#i know that i need to just take baby steps and remember that what will be will be. it is what it is. stop trying to force it

[theballadofharkness]

Agatha Harkness VS Salem: the kittening

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: When you brings home a stray kitten Agatha can’t say no to those big pleading eyes and putting lips. What she doesn’t know is that she has met her new mortal enemy, transforming her house in a battleground in which she is fighting for your attention.

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: I may have already almost finished a part 2 to this already… this may be my favourite thing I’ve ever wrote

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows along the walls as Agatha sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming against the polished surface. Your fellow witches exchanged glances, some amused, others bracing for the inevitable storm.

“She’s taking too long,” Agatha muttered, narrowing her eyes at the door as if sheer will alone would bring you home.

Billy smirked but wisely kept his mouth shut. Lilia, however, leaned forward, arching a brow. “She just went to get food, Agatha. You do remember she’s an adult, yes?”

Agatha’s sharp glare snapped to her, but Lilia didn’t flinch. She was used to Agatha’s theatrics by now.

“I do remember,” Agatha said, tone clipped, “but she should be back by now. Anything could’ve happened.”

Jen chuckled under her breath. “Oh yes, because the biggest, scariest threat to her is probably tripping over a squirrel.”

Alice grinned. “Or getting distracted by a particularly interesting tree.”

Agatha’s scowl deepened, but her fingers stilled. It was true- you were soft, gentle, prone to stopping to feed birds or magically fixing a bumblebees wing. It was why she loved you. It was why she worried.

Lilia sighed, resting her chin on her palm. “If you panic every time she goes out alone, she’ll think you don’t trust her to be independent.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. “I trust her. I just don’t trust other people.”

Billy snorted. “Sure Agatha.”

Before Agatha could snap at him, the front door creaked open. The tension in her shoulders snapped like a thread, and in an instant, she was on her feet, sweeping toward you.

There you were, glowing with warmth, eyes bright as you kicked off your shoes. But she saw it- the hesitation, the way you bit your lip. Her stomach dropped.

“You worried mommy,” she purred, brushing a hand along your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You took too long. What’s wrong, darling?”

You swallowed, shifting your weight, cradling something in your arms.

“Aggie… please don’t be mad.”

Agatha’s eyes darkened. “Why would I be mad?”

You hesitated, then slowly, gently, lifted a tiny, black-furred bundle into view. A kitten. Small, fragile, with wide, gleaming eyes. It mewed softly.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. “Oh, absolutely not.”

The room went silent. The coven, who had seen Agatha deal with all manner of supernatural threats, were now witnessing something far more dangerous: a battle of wills between the all-powerful Agatha Harkness and her painfully sweet, unfairly adorable wife.

Agatha crossed her arms, leveling you with a firm stare. “No.”

You blinked up at her, cradling the tiny kitten against your chest. “No?”

She lifted her chin. “No.”

Billy, sitting on the couch, leaned toward Jen and whispered, *“She’s already lost.”*

Agatha shot him a look, but her attention snapped back to you when you let out a soft, sad sigh. You rubbed a gentle finger over the kitten’s tiny ear, your lower lip jutting out just slightly. Not enough to be dramatic, just enough to devastate her.

“Aggie, please,” you murmured, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes. “I love him. He needs us.”

Agatha steeled herself. “Baby, come on, we have a rabbit already.”

You perked up. “But they can be best friends!”

“They will not be best friends-”

“We can raise him,” you continued, stepping closer, voice soft, persuasive, sweet as honey. “Please, Aggie. I love you. And I love him. Please?”

A muscle in Agatha’s jaw twitched. Her fingers flexed like she was physically holding herself back.

Alice, watching from across the room, snorted. “Oh my god, just let her keep the damn cat.”

“She’s gonna say yes,” Jen stage-whispered.

Billy propped his chin on his hand. “She’s just stretching it out for dramatic effect now.”

“I am not,” Agatha snapped, then turned back to you, who was still looking at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky. Damn you and your sweetness.

She let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down her face. Then, after a moment, she dropped her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered, “fine.”

You gasped, eyes lighting up as you clutched the kitten closer. “Really?”

Agatha groaned. “Yes, really. But I swear to the gods, if he scratches up my books, or if he pisses on the rug, he’s your problem.”

You grinned, bouncing up and down in glee. “Okay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you’ll love him!”

Agatha grumbled something under her breath but didn’t resist when you threw your arms around her. Her hands settled on your waist, grip firm but familiar, and she sighed against your hair.

Billy snickered. “Well, that was pathetic.”

Agatha shot him a glare over your shoulder. “I will turn you into a toad.”

But even as she threatened Billy, her arms curled tighter around you, and she let you tuck the kitten between you both. He let out a tiny, content purr.

“I told you mommy would let you stay didn’t I S…” you cooed, stopping and blushing as you almost revealed your new sons name.

Agatha groaned. “Oh, for the love of- you’ve already named him, haven’t you?”

You smiled guiltily and nodded “his name is Salem”

Lilia cackled. “Oh, now that’s just poetic.”

~

Agatha woke with a slow, satisfied stretch, a lazy smirk curling on her lips as she reached across the bed, expecting to find you- warm, soft, pliant against her.

But the sheets were cold.

Her smirk faded. She frowned, eyes cracking open, hand still patting the empty space beside her. “Baby?”

Silence.

Her frown deepened.

She sat up, fingers raking through her hair, listening carefully. Then…

A giggle.

Agatha’s head snapped toward the bedroom door. You were giggling? Without her? Another soft peal of laughter, followed by a quiet meow. Agatha’s nostrils flared.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she grabbed her robe, slipping it on as she stalked toward the door. Her morning had already been ruined by the lack of you curled against her, but now she was hearing giggles- the kind that were usually reserved for her alone- and she wasn’t involved?

Completely unacceptable.

Barefoot and silent, she padded down the hall, pushing open the living room doors to find…

You. Laying on your stomach on the rug, elbow propped under your chin, face alight with pure, radiant joy as you dragged a ribbon back and forth. Salem, the tiny black-furred usurper, pounced and tumbled after it, little tail flicking in excitement.

Agatha scowled.

She was being ignored.

By you.

For a cat.

Her presence went unnoticed as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring down at the scene with unmasked displeasure.

“Oh, you’re such a clever boy,” you cooed, wiggling the ribbon. Salem pounced again, missing completely and landing in an adorable, flailing heap. You laughed, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Such a little hunter, aren’t you? Yes, you are! So fierce!”

Agatha rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw another dimension.

Fierce? That tiny thing was not fierce. She was fierce.

And yet, here you were, lavishing all your attention- attention that should have been spent in bed, between her thighs or seated on her face- on this ridiculous furball.

Enough.

She cleared her throat. Loudly.

You gasped, looking up with wide, startled eyes. “Oh! Aggie, good morning!”

Agatha arched a brow, gaze flicking between you and the kitten still sprawled on the rug. “Is it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, blinking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You tell me, darling. I woke up alone. And when I came looking for you, I find you here, on the floor, giggling and fawning over-” she gestured vaguely at Salem, “that.”

Salem, utterly unbothered by her disdain, flopped onto his back and stretched out his tiny paws.

Your expression softened immediately. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry! He woke up early and was being all cute, so I thought I’d play with him for a little bit.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “You left our bed for a cat.”

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. “Are you jealous?”

Her jaw clenched. “Of a kitten? No.”

You giggled again, pushing up onto your knees and crawling toward her. “Mmm, I think you are.”

Agatha huffed, tilting her chin up. “Absolutely not.”

But then you reached for her, standing up with hands slipping under her robe, fingers grazing over the bare skin of her waist as you pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Poor mommy,” you murmured, lips trailing up her neck. “You just want my attention, don’t you?”

Agatha shivered, but held her ground. “I deserve your attention.”

You hummed, pressing a final kiss just under her jaw. “Well, then maybe you should play nice with Salem, so you don’t have to share it.”

Agatha’s glare snapped back to the kitten, who was currently grooming his tiny paw, wholly unbothered. Smug little thing.

She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if he touches my spellbooks, he’s gone.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Deal.”

Salem meowed.

Agatha scowled.

This was war.

~

Agatha took a slow breath, rolling back her shoulders as she watched Billy attempt the spell she had just demonstrated.

“Focus,” she instructed, arms crossed. “Channel your energy through the rune, don’t just throw power at it.”

Billy muttered something under his breath but obeyed, adjusting his stance and trying again. The rune shimmered in the air before them, pulsing faintly with his magic. It was… adequate.

Agatha nodded once. “Better.”

She turned slightly, expecting to see you sitting up, watching like you always did when she mentored Billy. You were always so attentive- so soft and doting, looking at her like she had hung the stars just by showing a simple spell. But when she glanced toward the sofa her blood ran cold.

There you were, but not watching her. Not waiting to drape yourself over her the second she was done. No, you were napping, curled up on the couch, and draped across your chest, smug as anything, was Salem.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. Unbelievable.

She clenched her fists, fighting the petty urge to hex the little thing right off you. It was enough that you fawned over him every waking moment, but now? Now, even in sleep, Salem had claimed his place as the ruler of this household.

Billy, following her gaze, immediately perked up. “Oh my god, look at him.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped as Billy abandoned the lesson entirely and rushed to your side.

“Look at this little guy,” he cooed, crouching beside the couch, reaching out to scratch under Salem’s tiny chin.

You stirred at the movement, blinking sleepily, eyes soft and warm as you woke to Billy petting the cat.

“Oh,” you yawned, smiling as you stretched. “Morning, Billy.”

“Morning, Salem,” Billy smiled down at the kitten on your chest, still cooing over the kitten.

You giggled, rubbing your cheek against Salem’s tiny head. “He’s the sleepiest boy today, huh?”

“Right?” Billy agreed, reaching to stroke along Salem’s tiny back. “Look at him. He’s just a baby.”

Agatha, still standing stiffly across the room, gawking at the scene in front of her. You never looked at her with that same soft, sleepy adoration after a nap.

And now the two of you were sitting there, utterly obsessed with that ridiculous creature, treating him like he was the most precious thing in the world, while Agatha stood there, forgotten.

The realisation was horrifying. She had been dethroned. Salem, tiny and innocent-looking, had become the true ruler of this household. He had you. He had the coven. And now he had Billy.

She was losing.

Agatha narrowed her eyes. No. She refused to be bested by a kitten.

Billy glanced up at her and grinned. “Agatha, come look at him! Isn’t he just-”

“No.”

Billy blinked. “What?”

Agatha lifted her chin, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I don’t fawn over creatures that contribute nothing to the household.”

You pouted, looking up at her through sleepy eyes. “But, Aggie, look at his little toes—”

Agatha looked away. She wouldn’t be tricked.

Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad because Salem has completely stolen your wife.”

Agatha scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Billy smirked. “Then come pet him.”

Agatha froze.

Billy’s smirk widened. “Go on.”

You looked up at her, hopeful, and patted the space next to you. “Come on, baby.”

Agatha hesitated.

Her instincts told her it was a trap.

But then you pouted, soft and irresistible, looking at her with those big, pleading eyes… And just like that, she was moving. Slowly. Cautiously.Like Salem was some ancient being waiting to strike.

She perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, glancing down at the tiny ball of fluff stretched across your chest. He blinked up at her, slow and lazy, like he was daring her to do something.

Agatha exhaled sharply through her nose. Then, after a long moment she reached out, one single finger extended…The second her fingertip brushed against Salem’s fur, the kitten let out a mighty stretch and promptly rolled deeper into your embrace, turning his back on her.

Agatha gasped.

Billy lost it.

“Oh my god, you’ve been rejected.” He wheezed.

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I have not.”

Billy cackled, clutching his stomach. “No, no, this is humiliating. He knows. He knows you don’t like him, and he’s snubbing you.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to Salem’s tiny head. “Oh, baby, don’t be mad. He just doesn’t trust you yet.”

Agatha bristled. “I don’t need a cat’s trust.”

Billy wheezed. “Oh, you so do.”

Agatha glared at Salem, and to her horror, the kitten simply let out a tiny yawn and promptly fell back asleep. Utterly unbothered. Agatha had never hated anything more in her life.

This was war.

And Agatha Harkness never lost.

~

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with warmth and want. Agatha had you exactly where she wanted- beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, breath coming in soft little pants as she trailed possessive hands down your body.

She smirked, brushing her lips against your ear. “Mine.”

You whimpered, arching into her touch. “Yours.”

A pleased hum rumbled in her throat. “Say it again, baby.”

You shivered, fingers tangling in hair as she kissed down your neck. “All yours, Mommy.”

Agatha’s grip tightened. Finally, after an entire day of being ignored in favor of that creature, she had you back- where you belonged- focused entirely on her.

She dragged her lips back up to yours, capturing them in a deep, claiming kiss.

And then—

A thump.

A chirping meow.

And before Agatha could even process what was happening… A tiny black ball of menace leapt onto the bed.

Your eyes flew open. “Oh my gods!”

Agatha froze.

You gasped, delighted, and immediately sat up, reaching for the little intruder. “My smart boy!”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

You pushed her away.

For the cat.

Salem, looking entirely too smug, hopped into your lap and headbutted your chin, purring loudly.

You melted. “Oh, you clever little thing,” you cooed, scratching behind his ears. “You figured out the door! Mommy shut you out, didn’t she? But you got in anyway, huh?”

Agatha, still reeling, barely managed to rasp out, “I shut the door.”

You beamed at her. “He’s a genius!”

Agatha scowled. “He’s a problem.”

You weren’t even listening. You were too busy giggling as Salem flopped dramatically onto his back, rolling in your lap, fully aware that he owned you.

Agatha clenched her jaw.

No.

No, she would not allow this to happen.

She reached for you again, slipping a hand under your chin, tilting your face back toward hers. “Come on, baby,” she murmured, voice low and sultry, lips barely brushing yours. “Focus on mommy”.

But just as your lids fluttered, just as you exhaled that soft little sigh that always made her crazy-

Salem chirped and nudged your hand.

And, horrifyingly, your attention snapped back to him, “Ohhh, I know, I know,” you cooed, cradling his tiny face. “You need some loving too, huh?”

Agatha flung herself onto her back, staring at the ceiling like she was being personally victimized by the universe.

“What about my loving?” she demanded, throwing a hand over her forehead like some tragic heroine.

You giggled. “Aggie-”

Salem, with perfect timing, rolled onto his side, stretching just enough to rest a tiny paw against your cheek.

Your heart melted. “Aw, Agatha, look-”

“No.” Agatha sat up, glaring at the kitten. “I refuse to be a secondary character in my own bed.”

You laughed, utterly charmed. “He just loves me, baby.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “I love you.”

You gave her an affectionate smile. “I know you do.”

“Then act like it.”

