#now what i need is for the series to end by driving home that whether Logan lives or dies the legacy that he's left

[palamedes-top-nerd-facts]

walking into the writer’s room for succession and asking everyone who’s writing from their own personal experiences of having an abusive father to raise their hand

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 3

“Is there more to learn about you, Jungkook?”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You try to resist the CEO's charms, but it's hard... At least until the other shoe drops.

WORD COUNT: 8.9 k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tension and teasing, and angst

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 This was never supposed to be so long, but I'm a fan of making the reader fall in love too... Before the bomb drops 💣 Enjoy 😉

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

You thought getting kidnapped would be the most bizarre experience you had ever been through, but it seemed like CEO Jeon Jungkook had other thoughts.

If it wasn’t weird that you entered his gigantic Seoul building while unconscious and tied up, it had to be that you exited escorted by the man himself, right into a car that you had only ever seen on television. You shrunk into the back seat, not only feeling weird with the surrounding spacious, immaculate leather, but with the fact that beyond the smoked glass, the CEO was telling something to the driver before he got inside the car.

You refused to look back to confirm whether the CEO had stayed put, watching you go; instead, you closed your eyes and heaved a deep sigh. It was outlandish that you wanted to turn around and see him there, as if you needed reassurance, when in truth, he was part of the problem.

You thought the weirdness would end there, which led you to look outside the window and see the tall buildings reflecting the city lights as the car moved. He was your boss, after all. If anything, he did need you to deal with the American consortium negotiations. And you trusted his word; he said you could leave once it was all said and done, so you weren’t a prisoner.

But you did not expect what he had planned for you.

“CEO Jeon has asked me to convey to you that he means to assure your comfort,” the man, Seung Ji-Young, said after introducing himself as the CEO’s driver and assistant, looking at you through the rearview mirror. You raised an eyebrow. “Given the circumstances, he has made arrangements to have a series of boutiques welcome you so you may relax and feel right at home.”

Your forehead creased as you took a glance at the time displayed on the dashboard, “At this hour?”

“Of course.”

You blinked, glancing again — 20:25. You shook your head, “Why would I need clothes? Unless—” You leaned forward, “What happened to my luggage?”

“We have it, rest assured.”

You couldn’t stop frowning at the weirdness of it all, “Right.”

“If there is somewhere else you’d like to go to relax, like a spa, it is not a problem. I’ve been instructed to drive you wherever you’d like.”

Your lips became an uneasy line, “No, I’m fine.”

The man nodded as he drove with a serious demeanor, “Then may I suggest a Michelin star—”

“No,” you interrupted swiftly, afraid that his offers would never stop. “Just— Just take me home— I mean, where I’m supposed to sleep.”

“Certainly.”

You groaned mutely and rubbed your eyes; now, even you were talking weirdly. But could anyone blame you after everything that had happened?

You stayed quiet as the car drove smoothly through narrower and narrower streets. Despite trusting what the CEO had said, you couldn’t help the uneasiness twisting your guts.

Finally, the car entered an underground garage and you were able to breathe. Mr Seung circled the car to get your small luggage from the back, including your handbag, and you bowed in relief, finding in it all your very important documents and belongings. It certainly comforted you enough to follow Mr Seung across the parking lot and into the elevator with a renewed sureness that you were not a prisoner.

“Would you like to go straight to your suite or take a look at the amenities first?”

His voice was as gentle as ever, and you tried to offer him a small smile, “Straight to bed would be best.” He pressed the keypad to select the 48th floor, and you frowned again, “Shouldn’t I check in first?”

“You mean with the concierge? No, he’s aware of your presence and available 24 hours in case you need anything.”

Your mouth opened, but you quickly closed it; maybe the CEO owned an apartment. That would justify why you weren’t at a hotel right now. You honestly didn’t care as long as you could put that day behind you.

The final straw took form in the quiet, gentle explanation of Mr Seung, “The amenities at your disposal include the residence lounge, gym, movie theater, swimming pool and spa. The latter includes a sauna, whirlpool, jet bath, and steam room at any hour, while the massages and skin and body treatments are available during the day. Of course, given the circumstances, a call can be made to arrange any treatment of your preference within the hour. Anything from a massage to a mud bath can be arranged; please don’t hesitate.”

You nodded respectfully while you screamed in your head — why was this happening? You just wanted your head to hit the pillows. The exhaustion taking over your mind was rendering you out of order, yet that ahjussi was so nice. Why was it all so hard?

“Ah, here we are,” he said as the elevator came to a stop gently with a sweet voice announcing the floor over the speakers. 

You exited the elevator first, though you waited for Mr Seung to indicate to you which of the two doors was intended for you and to type the code in.

Once the door opened, you entered and braced yourself with eyes so wide they were twice the size. The stairs to your left indicated you were in a duplex penthouse, but it was the open concept of the space that floored you. Oak herringbone floors expanded into a panoramic view through floor-to-ceiling windows from one side of the building to the other. The soft touches of the white furniture and long couch in the living room extended into the dining room with a long glass table with an exorbitant vase of flowers that brought a heart stopping pop of color.

You blinked, befuddled, at the luxury surrounding you, and Mr Seung passed by you to indicate the next room, “There is the kitchen, should you need to arrange something, and a private terrace for your enjoyment as well.”

You glanced over the natural stone tops in shades of pure white matching the cabinets and circled the island to check what he was talking about. The view continued on that side of the building, leaving you speechless. From that high, the world looked small. It was as if that place was out of touch with reality.

“But perhaps you’d like to see the guest suite,” he smiled, and you just nodded.

You followed him back towards the staircase, ready to pick up your luggage, when he waved at a paper on the foyer table.

“CEO Jeon wanted you to know the password so you can make use of the apartment as you please. He’s also asked me to inform you that everything is at your disposal, including all snacks and beverages.”

You blinked, trying to keep up through the stupor, “How did he have time to fill up the pantry?”

You were wondering more to yourself, but Mr Seung chuckled, “We do it for him, of course. He particularly likes shrimp crackers, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you take some.”

You could only frown as though the information was odd. Mr Seung grabbed your luggage and started his way up the stairs, and you finally managed to say, “He lives here?”

“Of course, he owns the building.”

He didn’t stop, thus missing the way your grimace spelled a What?! with furrowed eyebrows, wide eyes and parted lips. You looked around you once more, taking in the crazy luxury surrounding you before hurrying up the stairs. You thought he had booked a hotel room for you, at most owned an empty apartment, and that was already in the realm of stupidly crazy rich. But what did he mean, the CEO lived here? Here, as in the building? Or here, as in—

Your breath caught as you reached the upper floor. The wall that faced the floor-to-ceiling window was entirely covered by a dark blue tapestry with glistening silver stars surrounding a central half-moon serving as the base of a vibrant orange tiger lily, shining brighter than any celestial bodies around it. You swallowed hard and looked at the master room across from where Mr Seung had disappeared with your luggage. Someone lived there, and you didn’t need more than the half-moon and dark blue colors to remember the Jeon Family emblem. Still, if that wasn’t enough, his scent reaching your nose told you everything you needed to know.

“Here you have it, the guest suite.”

Mr Seung was smiling as he opened the door to a walk-in closet, a small office, and then, across the room, to the ensuite bathroom. Meanwhile, a view as breathtaking as downstairs greeted you, and you continued to be flabbergasted. 

“I thought he meant a hotel…” you whispered.

“CEO Jeon wanted to make sure of your comfort personally.” 

You glanced at the man, and it was only because he seemed dead serious, almost concerned, that you didn’t throw your hands to the ceiling. Who cared about what the CEO wanted?! You were tired! And overwhelmed! And done with everything being blown out of proportion!

“But, of course, if you are dissatisfied, I can arrange for a five-star—”

“No, no, please,” you found yourself raising a hand and closing your eyes, begging him to stop. “I’ll stay, this is fine. No, perfect. It’s perfect, I’m perfectly happy.”

Mr Seung’s eyes instantly softened, as though you being pleased comforted him deeply. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m usually available to drive CEO Jeon at 6 AM, but should you require me to be available earlier, I’d be happy to assist you.”

You stared at the man, speechless. How was he so kind and sweet, and where did he come from?

“No, I— I can get to the office by mys—” You bit your tongue, then raked your hair back. What was the point, really? “I normally go to the office around eight thirty, so please don’t hurry because of me. I need to sleep. Badly.”

You huffed the last words, but Mr Seung stiffened as though he had been stung, “Of course, I won’t hold you any longer. Have a good night.”

He bowed deeply, making you rush to do the same before he left quietly. Your fingers gripped your hair roots as you looked around you — what the fuck? The incredible cityscape view, the suite that was probably your apartment size, the room across from yours where CEO Jeon slept… Everything was just surreal.

You woke up the next morning with a renewed vitality. Not because that was the best bed you had ever slept in, the biggest shower you had ever used, or the most delicious breakfast you had ever had, but because you had processed things. CEO Jeon Jungkook was an alpha of the Jeon Family who, through medieval means, had committed a crime based solely on your blood. Your rare designation did not excuse it, and as such, he was trying his best to accommodate you to prevent you from causing a scene, suing, exposing, or all of the above. There was a potential additional agenda that involved the traditional matching of an omega to an alpha, but you were in the XXI century. Alphas didn’t have to be with omegas, rare as they were, and you would not be coerced into engaging in such ancient customs. CEO Jeon would respect your wishes, and you believed his word.

