fear? Am I protecting myself or just scared?

I open the text exchange between us like I do weekly and hover my fingers over the keyboard. What do I say? What could I say?

I scroll to the top of the conversation and find his address and plug it into my phone. I was 18 minutes away.

“Excuse me could I change the drop off?” I ask the taxi driver. “I had a change of plans.”

He asks me where and he knew the area enough to take the left and head in that direction.

That was very impulsive. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that?

Adrenaline courses through my body as I pray that he still lived in the same place. What was I going to say?

My leg bounces up and down as I stare out the window, biting down on my lip. This was stupid, I made him bloody cry the last time I saw him. Then again I cried the time before that. Were we equal? Was I twisted enough to think this could all work?

I nearly jump out of the taxi after paying and walk to the front door. Of course, you needed a key card.

With shaking fingers I call Harry.

“Hello?”

I freeze. He was out, the sounds of people and music give that away.

“YN? Is that you?”

I was so stupid! Why did I do this?

“YN?” Now Harry sounds worried. I take a deep breath.

“Sorry! Wrong number. I meant to call som-“

“YN are you alright? Is everything okay?”

The background noise disappears. He must have stepped out.

“Yes sorry to worry you!” I squeak. “Everything’s fine.”

“Why did you call?” He asks as I ask “What are you doing right now?”

We laugh. Harry tells me, “You first.”

“It was an accident…”

“Oh well…a good accident.” I can hear his smile through the phone. “I was just grading final tests at my local pub.”

His local pub…that meant he was close by. I think. My heart picks up speed. “Oh! Is that something you do often?”

“Yeah some of these papers remind me why I’m quitting this job. So I drink to get through them.”

“Giving up on the youth of tomorrow?” I ask. I spot a bench a little ways away and head to it, next to a bike rack.

“Yes!” Harry laughs. “They’ve given up on me too. They’s all assholes nobody listens to me.”

“I would’ve liked to have you as a teacher,” I go for flirting. “None of my grade school teachers were good looking. I could’ve used a distraction.”

“So you’re admitting that I’m good looking,” Harry says just as I spot him heading to his door.

“Yeah in your grey t-shirt, I think so.”

I watch as he whips his head around and scans the area until he spots me.

“I lied,” I get up and wave at him. “I came by to see you but I was embarrassed when you weren’t home.”

“Why-“ his voice sticks. “Why did you come to see me?”

“Well,” by now we’re close enough that I could shout to him but I still use the phone. “I thought about what I said that night and I think I was too harsh.”

“And?” Harry stares at me as I walk up to him.

“And I want to believe that a second impression can be just as important as a first.”

He’s alight in a second, hope injected into his features. I stop a few feet away from him.

“I’ll take that. I’ll take it.”

“Okay,” I move in closer, lowering my phone. My eyes are on his lips and I don’t care that how badly I want to kiss him is plain as day. Because in the moment he reaches for me I know he wants this just as bad.

My mind is wiped clean when he kisses me—I kind of hate myself of a month ago for denying me of this all this time.

It’s indecent, the way we kiss out there. When my mind returns to my body I push him away, flushed and nervous.

“Should we take this up to your place?”

“Why? Are you getting shy?” He teases.

“Your neighbours are getting free entertainment,” I’m out of breath as I talk and this seems to make Harry smile even harder. He presses a hard kiss to me and then leads me by the hand up to his flat. We’re on each other with every pause we take, it’s gross and unlike me but I’m just too happy to stop. The spark, the passion, everything I’d been looking for is here.

“Can I uh,” Harry closes the door behind us as I continue kissing him, my lips finding any part of him. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure,” I watch him unbutton my cardigan. “I’ll take a tall glass of whatever you’re serving.”

He smirks and pulls me back in. I jump when he tells me to and he carries me to wherever his bedroom is. I’m barely in the right state of mind to notice anything as I get lost in us. In the way his hands hold me, and the way his moustache feels on my skin. Maybe it’s been a while or maybe it was him but having this after so long makes it taste sweeter than it ever had.

***

“Happy six months,” Harry wraps his arms around me from behind. I’m making us coffee, we were up especially early because we were making the trip to see Harry’s family for the holidays. Usually this is when I went to Taz’s but this year she’d urged me to spend the time with my boyfriend’s family.

She’d been suspicious when I first told her about Harry. But when she saw how happy I was she’d given it her blessings (and I’m pretty sure threatened Harry with some dismemberment). I hadn’t had a big Christmas in a while, and Harry said he had more family coming into town. I was nervous to meet so many new people, people that meant a lot to Harry. But he assured me everyone would love me.

“Happy six month,” I reach up to peck his lips and settle against him. He hums as he tightens his arms around me. I couldn’t believe this was my life now, I was happier than I ever dared to think I could be. I never knew a relationship could be so complementing, so grounding.

Despite our rocky start, that Harry and I had discussed in depth when we first started dating, we were mostly smooth sailing. The way I saw it we met as two damaged people. Somehow we parted from there and ran like parallel lines until we were straightened out enough to meet again. And now we ran together as a pair of lines.

“I’m so lucky,” Harry presses a kiss to my temple, thinking the same thing I had been. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world YN. You make me the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Then that would make me Mrs. Luckiest-Guy-in-the-World,” I joke as I turn in his embrace.

“I’d like that,” he strokes my cheek. “I’m excited to introduce you to everyone tonight.”

“That makes one of us.”

“YN I promise there’s nothing to be nervous about. They already love you because they know you’re the reason I’ve been so…me.”

I swallow the ball of emotion in my chest. We were both just us around each other. No fuss, no pretending. Just us. It wasn’t something I could share with my own family, they barely knew what I was really like. Harry had met my parents separately when they were in town a couple months ago. They’d liked him, but they also liked Ethan so it wasn’t saying much.

“I trust you,” I hold his face in my hands. “Fine.”

“Good,” his hand rubs my back. He pulls me into his chest, crushing me against him until the coffee goes off.

“Thanks love,” Harry says as I hand him a mug.

We chat about nothing as we take our coffees to the couch where we sit snuggled. I feel safe here, it’s a good feeling, a feeling that felt so overwhelmingly new sometimes that it made me want to cry. Which always made Harry laugh.

“I can’t wait to spend this new year together,” I tell him.

“Me too,” his lips press softly onto my temple. “I’m finally excited about the future. I’m doing a job I like and dating a woman I love.”

“I’m happy for us.” I smile up at him.

We sit snuggled on the couch as we sip our morning coffee. I savour everything about this moment.

With Harry life was stable, it was good. I knew I would never pick up my phone and find a text so life-shattering like the ex-text had done to me; I know it was impossible to predict the future but somehow I could tell you that I had a good feeling about it.

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Qitian dasheng and other outfit concept sketches