You giggled again, pressing a kiss to Salem’s little head.

Agatha bristled. “I swear,” she muttered, throwing herself back against the pillows again. “This is witchcraft. He’s bewitched you all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Agatha, he’s just a cat.”

Agatha sat up so fast you startled.

“No,” she said darkly, eyes narrowing at the tiny ball of fluff curled in your lap. “He’s a threat.”

~

The setting sun shone through your windows, casting golden light over the coven as they sat in a circle, discussing plans for the upcoming Summer Solstice ritual.

Agatha, seated in her usual high-backed chair, had you curled in her lap, arms wrapped possessively around your waist. For the first time in days, she finally had you all to herself, without a certain feline dictator demanding your attention.

Because this time, she had planned ahead. The door to the room was magically sealed with the strongest wards she could weave into it. No amount of scratching, meowing, or pathetic manipulation would let that tiny tyrant inside.

She smirked to herself, pleased. Finally.

“So,” Lilia said, gesturing at the books in front of them, “I was thinking we could incorporate more moonstone this year. It should help amplify the energy-”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Agatha ignored it. You, however, perked up instantly, shifting in her lap. “Aw, Salem-”

Agatha’s grip tightened. “No.”

Lilia continued, unfazed. “- and I read somewhere that incorporating fresh lavender in the-”

A tiny, pitiful whimper sounded from the other side of the door. Alice gasped, clutching her chest. “Oh no, the baby!”

You pouted, starting to push yourself up. “Agatha, let me-”

“No,” Agatha repeated, wrapping her arms more securely around you. “Let him cry.”

Billy’s eyes widened in horror. “Agatha, what the hell?!”

You turned, brows furrowing. “Baby, he’s sad.”

“He needs to learn,” Agatha insisted. “We are not interrupting an official coven meeting just because he doesn’t like being excluded.”

Scratch. Scratch.

A heart-wrenching mewl followed.

Billy was already half-standing. “That’s it, I’m getting the little prince-”

Agatha glared, flicking her fingers in Billy’s direction. Billy was immediately shoved back into his seat with an annoyed huff.

“Sit down,” Agatha ordered. “He is not royalty.”

Billy crossed her arms. “He is to me.”

“Yeah,” Jen agreed, flipping a page in her book. “Kinda sounds like you’re being a bad mom.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I am not his mother.”

The scratching continued.

You squirmed again. “Aggie, please-”

Agatha huffed in exasperation. “No! You are wrapped around his tiny little paw, and if we keep giving in, he’ll just keep winning.”

Jen raised a brow. “Winning what? He’s a kitten.”

Agatha gestured at you dramatically. “He stole her from me!”

The room went silent.

Then Lilia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh my gods”.

Billy cackled. “You *are* losing to a kitten.”

Agatha shot him a look. “I am not losing-”

At that exact moment, Salem let out the most pitiful, heartbroken little cry any of them had ever heard.

Your eyes widened in distress. “Aggie-”

“Oh, for the love of- fine.” With a dramatic wave of her hand, Agatha finally released the spell.

The door flew open.

And in strutted Salem, tail high, eyes smug, like he knew he had just won.

Agatha gawked. “You manipulative little-”

Before she could even finish, you had already scooped Salem up into your arms, cradling him against your chest like a precious treasure.

“Ohhh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his tiny head. “Mommy was so mean to you, huh?”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

Alice glared at her. “I can’t believe you locked him out.”

Jen snorted. “I can.”

Billy shook his head in disappointment. “Shameful behavior from our fearless leader.”

Agatha scowled as Salem gave her a very deliberate slow blink, curling up in your arms like he owned the place.

Which, apparently, he did.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “This is witchcraft.”

Jen snorted. “He’s just a cat, Agatha.”

Agatha shot her a dark look. “He’s a threat.”

Billy immediately fell off his chair laughing.

[drewswife]

Hi can you write something with Dad rafe and his baby girl getting ready for bed they are just goofing off then Y/n comes in saying they have to go to bed the baby girl is 2???

if your too busy you don't have too!!!

Summary: Rafe and their 2-year-old daughter Nora goofing off while they are supposed to be getting ready for bed And y/n tells them to go to bed

warnings: fluff, Dad!rafe

A/n: sorry it took me like a day😭 - thanks for requesting 💕

words:1.2k

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

The pink glint of Rafe's flashlight illuminated the already dim room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Two-year-old Nora, a whirlwind of untamed dark blonde curls and boundless energy, squealed with laughter as Rafe chased her around the room, his long limbs awkwardly navigating the obstacle course of scattered toys.

"Come here, you little monster!" Rafe chuckled, his voice laced with playful exasperation. He lunged, scooping Nora up in his arms and showering her with kisses, making her giggle even harder.

"Again! Again!" Nora shrieked, wriggling in his grasp.

"Okay, okay," Rafe said, lowering her to the ground. "But just one more round, then it's bedtime."

Nora nodded, her doe eyes eyes sparkling with mischief, and took off running again, her tiny feet padding softly against the carpet. Rafe followed, his laughter echoing through the apartment.

Meanwhile, y/n watched the scene unfold from the doorway, a smile tugging at her lips. It was a familiar routine – the nightly stalling tactics, the exuberant playtime that always seemed to erupt just as bedtime approached. But beneath the amusement, a hint of weariness flickered within her. She knew she had to intervene soon, before things escalated further.

"Alright, you two," she said, stepping into the room, her voice firm but gentle. "That's enough playing. It's time for bed."

Nora let out a dramatic wail, flinging herself onto the floor in a fit of mock despair. "No bed! I wanna play!"

Rafe, still grinning, sauntered over to y/n, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a hug. "Come on, y/n," he whispered, nuzzling her neck. "Just a little longer? She's having so much fun."

"I know, but it's getting late," y/n replied, leaning into his embrace but gently pushing him away. "And you need to get some sleep too. You have that early meeting tomorrow, remember?"

Rafe groaned, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Ugh, don't remind me."

He turned his attention back to Nora, who was still sprawled on the floor, her cries gradually subsiding into whimpers. He knelt beside her, gently stroking her hair.

"Hey, sweetie," he said softly. "It's okay. We can play again tomorrow. But right now, it's time to go night-night."

Nora sniffled, looking up at him with her big brown tear-filled eyes. "But I'm not tired," she mumbled.

"I know, but your eyes are getting heavy," Rafe said, pointing to her fluttering eyelids. "And you know what happens when you don't get enough sleep? You get cranky and grumpy."

Nora pondered this for a moment, her bottom lip trembling. Finally, she nodded, holding out her arms to Rafe. He scooped her up, burying his face in her soft curls.

"That's my girl," he murmured. He carried her over to her bed, tucking her under the covers. Y/n followed behind, dimming the lights and placing a kiss on Nora's forehead.

"Goodnight, sweetie," she whispered. "I love you."

"Love you too, Mommy," Nora mumbled sleepily, her eyes already drifting closed.

Rafe sat on the edge of the bed, watching Nora drift off to sleep. He stroked her hair, a look of tenderness on his face. Y/n stood beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"She's so precious," she murmured.

Rafe nodded, placing a gentle kiss on y/n's forehead. "Yeah, she is," he whispered. He stood up, pulling y/n into his arms. "Now, come on," he said, his voice low and husky. "Let's go to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Y/n smiled, taking his hand. As they walked out of the room, she couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and contentment. Despite the nightly chaos, these were the moments she cherished most – the moments when her little family was together, bathed in the soft glow of love and laughter. And as she drifted off to sleep later that night, she knew that even though bedtime could be a battle, the sweet moments that followed were always worth it.

Taglist: @chrepsi @chrislilcumslvt @drewstarkeyzwhore

If you want to be added comment!

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-five

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

you leave jackson behind, and things take a turn.

a/n: WE ARE SO BACK BABY. didja miss me? I’ll be completely honest I have up to part 37 written, about to start 38 and I am determined to finish this before s2 drops in april ok? ok.

word count: 7k

warnings: if you’ve been here this long you know what’s up, and if you’ve seen the show you know what’s coming.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

The morning seems to move in slow motion.

Joel’s not used to the warmth. He’s not used to the pile of blankets that covers you both, bodies bare beneath the sheets, mere inches separating you two.

He made the most of the bed, to say the least. After your conversation had come to a close, things had turned heated. There were more words he wanted to say, but they were all things he wasn’t quite sure how to voice. He didn’t have the right words, ones that would properly convey his gratitude, his love for you. So he settled for whispered I love yous and moans muffled by each other’s mouths, hands roaming until you both lost it, the warmth between your legs the only true home he’s ever known.

“You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me,” he told you after, brushing the sweat-damp hair from your face, his body still pressed to yours, letting his thumb ride the curve of your mouth. “You know that, don’t you?”

You’d just smiled, and damn it all if it still didn’t make his heart skip a beat.

Now, the sun barely cuts through the closed curtains. He feels guilty, needing to wake you — he can’t remember the last time he saw genuine peace on your sleeping face. A glance at the clock on the nightstand tells him it’s too early, but he knows you need to get going, one way or another.

He leaves you be at first, getting out of bed himself, crossing to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. You’d both taken a quick shower before going to bed, and he takes his time now, letting the hot water soothe aches in muscles he didn’t know could ache like they do.

Joel’s not quite sure how long he’s been under the spray when there’s the rustle of the shower curtain, your bare figure stepping inside and pressing up against him a moment later, arms wrapped around his middle. Neither of you says a word, just stood there, the steam surrounding you both, Joel’s hands lifting to cover yours.

It’s still quiet when you start moving again, taking turns beneath the water, Joel washing your hair and letting you return the favour, massaging his fingers against your scalp when he does. You let slip a little groan, and he kisses the noise out of your mouth.

The pace picks up slightly when you get out, towels rubbing skin dry, Joel watching you run a brush through your hair before pulling it back. It bares your neck and he takes advantage, pressing his face to your pulse, leaving a hot kiss there. He goes to pull back but you don’t let him, lifting one hand and fisting it in his hair, the other hand reaching back and pulling his arm around his waist.

“I wish we could just stay here.”

Joel tries to ignore the pang of guilt in his gut. You’d told him more about your conversations with Cowan and Henry, what you’d learned and how things had changed. It wasn’t hard to miss the light in your eyes as you spoke, and Joel knew you’d never ask, but it was obvious: if Ellie chose you, after you found the Fireflies, you’d want to come back to Jackson.

Lincoln was out of the question, he knew. Too many happy memories that could be tarnished by what waited behind Bill and Frank’s bedroom door. Boston wasn’t an option either — you’d never make it back through the gate, and while the memories were further from happy, it was a place that needed to stay in the past. Jackson made the most sense. Tommy is here, same with Cowan and Henry, and while it’s not the happily ever after he imagined for you, it feels like a soft place to land.

“We’ll come back,” he tells you, meaning every word, “if Ellie wants to go with us. I promise you, we’ll come back.”

He doesn’t have a name for the look in your eye, but you turn, leaning in to press a kiss to the patch in his beard, squeezing your hand around his before stepping out of his grip. “C’mon,” you say, your voice low. “I want to beat them to the stables.”

You’re quick to pack, dressed in new clothes Maria had left for you both. Joel keeps the flannel he nicked from Bill and Frank’s, not missing the smile on your face when you see it. As you leave the house, Joel finds himself pausing by Ellie’s door. He can hear movement, the telltale creak of the floorboards, but you tug on his wrist.

“She needs to decide on her own.”

The sun is just cresting the mountain range as you step out the front door, closing it as soundlessly as possible behind you. It casts a wintry glow over everything, and Joel’s grateful for the new boots Tommy had given him — even after the trudge from the house to the stables, he can still feel his toes.

There’s no one around as you make your way to the barn that holds the horses. Tommy won’t be far behind, Joel knows, and he won’t admit to the nervousness in his gut. He did this. He fucked it all up with his one-track mind and his messy emotions. What if she picks Tommy? What if he’s ruined it all?

“Aren’t you beautiful?” he hears you coo to one of the horses, a darker, chocolate-coloured mare he’d seen the day before. The horse chuffs in approval, nudging at your shoulder with her nose while Joel finds saddles for both the chocolate mare and the lighter, coffee-coloured one he’d rode through the gate yesterday.

It’s quiet again as you prepare the horses, strapping your bags to the saddles and finding what little supplies you can in the stables. There’s still no one else around, and it’s been nearly half an hour when your head perks up, listening, and a moment later, Tommy and Ellie come into view, standing outside the stall you’re both in.

“You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie asks, her tone biting, and Joel sees you flinch.

“No,” Joel answers, fiddling with the last buckle on the saddle. “We came to take horses and go.”

“I woulda given you horses,” Tommy answers, glancing between you.

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel beats you to it. “I know.” He takes a step toward Ellie, not missing the way her eyes dart to you over his shoulder as he moves closer. “You deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy, but Liv and I, we’ll—”

“Let’s go,” Ellie cuts him off, shoving her duffle at him.

“Okay,” Joel answers, a little stunned, holding the bag to his chest. She cuts around him, stepping into the stall and walking over to you, wordlessly wrapping her arms around your middle, and Joel can feel your grin from where he stands. “You wanna ride with…?”

“Liv,” Ellie answers, her voice curt, and he knows he’s going to have to make up for all this somehow. “Can we go now?”

Tommy just shrugs when Joel looks back at him, then helps you push the stable doors open, leading the horses out. Ellie walks toward the darker horse, and you go to help her up, but Joel moves faster, leaning down and cupping his hands together for her to plant her boot, lifting her up and over. She doesn’t say thank you, but he hands her the reins. “Hold onto both.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles, and her tone is already a little lighter.

“Which way?” you’re asking Tommy when Joel turns toward his brother.

“Head southeast till you hit I-25,” he tells you, glancing at Joel. “It’s right off the interstate. Shouldn’t be hard to miss.”

Joel nods, and you step forward, opening your arms to Tommy. “Thank you, Tommy, for everything.”

He hugs you tight. “O’course, Liv. Anything for you two, you know that.”

You just nod, stepping back and brushing past Joel as you step toward the horse Ellie’s perched on. Joel’s wrapped up in Tommy’s hug a moment later, squeezing his brother as hard as he can, reluctant as hell to let go.

When they part, Tommy’s eyes are glossy. “There’s a place for you here,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “All of you.”

“Countin’ on it,” Joel replies, glancing over his shoulder at you, at the grin still on your face. Tommy readjusts the rifle on his shoulder, and Joel hears you clear your throat softly. “Can I borrow that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says instantly, pulling the gun off his arm.

“Cuz Maria took mine, y’know,” Joel continues, and you let out what sounds like a scoff.

“I already said yes, Joel,” Tommy laughs, handing him the rifle. “Adios, big brother.”