He had even entered and left his own apartment without a word or a sound. You had slept like a rock — perhaps surprisingly, you felt safe there — but you had expected to see him at breakfast, at least. In the end, the only proof you had of his fleeting presence was the closed bedroom door and dirty coffee mug at the head of the dining table. You almost felt bad for potentially making him uncomfortable, but then remembered this was all his fault. Plus, he probably made Mr Seung drive him at 6 AM, which was also barbaric.

It brought a smile to your face to see Mr Seung’s happiness when you told him how you had rested well. You believed his care ran deeper than any CEO Jeon’s order, though you couldn’t help wondering if it was because he knew of your designation.

Fortunately, at the office, such things didn’t matter. As soon as you said your name to one of the secretaries on the last floor, she instantly provided you with your own office and badge, explaining how everything worked. You were used to sharing an office, but you had decided not to complain. Live and let live. If the CEO wanted to overbear you with such things, you’d accept them quietly. You just needed to do your job and leave.

Your laptop remained your own, so entering the workflow was seamless. You were pleased to find all the information about the rescheduled meetings, and emails about other projects you were working on. You even made sure to check in and reassure Yoon Minsik, your mentor, before attending the first in-person meeting with the legal team of that office.

Although you had only met most of them online, it was a cordial and nice moment before starting what you hoped would be a fruitful meeting. But then CEO Jeon arrived.

Before, you were just a member of the team, participating in meetings you’d otherwise attend online. After he entered the room, however, you were an omega in the presence of an alpha who easily disrupted the flow of the conversation. 

You didn’t believe he did it on purpose, in his defense. You could smell humans amongst the team, and even they were affected by the CEO’s presence. What you’d like to say is that you, contrary to them, were not impacted in any way, but that was not the case.

You had to clear your voice as you spoke and actively force yourself to pretend he wasn’t there. Inwardly, you kept reassuring yourself that it was just that department meeting to coordinate ongoing projects. He wasn’t usually there, but maybe he had made an exception this time.

Only CEO Jeon was present in every meeting.

It was exhausting to focus on each different project and give your best while trying to ignore him. Not that he spoke a lot, but when he did, it threw your attention completely off. He looked so fine. That black designer suit framed his large shoulders deliciously, making every move as evident as possible. Making you imagine what it would be like to be caged in by said arms, embracing you as if—

“Hey!”

You blinked and looked away as everyone got up from their chairs. You should have noticed the meeting ended and that the CEO had been forced to leave, called by that woman, his secretary — Sunhwa.

You faced one of your colleagues, who was smiling expectantly, “Should we have lunch together?”

It was easy to accede and join her and the team, but your thoughts remained on Sunhwa. She wasn’t present in the meetings, but you had noticed her easily because every single time you had to move between meeting rooms — and the CEO did the same — she showed up to talk to him, pass him a file, or just accompany him. To the point you wondered if he needed a bodyguard and heard whispers of other people potentially commenting the same. You couldn’t help feeling bad for her; you couldn’t decide if she was jealous of you, with all the stink eyes she threw your way at every chance, or overzealous.

Regardless, you thought it didn’t matter because, in the afternoon, things would be different. Those meetings would be all about the American consortium negotiations, both internal and external, and you ran those without the presence of the CEO.

You had to huff quietly as he pulled the chair next to you, oddly sharing with you the head of that meeting room table. Except for a glance and polite smile, you didn’t give him any more of your attention. It was unsettling enough if your boss would accompany you to every meeting as if to assess your worth, but the fact that he was so close, with big brown eyes trained on you while his scent made your head spin… It made it a thousand times harder.

Still, you braved through the meeting, expecting things to go well because that was your element. What you didn’t count on were his interruptions.

“I’m certain we don’t need to renegotiate the time window; they will surely accept it.”

“Have we established concrete rules for the use of prototypes?”

“What about intellectual rights? As the manufacturer, shouldn’t we obtain the rights to all procedures that we optimize during development?”

Your expression softened, “According to agreement stipulations, by signing, we commit to safely keep their intellectual property, which includes all manufacturing processes. If these are optimized, they will be added to the patent. We will, of course, negotiate appropriate compensation should that happen, including access to prototypes and benefits should the production cost or time be reduced.”

The room was quiet after you spoke, but you had forgotten about them. Instead, your eyes were fixed on the CEO’s. Very round and very big, almost sparkling at you, entirely taken by what you had said. His gaze was curious, intense and interested, so you couldn’t be mad about his disruptions.

Still, you sighed. He was distracting.

“Let’s proceed to the financial section,” you asked, waving at the appropriate head of the department to speak up. 

The CEO tapped his tablet to jump to the appropriate page of the document, clearing his throat, and you subtly leaned to whisper into his ear, “Focus.”

Your eyes met when you pulled back, and it was like the record changed. If his questions seemed chaotic and somewhat disconnected before, now they were spot on. From one meeting to the other, including with the American company representatives, every comment was precise, demonstrating flawlessly why the Jeon conglomerate was unavoidable in the South Korean industry.

You were secretly impressed, though you expected nothing less. Perhaps the way you had managed to work together so seamlessly in front of the American company representatives was surprising, but you imagined that a pro like him could make it work with anyone. He wasn’t nicknamed good at everything for nothing.

You assumed he was pleased, too, when the video call ended, and he leaned back into his chair, laughing quietly. His glee made you smile as you gathered your things and closed your laptop, observing everyone else in the room calling it a day while you wondered if Mr Seung would take you home. It was silly of you, but with everything that happened, you didn’t even memorize the address—

“That was so smooth. I think we floored them,” he grinned, getting up to his feet as though he was even more energized than before.

You chuckled and nodded, putting your laptop in your bag. Maybe that was so, but you were ready to go home.

“Have dinner with me.”

You stopped shy of closing the bag and looked at him instantly, batting your eyelashes with all your befuddlement.

“We have to celebrate,” he continued, and his grin reemerged as though he couldn’t contain it.

“They haven’t signed it yet,” you were quiet, instinctively reasoning with him despite not even being able to fully think right now.

He chuckled, “But they will, no doubt. I’m sure we will have a response by tomorrow and a verbal agreement shortly after.”

You nodded and looked down, unable to stop the way your body reacted. He was taller than you, broad, all-encompassing, and smelled strong, sweet...dizzying. There were two sides to that moment: who he was — so destabilizing, you thought there was no avoiding it — and what he was saying — so professional, when you wanted to forget all about it.

Fortunately, in your hazed mind, the latter won. “We’ll wrap up sooner, and I’ll get to return to Busan faster, then.”

Your entranced eyes captured the way his jaw hardened easily. His eyes sparked differently, with a look to them that caused a tingle to go down your spine, but he nodded, “Indeed. So dinner tonight.”

His tone implied you were just giving him more reasons to insist, and the corners of your lips twitched mischievously. Maybe you were; it was hard to resist.

“CEO Jeon?”

You stiffened like you had just been caught stealing candy and didn’t bother to look. You forced the zipper closed and grabbed your bag, purposefully pushing what Sunhwa was telling the CEO to fade with the background noise. Whatever it was, maybe it was a good thing — you needed distance to think, too.

You bowed to both on your way out and didn’t mean to spare a glance, but his voice beckoned you to look back, “Mr Seung is in the parking lot, please go with him.”

You nodded, meaning to appease the worry in his voice and eyes, and melted when you succeeded. His features instantly returned to a confident, dazzling smile before turning to Sunhwa about whatever work-related issue she was referring to, and you had to swallow. You shouldn’t be so attuned to how he felt; it didn’t make any sense. Still, as you made your way to his apartment with his driver, all you could think was that you never officially accepted his invitation.

Jungkook nodded after Mr Seung confirmed that he had dropped you off safely at the apartment, where you had stayed for the last three hours. You hadn’t requested to go anywhere in particular, and arrangements had been made for dinner, so he could relax.

He sighed as he closed his eyes and let the purr of the car lull him. He knew it would be an interesting day, but not even his wildest dreams could have prepared him for it.

First, arriving home the night before to the faint trace of your sweet jasmine scent absolutely threw him off. The whole night he had to keep himself in check; no, he couldn’t follow your delicate perfume to your bed, touch you, or claim you. You probably didn’t trust him after the way you ended up there, and he wasn’t a creep. He could reign in his primal urge and leave the decision up to you. He could show you that being next to him was fate, as intrinsically inescapable as the Earth and Moon orbiting each other. You’d realize that soon enough and ask him to touch you instead.

He could barely sleep, so his second move was to leave the apartment as soon as humanly possible. He needed to review everything about the projects you were working on, plus get his work out of the way so he could attend every meeting of yours and watch you in your element.

Jungkook was frankly impressed; you were like a fish in water, navigating every topic and hurdle effortlessly. He wasn’t sure you noticed how everyone quieted down to listen to you and obliged and interacted every time you requested it, but it was a wonder to see. If he hadn’t smelled your designation, he would have wondered what kind of woman conducted such ease and readiness.

Unfortunately, you were also incredibly distracting. Not only was he probably not of use to you in your work, but he was also falling behind in the slightest with his duties. Sunhwa kept reminding him, of course, and he appreciated it, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about anything else.

Which made him wonder if you’d be a liability and not an asset if you stayed. However, that was a fleeting thought because as soon as it emerged, it evaporated when you whispered into his ear, “Focus.”

The whiff of your scent hit him so hard he had to close his eyes so no one would see them rolling back. Then he faced you, and your gaze did something to him. It was strong and encouraging, and he was set. Suddenly, he could focus. His mind was clear and everything just worked.