Joel mounts his own horse after making sure the pair of you are secure in the saddle, and then you’re heading for the gate, Tommy following between the horses. The men posted at the wall reach for their guns when they see you approach, but Tommy calls for them to stand down, and they do. 

“Liv, wait,” Tommy says, and Joel watches you pull on the reins, your mare stopping quickly. “Take this.”

Joel watches his brother disappear into a small shed beside the gate, and when he walks back out again, he’s got your bat in his hand. Most of the nails are gone, but it’s still a decent weapon, and you thank Tommy as he helps you find a spot for it on the saddle.

The gate creaks open a moment later, and then you’re through, back out into the Wyoming wilderness, and well on your way.

+

It’s surprisingly peaceful, riding. Your horse — who you and Ellie have decided is named Brownie — is a sweet thing, gentle and obedient to every tug on the reins. Joel battles a bit more with his own mount, the lighter mare not as quick to trust, but by the time you’ve reached the first strip of forest, he seems to have the hang of it.

The cold doesn’t feel as bad either, not as biting. Ellie is a flare of warmth against your back, her arms wrapped around your middle, and the clothes Maria had left you are suitably warm. You refused to part with the sweatshirt you’d taken from Bill and Frank’s, but the long-sleeved shirt you now have beneath it is the perfect extra layer, along with the thick gloves and the sherpa-lined jacket. Your breath still turns to steam on the air, but your teeth don’t chatter.

She picked you.

You can’t get over the feeling of rightness in your chest. Anyone else would call you insane, you know, but this…this feels right. It feels like you were meant to do this, to find Ellie, to come as far as you have. It’s not just a job anymore — it hasn’t been for a long time, but the feeling is tenfold now.

There had been a moment where you weren’t sure. When she’d first appeared in the stables with Tommy, that split second when she saw you two standing there, the glower on her face, the pain in her eyes. For that moment, you thought it was over, that you and Joel would have to figure out something else, that she’d pick Tommy over you. And you wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

But you’re sure as hell glad that she didn’t.

You push the horses into a trot when the snow gives way to large patches of grass, most of the white stuff melted away. A few hours of riding, and Joel calls you to halt. Your brow lifts, eyeing the fallen tree on one side of the grassy patch, another on the opposite side.

“Joel?”

“Just wanna stop here a bit,” he tells you, and you watch as he ties his horse to a nearby tree, walking over to you to take your reins a moment later. “Target practice.”

“Target practice?” you repeat, confusion in your voice as he leads your horse to his, tying the reins as well before offering you a hand to help you down. “I don’t think I need—”

“Not you,” he replies, shaking his head. Realization dawns as he juts his chin toward Ellie. “For the kid.”

“Me?” Ellie gasps, absolutely beaming as Joel helps her down from the saddle. “You’re gonna let me shoot?”

“You’re the one that wanted to learn how to hunt,” Joel says, shrugging, and you grin. “Now seems like good a time as any, don’t you think?”

She beams impossibly bigger and nods.

Her first shot goes wide, smashing a chunk of the fallen tree to bits and sending a spray of wood chips in the air. The second pulverizes a pile of snow. The third is just shy of the target Joel has set up, and she heaves a sigh. “Wide right,” Joel says, turning his head to look at Ellie. “You’re flinchin’.”

“The target’s too small!” she shoots back, peering through the gun’s scope. You stifle a laugh. It’s been almost an hour now, since you stopped, since Joel set up the target and showed Ellie how to hold the rifle, pointed out the different parts of the gun and taught her how to aim. You’ve been quiet, mostly, content to watch him with her, your chest nearly bursting with excitement at the ease you can see in his shoulders, the relaxedness in his expression.

It’s the most content you’ve seen him in a long goddamn time.

“I made it bigger than I should’ve,” Joel answers, nodding at the rifle. “Eject the cartridge.”

She does as he says, the casing pinging off the wood. “I am not flinching.”

Joel shoots you a look over the top of Ellie’s head and you stifle another laugh. “Mhm.”

“The rifle just sucks!” Ellie whines at you, and Joel scoffs.

“Okay, give it.”

Ellie sighs, but relents, still complaining as she hands him the gun and moves away to stand beside you. “It doesn’t aim right.”

“Mhm,” you echo.

Joel shifts into teacher mode. “A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it.” His eyes shift to you as Ellie lifts the binoculars Joel had given her, watching the target. “Gentle, steady…nice and slow.”

“You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?” Ellie quips, and Joel grins, lowering his head to peer through the scope.

You’re definitely not pressing your thighs together.

“It isn’t gonna work,” Ellie continues. “It doesn’t aim right.”

The shot echoes through the air…

…and just misses, sending more snow into the air.

“Aha!” Ellie yells triumphantly, jumping up and pointing at Joel. “I told you!”

“Gimme that thing,” you laugh, holding a hand out to Joel. He lifts his brow at you but hands you the rifle. “Someone’s gotta show this kid how it’s really done.”

The glare he gives you is halfhearted, and you grin as you take his place, lining up the shot and looking through the scope. If there’s one thing Nick Cowan did right by you, it was teaching you to shoot. But Joel’s words are not lost on you either. You take a deep breath in, then slowly let it out. You squeeze both hands around the gun, the barrel and the trigger, your touch gentle but firm. It’s not a far cry from the way you’ve held Joel.

Gentle. Steady. Nice and slow.

The kickback makes your shoulder rattle, but you stay firm, watching the shot through the scope.

Bullseye. Right in the middle of the ASSHOLE Ellie had scrawled out while Joel was making the target.

“Holy shit!” Ellie nearly screams, leaping to her feet. “Your wife is a better shot than you!”

Triumphant, you get to your feet, handing the rifle back to Joel, unable to wipe the grin from your face. “More practice, is all.”

Joel mutters under his breath as he slings the rifle over his shoulder. His annoyance is just as halfhearted as his glare had been. “C’mon, we should get goin’.”

He pulls you under his arm as you walk back to the horses, Ellie skipping ahead of you both.

“That was a lucky fuckin’ shot, baby.”

“You’re really never going to admit I’m a better shot than you?”

He buries his nose in your hair. “Just annoyed I’m not the one that taught you.”

You bark a laugh. “You taught me lots of other good things, Joel, don’t you worry.”

“I can hear you being gross!” Ellie shouts, and you both dissolve into laughter.

Ellie surprises you by asking Joel if she can ride with him for the next leg. His eyes flit to you after the words have passed her lips, and you give him a little nod, the corner of your mouth twitching.

The horses are sweet animals, letting you push them through most of the day, stopping once or twice to let them drink from the river while you and Joel stretch sore muscles. Ellie asks to practice shooting again, and while Joel refuses the first time, her second ask is granted. He asks you to show her the right stance for shooting a pistol, and you do, helping her with her grip while Joel sets up a new target.

She hits it bang-on this time.

You’re reluctant to stop to camp, only because you know every bone in your body is going to scream in protest against sleeping on the forest floor again after the ecstasy that was that mattress back in Jackson. Joel lets Ellie take the first watch, giving her your watch and insisting she wake him after three hours, which she agrees to.

You lay out the sleeping bags and try to make things as comfortable as possible, warmer when Joel joins you, wrapping an arm around your middle and pressing his nose into the back of your neck. It feels louder out here — in Jackson, you’d noticed how…normal it felt. More like the way things used to be than the fear and insanity that had run your life in Boston.

It felt like Austin, in truth. The way you’d felt in Joel’s house before you left. The calm and the quiet and the warmth.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Ellie’s questions start your third day out of Jackson, after you’ve re-saddled the horses and forced some sort of protein bar down Joel’s throat, your new routine of sorts. There’s instant coffee, blessedly, and you’re riding solo, Ellie having picked Joel once again. You’re not even remotely mad — the easy grin on his face is all you really need.

“So the way they ran stuff in Jackson, was that how things used to be?”

“No,” you answer before Joel can, shaking your head as the horses weave between the trees. “The country was too big for something like that.”

“Back then, there were basically two main ways of lookin’ at things,” Joel interjects. “Some people wanted to own everything, and some people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all.”

“Which one were you?” Ellie asks him, and your brow lifts.

“Neither, I just did my job,” he answers, and damn it all if that isn’t the most Joel Miller response possible.

“Which was…building?” Ellie asks. Campfire conversation has gotten increasingly honest between the three of you, and you can see Joel’s walls crumbling for Ellie. He answers almost anything she asks, and you return the honesty in kind, offering your own answers when Joel falls short. Family is still a subject you all tiptoe around, though Ellie’s gotten a bit out of Joel regarding him and Tommy growing up.

“That’s right,” Joel tells her with a nod. “Houses, stores, that kind of thing. We were called ‘contractors’.”

Ellie pauses a moment, and then her voice comes out low and gravelly. “The Contractor. That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, and you can see his jaw working to stop a grin from taking over his face. “We were cool. Everybody loved contractors.”

“Nice,” Ellie mumbles, and leans fully against Joel’s back, pressing her face between his shoulders. He doesn’t hide his smile then, glancing your way, and neither do you.

It all continues on, more of the same. You make it as far as possible when the sun is up, find a safe place to camp when the sun sets. You hadn’t been greedy with what you took from Jackson, but it’s enough to last you, to prevent you from needing to go scavenging. Not that there’s much left to scavenge.

Joel takes Ellie hunting one afternoon, when the horses have finally put their hooves down, as it were. They need a good rest, and you’re not opposed to it, your ass aching something fierce from the straight days of riding. They come back with a few rabbits and squirrels and Ellie has the most triumphant look on her face. Joel looks like he won the damn lottery, coming over and planting a hard kiss to your mouth, not pulling away until Ellie makes an exaggerated gagging sound.

“Okay, so if you mess up your fourth down, then you give the ball to the other team?”

“Right,” Joel nods. “It’s called a ‘turnover’.”

“Turn over. But, if you make it to ten yards, then you’re back to your first down?”

“Yep.”

“So, basically just moving in one direction.”

“Basically. But violent.”

You scoff a laugh.

“Oh,” Ellie mutters, her tone sarcastic. “Well, there’s that.”

It’s the tail end of the football explanation that has you reaching the I-25, just as Tommy had directed. “How ‘bout that?” Joel says as you come up beside him, tugging the reins to pull your horse to the same speed. “Made it in five days.”

“Easy days,” Ellie chimes in, her face popping up over Joel’s shoulder. “I don’t know what Tommy was so afraid of.”

“Still time to find out,” you say, glancing around as the horses slow to match pace. “It’s damn deserted out here, I’m not sure I wanna know what’s lurking.”

“I’ll tell you what’s lurking,” Ellie says, leaning around Joel with a grin on her face. “The Contractorrrrrr.”

You giggle and Joel rolls his eyes.

+

The closer you get to the university, the lighter the snow becomes. Grass and plants poke through the white, most of it melted away or just barely clinging on. It’s quiet, and Joel can’t quite tell if it’s a blessing or a curse. He can feel your unease from where you’re riding beside him, Ellie having switched saddles for the last leg of the journey.

He ignores the subtler pang in his chest at watching the two of you together. The way you automatically shift into protective mode when Ellie is near you is not lost on Joel; he knows he does the exact same thing. But watching it from afar, the conversation you’d had back in Jackson still echoing through his mind, it’s different.

As the buildings come into view, Joel’s heart sinks. It all looks just as rundown as the rest of the world, and though he knows that wouldn’t stop the Fireflies from setting up shop, he can’t ignore the way your unease increases, clearly on high alert as you make your way onto the campus.

“Home of the Big Horns,” Ellie reads as you pass the sign, weathered bricks covered in overgrowth, but not enough to block out the words. “What does that mean?”

“Team mascot,” Joel calls to her. “It’s a kind of sheep.”

Her head perks up from where she’d had it pressed to your shoulder blade. “Oh! See, Joel? One step closer to your dream.” You grin, but it doesn’t touch your eyes. “Don’t see any Fireflies, though.”

“They’re probably in the middle, if I had to guess,” you say, your gaze scanning the buildings and roads beyond the gate you’ve paused at. “Would be safer, farther from the main roads.”

“This way,” Joel gestures, nudging his heels into his horse’s belly.

You’re nearly silent as you get further and further into the campus grounds. The only sound is the occasional howl of the wind, the horses’ hooves clipping against the cobblestones.

“So these places,” Ellie breaks the quiet, “people would live here and like, what? Go to classes and stuff?”

“Yup,” Joel answers, glancing your way.

“Even though they were adults?”

“Sort-of adults,” you say, the corner of your lips turning up. “I definitely didn’t feel like an adult in college.”

“You went?” she asks, and you nod.

“Michigan State University,” you reply, and Ellie wrinkles her nose. “I wanted to be as far away from Texas as humanly possible.” Then your eyes shift to Joel. “Then I graduated and went back to Austin, and I never wanted to leave.”

Your words light a fire in his chest, warm and welcoming, just as they always do.

“What did you study?” Ellie asks.

“English lit, minored in business. And yes, all my classes were filled with very helpful information on surviving the apocalypse. I have the girls’ softball league to thank for my swing, but honestly, I think it was just as much about partying and finding yourself as anything else. Figuring out what you wanted to do with your life.”

“What you wanted to do with your life,” Ellie repeats with a laugh.

What do you want to do with your life?

The question manifests itself before Joel can stop it, between the warmth in his chest and your eyes on him, Ellie’s easy grin and all the conversations that have been had.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts, and you reach back to swat Ellie when she mumbles ‘oh, here we go’. “I don’t want a sheep ranch, actually. I mean, if the deal is that I can do anything?”

Ellie perks up some, realizing that he’s carrying on the conversation she’d started around the fire what feels like forever ago. “That’s the deal.”

“Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a singer.”

Your jaw drops, surprise plain on your face, and Ellie laughs. “Shut up.”

“Why is that funny?” he asks, adjusting his grip on the rifle as the horses veer close to each other, Joel’s knee bumping yours. 

“You gotta sing something now,” she tells him.

“No.”

“C’mon, man, I’m not gonna laugh!”

“You’re already laughin’.”

“Yeah, okay, true.”

You glance at him sideways. “You know, in all the years I’ve known you, Joel Miller, I don’t think I have ever heard you sing. I’ve heard you hum, mind you, but never sing.”

He shrugs, feeling his cheeks heat. “It never came up.”

Your head drops back and you laugh. “I guess not.”

“Well, Joel, you’re singing for me later,” Ellie pipes in. “I’m gonna save the fuckin’ world, man. It’s the least you can do.”

You laugh again and Joel shoots Ellie a glare. “Fair enough.”

The horses continue forward, and high-pitched yelps make Joel’s shoulders tense. He sees your eyes cut to him for a moment before Ellie asks, “Are those monkeys?”

Sure enough, they are. Maybe a dozen of them, all yelping and scattering across the field before you. Joel deflates some, but the wariness doesn’t dissipate. “Must be from the old labs.”