It was incredible, inebriating; better than hitting the jackpot, it was like you were his focus token that increased his abilities by two hundred percent. So inviting you to dinner was as easy as breathing. You mentioning Busan again almost ruined his mood, but then you obliged with big, starry eyes when he asked you to drive with Mr Seung in the exact spot he was in now, going home to you, and he couldn’t help the widest grin. He hadn’t lost you, not yet.

He knew it was late, and he wouldn’t dream of keeping you starving while waiting for him. Your shoes and handbag were by the entrance, so he knew you were inside. There was noise from the kitchen, though that couldn’t be you, so he jumped on the couch and heaved a deep breath, closing his eyes. He loved the sweet scent that lingered around the house because of you; it instantly relaxed him but also gave him a push. Maybe he should check on you—

He heard steps down the stairs at the same time his personal chef exited the kitchen to inform him dinner was ready and on the table.

“Would you like me to stay and serve?”

Jungkook dismissed the chef swiftly and quietly, acknowledging their head bow just in time to turn to you. His hand was on the noose of his tie, instantly loosening it as his mouth watered. He was starving, but it wasn’t food on his mind as he ate up the view.

You were wearing something quite professional — black dress pants with a silk blouse that was a hint of blue. He would have thought you too formal if it weren’t for your bare feet stepping quietly on the wood floor, along with your still-humid hair falling in waves over your shoulders and chest. But like this, he could only smile at you entering the living room and imagine you jumping into his arms to welcome him home after a long day. Then, what you wore wouldn’t matter, not because he’d be free to undress you, but because with your touch, everything would feel whole.

You bowed politely to the chef, watching them go, and it gave Jungkook a moment of clarity: what he felt was beyond simple interest. It wasn’t fascination or attraction, it was everything combined. He didn’t think it was possible; a skeptical part of him still insisted it wasn’t.

But then you opened your mouth and changed the very axis upon which his world spun. “Good evening.”

He could only smirk; the simplest words could escape your lips, and he’d drink them like they were gospel, “Good evening.”

Your astute eyes observed him, and it was like lying down at the beach under the warm sunlight, “Was there a problem at the office?”

He tilted his head, “I needed to finish up some things. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Your lips twitched as you nodded, “It’s not a problem. In fact, I realized I never accepted your invitation, so I wasn’t sure if it still stood.”

He smirked, “It does, and it looks like you accepted.”

His arms stretched over the back of the couch, and you had to consciously keep your feet from taking you to him. It wasn’t an invitation, no matter how inviting it seemed.

“I thought it was wise to be ready,” you informed, taking a few steps to the side, unable to stay still.

“To have dinner with me?”

“To celebrate,” you corrected, trying to resist his smirk by keeping your expression as neutral as possible.

“By yourself?”

His eyebrow quirked, daring, and you finally smiled, “I was told there is a residence lounge. Thought I could get a drink there, and who knows who could join me.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, and he laughed openly, “You’re right.” He got up, loosening his tie completely and throwing it on the couch. It was enough to tense your back, dissipating your smile as you observed him taking off his suit coat and leaving it next to the tie. “I should have started by offering a drink. Is wine okay?”

Blood spread to your cheeks, but he didn’t notice as he turned around to enter the dining room. It gave you a moment to breathe. “If it’s red. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave.”

His laughter was music to your ears as you followed him, only to confirm that the person leaving was wearing a white chef coat for good reason. The glass dining table was set for two, at the head and the place to its right, and in between, an assortment of dishes released a delicious warm scent. From meat to shrimp, noodles to rice, boiled, fermented or fried, it seemed the chef had decided to leave you with a big variety just so you could have anything you possibly wanted.

Your eyes turned to him, his back facing you as he got a red wine bottle from the wine cooler. “This is incredible,” you voiced, unafraid of sounding too easily impressed. That table with the panoramic view and the incredible lighting showing his gleeful smile would easily shake anyone.

“I’m happy you like it.”

“Do you always have dinner like this?”

He placed the bottle on the table, twisting the corkscrew to get it open, “No, not at all. I asked for something special tonight.”

You heard the pop of the cork coming off, but that wasn’t why your heart skipped a beat. He reached for a wine glass on the table, poured a line of wine, then swirled it and took a soft sniff, smiling ecstatically after.

He raised the glass to you, and you stepped forward to accept it, entranced. You took a whiff, too, and the sweet, dark fruit aromas made your eyelashes flutter. You detected the blackberries and plums, and surely a trace of cloves.

Your reaction was enough for him to nod and pour a glass for himself. His shifting attention allowed you to swallow and ask, “Was this what you had in mind?”

He smirked, then turned to you, and your heart flipped again. He had shortened the distance between you and cupped your hand around the glass to tilt it forward towards his chest. The wine glugs, filling your glass, were but an afterthought as you looked at him, his eyes so close you could see stars.

“Absolutely,” he said quietly, yet you heard him so clearly. His expression was likely as serious as yours, mirroring the same tension as he took the bottle away. “This was exactly what I had in mind.”

The sound of the bottle being placed on the table didn’t rattle you; nothing was louder than your racing heart. His hand left yours, and although you could see the reluctance, you bit your inner lip to stay quiet. Being that close didn’t mean just having your breath stolen by his sparkly eyes or unique beauty marks; it also meant seeing how red his eyes were.

“I see… but if you're too tired, we can take a rain check.”

You were certain your worry was easily heard in your voice, yet he shook his head with a returning wide smile and raised his glass between you, “Not a chance.”

Your lips twitched, but you nodded and raised your glass to clink his, bringing it to your lips as he did the same. The velvety taste matched its aroma perfectly, but you weren’t paying attention. His eyes were locked with yours as though that tension was unbreakable, and you realized you didn’t know what you were celebrating. He didn’t specify the toast, and somehow, you knew work had stayed in the office tonight.

When you put the glass down, you weren’t sure you were dizzy with the alcohol or the moment, but your cheeks were hot. You ignored it, just to keep staring into the stars in his eyes, when a stomach growl cut the silence.

You looked down at his stomach, covered by a black button shirt, then up, “Woah, that was powerful.”

He smirked and rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry, I’m starving. Let’s dig in.” He waved at you to sit by his side, “Please, go ahead. Take anything you’d like.” 

He held back, even as you took your time to observe the table and take your pick. He adjusted himself on the chair, but it was surprisingly easy to let you start first. It was just right.

“I wanted to have samgyeopsal,” he confessed, smiling sheepishly. “But we’d have to go to a real barbecue for that and—”

Your eyes widened with a spark, a small gasp jerking your shoulders as you reached for a bowl, “Not a problem.”

He raised an eyebrow at your sudden interest, then chuckled, “Do you like japchae that much?”

“My absolute favorite,” you nodded, filling your plate with utmost focus.

“Alright, I’ll make it for you a lot.”

You had started eating but stopped stuffing your face with the delicious noodles, raising your eyebrows at him instead while he served himself. “You can cook?”

He chuckled, “I love cooking. I’d be showing off my skills right now, but I’m more interested in talking to you.” The butterflies in your stomach twirled around as you stared up at him. He only chuckled, “But now I know. Let’s see, what else? What about makguksu? I have an awesome recipe as well.”

It was easy to eat while you discussed food, especially if it was a chance to quiz him and confirm he knew what he was talking about. He did, and you overlooked his initial promise to cook for you in exchange for a normal, healthy culinary debate.

But neither of you wanted to eat or talk about food all night. He ate a lot, you noticed, and by the end, every dish was done. The red bottle was empty too, so it was the perfect moment to get up.

“I’ll grab another one,” he said, waving at the couch while he headed to the wine cooler. It could have been your chance to say goodnight, but you didn’t want to. “Why do you only drink red?” He asked loudly, and you turned to look over your shoulder at him. “Can't it be Lambrusco?”

You chuckled and sat on the couch, “Lambrusco is a red, and it's delicious. Bring it on!”

The sound of the bottle being dragged out of the cooler, placed on the glass dining table, and popped open made your skin tingle pleasurably. It could be his proximity messing with your nerves, or the alcohol. A cautious part of you thought it was best to call it a night, but the bottle was already open, and he was already extending a new glass to you.

You clinked glasses in silence again once he sat down, and this time, you didn’t bother wondering about the occasion.

“Why not white?”

He mused after the sweetness made him click his tongue, and you sighed with a second sip, “Too acidic for me.”

“Noted,” he nodded, his features serious. “I'll get rid of all whites to make space for more Lambrusco.”

You laughed, “Why would you refine your stock based on my taste?”

He laughed with you, then bit his lip. You smiled as you took another sip, and you looked so happy, simply enjoying yourself, that his priorities shifted. “I like learning more about you.”

“You do?”

You sounded surprised, but he didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Well, I haven't learned as much about you,” you scrunched your nose, choosing to take things lightly, and he chuckled.

“I'm sure you already know a lot.”

You tried not to scoff, “I don’t. You think because you’re the CEO, I would know your taste in wine?” Your tone only made him laugh more, leaning back into a pillow that had his abandoned suit coat before he faced you again. “Do you even like reds?”

“Oh yeah, but I prefer beer. Oh, and whiskey.”

“So we know our next drink…”

You hid behind the glass and he smirked, “Good idea. I'll make my specialty cocktail. Only close friends know about it, so know you'll taste something exclusive.”

“Really? I’m flattered; who knew I’d get to know the CEO so well.”

The corner of your mouth raised with mischief as you emptied your glass, and instantly, he was refilling it with a slightly raised eyebrow, “You can call me Jungkook.”