“Look at ‘em go!”

“First time seein’ a monkey?” he asks Ellie, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“First time seein’ a monkey!” she echoes, and you huff a little laugh.

You keep moving, the sound of the horses’ hooves growing louder when you reach the mostly uncovered pathways, paved over but cracked to hell. You reach the place where the paths all intersect, a signpost standing in the middle, and you suck in a breath.

“Joel,” you call, and when he looks at you, you jut your chin back toward the signpost. “Look. Biomedical Sciences Building.”

There’s a yellow firefly painted on the sign, identical to the ones hidden all over the Boston QZ. There’s no mistaking it.

“Here we go,” Ellie mumbles, and you push the horses a little faster. Anxiety riots in Joel’s gut, and he can see it etched into your features when he steals a look in your direction.

You follow the signpost toward the medical building, and the field opens up, trees long dead from the cold lining the edges, and Ellie points out the two guard stations toward the building itself.

“But no guards,” you mutter, and Joel’s brow pulls down as he adjusts his grip on the rifle.

Ellie makes a wary noise behind you, and Joel sees your hand drop to her knee. “Get your gun out.” Your eyes skirt back to Joel’s as you pull your own from the holster on your thigh, and he gives you a nod.

It’s quiet. It’s too goddamn quiet.

You bring the horses to a stop between the guard stations, tying the reins to the tree that stands there. When you’re close enough, you reach for Joel’s hand, your skin frozen against his when he pulls off his gloves. Ellie comes up behind you, her gun held in both hands, and Joel pulls out his own pistol, swinging the rifle up onto his shoulder.

There’s another Firefly painted onto an overturned dumpster, and Joel can see the muscle in your jaw working as you walk past it.

Inside the building is less than promising. Papers are scattered on the floor, a few gurneys and stools cast on their sides. Your footsteps echo as you move through it, keeping close together. Ellie stops by a table that hadn’t been tipped over, runs her fingers over the instruments and test tubes and papers that litter the surface. “There were definitely doctors here.”

Joel opens the file folder on the table, scans the words scribbled there. Textiles, medical, ammunition, food/perishable…It goes on and on, and he realizes, “This is a packing list.”

Ellie’s brows shoot up. “They just left?”

Before you can answer, the sound of clanging metal echoes through the building, and you all look in the direction it came from.

“Maybe not all of them,” Ellie whispers, and you squeeze her arm, angling yourself in front of her as you look up toward the second floor.

“That came from upstairs,” you say, and Joel just nods, moving past you both and leading you toward the stairs. You’re sure to keep Ellie behind you, Joel checking the corners before signalling you to follow. The sound comes again, making you flinch, and Joel slips his free hand into yours.

Just as you reach the first door, the clanging echoes once more.

Joel lifts a hand to signal you to stop, and you step back, taking Ellie with you as Joel lifts his gun, his hand around the doorknob.

The door creaks as he pushes it inward, and a monkey with an old computer keyboard in its hands, the keys now scattered on the floor, screeches before taking off out the open window. As it goes, a few more scamper out the far window, metal clanging to the floor as they go.

You sigh, following Joel inside, and Ellie pushes past both of you, trying to get a better view.

“Well,” Joel mutters, reaching for your hand again, “at least it ain’t Clickers.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “but no Fireflies either.”

“Maybe in all that research, they turned into fucking monkeys,” Ellie quips, and Joel doesn’t miss the disdain in her voice.

This was supposed to be it. The endgame, mission completion, whatever they call it in those sci-fi books he never got into.

You step further into the room, releasing Joel’s hand to look at the desks, and he knows you’re looking for more Firefly symbols. He follows suit, picking his way around, avoiding the shattered glass and whatnot.

There’s a large corkboard along one wall, a map spread out and studded with thumbtacks. They’re in a pattern, of sorts. It looks like a route, the three different colours converging on—

“Salt Lake City,” you mutter, appearing at Joel’s side. He nods as Ellie appears, pointing at the spot with her gun.

“That’s where they went?”

“All the pins lead there,” Joel says. “Maybe gettin’ ahead of the weather, better facilities? I don’t know.”

“Then we need to—” you start, but cut yourself short, your head twitching toward the window, grabbing Joel’s arm in a death grip. “Get down.”

He does as you say, pulling Ellie down with him as you slink along the wall to the window, peering up and over the ledge. You’re all dead quiet, but Joel can see the fear in your face as you peer through the glass.

You hold up four fingers. Mouth the word. “Raiders.”

Joel tries to orient himself, figuring out the direction the staircase had led you. “They have the horses?” he whispers.

You shake your head, moving back toward them. Ellie stares between you. “What do we do?”

“Out the back,” Joel declares, grabbing your hand as you grab Ellie’s. He takes the lead, taking the stairs the opposite way and heading for the side door he’d spotted on the way in.

You crouch behind the piles of sandbags on either side of the door, both of you watching as Ellie tries to close the door as quietly as possible. The click makes you all wince, and Joel grits his teeth as you peer around the sandbags, trying to spot the raiders.

The horses are still where you left them.

“Quick,” Joel murmurs, and moves around the sandbags, acutely aware of the two of you following behind him as he reaches one of the guard stations. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod, glancing at Ellie over your shoulder.

You sprint for the horses, Ellie unhooking the reins and handing one set to you as Joel puts the rifle in the saddlebag. She coos at the horse, trying to lead it away as you do the same, but then you freeze, staring over Joel’s shoulder.

“Joel!”

+

He’s got your fucking bat.

Your heart has simultaneously sunk into your toes and jumped into your throat as the man comes at Joel. He swings too high and Joel ducks low, and the bat cracks in half as it collides with the tree, the impact splintering the middle.

From the corner of your eye, you see Ellie lift her gun as Joel grabs the guy, shoving him back, away from the two of you. He swings his head back, slams it forward and into the man’s face, stunning him enough that he can adjust his grip, slinging his arm around his neck and pulling tight.

You put yourself in front of Ellie, pushing the horse’s reins into her hands as you lift your gun, pointing it past Joel. It’s quiet enough on campus for you to hear the man’s neck snap beneath Joel’s grip, and your gut roils with relief as his body thuds to the ground.

“Jesus Christ, we—”

You cut yourself short when Joel turns around. Behind you, Ellie lets out a quiet gasp.

No.

The handle of your bat, the broken end, is jammed into Joel’s stomach. Blood stains the edges of the green plaid, and Joel stares at you before dropping his gaze to the wood stuck in his body. Before you can stop him, he puts a hand against his stomach, closes his fingers around the handle, and yanks it out with a wet squelch. You can see just how jagged the end of the handle was, the splinters of wood where it snapped making the perfect makeshift weapon.

It falls to the ground at your feet, and his eyes move back up to yours again. You look away, movement catching your eye over his shoulder. “Ellie, get on the horse!” you shout, three figures sprinting toward you. “Now!”

Joel falters as you reach for him, pulling him toward the horses as Ellie clambers into one saddle. He shouts in pain as you push him up first, grabbing the reins and digging your boots into the horse’s belly.

“Go!” you shout, and Ellie obeys, taking off ahead of you. Joel flicks the reins, his hands bloody around the leather, and as the horse starts to gallop, you swing back, your gun aimed at the three raiders running for you. “Get back!”

They all drop at the gunshots, and you fire until the clip is empty.

Ellie looks back at you. “Go!” you shout again, and she does. Ellie just keeps going. You’re disoriented, no idea which direction you entered the campus from, or what direction you’re heading now. You reach the roads again eventually, and you’re far enough that you don’t think the raiders will catch up to you. You take a few turns, double back a few times to confuse the horses’ tracks in the snow.

Joel’s silent in the saddle. You fish a t-shirt out of one of the bags, fold it into something resembling a bandage and snake your arm around him, pressing the wad of fabric to his stomach. It makes him yelp in pain, the sound making your heart ache, but you have to do something.

You’re a week out from Jackson, and then some. You can’t double back now, Joel wouldn’t make it, he wouldn’t—

You push the thought away. Shove it into the farthest corner of your mind.

Eventually, you make it to train tracks. Train cars dot the station, long abandoned, and you don’t want to stay here long, if you can avoid it. There are too many places for people to hide.

Ellie brings her horse up right beside you, her face dripping with concern. “They’re not following us,” she tells you, glancing over her shoulder. “I think we’re safe.”

“Safe,” Joel repeats, and it’s the first word he’s said you took off. His weight sags against you, tipping backward, and you try to adjust your grip, digging your heels into the stirrups, but it’s no use. You both go tumbling out of the saddle, the earth hard and unforgiving as you hit the snow. Joel flops onto his back, his eyes fluttered shut, and you scramble upright as Ellie slides from her horse, leaving the pair of beasts standing on the train tracks.

“Joel?” you yelp, barely aware of the snow and dirt and rocks that broke your fall, now covering one side of your body. “Joel!”

No.

“Shit,” Ellie cries, moving to where you’ve fallen. She keeps talking, you think, but you can barely hear her.

This cannot be happening. Not like this.

“Joel?” you say again. He doesn’t move. You scan the length of him, see the spreading blood where the t-shirt has fallen away. You scramble for it, pressing it over his still-bleeding wound. “Joel. Joel, open your eyes.”

Ellie calls your name this time, her voice cracking on the syllable, and it brings you back to yourself. Your head snaps up, meeting her eyes where she’s crouched on the other side of him. “Fuck, Liv, is he dead? Is he gonna die? Oh god, we can’t fuckin’ do this without him, we’re fucked, we’re gonna die, we’re gonna—”

She cuts herself short, but her breathing is laboured, her eyes brimming with shiny tears as she stares down at him, her cheeks bright red in the cold. “Ellie, look at me,” you say, but she shakes her head.

“This is all my fault,” she says, reaching for Joel’s hand, moving it to put pressure on the wound. “He’s gonna die and it’s all my—” She sucks in a pained breath, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Ellie,” you say again, and she finally looks at you, “Honey, I need you to calm down.”

“But I—” she starts, but another hard breath cuts her off.

“You need to breathe,” you say, surprised at how calm your voice sounds. “Listen to me. I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too.” You reach out and grab her hand, squeezing your fingers around hers. “But I can’t help him if I’m helping you. Breathe deep and breathe slow.”

She stares at you, and you take your own advice. Breathe in, breathe out. Rinse. Repeat. You cover Joel’s hand with your own, keeping pressure as best you can. Eventually, Ellie follows your example, breathing deeply. It shakes on the way out, but it’s something.

“Good,” you tell her, nodding. “Now, we have to figure out how to move him.” You lift your head, blinking back your own tears as you look around the train yard. Something catches your eye and you lift your free hand to point. “You see that shed over there? The covered one? I need you to go see if you can pull the tarp off, okay?”

On shaky legs, Ellie gets up, her eyes glued to Joel as she does. Her breath shakes again and you reach out and catch her wrist.

“Breathe, Ellie.”

You see it then, the change in her expression, the shift from fear to determination, and you know you need to find the same switch within yourself, but…You wait until her back is turned to let your tears fall. He’s warm beneath your hands as you brush your palm over his head, his hair soft and familiar against your skin.

No. Not like this.

“Joel Miller, you do not die today,” you tell him, lifting the t-shirt slightly. The fabric is nearly soaked through with his blood, and you wrack your brain for every bit of medical advice Deanna ever gave you. “You are not allowed, do you fucking hear me?”

Nothing.

Leaning down, you brush your lips against his, hoping for something, anything. You can hear the thump of his heart against his ribs, but he doesn’t so much as twitch. You glance in Ellie’s direction, seeing her back is still turned.

“Please, Joel. Please don’t leave me like this.”

PREV | NEXT

[darlingdaisyfarm]

ok so this was SUPPOSED to be just a scene in my fic but now idk if i should make it a one-shot bc DAMNN

i was just writing & building up this scene in my fic and then my brain just fucking broke. because. WHAT IF

so imagine bursting into Ford's lab (pre portal) bc you need to find Ford’s journal (for the plot). u know there’s something in there, smth about shutting the portal down and u can't let Bill get his hands on it

but the second you see Ford you know it's not him because of his posture & intonation of voice is wrong too. when he finally turns to face you his eyes are yellow

Bill finds it hilarious, he thinks ur nothing, weak, dumb, not even worth worrying about so he just. lets you in

he’s leaning against the workbench, throwing out some "aww, you came all this way for me, sweetheart?" just bullshit, probably trying to get under ur skin but you don't take the bait, don't even look at him

and then you just start smashing his shit and BILL FREEZES. genuine panic for the first time. because you're destroying everything they worked on. ur hands sweep across the workbench, smashing glass, overturning notes, sending stacks of delicate calculations flying

“HEY” you don't stop, grabbing the nearest equipment and throwing it, sending a monitor crashing, the screen shattering into a mess of exposed wires and ruined circuits.

Ford (Bill) panics like “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, OKAY, RELAX, SWEETHEART, LET’S NOT—”

“HEY, THOSE TAKE TIME, Y’KNOW—”

you don't give a fuck bc you need to find that damn journal while Bill is trying to dodge the chaos, scrambling to grab whatever’s left, floundering.....

so when your back is facing him Bill lunges, wanting to attack you BUT THEN BUT THEN BUT THENNNNNNN you whirl around with Ford's journal in hand and Bill stops immediately because there’s a memory gun pressed right between his fucking eyes!!!! (well Ford's eyes but you get me)

for the first time Bill actually feels threatened. but no no no he doesn’t let it show, he won’t let it show. instead his lips curl

i haven't figured out what he's going to say yet, still working on dialogue but maybe something as:

“ohhhh, baby, ya don’t wanna do that.”

“what, you really gonna do it? really gonna erase your precious genius from his own mind? gonna wipe out every little memory he’s ever had? everything you've ever shared?”

“oh, c'mon, u really wanna erase ALL that? all that brainpower? all those little memories? what was it, your first date? your first kiss?”

and all of that while he takes a step forward, coming closer until he's right in front of you. he leans in. presses you back against the workbench

“you really wanna lose all that? cause lemme tell ya, dummy, he won’t remember a damn thing about you.”

ur finger twitches on the trigger and Bill is like “aw, don’t feel bad,” while wrapping Ford's fingers around your wrist. “you humans and your little attachments. it's cute, really. adorable, even. but c’mon, sweetheart. we both know you ain’t gonna do it. you don’t wanna hurt our lovely braniac. deep down, you know he'd never forgive you”

“Ford would rather forget me than be your puppet.” you say

anyways

im still thinking about how i should write this scene. it can be two ways

1. you grip the gun tighter and Bill tilts his head, his grin widens and then that freak leans forward until the barrel of the gun slides past his lips. “y'know, Ford's got a real sensitive gag reflex.”

2. Bill leans in and presses his forehead against the barrel. “go on, sweetheart, pull the trigger. pull that trigger and poof! your little nerd loses everything.”

anyways bill cipher you are a whore that's all i wanted to say

[evolnoomym]

🩵Wip Wednesday🩵

Well Hello everyone, after disappearing for a bit i thought it would only be appropriate to share all the recent wips. I’ve got some snippets and moodboards for y’all. Please enjoy 😉

Shoutout for the divider to @cafekitsune 🫶🏻

(As always, the snippets are nothing final and can still change)

First I’d like to introduce “Good Neighbor” a Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller x F!OC Reader Fic, it’s inspired from my recent move in to my apartment.

You blink up at him, slowly, to look sexy and mysterious.

“You know,” you let your gaze drift down to his crotch, which is directly in front of you “as a thank you for being such a good and thorough neighbor you could test the bed with me?” You practically purr those words at him. But Joel is too much of a gentleman and still doesn’t take the hint.

“Darlin’ why would we need to do that? The mattress seemed pretty solid to me.” His friendly smile makes you want to punch him.

At this point you don’t know how much more clearer you’ll have to be. You had flirted with him all day, he even went along sometimes but then always returned to friendly chatter. You even question if you’re not pretty enough.

You had enough. “Joel,” you inhale and exhale dramatically to underline your frustration “I want to have sex with you, right fucking know, is that clear enough?”

He just stares at you for what feels like an eternity before slowing responding “Are you sure?”

Now you’re confused “What?”

“I mean you really wanna have sex with me?” As he’s pointing towards himself.

“Yes? Why wouldn’t I?” Does he really not know how incredible hot he is?

Next up we have Valentine’s Day Joel Miller for the Bouquets of Pedro Creativity Challenge by @happypedrohours 💐❤️

It’s a sorta part 2 of Neighbor!Joel Miller and it takes us on their first “official” Date.

The morning after, there’s a knock at the door around 10 am. When you look through the peephole it’s Joel, so of course you open.

“Hello Neighbor,” you smile cheekily remembering the events from the previous day, whilst leaning against the door.

“Good Mornin’, hope ya slept well,” now he’s matching your expression, probably thinking of the same thing.

“Wanted to know if ya would like to have breakfast at mine, since, you know, you don’t really have a kitchen.” Suddenly he seemed all shy and nervous looking at the ground and rubbing his neck.

“It would be an honor to have breakfast with you, Joel” you murmur as you step closer to him.

Then I have some Joel Miller Angst for y’all to balance the romantic vibes out. It’s for Freya’s @almostfoxglove Angst Writing Challenge

I don’t want to say too much about this but I will hurt y’all for sure with this one and also myself. The title is : “Can’t Catch Me Now 🕊️”🫠😨

The Moodboard is provided by the wonderful Freya as well. 🙏🏻

Joel doesn’t even attempt to get up. He just watches you demolish his truck. You break all the windows, one by one with that bat of yours. Once you’re done, you turn around heading towards him. Joel is actually convinced you might kill him with how much anger is radiating off of you.

“Baby, please let’s just talk ‘bout it, just give me a chance to explain?” He’s pleading with you.

You kneel down in front of him and spit at him “Listen, you dumb motherfucker, you will never ever see me again. And if you don’t stay the fuck away I’m gonna ruin your fucking life.”

You lean in further and almost yell at him

“You hear me, I’m gonna end you Joel Miller.”

Afterwards you get up and walk away, leaving him there on the ground wallowing in self-pity.

Also say hi to Emotionally Constipated!FOC x Grumpy!Joel Miller. 🩵😉

“Uhh, sorry. Tell me again why you think this is a good idea?”

“He is your type, older, and I thought maybe you two would get along?”

You shake your head “No, I think you want me to date your boyfriend’s brother so we can go to those awful double-dates. Fuck no.”

Maria lets out an annoyed huff “Would it really be so awful to finally stop these power games and trust again?” She knows that you want to be loved but she also knows that you can’t let someone in on an emotional level. It’s too much.

As you make the order for everyone’s drinks at the bar it doesn’t take much longer and you catch a gruff, more weathered version of Tommy swagger in. It must be Joel. He isn’t unattractive but he looks like an asshole and that is your kinda guy. Those are the ones you have the most fun breaking down, they deserve it.

And last but not least a nice Dave York Summer-Angst Fic. For the “writing through the seasons challenge ☀️” hosted by @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality

You two provided a wonderful moodboard but I couldn’t stop myself from creating my own 🫶🏻🫶🏻

“I needed to have you, my perfect, special and gorgeous girl. You are all mine.” To prove his point he holds up his hand, displaying the silver wedding band. Right, he married you, probably planned it all along to make it harder to get away from him.

Npt: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @thundermartini @encasedinobsidian @hellishjoel @pedrospookie @ozarkthedog @pedgito @punkshort @ace-turned-confused @sp00kymulderr @strang3lov3 @beefrobeefcal @penvisions @itsokbbygrl @burntheedges @sunshineispunk @tightjeansjavi @macfrog @toxicanonymity @chronically-ghosted @604to647 @syd-djarin @mountainsandmayhem @jeewrites @penascigarette @galway-girlatwork @amanitacowboy @mrsmando @pedrospatch @pedropeach @moonlitbirdie @ovaryacted @joeloverture @jolapeno @joelsdagger @sanarsi @cavillscurls @joelstummy @slimybeth69

[memento-morri-writes]

This is far from my best work, but it's 1:30am, and I needed to get this down before I slept or lost my mind. So here, take a snippet of Rook seeing Zara again for the first time in 3 years.

Trying, and failing, to keep his voice from shaking, [Rook] said “Hello, Captain.” Mouth still open in surprise, [Zara] replied “Well, hello yourself.” The reality of what she was seeing seemed to hit her as she rounded the desk. “Rook, is that really you?” He nodded. “It’s me.” Zara ran towards him, stopping just short of touching him, and said “What did she do to you?” Rook’s heart stuttered and he had to brush his fingers together to confirm Sigmar’s ring was still in place. Could she possibly see through its illusion? But then he remembered what Lanny had said. She knew where you were. His throat clenched and he choked out “Two years.” A wave of grief swept across Zara’s face as she said “I’m so, so sorry.” Rook shook his head vigorously. “It’s not your fault.” Zara ignored him. “It is my fault. I failed you. As your captain, it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and I failed you.” Rook wanted to say something, to reassure her, but she pushed on. “She sent me letters, told me all the terrible things she was doing to you. I… I let you down.” Those words hit Rook with the force of a dozen cannonballs. Lanny had said that Zara knew Wolf had him, but knowing that Zara had been aware of what Wolf was doing to him… somehow that was more painful than any wound Wolf had ever inflicted. He barely managed to force his next words out around the lump in his throat. “Where were you?” And why didn’t you come? “She said she’d kill you if I came to get you. Or if I hired anyone to get you. You’re standing here because I stopped sailing.” 

(honorary one-time tag for @space-writes bc I remember you enjoyed my other bits about Rook and Zara.)

[todayisafridaynight]

Dude ur cosplays are genuinely so good 😭. I don't think I could cosplay anyone from RGG because I look too fem for it, but you're killing it!

AW thanks fam that means a lot :']] tbh if you really want to cosplay a character, you should go for it! even if you dont plan to go anywhere or do anything crazy, even just putting on the outfits is pretty fun :]

[allsassnoclass]

please don't feel bad for not doing ficmas this year, but please know how wonderful the past years were <3 thank you so much for sharing your work <3 cant wait to reread my favorites from past years this month <3

aw, thanks anon! i'm pretty bummed about it tbh just because it was a whole three year tradition! which feels like a long tradition in fic terms and i did like having it be part of my "thing" but yeah the writing is just not working out this time. i'm glad you're looking forward to rereading! i hope you enjoy <3

[pucksandpower]

Drunk in Love

Max Verstappen x fiancée!Reader

Summary: in which Max gets drunk, forgets that the two of you are literally engaged, confesses his love for you, and then gets reminded that his ring is on your finger … in that order

Based on this request

The lights from Jimmy’z spill out onto the sidewalk, a dizzying kaleidoscope of reds, purples, and blues. You stand just outside, arms crossed, as your phone buzzes for the third time in five minutes. It’s Daniel this time.

“Hey,” he says, voice just slightly too cheerful to be innocent. “So, uh, Max is-”

“I’m already here.”

“Oh, perfect. He’s …” Daniel hesitates, and you can practically see him scratching the back of his neck. “He’s just a little … spirited tonight.”

Spirited. That’s one way to put it.

You hang up before he can add anything else and glance toward the club entrance. Max stumbles out a few seconds later, propped up by Lando, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Max’s head lolls to the side, and when he spots you, his entire face lights up like you’ve just walked out of a movie.

“Hey!” He yells, voice loud enough to make a couple passing tourists glance over. “It’s you!”

You sigh, stepping forward to take him off Lando’s hands. “Thanks,” you mutter to the younger driver, who just grins.

“Good luck,” Lando says, clapping you on the shoulder before disappearing back into the club.

Max leans heavily on you, his arm slung over your shoulders. “You came for me,” he says, slurring slightly. “You’re like an angel. My angel.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, guiding him toward the car. “Let’s get you home, Max.”

He stops abruptly, digging his heels into the pavement. “No, wait.”

You look up at him, exasperated. “What?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait until we’re in the car?”

“No!” He insists, voice rising. “It’s important.”

You glance around, feeling the curious stares of a few people lingering nearby. “Okay, fine. What is it?”

Max wobbles slightly, gripping your arm like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His eyes are glassy but serious as he looks at you. “I’m in love with you.”

You blink. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats, louder this time. Then, almost conspiratorially, he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Like, really love you. You’re … you’re perfect.”

“Max …” You hesitate, unsure how to respond.

“No, listen!” He says, pulling back to look at you. “You don’t understand. I’ve been in love with you for … forever. But I didn’t know how to say it, and now it’s too late, because you probably think I’m some idiot who-”

“Max,” you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. “We’re engaged.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

“We’re engaged,” you repeat, holding up your left hand where the ring glints under the streetlights.

Max stares at it like he’s never seen it before. “No way.”

“Yes, way.”

His face splits into a grin so wide it’s almost childlike. “No. Way.”

“Yes, Max. We’re literally engaged. Have been for months.”

He takes your hand in his, squinting at the ring. “Holy shit. That’s a nice ring.”

You snort despite yourself. “You picked it.”

“I did?” He looks genuinely astonished.

“Yes, you did. And you cried when I said yes, remember?”

“I cried?”

“Like a baby.”

He lets out a delighted laugh, the kind that starts in his chest and bubbles all the way up. “I’m a genius,” he declares, throwing his arms in the air. “I got you to say yes!”

“Yes, Maxie. You did.”

He pulls you into a hug, nearly knocking you off balance. “I’m so lucky,” he mumbles into your hair. “Like, stupid lucky.”

“You’re also stupid drunk,” you point out, but there’s no bite to your words.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes wide and earnest. “Do you love me?”

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Of course I love you, you idiot.”

He beams at you, his happiness so pure it’s almost contagious. “Good. That’s good. Because I’m going to marry you.”

“Yes, Max. You are.”

“And I’m never going to mess it up.”

“Not if you keep calling me to pick you up from clubs at two in the morning.”

He looks horrified. “Wait, did I call you?”

“No,” you admit, “Daniel did.”

Max groans, burying his face in his hands. “That traitor.”

“Come on,” you say, tugging him toward the car. “Let’s get you home before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

As you help him into the passenger seat, he grabs your hand again, his grip surprisingly firm. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says, his voice softer now.

“I know,” you reply, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

He closes his eyes, a contented smile playing on his lips. “I’m going to marry the hell out of you,” he murmurs as you buckle him in.

You shake your head, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You already are.”

And as you pull away from the curb, he’s still grinning like he’s just won the championship all over again.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[hearts4hughes]

HIS - rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: suggestive content ; yummy jealous rafe

his eyes were firery with rage as he stared at you. his hand clenching his beer bottle so hard it creaked under the pressure.

you— his girl— were too close to some kook douche bag. his hands ghosted over your hips as you chatted animatedly to him. the smug bastard smirked as you gave him your undivided attention. and even with your back facing him, the holes burnt from rafe’s gaze gave away his presence.

the problem was that you technically weren’t rafe’s girl. you were only friends with benefits. this relationship was even on his terms! he had blabbed on about not liking committed relationships, that he needed freedom and other bullshit.

now, as you laughed, leaning into the guys chest, and grasping his bicep, rafe regretted every word he had said.

his stomach twisted and turned with a green monster inside. finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. he couldn’t stand another minute watching you blatantly flirt with someone other than him.

pushing himself off the wall, he stalked towards you. his steps were determined and angry. his arm snaked around your waist and he pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck, not paying any mind to the boy beside you. your muscles tensed around his body.

“hey, baby.” rafe murmured. “i couldn’t find you.” your forehead creased as he spoke.

“rafe, what are you-” he cut you off by pressing a kiss to your pursed lips. you kicked yourself for feeling butterflies at the small gesture.

he looked at you with a knowing spark in his eyes. then, his gaze redirected to the clearly uncomfortable boy who tried to avoid eye contact. “who’s this, baby?” rafe asks, his hand still secure on your hip.

“no one. i’m no one.” the boy says, his tone urgent and annoyed. you opened your mouth to retort his claim, but he walked away before you could. with a huff, you untangle rafe’s limbs from your body.

“what the fuck?” he smirked at your harsh tone. you didn’t share his amusement. “seriously? you have no right to do that!”

he reaches out his hand to grab your own, but you slap it away. he stiffens his posture as he speaks, “i have a fucking right. you’re mine, y/n.” his tone left no room for a debate.

you stifle out a laugh with an eye roll. “yours?” you say in disbelief. “if i remember correctly you were the one with commitment issues, not me.”

“i don’t give a shit what i said or did before.”

“you can’t just take back everything you said!” you cross your arms over your chest. rafe tries to ignore how it makes your breasts swell. he swallows harshly.

“maybe not,” his voice is soft. “but i can help you forget.” he takes your hand, leading you into an empty bathroom. he stands tall in front of you as he presses you into the sink.

“rafe-”

he shushes you, pressing kisses to your collarbone and cleavage. “just let me make it up to you. let me apologize for everything.” he seductively drops to his knees in front of you. chills run down your spine and an ache settles in your core. his large hands settle on your thighs. he presses kisses to your inner thighs. your stomach flutters as he hikes up your skirt, exposing your lacy underwear.

“i’m gonna show you how much i want you for myself, baby.” he doesn’t want to pleasure you, he needs to. he craves you; craves your warmth and your love.

and as he flattens his tongue on the thin material of your underwear, all previous worries drift away.