His dark eyes, as he instructed you, released a current down your spine that spread warmth in every direction. There was no way that calling your boss by his first name was a good idea, but you had stopped playing it safe a few glasses ago.

“Is there more to learn about you, Jungkook?” His name on your tongue drew his eyes to your mouth, conveniently about to take another sip. You reveled in the sweetness and tension of that moment, hopefully as much as him. “Something no one else knows.”

His teeth bit into his lower lip to stop a grin, and he nodded, “Certainly.” He placed the glass down on the coffee table and you swallowed. “There’s a lot to find out.”

He unfastened his cuff links, casually folding and pulling the sleeves of his black button shirt to his elbow, and you gasped.

You leaned forward with your free hand, “You have a sleeve?”

He grinned slyly, extending his right arm for you to touch more easily, “I do.”

He was quiet while you explored every tattoo line, from the clock to the letters, stopping to wonder at the tiger lily in bright tones of orange. “Incredible,” you muttered, dragging your finger easily. You were so focused that you missed the goosebumps forming under your touch. He let you turn his arm and even pull the sleeve a bit further up, where you noticed more lines and figures ready to show. You were so insistent you pouted when the fabric got so tight around his bicep it refused to rake further up to his shoulder. 

His chuckle drew your attention, “I can take it off if you’d like to see the rest.”

Your hands withdrew instantly, fingers rubbing on each other needily. Your eyes caught the absence of any other article of clothing underneath his shirt, and you swallowed down your heated longing. “No, I— Of course not.” 

You didn’t bother saying it was inappropriate; you fell back on your side of the couch. Your throat seemed to have blocked, so you cleared it. There was a line you shouldn’t cross, but you also didn’t want to stop whatever you two were doing.

“I don’t have tattoos,” you started, pulling your blouse sleeve. “But I do have this birthmark.”

His eyes followed your fingers, then he grabbed your arm delicately to trace it with his fingers. Your forearm erupted in goosebumps, electrified by his caress, attention, and warmth. It was almost overwhelming, and you had to swallow thickly to keep silent.

“It looks like a butterfly,” he mused, concentrating, and you nodded.

“My mother calls me that.”

He whispered something under his breath, then shifted in his seat, “Look.” 

He brought his forearm next to yours, and you realized what he meant: your birthmark was parallel to his tiger lily. Superposed, your butterfly would find its home in him. It made you shudder from head to toe.

“What ties you to Busan?” His question broke the spell despite his caresses to your arm. You frowned, trying to catch his line of thought. “Friends? Family?”

The Lambrusco swirled a little inside his glass, revealing a short tremble, and your eyes stayed low on his lily, “My mother, mostly. She doesn’t live in Busan, but in a village not too far away.”

Your apprehension was palpable, so you weren’t surprised when he brushed the back of his fingers in a feather-like touch on your forearm, “I understand if it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

Whether because of his soft touch or warm eyes, you instantly shook your head, “Not uncomfortable, just… I don’t really talk about her. Or my family. She doesn’t like it and—”

Your brow furrowed, and he was ready to reassure you, but you decided to say it.

“And nobody would understand, but maybe you would,” you pushed out, looking into his eyes. Your mom would chastise you for this decision, but it was yours nonetheless. You just felt so alone in all this. “Our family made sacrifices to be eradicated from the registry, and for generations, we’ve been hiding so we wouldn’t be detected.”

He nodded gravely, lowering his eyes to his fingers still touching your milky skin.

“You’re probably the last person I should tell this to,” you chuckled. “But even though times should be different, I was never certain where to draw the line between potential paranoia and it just being like she described. Unfortunately, recent events have made me conclude she was not wrong in wanting us to be cautious.”

“Wait, there’s—” He pressed his lips before he sorted his words, looking at you intently, “There’s something to be said about your mother’s fears and the outdated methods the Family uses to search for omegas. They should know it’s criminal, but it’s how my grandfather found my grandmother, so I suppose that’s why they insist on it.”

“He kidnapped her too?”

“No—” He almost choked. “Hunters found her and brought her to him. They were mates and inseparable.”

“You met her?” 

Your tone was almost anxious, and he smiled with a nod, “The only omega I’ve ever met other than you.” His expression showed fondness, “Grandpa was crazy about her and everyone loved her. She had this… aura to her. I was instantly calm. I was… a bit of a reckless and loud kid, but she never got angry at me. She would just put me on her lap and ask me what happened, and soon after, she was tickling me while I told her all about my adventures.”

You leaned on your side into the couch back, “Adventures, huh?”

It wasn’t hard to imagine, especially when he smirked mischievously, “My knees wouldn't have gotten bruised if I hadn't chased a pirate up a tree.”

“A pirate?”

Your eyebrows jumped, and you both laughed quietly. You were glad to be at ease, folding a leg under you.

“What an exciting childhood you had.”

“What about yours?”

You pursed your lips, “It was just me and my mother. My dad died in a car accident when I was a kid, and my grandma had dementia and died not too long after.”

His eyes softened, “That must have been hard.”

“It was the most on my mom.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“It must have affected you,” his voice quieted, and you noticed his thumb never stopped brushing your pulse point, soothing you for a while now.

“I grew up fast,” you shrugged, casually letting his touch continue. “It was hard because my mother was paranoid about us being caught, but I was raised around humans, unsure if her stories were true and if I should really just… stay hidden in that village or do something with myself.” He nodded, and you admitted, “That’s why hearing from others that my fate isn’t to be used as a tool, abused, or anything like that is…”

“No,” he pressed his thumb to your wrist, and it seemed to you it was to placate his own anxiety this time. “I promise you, that is not— I would never do that.” 

His voice was firm, but something in your eyes must have given you away. You didn’t want to believe he was lying, but it wasn’t in his best interest to tell you the truth.

“My grandma always said a mate’s love was the foundation of our family and that I shouldn’t give up, even if my father never found her.” His eyes lowered once more to your arm before he faced you, “I grew up with them, seeing what a mate’s bond looks like. I would never hurt an omega, even if she wasn’t my mate.”

“But there are those who would.”

“Maybe once upon a time, but I swear things are different now. It was their mistreatment that led to their extinction. Well, alleged,” he corrected, eying you meaningfully. “The Families had to turn to betas, which was seen mostly as a catastrophe a couple of generations back.”

“Why?”

“It affected the strength of their blood, lines started dying and alpha numbers dwindled too. The egoistical views and attitudes of a few generations almost cost us everything.”

“So shouldn’t the way omegas were treated be the real catastrophe?”

Your tone was rough around the edges, but his eyes remained soft, “Worse than a catastrophe, an atrocity. It hurt so many for so many generations.”

His tone was apologetic as he looked at you, but it didn’t soothe you. Not even his touch on your wrist did. “If you recognize the problem, then you should be the first one to set an example. You acknowledge it was an atrocity, but you still send hunters to kidnap omegas instead of searching for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

He actually looked lost, so you clarified, “If you don’t want to give up like your grandmother suggested, then maybe you should go down to Busan and search for yourself. Meet people.”

His eyebrows jumped, then he shook his head with an embarrassed smile, “I… never considered it.”

“Imagine if you had.”

Your chest warmed with his gaze on yours. You didn’t know why you were admonishing him for not visiting sooner, borderline implying you would have met differently, just like his grandmother had hoped. The past couldn’t be changed, and nothing would happen regardless.

You cleared your throat, “Anyway, it's annoying that your secretary keeps calling me fake.”

He huffed, letting his head fall on the back of the couch as though it tired him too.

“I never wanted to be recognized or seen as just my designation, but it is who I am, so she's pissing me off.”

You sneered at the ridiculousness of the situation, and he nodded, “It's because she never met anyone like you… I don't think she's able to really smell it. She's not as sensitive as us. But you don't have to worry about her. I'll handle things with her.”

You took the glass to your mouth, musing over it quietly. “Well, she works for you… and I won't stay long anyway.”

He was drinking when you spoke, his jaw becoming the slightest bit sharper under the light. His thumb still rubbed your pulse point soothingly.

“Actually… I have a question if you don’t mind.”

You pressed your lips sheepishly, and he almost choked in his hurry to nod.

“What do I smell like?” Your eyebrows framed your curious, big eyes, and his lips parted in wonder. “I've asked my mom, but she only tells me I'm sweet. I've never met anyone else I could ask.”

He blinked away his shock, straightening instantly to lean in a bit closer to you. Not that he needed to; effectively, he could pinpoint every trace and note of your unique aroma. But when you let your head fall back the slightest to expose your neck, he couldn’t be stopped. It was the sweetest invitation, baring your neck to him so he could take you in up close and personal.

He almost growled, something so deep inside him stirring he had to grip the glass and keep himself from grabbing your wrist or pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He was certain you’d taste and feel as endlessly delicate as your scent, but he knew the limits. Even if he thought of you as his, it had to come from you. If anything came out of getting to know you, it was that waiting was the only option he had if he ever wanted to welcome his mate by his side. 

So he groaned silently and pulled back; he might not have met you in the right circumstances, but he wasn’t about to fuck this up.

“She’s right, you smell sweet,” he rasped, looking into your beautiful eyes again, so close he could see the black dots hiding among the lights. “Like jasmines — sweet, deep, and fond. And me?” He saw you swallow, but he couldn’t resist, “What do I smell like?”

“I’m sure you know,” you tried, though you didn’t move.

He shook his head, “What do I smell like to you?”

You looked down at his neck with a hint of uneasiness, but his soothing touch calmed you enough to go forward. You leaned into the crook of his neck, so close you felt his body warmth emanating. One deep breath, though, and you almost whimpered. Your free hand gripped his arm as your whole body warmed and thrummed with the heady scent.

“Strong,” you whispered, noticing a moment later his neck was covered in goosebumps. “Earthy.” You couldn’t resist nuzzling his skin the slightest, raising it up his neck until you met his jaw. “Spicy, something so alluring I just…”

You nuzzled his cheek and he turned to face you, with lips so close to yours, his warm breath lulled your eyes closed. You were certain his lips would touch yours, releasing all that tension into a burst that would raze your senses.

But the sounds of a keypad being pressed made you instinctively pull back, and you were happy you did because in mere seconds it was as though the rug was being pulled from under your feet.

The front door burst open, and you jumped to your feet, frightened. Jungkook stood up, too, trying to regain the touch that had been severed in the motion, but it was too late. You both had to face the woman storming inside the apartment, with eyes so wide, and nostrils so wide in fury, it confused you more than anything.

“What the hell?!”

Sunhwa’s outrage wasn’t missed on you, but all you could do was frown, stupefied.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook’s tone was cold, and you weren’t certain if that was the right reaction. Shouldn’t he be pissed that his secretary just stormed into his apartment late at night?

“What am I doing? What are you doing?!”

His eyes hardened as though her question didn’t merit a reply, and she threw the folders in her hand on the coffee table.

“I wanted to update you on the ASICS deal and thought you probably wouldn’t have eaten yet, so I called Chef Jae, and they told me they had prepared the special dinner you asked for!”

You glanced at him, even more confused than before, and his reply came quiet, “You should know better than to just barge in here.”

“You weren’t picking up the phone!”

Her screeches were starting to give you a headache, “Alright, listen. It’s past eleven in the evening, surely there’s nothing that can justify causing a scene like this.”

Her laugh was a shriek, “You have some gall to tell me I can’t cause a scene, huh?! First, you try to seduce him by falsely claiming to be an omega—”

“I am!”

“— and now you’ve invited yourself into his apartment! Do you really have no shame? I won’t stand for this!”

Your eyebrows jumped in pure disbelief, “And who are you to care what an adult man does in his apartment?”

She stomped her foot, fuming as she glared, “I’m his fiancé!”

Your stomach dropped, spreading such coldness through your guts, you froze.

In years of law, despite dealing with senseless clients at times, you had never lost your composure or words, but today was the day. Her words, that scene, and the deceit underlying that whole night gutted you, so you were speechless.

“You don't know what you're saying.”

His tone was firm, but one glance told you he was seething. Your first instinct was to resent him; he should be apologizing, not angry that his fiancé ruined the ruse.

Sunhwa crossed her arms with a laugh, “Oh, so I'm suddenly not?”

“We have a contract.”

“Precisely!”

Her clapback was triumphant, and you stiffened even further.

“This is not what you think,” he said, having turned to you.

You looked at him slowly, but Sunhwa was already stepping closer between you, “This is exactly what you think! He's promised to me! How dare you come in here and try to seduce him with your false claims and—!”

“Enough!”

His roar effectively silenced her, making even the glass in your hand reverberate. It forced you to look away and realize you had no business standing there.

You put the glass on the coffee table, “I see you have things to discuss, so I'll leave you to it.”

You ignored the smothering silence surrounding you and headed up the stairs. 

That silence was dearly missed when the last concrete thing you heard was Sunhwa freaking out, “She's sleeping here?!”

You closed the bedroom door and weighed your options, but then ended up locking the door and hiding with your face into your pillow. You had drunk too much, and it was too late to wander off in the middle of Seoul. For now, you’d just have to stay.

[goldfades]

thanksgiving | JOE BURROW [009]

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.6k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | your first thanksgiving with hayes!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | domestic!joe + family. playful arguing, joe being the husband-est hubby ever, one cup of wine, nothing else! just a sweet, thanksgiving fic for the series!

The drive to the Burrow family home was picturesque in that cozy, Midwestern kind of way—all open fields, wooden fences, and the occasional rusty mailbox at the end of a long gravel drive. The trees lining the road were just barely clinging to the last of their autumnal colors, leaves blowing in the cool November breeze and scattering across the asphalt like a final hurrah before winter set in.

You weren’t sure why you were nervous. It wasn’t like this was your first Thanksgiving with Joe’s family. Far from it. But something about this year felt different—maybe it was the fact that Hayes was here now, his first big family holiday, and you wanted everything to be perfect.

"You’re quiet," Joe remarked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the console between you.

You glanced over, snapping out of your thoughts. "Just thinking," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

He gave you a sideways look, the corners of his mouth quirking up. "About what? How Jamie’s gonna try to give me shit the second we walk in the door?"

You laughed, because he was right. Jamie Burrow was the king of light-hearted roasts, and you knew Joe was gearing up for it. But you shrugged in response, keeping your act casual. "Maybe. Or about how your mom is gonna sneak Hayes away and spoil him with who knows how much pie before dinner."

"Definitely pie," Joe agreed with a chuckle. His smile made your chest warm, even though the nerves were still lingering.

Hayes was making little coos from his car seat in the back, and you turned to check on him. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the heater, and he was clutching his favorite stuffed bear in one hand while kicking his feet. It was hard to believe that this little human was yours—yours and Joe’s.

"He’s ready for all the attention," you said, more to yourself than to Joe, but he heard you.

"Good. They’ve been talking about seeing him for weeks," he replied. "I think my mom’s got a whole picture board made up just from the five photos I sent her."

"Robin would," you said with a smile, your shoulders relaxing a little. The Burrow family had a way of doing that—making you feel like you belonged, like you were just as much a part of them as Joe was. It was one of the many things you loved about them.

As the car slowed down to turn into the long driveway, you sat up a little straighter, taking in the sight of the house. It looked exactly the same as it always did—a warm, welcoming mix of red brick and wood, with a wide front porch that was already decorated with pumpkins and a “Gather” sign leaning next to the door.

"Here we go," Joe said, putting the car in park and flashing you a reassuring smile.

You took a deep breath, your hands fidgeting with the straps of your bag. "Here we go," you repeated, and even though you still felt a little nervous, you couldn’t help but smile as you opened the door.

Joe was already climbing out of the driver’s seat, opening the back door to unbuckle Hayes. You stood there for a moment, watching the way his broad frame seemed to soften as he scooped up your son, cradling him with a gentleness that never failed to make your heart skip.

"Alright, buddy," Joe murmured to Hayes, who blinked sleepily at him. "Time to meet the chaos."

You grabbed the diaper bag from the backseat and slung it over your shoulder, walking up to meet them as Joe waited for you. The two of you exchanged a quick look, a little smile passing between you like an unspoken promise: whatever the day held, you’d tackle it together.

The crunch of gravel under your boots was loud in the stillness of the late November morning. Joe walked a step ahead of you, Hayes nestled snugly against his chest in his thick little jacket, looking adorably rumpled from the car ride. The baby let out a soft coo, still half-asleep, and Joe’s hand instinctively rubbed gentle circles on his back, soothing him like it was second nature.

The air was cold but not biting, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and dried leaves. A light breeze tugged at your scarf, and you pulled it tighter around your neck as you glanced up at the Burrows’ house. There were already signs of life inside—the flicker of movement behind the curtains, the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen. A plume of smoke curled lazily from the chimney, promising warmth and something delicious cooking inside.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached the steps. Robin had clearly been busy, her festive touch everywhere. The pumpkins on the porch were arranged in perfect, symmetrical groups, with a few gourds tossed in for good measure. The handmade wreath on the door was adorned with tiny pinecones, sprigs of holly, and a big orange bow that somehow managed to look charming instead of tacky. A set of hay bales sat off to the side, topped with more pumpkins and a scarecrow that was a little worse for wear after years of use.

"You think they went all out just for Hayes?" you asked, half-teasing as you nudged Joe with your shoulder.

Joe glanced back at you, his lips quirking up into a smirk. "Probably. He’s already their favorite."

"Not hard to believe," you said, tilting your head toward Hayes, who was now fully awake and blinking up at Joe with wide, curious eyes.

Joe stopped at the front door, shifting Hayes so he was perched comfortably on one arm while he knocked lightly with the other. The sound barely had time to echo before the door flew open, and Robin’s face appeared, flushed and glowing with excitement.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she immediately zeroed in on Hayes. "Oh, give him to me. Come here, my sweet boy!"

Joe chuckled, handing Hayes over with a kind of resigned fondness. "Barely even a ‘hello’ for me, huh?"

Robin waved him off, already cooing at Hayes, who rewarded her with a gummy smile. "You I can see anytime. This little one, though—look at him! He’s gotten so big!"

You laughed as Robin disappeared further into the house, bouncing Hayes gently and muttering about how he looked just like his daddy. Joe sighed but smiled, holding the door open for you as you stepped inside.

The warmth of the house hit you immediately, along with the unmistakable smell of Thanksgiving—roasting turkey, spiced apple cider, and the faintly sweet aroma of whatever pie Robin had undoubtedly baked that morning. The living room was cozy and inviting, with a fire crackling in the stone fireplace and a few throw blankets draped over the couch.

"Mom, don’t hog him," came a voice from the kitchen, and a second later, Jamie appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. His face split into a grin when he saw you. "Hey! There’s my favorite sister-in-law."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as Jamie pulled you into a quick, one-armed hug.

"Favorite by default," you teased.