[fushitoru]

helloooo i literally ADOREEE your writing and have read ALL of your jjk works istg!!! i was wondering if you had any recs for any series? ive been in a slump lately and i rlly wanna read some new fics but cant find any :((

oh i gotchu. all of these are NSFW (unless otherwise indicated), well written, and untragic ending (uhhh unless i remember wrong, some of these i read a long time ago) because i'm picky and a pussy.

completed

gojo satoru

convergence theory (ao3)

canon au, marriage of convenience au. tension is well written, and gojo is a little shit lke he would be in canon. beautiful and yummy characterization of him as the complex character he is.

shame on me by @starmapz

canon au. i love how gojo is written, and i love trish's writing style, lol. reader has a curse inside her, like sukuna is inside yuji, and gojo comes to take her to jjt. it's very well written the yearning >

games and matches by @lostfracturess

modern au, dad's best friend au. AHHH HE'S SOSOSO FINE IN THIS like i need him so bad. i just love reader's inner conflict and also the drama. i need dilf gojo <3

pandora's box by @c0pkiller

priest au. it's just so interesting to see them battle their impulses and what their religion has told them to do. the pining is chef's kiss, and satoru is realllyyy sweet in this one. i didn't know what to expect when i was reading it but wow it was very, very well written.

moonlight (ao3)

canon au, mating bond au. sort of omega verse but not really. the sexual tension is INSANE and it's genuinely so well written. the angst is delicious and the comfort that follows is even more delicious.

family formation by @dellalyra

found family au in canon universe. i love this one, super fluffy and well written. it's super domestic, and very comforting. i love gojo (as a father and daddy :p)

ukiyo (ao3)

secret marriage au in canon. super flufy as well baha gojo is adorbs :3

baby steps by @lemonlover1110

pregnancy au, and if i remember correctly canon au. the tea in this is crazyyy actually, and i felt the angst as gojo and reader grappled with the pregnancy. i loved the ending, it felt so rewarding <3

nanami kento

inflitration by @pseudowho

canon au, fake marriage au. i loved the pining in this. It had a lot of my favorite tropes, including forced proximity, the classic making out to avoid getting caught, and fake marriage (to overthrow a cult). also haitch writes this man beautifully so ik it was going to a banger

strangers in love by @ayyy-pee

exes to lover au, and the angst hurts really good. they make up very well by the end and i love this series a lottt. lexi writes conflicts out so beautifully, and im so in love. the end had me on my toes but i was so glad nanami pulled thru <3

your best friend's brother by @delirious-donna

modern au, best friend's brother au. the humor is done amazingly well, and their writing style is amazing. The sexual tension is actually INSANE there were times I was screaming at them to fuck because of the chemistry they had :3

toji fushiguro

unscripted (ao3) by @ryowriten / @kasukuna

modern au, toji's a erotic va in this. ITS SO FUNNy and megumi is super super silly. reader is so me coded (she's a loser basically) and toji is super hot. the sexual tension is amazing and it feels like reading a rom com.

sukuna ryomen

hesitance by @yenayaps

modern au, gym employees au SO FLUFFFYYY READER IS ME. i love sukuna like this, where he's so down bad. the ending is sooo sweeet it'll make you cry

defiance by @yenayaps

heian era au. GRAAHHHHHH THIS ONE WAS SO SWEET IT'S SO CUTE LIKE THE ENDING MADE ME CRY BC IT WAS SO SWEET. everyone needs to read this one, i love heian era aus like this

ongoing (BUT i have very strong faith that they are going to be finished because the authors are active with frequent updates. otherwise i'll kms live on camera)

what you know by @starmapz

sukuna x reader college AU. SUPER self indulgent, sukuna is such a cutie. i would even say found family au because sukuna takes care of his brothers and AHHH IT'S ADORABLEEE <3 it's also really steamy bc sukuna is SO HOT so :333

kickoff by @celestie0

gojo x reader, college AU. oh my god i love this series gojo is so lore accurate if he was a college student in 2024. he's just ughhhh so well written you will have such a crush on him. also reader is a baddie too what can i say

in holy matrimony by @celestie0

gojo x reader, modern au, fake marriage au. the banter in this is BEAUTIFUL it's so fucking funny. it's sort of like a rom com, and the angst is just written so beautifully. reader is just a girl :(

motherhood and matrimony by @alygator77

gojo x reader, fake marriage au ceo au. AHH THIS FIC IS MY GUILTY PLEASURE. please im always on my toes with this one, reader's a single mom and her son's interaction w gojo are sooo cute. gojo best dad :(

controller by @yenayaps

sukuna x reader, ceo au. i haven't gotten the chance to fully read this one but WOW seeing the tags + knowing how sienna writes this is gonna be FIRE

angels in the snow (ao3)

nanami x reader, strangers to lovers. don't be afraid to pick this one up just because it's ongoing, you'll feel very satisfied because it feels like a collection (and has 52 chapters already) than an incomplete series. nanami and reader meet at an airport and have to drive home together bc their flight gets canceled. the progression of their relationship is so sweet, and he's suchhh a green flag. very comfy <3

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Baby’s first christmas

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, you two have a kid, tooth rotting fluff, JJK men being dads, tis the season, kind of suggestive on Satoru’s and Sukuna’s. Not proofread bc it’s christmas.

An: Happy holidays! No Choso because I never really include him in my JJK men as dads series. Sorry Choso enjoyers!! Also, the kids names have no affiliation with the names of anyone in JJK. They were names I thought up a while ago. This is a little short because I wrote it on Christmas Eve lol.

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

This would be Satoru’s first Christmas at home with a family. His clan didn’t celebrate Christmas, and even if they did, Satoru knew santa wasn’t real from a very young age.

He stared at you and your infant son as you rocked him back and forth. Satoru swore he could feel his heart swell three sizes larger. He knew that realistically his son, Aoi, wouldn’t remember this Christmas, but he wanted to create traditions.

He wanted to have something that he could look forward to every year.

“Where are you going?” You asked your husband with a warm laugh as he grabbed his keys and wallet. It was the night before Christmas. Everything would be closed by now, and they wouldn’t open until the day after Christmas.

“Don’t worry about it, Sweets. I’ll be home soon.” He assured you with his signature grin. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to both yours and Aoi’s head. His small baby stirred, making the cutest grunts and sleep noises. “Make sure to leave some cookies out for Santa. I think he should be stopping by soon.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at your husband’s antics. It was never a dull moment between you two.

“I think my sweet-toothed husband will eat them before Santa gets to them.” You remarked at Satoru headed towards the door. He flashed you a cheeky smile.

“No promises. It’s the thought that counts anyways.” He said before heading out into the snowy night. You shook your head at him, knowing he was likely up to no good.

You continued rocking Aoi in the rocking chair for a little while. Aoi could be a very fussy baby when mama or dada wasn’t holding him, so you weren’t taking any chances of putting him down just yet.

Instead, you carefully wrapped him up in a sling baby carrier, and you popped some cookies in the oven. Satoru helped you make the dough yesterday, and you two had already cut them out into various Christmas shapes.

Your mind was elsewhere as you cleaned up the kitchen and thought about what all needed to be done tomorrow. Satoru’s clan didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you had planned a surprise Christmas party and invited all of his friends to come celebrate with you three.

After a while, the oven beeped signaling that the cookies were at the perfect level of doneness. You put on your oven mitts on before carefully removing the pan. As you sat it down on the stove, the sound of tumbling down the chimney caught your attention.

Was there an animal trapped in your chimney? You grimaced at the thought of trying to save a rabid animal from the confines of your chimney.

You stepped over to the chimney to investigate from afar. With Aoi in your arms, you didn’t want to put your son in harm’s way.

Luckily for you, your goofy husband stared back up at you. His bright blue eyes were unmistakable, even while he had on a fake Santa costume with a fake beard. His face was smeared with black marks from the coal in your fireplace.

“Ho, ho, ho..” He laughed in a thick bellowing tone as he crawled out of the fireplace.

“Satoru, what are you doing? You’re going to scar Aoi.” You laughed as you walked over to your husband, wiping some smears off his cheek.

“I don’t know this Satoru you speak of. He must be on my naughty list. Ho, ho, ho.” Fake Santa continued, shooting you a small wink. He really wasn’t going to give up this act easily, was he?

He didn’t. Satoru played as Santa, placing a few gifts under the tree and munching on some homemade cookies and milk in the act. He had to perfect his Santa persona for when Aoi would be able to form memories.

Your real husband conveniently didn’t return until after “Santa” had left, and he even had the audacity to pout about not receiving any gifts from Santa. You had to politely inform him that he was on the naughty list this year, which promptly had Satoru smirking at you.

“Bummer. Santa even forgot to leave me a lump of coal. If only there was another way for me to be punished for being on the naughty list…”

SUGURU

You were dreading Christmas. A new mom with twin baby girls and several houses to go to just didn’t sound like any fun. Of course, your husband, Suguru, would offer to help in any way he could, but you both knew you were going to be exhausted and overstimulated by the end of the day.

“We don’t have to go see everyone.” Suguru murmured into your ear. It was the night before Christmas, and you had just been anxiously carrying on about how badly you didn’t want to get out tomorrow.

His large palm rubbed up and down your arm in a soothing manner as he cradled you in his strong arms. Your head was pressed against his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heart.

“That would be rude.” You murmured.

“As if I’ve ever cared about being rude.” Suguru retorted with a calm smile. He then reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, cascading your bedroom in darkness.

You two snuggled in each other’s arms, sharing lazy kisses and sweet nothings. It felt like you only managed to blink your eyes before one of your girls were crying over the baby monitor.

Patting the bed next to you, you find nothing but slightly warmed sheets. Geto must’ve already gotten up with the girls. One look at the baby cam has your heart melting.

Your husband’s sleepy eyes are half closed as he has a baby in each arm. He was quietly trying to shush them, speaking softly, “Please, don’t wake up mama. Let her sleep in today, girls. She deserves to rest easy on Christmas.”

You pushed the covers up off of you, unable to resist seeing this moment for yourself. You lean against the nursery doorway as you watch him continue shushing and rocking the twins.

“Merry Christmas, Suguru.” You finally spoke, giving away your presence. Your husband subtly flinched before turning around to meet your gaze.

“Merry Christmas, darling.” He responded before walking over and pressing a kiss to your lips. “I have a surprise for you.” He murmured into your presence.

A crease formed between your eyebrows as you wondered just what he was up to. He carefully nodded towards the window, signaling for you to take a look outside.

The bright light reflecting off the white powdery substance had you shielding your eyes. It must’ve snowed at least 7 inches throughout the night.

“We’re snowed in.” Geto quietly chuckled, pleased with the turn of luck. You two didn’t have to haul the twins to several houses, and you two could just rest easy at home.

NANAMI

Your husband had always been an early riser. He was consistently up earlier than you, even on christmas morning. You were normally really into Christmas, but you never managed to wake up before him.

Even this morning, you drowsily rolled over in your shared bed, trying to find your husband’s presence, but he was no where to be found.

You slowly sit up, rubbing your eyes free from sleep. You were honest surprised that Hana didn’t wake you two up during the night and Yuji hadn’t woke you up either.

Getting out of bed, you see Nanami had already placed your robe and slippers next to the bed for your convenience. You smile before slipping those on and heading downstairs.

“Nanamin, does this bacon need to be flipped?” You hear Yuji’s voice ask. The soft sounds of Bluey playing on the living room TV also fill your ears, and Hana’s soft babbling can be heard as well.

“Yes, go ahead and flip it.” Your husband instructs Yuji. You two had adopted Yuji after the events at Jujutsu Tech. He needed a family, and you two had a loving home that was painfully empty. Now, it was never a dull moment between Yuji and his little sister, Hana.

You quietly creep into the kitchen, and you smile at the sight. Your husband was clad in a white apron that said, “Kiss the chef”. You had gotten it for him long ago, and he still wears it to this day. He was working making some pancakes while Yuji was tending to the bacon.

Hana was in her bouncer chair in the living room. Nanami rarely ever parked her in front of the TV, but walking around with her in a sling wasn’t an option this morning, not when Yuji was frying bacon and she could be popped with it.

“Merry Christmas, you two.” You said, finally announcing your presence. Yuji looked up at you before his lips turned into a pout, and Nanami let out a small chuckle.

“Good morning, darling. You couldn’t sleep for just a few more minutes? Yuji wanted to give you breakfast in bed as a christmas present.” Your husband walked over to you, and he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“Aw, sorry, Yuu. I was excited to see you and Hana open up gifts.” You said with an empathetic smile, and Yuji’s pout vanishes.

“That’s alright! I can give you breakfast on the couch. It’s almost as good as breakfast in bed.” His bright smile quickly returns to him.

“It’s perfect, Yuu.” You say before ruffling his soft pink hair. He was such a good kid. He deserved the world and more.

A little while later, your family was sat upon the couch. Nanami was passing out Christmas gifts. Hana was sat in your lap as you helped her unwrap her gifts. She, of course, wouldn’t remember this, but this would be your favorite memory of all time.

“Let’s give Hana and Yuji another little sibling next Christmas.” You mutter to Nanami as you two watch Yuji and Hana play together on the floor.

“Ew! I heard that!” Yuji pouted, causing for both you and Nanami to laugh.

TOJI

Sweet baby Megumi was just three days old on his first Christmas. You and Toji had been hoping that the doctors were going to finally discharge you and Megumi, so you two could go home on Christmas.

It’s not that you two had any plans. You both came from broken families, but even if you did have family, you two had agreed on no visitors for the first week. You didn’t want to risk Megumi or you getting sick, especially since all the nasty sickness goes around during December.

You two also just wanted to get use to life with a baby. This was your first, and you were young. There was going to be a small adjustment period, and you wanted to worry about that without also worrying about visitors.

Toji was laid up in the hospital bed with you. He didn’t care about the damn policy. His wife just had a baby. He was going to hold her in his arms as much as he could.

Megumi was in your arms, sleeping away peacefully. “He’s got your eyelashes. I’m jealous.” You murmur to Toji as both of you admire your beautiful baby.

“He’s got your mouth.” Toji offered as consolation, and you let out a small giggle.

“That’s all he got from me. I carried him for nine months, and he had the audacity to look like he fell from your ass.” You comment back, making Toji grin down at you.

“Sorry, ma. Those Zenin genes are unfortunately strong.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If I could have it my way, he would look just like you.”

“No,” You whispered with a heartfelt smile. Tears blurred some of your vision as your hormones were still so out of balance from birthing a child. “He’s perfect. I love him so much already.”

“Don’t cry, ma.” Toji muttered as he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears. This would only be the 20th time you cried over how much you love your son.

A knock at the door startles you both, and your doctor walks in with a pleasant smile. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

“Merry Christmas.” You respond back in a hesitant tone. The thought of the doctor informing both of you that you had to stay another day worried you to no end. Both you and Toji were going stir crazy inside that hospital room.