"Still counts," Jamie shot back before turning his attention to Joe. "What took you so long? You get lost?"

Joe shrugged, unbothered as he dropped the diaper bag by the couch. "Traffic."

Jamie snorted. "Sure. Anyway, Dan’s in the kitchen pretending he knows how to cook. You should go make sure he doesn’t burn the gravy again."

Joe raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, patting your back lightly before heading toward the kitchen. That left you standing in the living room with Jamie, who was now peering over Robin’s shoulder at Hayes.

"Man," Jamie said, shaking his head in mock awe, "he really does look like Joe. Poor kid."

"Watch it," you said, swatting his arm lightly, though you were smiling.

Robin just rolled her eyes. "You boys always have something to say. Ignore them, sweetheart," she added, planting a kiss on Hayes’s cheek. "You’re perfect, aren’t you?"

Hayes gurgled happily in response, and you felt a swell of gratitude as you watched the scene unfold. It was moments like this that made all the chaos and exhaustion of parenting worthwhile.

"Alright," Jamie said, clapping his hands together. "Who’s ready to eat too much and regret it later?"

You laughed, shaking your head as Robin led the way toward the kitchen, still doting on Hayes. You lingered for a moment, soaking in the warmth and the laughter, feeling, for the first time in a while, like you could actually relax.

The warmth of the house felt almost like a physical thing, wrapping around you in layers of comfort and familiarity. You sat curled up on the armchair in the corner of the living room, legs tucked beneath you, holding a glass of wine that was just the right balance of fruity and rich. The first sip had melted the tension in your shoulders, and now, halfway through the glass, you felt completely at ease.

Across the room, Joe was sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over the back as he laughed at something Jamie said. Dan was perched on the other side, gesturing animatedly as he told some elaborate story about a coworker, complete with ridiculous voices and exaggerated facial expressions. Joe’s laugh came easily, a sound that always made you smile, deep and genuine, the kind of laugh he didn’t always let out when the weight of everything was on his shoulders. But here, with his brothers, he was relaxed, his guard down in a way that made you love him even more.

Robin bustled in and out of the room, keeping herself busy but always finding a way to linger near Hayes. The baby was content in Joe’s dad’s lap, looking up at his grandfather with wide, curious eyes as they played a gentle game of pat-a-cake. Hayes giggled at the clumsy movements of his grandfather’s hands, a soft, tinkling sound that had the whole room glancing over every few moments to smile. Robin kept stopping to coo at him, her face lighting up every time Hayes smiled back at her.

"You’re spoiling him already," you teased, setting your glass down on the side table.

Robin glanced over, not looking the least bit guilty. "That’s what grandmas are for, sweetheart. Besides, look at him! He’s an angel."

"Yeah, until bedtime," Joe muttered, earning a laugh from Dan.

"Don’t listen to your daddy," Robin said to Hayes in a sing-song voice, tickling his chubby cheek. "You’re perfect."

"Perfectly spoiled," Jamie chimed in from the couch.

"You’re one to talk," Robin shot back, narrowing her eyes at him. "I remember a certain little boy who used to demand two desserts at Thanksgiving."

"Still do," Jamie said with a grin, leaning back against the couch.

You laughed softly, watching the easy banter unfold around you. It was such a stark contrast to the usual chaos of your day-to-day life. The house felt alive but not overwhelming, full but not stifling. There was a rhythm to it, a comfort in the way everyone seemed to fall into their roles so seamlessly.

Joe caught your eye from across the room, his lips quirking into a small smile that made your heart flutter. He tilted his head slightly, silently asking if you were okay, and you gave him a reassuring nod.

"Hey," Dan said suddenly, sitting up straighter and looking between you and Joe. "You two never answered—who was Hayes’s first word gonna be for? Mom or Dad?"

You raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Isn’t it a little early for that? He’s barely babbling."

"It’s never too early to start betting," Dan said, leaning forward like he was ready to instigate. "I’m putting my money on Mom."

"Obviously," Jamie cut in. "Look at how much time Joe spends at practice. This one’s got all the one-on-one time with him." He gestured toward you with a smirk.

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," Joe said, though he didn’t sound the least bit offended.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and unrestrained. "I think we’re all underestimating Robin here," you said, nodding toward her. "If anyone’s going to win, it’s going to be Grandma."

Robin looked up, clearly pleased. "Now, that’s what I like to hear," she said, lifting Hayes into her arms. "Tell them, sweetheart. Your first word is going to be ‘Grandma,’ isn’t it?"

Hayes let out a happy squeal, and the room erupted into laughter.

"See?" Dan said, pointing. "The kid’s already choosing sides."

It was moments like these that felt so profoundly domestic, so deeply rooted in love and connection, that you couldn’t help but feel a pang of gratitude. This was what life was supposed to feel like, you thought. The laughter, the teasing, the small moments that weren’t flashy or grand but were filled with warmth and belonging.

As the conversation shifted to old family stories—Jamie reliving his disastrous high school football days, Dan reminding Joe of his most embarrassing childhood moment—you leaned back in your chair, letting the sound of their voices wash over you.

Joe’s laugh, Hayes’s soft coos, the crackling of the fire—it all blended together into something that felt sacred. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself fully relax, the wine warming you from the inside out as you soaked in the feeling of being surrounded by love.

It wasn’t long before the front door opened again, ushering in the kind of joyful chaos that only a late arrival of more family could bring. Dan’s wife, Emily, walked in first, balancing a casserole dish in one hand and wrangling their two kids with the other. Their little girl, Claire, darted into the house immediately, a whirlwind of energy as she flung herself into Robin’s arms, shouting, “Grandma!” Her younger brother, Ethan, clung shyly to Emily’s leg, his face half-buried in her coat, though his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

The house shifted in an instant, going from comfortably bustling to vibrantly alive. Jamie, who had been halfway through a story about Joe getting tackled during a backyard football game as a kid, was cut off mid-sentence by Claire’s shriek of delight when she spotted Hayes.

“Is that the baby?!” Claire exclaimed, rushing over to you so quickly you barely had time to laugh.

“Yes, this is Hayes,” you said, scooping him into your arms just as she reached you. “Want to say hi?”

Her eyes went wide as she nodded, standing on tiptoe to get a better look. “He’s so tiny!” she whispered, her voice full of awe. “Can I hold him?”

“Maybe in a little bit,” Emily said, swooping in to kiss Claire’s forehead before gently redirecting her. “Let’s give Auntie a little space first, okay?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Emily said to you warmly, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “You look amazing. I don’t know how you do it with a newborn.”

“Oh, I don’t,” you said with a laugh, glancing at Joe, who was now helping Ethan out of his coat. “It’s definitely a team effort.”

Joe glanced up at you, catching your eye with a soft smile, before looking down at Ethan and saying, “All right, buddy, what do you say we find a snack?”

Ethan nodded eagerly, finally warming up to the environment as Joe led him toward the kitchen, leaving you with a heart-melting view of your husband holding a tiny hand in his much larger one.

Robin, meanwhile, had taken Claire under her wing, walking her over to show her some toys she’d dug out of storage for the grandkids. Jamie and Dan were now animatedly talking over each other in the kitchen, their voices growing louder as they debated which team was better this season.

The dining table was already set for dinner, though the plates were still empty, and the smell of roasted turkey and fresh-baked rolls wafted through the air. The kids’ laughter mingled with the low hum of conversation, creating a symphony of family life that felt utterly perfect.

You leaned back against the armrest of the couch, Hayes nestled against your chest, his tiny fist curled into your sweater. The warmth of the moment settled over you like a blanket. For years, Thanksgiving had always been a holiday you loved, but this year, it felt entirely different.

This year, it wasn’t just about stepping into Joe’s family dynamic—it was about being part of it. Fully, completely.

Hayes stirred in your arms, letting out a tiny yawn, and you pressed a kiss to his soft cheek. The sounds of the house swirled around you: Jamie shouting at Dan about a botched play from years ago, Robin gently scolding Claire for nearly toppling a lamp, Joe’s deep laugh ringing out from the kitchen as he handed Ethan a cookie before dinner.

It was chaotic, yes, but it was also yours.

For the first time, you realized just how much your life had changed—and how much fuller it had become. You weren’t just visiting anymore. You were here, firmly planted in this family, and now you had your own little addition in Hayes to make it even more complete.

You took a deep breath, soaking in the moment, and when Joe reappeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft look on his face, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You good?” he asked quietly, nodding toward you and Hayes.

“Better than good,” you replied, your voice soft but full of meaning.

And as Joe crossed the room to press a kiss to the top of your head, the sounds of family and love filling the space around you, you couldn’t imagine life feeling any better than this.

As the remnants of Thanksgiving dinner were finally cleared away, the house slowly shifted into that post-meal lull, the kind that only happens after too much food and a full day of laughter. The dishes were stacked, the leftovers tucked neatly into the fridge, and the smell of pumpkin pie and cranberry lingered faintly in the air.

True to form, Joe and Jamie were in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and good-naturedly bickering over who was doing more work as they washed and dried dishes.

"You're just rinsing! That doesn't count as actual cleaning," Jamie quipped, flicking a soapy sponge at Joe, who dodged it easily, his laugh echoing through the house.

"I'm faster, though," Joe shot back, grinning. "If you were in charge, we'd still be on the first plate."

From your spot on the couch, you watched the exchange with a small smile, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in your chest. It was always like this—Robin ran the kitchen like clockwork, and the boys cleaned up after, bickering and laughing the whole way through. It was a system that worked, one steeped in years of tradition and familiarity, and now you were part of it.