“I’m sure both of you are ready to take your little bundle of joy home.” The doctor says as he flips through your chart briefly. “So, I’m going to let you go home today.”

Sighs of relief fill the room. It was probably the best Christmas gift you had ever gotten.

Scratch that, seeing Toji do the “hot dad walk” was definitely the best Christmas gift you had ever gotten. He was wearing a black hoodie, carrying a carseat with your son all bundled in, and he was walking out to the car as a nurse pushed you in a wheelchair (you tried denying the wheelchair, but it’s “hospital policy”).

“We’re bad parents.” You cried on the way home. Toji was flabbergasted by how quickly your mood could change.

“We’re not bad parents. Why would you say that, ma?” He asked as he reached over and rubbed your thigh while driving the car. Megumi was peacefully asleep in the back seat.

“We didn’t get our son anything for Christmas.” You mumble through the tears. Megumi was actually due on December 26th, but he decided to come a little early. You two decided that a newborn didn’t need gifts, and you were heavily pregnant, so the idea of wrapping any gifts didn’t spark you any joy.

“Doll, we literally gave him life. Besides, I’ve only known the brat for a couple days. How should I know what to get him?” Toji jokes, trying to make you feel better about the lack of gifts. You let out a small laugh in response.

“I promise, ma. We’ll give him a better Christmas than you and I ever got next year.”

SUKUNA

“My son will worship no false deity. I’m the only god getting worshipper around here.” Sukuna declared as he covered up Ryu’s ears with his hands.

“Santa Claus is not a false deity, Kuna. He’s a fairytale.” You respond back to your husband as you roll your eyes. It’s not even like your sweet baby could even understand what you two were saying about Santa anyways.

It was his first Christmas, and you were trying to introduce both Sukuna and Ryu to the human traditions for the holiday season. It seemed like neither of them were having it.

“Do curses do anything for the winter solstice?” You ask Sukuna, looking up at him from your seat on the floor as you help Ryu unwrap another gift from Santa you and Sukuna.

“We eat a virgin.” The king of curses reply without skipping a beat, causing you to look up at him with disgust and horror. “Oh, don’t worry, flower. You’re safe. I made sure of that long ago.”

You roll your eyes and give him a pity laugh. Sukuna thinks he’s so funny sometimes. “Yeah, I didn’t think anyone would mistake me for a virgin when I have your baby on my hip constantly.”

“You should have another on your other hip.” Sukuna comments with a wolfish grin. Ever since you pushed Ryu, Sukuna had been gunning to get you pregnant again.

“I think one half-curse, half-human baby is enough, Kuna.” You say with a small laugh while jingling a toy in front of Ryu’s face. He giggles happily as he reaches out to grab it from you.

“You’re the only human that gets away with defying me. You know that? I would’ve already dismantled anyone else.” He comments, and you roll your eyes once again. “I should inform Krampus of your disobedience.”

“Wait- curses believe in Krampus?” You ask as you look back up at him, finally intrigued by what he was saying.

“He’s real. There is no believing in him. He goes around and punishes the naughty children, even curse spawn have to worry about Krampus.” Sukuna informed as he propped his head up with his hand and gave a lazy smile. One of his favorite pastimes was teaching you about his culture. He loved how you always listened and absorbed the information while trying to relate it to human culture.

“Isn’t being naughty what curse spawn are meant to be?” You question as you cock an eyebrow. Sukuna gives a low chuckle in response.

“Yes, but they’re still expected to obey their elders as Ryu is expected to obey us.” His large palm gently pats Ryu head, and your son looks up at him with the most innocent of smiles.

Most babies are inherently terrified of Sukuna as if they could sense the danger from him, but Ryu loved his dad and never showed any signs of fear. The sight of you and Ryu playing with toys on Christmas morning was enough for Sukuna’s heart to grow three sizes bigger.

[kathaynesart]

The eye of the hurricane. I like to think Cassandra sometimes called the brothers by the nicknames their dad used, given they were probably pretty close before his passing.

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

Man oh man, this one was way messier and off model than my last few updates but whatever, we got to keep this ball rolling! Life's been crazy so I've had to take some unwanted breaks in between updates. Thanks everyone for your patience as always!

One thing I wanted in this flashback was to really get a sense of how the brothers worked as an experienced team with Leo at the helm as a proper leader. It's something we never got to see much of in Rise and I felt it was important to include since half the team is already gone by the time of Replica. Team Dynamics Ted Talk under the cut!

We know from Casey Jr that Leo stressed the importance of listening to your team. A big part of that also means knowing how to communicate with them in general.

With Michelangelo, he keeps it short and succinct, trusting his brother to know what he's doing when in his element. This trust goes a long way with Mikey, having spent years of his youth as the baby striving for the respect he felt he deserved. Leo knows it's best to not bog Mikey down with details, allowing him to improvise as needed. This unspoken freedom has only grown over time as Mikey has dipped deeper into spiritual arts that, frankly, go completely over Leo's head.

The greatest sacrifice Leo has ever made was read Donnie's Big Book of Bad Guy Codes. While he doesn't remember ALL the numbers, he has memorized the ones that matter and it has helped tremendously in avoiding miscommunication with his genius brother. More importantly it silenced any of Donnie's usual belly-aching. As Leo's "twin"/"equal" the two still butt heads from time to time. Donnie respects his brother's authority (mostly) but will still push the boundaries of what he's allowed on a semi-regular basis. Give Donnie an inch and he will take the mile and then find a loop hole that allows him to go twenty miles more. This is partially due to him often being the one left behind at HQ, making the turtle just a TAD stir crazy. Leo does his best to keep him in line regardless.

Big brother Raph will forever and always be big brother to Leo. As such he holds a place of authority in Leo's heart and is someone he still regularly seeks counsel from in both the ways of leadership and more. Raph is always happy to support his younger brother and does a surprisingly good job (albeit after years of practice) of walking the line so as not to step on his brother's toes in the process. At least not since the secret of "the Key" blew up in their faces several years ago. They don't talk about that anymore. Leo is the leader now and he's done a great job in recent years as far as Raph is concerned. He trusts him to make the right call. The two have a close bond and regularly use mind meld to quickly communicate rather than speak ...this will be important to remember for the future.

Hope that overall feeling came through for this group!

[shouyuus]

counting stars

violet; 4,988 words; hurt/comfort, fluff, slightly suggestive moments, no "y/n", wlw (duh), self-indulgent to the point of lunacy, lots of kissing, mentions of bodily harm (not self-inflicted), teeth-rotting fluff mostly, popstar!reader x vi au

summary: when vi shows up at your door, what to do but to let her in?

a/n: bc nothing bad is allowed to happen to vi in my fictional world(s). and also im literally cackling ofc the fic that ppl r the least interested in posted first is the one that i post first; i guess i just like to be contrary but also i want to spoil vi and this is the only way i know how

─── Ⅵ SHE SHOWS UP UNANNOUNCED, split lip and bloody knuckles, leaning against your doorframe on a thursday night; you answer the door in your sheer pink nightgown and fluffy slippers, a bottle of rose chilling in a bucket on the table.

“vi?”

“hey princess —” she clears her throat, her smirk going lopsided as she tries to hide a clear wince. a bead of blood seeps out the corner of her mouth as she sucks in a shaky breath, “miss me?”

your lashes flutter with worry as you step aside to let her through — there’s a distinct limp to her gait that she can’t quite hide with her usual swagger.

“what happened?” you ask, letting the door click shut, following half a step behind her as she drags herself into your penthouse flat, letting out a low whistle as she looks around.

“nice place you got here. fits though, pretty castle for a pretty princess —”

“violet…”

you reach out with delicate fingers, taking slow steps forward; she hisses out a breath, her eyes sharp and wild as a wounded lion’s, her mouth a blunt-edged slash as she swallows, gaze flickering between your fingertips and your face as if she’s unsure what you might do.

she winces as you rub a light thumb along her cheek; your finger pulls away red.

“sorry —” the word rips from her at your touch. her eyes drop, her whole body shakes. “i — i didn’t know where else to go — and i — i remembered seeing that stupid 100 questions video you did here for —”

“for the fashion magazine, yeah,” you say, your voice soft as a baby’s breath. your hand lingers, a palm against her cheek. she leans into your touch, the movement small as heartbreak, but just as heavy.

“c’mon, lets get you cleaned up.”

you let your hand trail down her arm till your fingers link, and you lead her to you expansive couch, pressing her down firmly even as she frowns at her grime-covered clothes against your pristine white sofa.

“i’d offer to pay for dry cleaning but —”

you cut her off with a sharp look.

“don’t you dare. and plus, i’ve been meaning to change up the upholstery forever.”

you grab a bottle of vodka from the top shelf and a box of cotton balls, plopping down across from her on the couch in a flurry of pink-colored satin, inching forward till you’re nearly parked in her lap.

vi’s eyebrows hike as you pop the top off the vodka bottle, a grin twitching at her lips.

you roll your eyes.

“it’s not for drinking —” you soak a few cotton balls in the vodka even as vi’s expression falls. you lean in; vi’s hands find their way to bend of your waist, settling there as you daub gingerly at the blotches of drying blood on her face.

“ouch —” vi winces dramatically as you press down on a particularly deep cut, her lips pushing up into a pout, “not even a little bit? might help dull out the pain —”

she cuts off as you swipe a thumb along her bottom lip, breath hitching as you frown slightly, making to tug away for a fresh cotton ball.

“don’t — don’t leave —” her voice comes out harsh, desperate. you still, expression softening impossibly.

“i’m not,” you say, patient. she finds her fingers digging into your hips but you only smile. “i’m not going anywhere. promise. but i do need another cotton ball.”

she worries at her bottom lip, and already, you can see the fresh blood collecting in at the corner of her mouth. you press back into her space, wiping the blood away. her entire body slants towards you, her shoulders tight, her arms flexed, as if she’s bracing for a punch or a kiss.

you nudge her nose with yours, lifting up ever so slightly to press your lips to her forehead.

the dam breaks — all the pieces falling, her head tipping forward onto your shoulder, her hands wrapping around you tight, and then tighter. you feel yourself being hauled into her lap as she buries her face in the crook of your neck, a sound caught halfway between a gasp and a sob wrenching from her throat.

“f-fuck — shit —”

there’s heat to her skin, the roughness of her bandages, fraying at the edges, the worn-in material of her pants, the damp streaks of her hair tickling your cheek. her breath is uneven as it splays out against your collarbones, and when she finally tugs away to wipe at her face with the back of her hand, looking anywhere but at you, her lashes blink away wet.

“sorry — god this must be real sexy, right? mm — fuck —” she sniffles, shaking out her hand, her other one coming up to caress your cheek. her gaze is unfocused even as she skims her fingers over your skin. “god, you’re so soft. it’s like you’re made of — of marshmallows or something —”

you catch her hand with a tiny sigh, letting your gaze flicker over the bloodied bandages before you rub a thumb along an unmarred patch of skin.

“and you can be too. if you ever wanted to learn.”

she goes quiet then, the bravado bleeding from her as you continue your quiet work of cleaning all her varied injuries, disinfecting the cuts and bandaging the bruises. for the most part, she stays quiet, offering up the bloodied parts of herself for your perusal without resistance. it’s only when you shift back or make to tug away for a second that she jerks forward, resolute in her all-consuming need to keep you close.

“there. that’s about as much as i can do right now,” you say, heaving a sigh as you brush away several strands of black-pink hair from her face, letting your thumb skim over the tattoo on her cheek.

“thanks.” her voice comes out slightly hoarse, her eyes cutting away from you for a second before flickering back.

“i’d say it’s nothing but…” you let your thumb trail down the line of her jaw, tracing over her fluttering pulse as you work your slow way down her neck, “i mean —” you let out a soft laugh, hiccupping slightly as she takes the chance to tug you even closer, pressing you to her, chest to chest, so that you have to brace both your palms against her shoulders just to keep steady. neither of you mentions the fact that her arms are shaking.

“it was a bad night,” she says. and it’s all she offers for a few minutes, but you don’t push her, content to rest against her, let her run circles into your skin with her fingers against the small of your back, her breaths evening out till she looks back up at you with a wry grin.

“let me guess,” you say, linking your fingers behind her neck, “you should see the other guy though, right?” you drop your voice in a mocking imitation; it sounds nothing like her but it manages to draw out a laugh, the sound ricocheting between the pair of you like an echo till it dissipates, leaving the air somehow slightly warmer than before.

“yeah. somethin’ like that,” she murmurs, leaning forward to nudge your nose with hers, eyes going dark.

you cup her cheeks and let her kiss you, lips on lips and gasping breaths, till her fingers are inching up the thin material of your night dress, bunching it up, her thumbs tracing the ridges of your ribs, the weight of her body pressing you back into the plush couch, far too big for the pair of you —

“v-vi — wait —” you gasp away from her, fingers tangled in her oil slick hair, her mouth trailing hot and wet down the side of your neck. she makes a grumbling sound, nipping at your collarbones before resting her chin on your sternum, her hands still grazing further and further up your nightgown.

“c’mon princess — you got to play doctor, so now lemme pay you back proper —“

“vi.” the sharpness to your voice jolts her, and a frown creases her forehead as she blinks up at you with her gunpowder eyes, her fingers now still against your skin. you puff out a breath, pushing yourself back up to cup her cheeks, squeezing them slightly between your palms.

“i don’t want you to ‘pay me back’ for anything.”

hurt and confusion chase each other in a butterfly-wing flutter of emotions across her eyes before she pulls back.

“you don’t want this?”

you fight back the urge the roll your eyes as you sigh, reaching out to tug her back, this time, it’s you crowding into her personal space, leaning in to kiss her solidly on the lips. you feel her go soft against you, her hands cupping the ridges of your ribs once more.

“of course i want this,” you murmur against her lips, “but i — i don’t want it as ‘payback’ for anything. i…” your breath catches as vi leans in to nip at your bottom lip, heat pluming up the back of your neck, cresting into your chest as you blink at her, “i want this… if you want to give it. and — and i want it because — because i want you.”

she makes a strange, pitched noise in the back of her throat as she crushes you to her, her mouth slotting over yours so desperately that your teeth clack, but when she pulls back, she’s shaking her head, resting her forehead against yours with a sigh.

“shit princess — you can’t say shit like that and not expect me to lose my fuckin’ mind — fuck —“

you let out a tinkling laugh, fingers now massaging the cords of muscle at the nape of her neck. a shiver runs through her, her lashes a sweep of ink and shadow.

“relax… i’m not going anywhere. promise,” you remind her even as she tips into you once more, a whine working from her throat into yours as her fingers dig into the supple skin of your waist, dragging you down the length of the couch till you’re pinned beneath her thighs.

she pulls away panting, your own chest a staccato rise and fall. but your eyes are steady when she finds them again and you reach up to trace her cheek.