Hayes had been fed and changed, and after a day full of passing from one adoring family member to another, he was finally fast asleep, his little cheek resting against Joe’s shoulder as he cradled him gently. Joe had scooped him up the moment he was done cleaning, murmuring something about "making sure he settles down" when in reality, you knew he just wanted to hold him a little longer.

The game was on in the background—a close one, judging by the animated way Dan and Jamie were arguing from their spots on the other side of the living room. Robin sat in her favorite chair, knitting something that looked suspiciously like a baby blanket while quietly enjoying the chaos. Claire was nestled beside her, yawning but refusing to go to bed just yet, her eyes glued to the game.

Joe finally sank down beside you, careful not to jostle Hayes, who let out a tiny sigh before burrowing further into his dad’s chest.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.

You nodded, your heart swelling as you took in the scene around you. “Yeah. This is... really nice.”

Joe smiled, his gaze flickering to the screen where the game was heating up. “It’s the perfect ending. Well, almost.”

“Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Almost. If Jamie would stop yelling about bad play calls, it’d be perfect,” he joked, his grin widening as Jamie shot him a glare from across the room.

The sounds of the game blended with the laughter, the clink of glasses, and the occasional hum of Robin’s knitting needles. It was perfectly chaotic, just as it had been all day, but now there was a softness to it, a sense of winding down and simply being.

Joe’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer as Hayes snuggled deeper into him. “I think this is my favorite Thanksgiving yet,” he murmured, his voice low and full of contentment.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the moment wash over you. There was nothing extraordinary about it—no grand gestures, no flashy celebrations—just family, love, and a feeling of belonging so deep it made your chest ache in the best way.

And as the night wore on, the game eventually fading to background noise, you thought about how lucky you were to call this your life, your family. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours, and it was more than enough.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[wwaheoh]

hehe, i know im probably not the first and definitely won't be the last to ask, but we need a part 3 of the rejected confession series!! whether its a happy ending of reader and the character getting together or just making up and staying friends (or forever parting ways) we need closure!! so when you think you are ready for it, could we possibly have a final part? :,)

“Reconciliation”, Zenless Zone Zero x gnReader

Von Lycaon, Anby Demara, Zhu Yuan

a/n: thank yall so much for the support! its meant so much! i hope everyone enjoys the "good ending" to the Unrequited Love series.

a/n²: also thanks to that one anonymous requester, loved your ideas and helped a bunch when writing! hope i did well in realizing it!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The day before heading to the scheduled meet, you were stressed out of your mind. Having made up your mind, you decided to go, whether it be for reconciliation or- no, you shouldn’t think so optimistically. Maybe this was just a way for them to berate you for ghosting them before cutting ties forever…

With that optimistic thought, you made your way back home, finally getting off the bench you’d been glued to with thought after the brief encounter with the shark-girl. Sorta embarrassing to be told to fix your relationship by a high school girl but at this point any push that didn’t get you deeper into becoming a shut-in was better than none.

Stepping into your home, you shut and locked the door behind you before heading to your room, beelining straight for the closet. Sliding it open, you began to look through the hanged clothing, contemplating what you should wear. Something cute? Something bold? Something that you’d think he’d like or something you felt comfortable in?

After several minutes of this, you finally picked out an outfit, now onto actually getting sleep. Setting the clothes onto a chair, you went to your bathroom and undressed, putting on sleepwear and throwing yourself onto the bed.

A wave of exhaustion passed through you, wow, you were a lot more tired than you thought…

///

The outing with you had been going well, Lycaon thought, today was a beautiful day, thankfully Rina was aiding Corin today so he had no worries about being forced to cut it short and attend to any accidents their junior was prone to.

Strolling by the pier of Lumina Square, water a sunset orange as thr Sun began to set into the horizon, you stopped walking, with him following, a sign of confusion on his face.

“Hey, Lycaon?” You spoke nervously, demeanor slightly shaking. Worry began to draw in, not outwardly showing it, not wanting to make you more nervous in speaking. Something that he usually did when with clients- unconsciously leading him to thinking of you as a client rather than his friend at the moment.

Then you confessed.

His mind stopped- cool breaking as the words spilled out of your mouth and into his ears. Forcing his tail to not wag, he was about to reply. Yet what came out of his mouth was not what he intended, having forced his brain into ‘work mode’ to protect himself from all the possibilities of what you might have said.

So instead of accepting your feelings, happily rejoicing and telling you that he returned them wholeheartedly. He… rejected you. The words tumbled out of his mouth, rushed, the professional tone he used with clients slipped in. As if he were a prisoner in his body.

The look you gave him immediately showed he screwed up. Unable to approach as you began to cry, not wanting to take back the words- not because he believed them, but because he believed you would think he was simply pitying you and throwing a bone.

“I’ll start the car up. It’s getting late.”

“I- it’s- hic- it’s f-fine. I’ll get home on m-my own.”

“I must insi-”

“I said it’s fine!”

His ears drooping, wild guilt painted on his face, internally berating himself for having somehow messed up the interaction of his dreams. He went back to his car, turning it on and beginning the drive back home.

Atleast, that’s what he led you to believe. Instead, he parked in a nearby alley before shadowing you- unwilling to not see you home.

The day after that, he texted you, yet you never responded. Days of being left on ‘Read’ became days of you not opening his text messages at all.

It had begun to get at him, his voice became colder than usual with clients, still professional but with more sharpness to it. The others noticed their boss acting like this, yet were unable to pry into the why. It was a shared silent agreement between them and their boss, a wall between their professional work and personal lives. He met with Master Phatheon a few times and even they noticed something was off with the butler.

One day Ellen overheard him murmuring, quickly figuring out who he was so hung up about and what had happened- with some aid from Miss Rina. Unbeknownst to Lycaon, she met up with you unexpectedly, getting you to meet with Lycaon at the cafe. With Rina “booking an appointment” with a client, for Lycaon to meet with at the very same time.

///

Stepping into the cafe, bell jingling behind you, looking around the cafe before finding the spot Ellen had directed you to, tilting her head to the farthest seat with her signature bored look and lollipop in mouth. Nodding gratefully, you made your way to the table and sat down. Nerves ablaze, you fixed your clothes, making sure nothing was out of place. Worries bubbled up in your mind, thoughts of what could go wrong swirling in the bubbling soup of anxiousness.

Silver fur snapped you out of your spiraling, the Therian that’d been on your mind now realized in front of you. He mirrored your expression of shock, not having thought to see you again, before he quickly closed the gap, holding you tightly.

“I am so sorry.” Breathless, he looked deep into your eyes, “I had not meant to say what I did. I do wish to be with you. If you’d have me.” Not a man to screw up an opportunity like this- especially after having messed up so badly, any and all grievances be damned- he would say his peace and lay his heart into your hands, to either hold or crush at your whim.

You returned his hold, tears welling up as the two of you embraced, hearts swelling with joy as his hard, fluffy body pressed tightly against you, finally together once more. Sobbing openly as finally, the two of you were together, this time as lovers.

It was a little awkward stepping out of the cafe, with some customers very obviously glancing at the two of you after your two very public reunion…

After Anby had run from your confession, she spent a lot of time rewatching movies. Romance and tragedy specifically, trying to find a solution to what has transpired. The rest of the Cunning Hares were confused about her seemingly out of nowhere interest in those genres, usually seeing her watch action or thrillers.

There was an aching in her heart, one she had originally attributed to the loss of a friend, yet it felt stronger, much stronger. As she watched more and more, she came across an animated film, one of a failed relationship, of how being apart makes the heart grow fonder, ending with the two getting together, stronger than before.

That’s what she wanted.

While originally she was true to herself, only wanting you as a friend, time revealed that she wanted more, especially after forcing herself to dodge into alleys after even a glimpse of your hair, oftentimes leading to odd looks from the Cunning Hares or Phaethon. She wanted to be closer to you, like how the protagonists in the films were.

Standing up, resolution in her heart and an apology on her tongue, she exited the door and began making her way to your abode, moonlight and street lamps lighting the way.

///

You couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t a one-off occurrence either. Thoughts powered by the late night struck harshly, leaving lasting impressions that made sleep impossible. Especially those of a particular silver-haired girl.

Sighing, you shook your head, as if to shake the thoughts physically out, getting up from your bed and heading to the kitchen. Opening up the refrigerator, you grabbed a cold pitcher of water and a cup from the cupboard, turning the pitcher and letting the cool liquid spill into the cup, only turning it back upright as it neared the top.

Putting the pitcher back into the fridge before closing it, you grabbed the cup and steadily began to drink from it. Refreshing, always helping whenever those thoughts arrive…

A notification from your phone rang out, having left it in your bedroom you began to make your way to said room, when a knock at the door stopped you. Nothing good ever came from someone at your door at near midnight.

Grabbing a nearby object- your hand finding the handle of a knife, you quietly made your way to the door. Looking through the peephole, you saw a familiar face that made your muscles freeze.

Anby, staring right back at you. In her usual getup, with the same mono-look, but a hint of anxiousness hidden in her eyes.

Setting the knife down onto the counter, you slowly opened up the door, nerves threatening a rebellion against your body as you opened the door.

Finally face to face with Anby, without the blurriness and fish-eye view that the peephole provided, you could see how less kept she was than usual. Eyes tinged with red- a sign of screen overuse. Sweat, faster breaths, a flush of red coloring her pale cheeks.