“when’s the last time you’ve had a bath?”

the question catches her off-guard, making her jerk back slightly, a frown ticking down between her brows.

“what?”

you giggle, “a bath. like, a proper one.”

one of her eyebrows kick up, “you sayin’ i smell or something?”

you sigh, yet again fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you push yourself up onto your elbows, your pink nightgown rucked up to your thighs, your hair falling out of the messy bun you’d twisted it up into earlier that evening.

“no,” you let your voice linger on the word, pinning vi with a look, “but you do taste like the inside of a paint can so.”

her eyes narrow but she lets you wiggle out from beneath her, your fingers trailing down her arm to tug her behind you as you lead her into the master bathroom. the light clicks on and vi scoffs.

“wow.”

“pick a bubble-bath, any bubble-bath — my favorite’s the —”

“rose one?” she finishes, lifting up the nearly empty bottle of light pink bubbly water displayed on a white marble shelf full of multi-colored liquids.

you allow yourself a blush as you shrug, twisting on the taps and testing the temperature, drying off your hand before turning back towards her.

“so i know what i like. sue me.”

vi smirks in honest this time, uncapping the bottle and wafting it beneath her nose.

“mm, delicious.”

you don’t miss the licentious lilt to her voice, nor the flicker of dark, hungry light in her eyes.

you turn away, leaning across the vast bathtub to grab a white can.

“if you think that’s delicious — wait till you see the sugar scrub — oh!”

a pair of arms snakes around your middle, pulling you back against abs and a bandaged up chest. vi’s voice is hot by your ear as she noses into the side of your cheek.

“yeah? is it gonna make me taste less like the inside of a paint can?”

“mhm,” you say, letting your free hand rest naturally over both of hers, the other hand dipping into the sugar scrub to swipe a dollop of sticky white crystals onto her nose. she gasps, jerking back for just a second, going slightly cross-eyed before a mischievous expression eclipses her features and she hoists you up into her arms, holding you suspended over the slowly filling bathtub.

“don’t play this game with me, princess — there’s only one way it’ll end.”

you let out a bright peal of laughter that echoes around the soft marble walls, looping both your arms around her neck.

“try me.”

for a second, she makes as if to drop you, but she pulls you back into her chest at the last second, cradling you against her.

“alright princess, let’s see how good this bath is,” she says, her voice soft as she sets you back down on your feet. you lean up to give her a quick peck before taking the rose-scented bubble bath and pouring it into the swirling water.

by the time the tub is filled, the room is filled with a thin gauze of steam, and when you turn, you find vi standing awkwardly behind you, watching with one hand on her opposite elbow, rocking on the balls of her feet.

“in general,” you say, pushing to your feet, “people take baths with their clothes off.”

vi’s cheeks go blotchy, and her eyes skitter about the room.

“what, i’m just supposed to strip here and —”

her words cut off abruptly as you turn your back on her and tug your night gown from your body, stepping into the bubble-filled water, glancing over your shoulder.

“you coming?”

vi nearly trips out of her tight-fitting pants, tugging haphazardly at the bandages wrapped around her torso. when she finally steps into the water opposite you, she drops down with a soft splash, a loud groan rolling from her as her eyes flutter shut.

when she forces them open again, it’s to find you watching her with your round doe eyes, a sweet, knowing smile perched over your very kissable lips. she wonders at the heat in her cheeks, at the way it prickles at her skin, thinks to herself that it must be the steam, must be the hot water currently melting away at the knots that had braided themselves into her muscles the past few weeks, but she when she feels your calf nudging against her’s she can’t help the way her breath skids inside her chest.

“c’mere,” you motion, and vi blinks at you for a second before shifting till you’re face to face, her hovering uncertainly between your legs before you jerk your chin for her to turn around.

the bathtub is more than big enough to fit the both of you, and for a while, a comfortable quiet settles as she leans her back against your chest, your fingers dancing up the length of her arms, trailing warm water along her shoulders, tangling in the rapidly lightening tips of her hair.

the dark dye runs off her, pluming in the water like spilled ink. you steadily work your fingers through her tresses, smoothing out the knots, occasionally letting your nails scrape against her scalp.

“holy fuck that feels nice…”

you smile, washing as much the dye out as you can before rubbing your thumbs into her shoulders, feeling the tightness coiled there like springs. she grunts, shifting beneath your touch.

“y-you don’t have to do this y’know —” she tries to pull away, only to have you click your tongue impatiently and tug her right back.

“lemme know if i’m hurting you, okay?” is the only thing you say as you continue to massage her shoulders.

she softens, letting out a long sigh and a small chuckle.

“you’d have to try real hard to manage that, sweetcheeks.”

you puff out a tiny breath before digging your thumb into a particularly tender knot, her entire body buckling away from you.

“ow!” she twists around, eyes wide, even as you cast her a look that has her turning back again, but not before she flicks a bit of water at you, her other hand resting easy on your knee, bent next to her hip as she leans against you once more.

“this is the first thing they teach you how to do in a brothel,” you say, your voice light as you slowly work the tightness from each of vi’s muscles, applying gentle pressure, using the bubbles as lubricant.

“wait what?” she tries to turn around again, only for you to pinch lightly at one of her loosening knots, tutting.

“stay still and i’ll tell you the story.”

she stills, though her breath is still short, and the hand that had so recently been lolling against your knee is now stiff, her fingers wrapped around your limb as if to brace herself for what you’re about to say next.

“most people don’t know this, but i’m actually from the undercity — all my earliest memories are of the brothel, the girls there braiding my hair, or letting me sit on their vanities, smearing bits of lipstick on my cheeks as rouge. i think my mother must’ve been one of those girls once but… i never knew her. and it didn’t really matter anyway — i think… i was one of the lucky ones. at least i always had water and a hot bath when i wanted it.”

vi’s fingers tighten on your thigh before she lets up her grip, sighing as she presses her back more firmly against you.

“i’m sorry.”

you shrug, shifting a bit of hair from one shoulder to the other as you continue to dig your meticulous fingers into her weary muscles.

“don’t be. like i said, i was one of the lucky ones. but… i always knew that we were living a hard life. sometimes, one of the girls would vanish and… we’d never know where she went. sometimes, a guest would get a bit too rough and —” you let out a tiny laugh, “well i got pretty good at patching up cuts and bruises.”

you flatten your palms against her skin, running them along the expanse of her shoulders before pushing down her arms to squeeze at her firm biceps.

“there. how’s that feel?”

vi sits up, rolling her neck and shoulders with a loud groan.

“damn. that feels amazing but —” her expression softens as she reaches for you, running tender thumbs along the bend of your cheek.

“you — you don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to.”

“i know.” you catch her hand in yours, fingers curling in. all around you, perfumed mist hangs light in the air, hazing out the already diffused lighting. “but i want to.”

vi smiles, nodding.

you take another breath. your interlaced fingers sink into the murky water.

“when i turned thirteen, they started teaching me the ropes — massages first —”

“thirteen,” vi’s voice is harsh in the mist-hung room, the syllables cracking as they reverberate against the slick tiles.

you lilt your head, “how old were you when you ran your first job?”

vi stares, her mouth agape, “b-but — that’s — that’s different!”

“is it?”

she sputters for a few more seconds before deflating, shaking her head, tugging her hand from your grasp to splash water into her face, running both hands over her eyes with a groan.

somehow, she could picture it perfectly, you with your sweet smile and darling eyes, running deft fingers over the shoulders and necks of the unnamed girls at babette’s as they talk you through how to press just so, how to lull someone into your lap, and later, into your bed.

“but like i said… i was one of the lucky ones. really, really lucky — because one day, while i was refilling the water and tidying up the rooms, a guest heard me singing and… he offered me a gig topside.” you let yourself sink into the slowly cooling water, your hair flowing in a soft halo around your shoulders.

vi watches you with an inexplicable expression on her face — half-sadness, half-wonder.

“and the rest, well —” you flick a bit of water towards her; she blinks it away before pulling you into her chest, “you know the rest. or, i mean, i don’t know if you watched that entire 100-questions video —”

“i did.”

vi loops her arms around you, hooking her chin over your shoulder.

and once again, the quiet settles around you both, hanging solid in the air like so much dissipating steam.

“all that to say…” you murmur, turning slightly to face her, searching her eyes with your own, “you don’t have to pretend with me. not with me. not when it’s just the two of us.”

you watch her eyes widen ever so slightly, watch as her lips part and she hesitates over the words hanging at the tip of her tongue.

“thanks,” she finally manages, “for… for telling me this.”

you smile, pulling back to reach for the white can, unscrewing the top.

“okay. sugar-scrub time.”

by the time the pair of you leave the bath, the water’s cooled to a tepid chill at best. you offer vi a fluffy towel, wrapping one around yourself as you pad from the room in search for some clean loungewear.

you return with a large t-shirt and some shorts, which vi eyes for a second before pulling on, her cheeks darkening as she sees you watching her.

“quit looking at me like that…” she huffs as you tug on a loose shirt yourself, pulling on a pair of pink, lace-trimmed panties.

“like what? like you deserve to be looked at?” you ask, voice even as you run a towel over your damp hair. vi crinkles her nose, frowning down at her dirty clothes, piled in a lump on your bathroom floor. you shrug.

“leave it. that’s a tomorrow-problem. c’mon, bed-time.”

vi sighs, ruffling at her hair with the white towel, staring at the gray streaks she leaves behind. she glances up to find you standing by the bathroom door, a hand outstretched behind you, waiting.

she licks her lips before tossing the towel over her pile of clothes and reaching out to take your hand.

your bedroom is dark, lit only by the scatter of city lights from beyond your windows. through it, the city is a pulsing maze of tiny lights and spectral towers. you pause, glancing towards the skyline with a sigh.

“it’s a beautiful view,” vi says, coming up to stand behind you, looping an arm around your waist. you lean into her touch, her warmth, turning slightly to find her eyes just as faraway.

“yeah,” you grin, reaching up to touch her cheek, “you are.”

she turns, blinking at you for a second before your words register. she groans even as you laugh, the sound fizzling through her till her skin prickles with warmth and goosepimples.

“c’mon. bed.” she says, and you grin, allowing yourself to be led to your own bed, pulling back the silken covers, slipping beneath and watching as vi inches in next to you, pillowing her cheek on her arm. you angle your body towards hers, letting out a long, steadying breath.

she mirrors you — one breath, then another, then another.

“thanks, princess,” she says, after a few long moments.

you shuffle forward beneath the blankets, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist. she closes her eyes, bending her head till you’re nose to nose.

“for what?”

vi lets out a puffed laugh, her lashes fluttering open again.

“for… letting me in.”

you press you lips, your eyes searching her’s. and here, in the dim moon-lit night, her eyes shone like twin stars, bright as firelights. you inch just a bit closer, letting your foreheads press as she shifts an arm to slip around your waist as well.

you hook your ankle over hers, shimmying till you’re hip to hip, your bodies arched into each other, bend for bend. she bites down on her lip, if only to stop it from quivering. you graze your hand up her arm to rest on her cheek.

“you know you’re always welcome here.”

vi laughs, the sound strangely watery as she blinks away the hot prickle biting up the back of her throat. it’s been so long since she’s had anywhere to come back to. and here you are, offering it up to her on a gold-gilded platter.

“yeah?” she says, even though her voice shakes and she has to swallow hard over the lump in her throat as she coaxes your chin up, angling your lips towards hers, “careful… i might actually take you up on that.”

“whatever’s mine is —” your breath hitches high as vi tugs you into her, crushing your lips to hers, a thick groan working it’s way through her chest. you taste salt on your tongue, even as she trails her mouth along your jawline to suck a dark, blossoming hickey into the side of your throat.

“— yours.” you finish, spearing your fingers through her hair to pull her back, your eyes soft in the gathering darkness. vi lets out a tiny, pitched whine as she buries her face in your chest, her body curling in on itself. you rock her against you, letting her grapple her fingers into your nightshirt, clutching you to her even as you sooth your palms over her head and neck, shushing her gently.

“fuck, princess…” she says, her voice slightly muffled, “you’re tryna spoil me rotten, huh.”

you smile, letting her pull back just far enough to catch a glimpse of your face.

“well, someone’s gotta do it.”

vi chuckles, the sound rumbling from her chest to yours.

“yeah well… i’m glad you’re the one angling for the job, sweets.”

you hum, letting your eyes fall shut as vi’s grip on you loosens, and the pair of you sink into the liquid warmth of each others bodies.

vi shifts, tucking you deeper into her arms as you content yourself with sighing into her skin, and it’s an almost automatic spin-click of both your bodies, your limbs settling into and against each other, your torsos turning to just the right spot, just the right angles to fit against one another.

you settle, and feel the world settle around you — time itself seems to breathe and slacken, the evening-shaped seconds and minutes ticking each into its own place, like the teeth on a set of cogs, catching one rung into another, spinning one after the other till everything starts to hum into place.

sleep slips its gossamer gauze over your eyes and vi shifts, her lips ghosting your forehead.

“whatever gods up there that put you in my life…” she whispers, her voice tight, you make a soft noise, like a question, or perhaps a confirmation, leaning up to level your faces once more. your eyes open and vi finds her own reflection staring back at her, the shape somehow softened by your gaze, and she wonders, not for the first time, what you see in her, what you’ve always seen in her, that makes you so…

“there’s already a shrine set up for them in the living room,” you murmur, and for a second, vi stares, her own mind quiet for the first time in a long while. you smile sleepily at her confusion, nuzzling her nose with yours, “what, you didn’t know? i’d been thanking them for you since the first day we met.”

vi makes a sound like a hiccup, shaking her head as warmth bubbles through her, a champagne-colored shake-fizzle-pop of emotions welling up behind her eyes, making her head spin.

“well shit —” she grins, tugging you ever closer, “you’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you princess?”

you hum, carding your fingers through her hair as she settles against you once more.

“mhm,” a tired little yawn, “and maybe tomorrow morning, if you’re feeling up to it —”

“yeah?” vi’s voice is soft, is sweet, is almost reverent as she kisses the skin of your sternum, her lips lingering right beneath your collarbones.

“i could show you some of the other things i picked up at the brothel.”

vi groans, her fingers digging into your hips at the tantalizing thought.

“mm, you mean other than giving people amazing shoulder massages?”

you laugh, and outside, a large neon sign flickers off, tossing the room into a deeper, richer dark.

“yep. but for now…”

“sleep?” vi asks.

you nod, watching as her eyelids flutter shut, and you let yours do the same. your fingers find hers beneath the blankets; your palms press and she gives you a tiny squeeze. you squeeze back and smile.

“sleep.”