The two of you stared at each other for a second before she quickly closed in.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked, monotone as it was, a hint of breathiness from her seemingly having sprinted here from wherever she was prior. “I shouldn’t have ran.”

You didn’t know what to do, worried that nodding or shaking your head would give the wrong impression- whatever the impression you wanted to give was lost to you.

You just stood there, listening to what she had to say.

“In the movies they always get together after the first confession. But it didn’t feel right at the time- but it also didn’t feel right saying no.”

A silence before you decided to share your two cents.

“Anby-” her attention diverted back to you straightaway, “How about this. We date for a bit- say, a year, then if you feel like it’s right, then we can continue. If not, then atleast we tried…”

“Just don’t run again, even being friends would be better than never seeing you again.”

She quickly closed the gap between the two of you, embracing you tightly, with you following suit. “Okay…” her voice was shaky, her grip on you was not.

Okay actually it was too tight- “Anby I think you’re gonna break my spine!”

Stepping out of your assigned police car, you nodded to your partner as they exited the vehicle and went to leave the premises. Qingyi having gone back to Zhu Yuan’s side after the one day the two of you were assigned together, message delivered, you wondered how she pulled off getting to be your partner.

You began to make your way to Zhu Yuan’s desk, with her filling out some final papers regarding what happened to the blimp atop of the Ballet Twins Towers. A situation that had been narrowly avoided ending in catastrophe by an inorganic citizen being insusceptible to the knock-out gasses found in the systems of the victims. Her squadron had been the first to the scene, being stopped at the first tower before being forced to evacuate and find another way up by several explosives being detonated at the bridge.

It was a headache for everyone involved, happy that the worse situation happened but not looking forward to the amount of paperwork needed to be filed, especially since the prime suspect of a major case and now this case had gone off-grid with the blimp to who knows where now.

Thankfully it seemed Zhu Yuan didn’t mind it too much, all too happy to do her work, no matter how monotonous it seemed. Turning off the computer for the day and filing papers into cabinets, she had been adding a sprinkle of water into the tomato plant she’d been growing, thoughts swirling as she continued with the monotonous task.

///

It’d been days since she last saw you. Invitations declined, only glimpses of you before you seemingly disappeared into the crowd or entered somewhere she couldn’t follow. Her days had been growing duller, work becoming a distraction to her problems.

Her mom had commented on this, citing worries about how she’d been seemingly throwing herself deeper into work and training, questioning the near-null appearances of you in recent times. She hated to lie to them, yet didn’t want to confront the facts.

She’d been too late to tell you how she felt. She would never get the opportunity again...

One day Qingyi told Zhu Yuan that she'd have to stay a little later, orders given to her to give to Zhu Yuan a little extra work. While to most, this’d be an annoyance, Zhu Yuan readily accepted the new work, not wanting to go back to her lonely apartment.

///

You knocked on the doorframe- breaking her out of her thoughts, face lighting up as she laid eyes on you.

“Uh, hey Zhu Yuan…” She set the water-can down and stood up hastily. “Hey! Uhm…” The two of you stood awkwardly as you tried to form the words you wanted to say.

“I’m sorry.” Zhu Yuan looked at you, worry on her face, urging you to continue. While she had been hurt from how you were seemingly avoiding her, she still looked at you as a close friend.

“It’s… stupid of me. But I wanted to tell you that…”

You confessed, deciding to put all your trust in Qingyi and just do it. Ripping the proverbial band-aid off, the words tumbled out.

She stood there, wide-eyed as you finished. There was a brief silence before tears began to bunch at the edge of her eyes. Your heart stopped, worried that you’d done something wrong before she closed the gap and embraced you, repeating “Yes!” and “I like you too!”, nearly squealing in delight.

You were dazed from how hard she was shaking you, before finally getting a hold. “So.. you’re not into Qingyi?”

“Huh? No, where’d you get that idea?”

“Ahh…” it was a little embarrassing to admit this in hindsight, “I thought since… you looked at her like that, that you…”

She giggled a little, before stopping quickly, “Sorry- I- I looked like that because I was thinking of you. Just, I looked away anytime you looked at me since I didn’t know if you returned my feelings…”

“Ah…”

Finally love bloomed, no longer covered by the walls of uncertainty.

[wosoamazing]

Boys Will Be Boys Have No Excuses

Beneath the Surface | Leah Williamson x R

Warnings: Anxiety & Symptoms of Anxiety, Bullying

Notes: Based off this request. Sorry it's taken a while but I hope you all like it, also if anyone has any more requests for this series let me know. (As always don't know if I like it but yeah) 1.6K words

“Hey Bubs,” Leah said as she walked into the nurses office, and the pit in your stomach only deepened, you’d totally forgotten that your Mum had gone away, because she had a physio conference which she had to present at in Germany, Leah picking you up meant your [lan was ruined. You knew your Mum would let you have a mental health day without asking you the reason, because you would eventually answer her, however Leah wouldn’t, and you didn’t want to tell her, it was just some teasing that you were seriously over reacting too. You couldn’t keep faking though because you knew Leah would see right through it, so you had to be fine, and you’d have to do your school work and swim stuff and hopefully because you were doing work and not lying around she wouldn’t get annoyed at you.

The next morning you felt anxious, your head ached, you’d cried yourself to sleep, the dread of having to return to school, and see everyone, and face whatever the boys had to say overwhelmed you and you were scared. Trying to reduce the risks of whatever could happen, you didn’t eat breakfast, hoping that way the unease in your stomach wouldn’t turn into something more. You knew Leah wouldn’t let you stay home, so there wasn't even a point in asking, you knew she wasn’t happy having to pick you up when you were fine and in all honesty you felt guilty for making her leave training for you, so you figured you’d just have to push through, it was only a little bit of anxiety, it really wasn’t a big deal. 

However as you got further from home the feeling of unease built and it was harder to ignore the twisting in your stomach, but you didn’t know whether to ignore it or tell Leah. You didn’t want her to think you were faking, which she probably would think, but you also didn’t want to be sick in the car. But it was all just in your head anyway, you’d be fine, you just needed to stop being stupid and pathetic. However at the next set of traffic lights your stomach rebelled. Your throat burned as you brought up a mix of stomach acid and water, Leah was quick to lean over the centre console to grab you a sick bag from the glove box, handing it to you, before she hesitated, not really knowing what to do next. The light turned green and she did a U-turn, heading back home.

“Do you want me to pull over or do you think you’ll be okay until we get home?” Leah asked, her voice breaking slightly. You didn’t respond, too mortified at the fact you’d just thrown up all over the car and yourself, it was just some anxiety and now you’d ruined Leah’s day.

“Do you want some water?” Leah asked, trying to do anything helpful at all and you just shook your head, as much as your mouth tasted disgusting, you were sure you’d be sick again if you had some water.

The rest of the drive was silent, and as you pulled into the driveway Leah handed you the keys which you gratefully took, rushing out of the car and to the door, placing the keys on the hallway table before running upstairs to have a shower.

-

Whilst you were showing Leah called your Mum as she cleaned out the car, which thankfully wasn’t too bad as most of it ended up on you.

“Hey, how are you?” Maddie asked as she answered the phone. “Currently cleaning vomit out of the car.” “What. Why? What happened?” Leah sighed heavily, “I don’t know, yesterday I had to pick her up because she was feeling sick but she was fine, she didn’t have a fever and she acted normal once we were home, even did her school work. So I figured she would be okay to go to school today. We were about half way there and she just threw up no warning. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have just assumed she was fine” “Babe, it’s not your fault. It’s no one's fault, it just happens, do you think she is isck or do you think it’s something else?”“I don’t know, maybe something else, I mean she seemed to get more agitated as we got closer to the school but I don’t know if I’m just overthinking things,” “Okay, maybe we should talk to her, but Babe I’m really really sorry but I have to go, the presentation is about to start, but call me later, please,”

-

You stood in the bathroom, wondering whether you could just risk running to your bedroom to get clothes, having forgotten some in your rush to get clean.

Mother Williamson: I’ve left some clothes for you outside the bathroom in case you forgot some. I’ve also put some things in your bedroom for you that you might need, but I’ve also got the couch set up for you if you feel up to coming down. I don’t mind which you choose, just please call out for me or come down if you need anything.

You opened the door slightly and there sat some trackies and a hoodie, it was your favourite set, a set Leah had gifted you, and you felt guilty for not telling Leah you were going to be sick, she clearly cared about you but it was obvious she didn't want to overstep.

-

“Hey,” Leah said softly as you walked into the living room, deciding to ease her guilt and go down, Leah also gave good hugs that made you feel better, and you could do with one of those currently.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled before tears started to roll down your cheeks, and she held her arms out, directing you to come to her, and you did, you sat down next to her and pulled your knees to your chest, before hiding your face in her shoulder, and your tears turned into sobs.

“You’re okay bubs, I’ve got you,” Leah said softly as she began rubbing your back with one hand and placed her other hand on the back of your head protectively as you cried into her, “I’m not mad, I promise, and I’m sorry for making you go to school when you clearly weren’t feeling well,” you continued to cry into Leah as she held you tightly, murmuring calming words to you occasionally.

-

“What’s going on with you?” Leah asked you as she continued to run her fingers through your hair, having decided you’d calmed down enough to ask you the question, your head now rested in her lap and a blanket covered your body. You just shrugged in response. “Is there something happening at school? Swimming? I’m not mad and I won’t be mad I just want to help, but to do that I need to know what is going on,”

“Some of the boys have been saying things to me recently and then yesterday they made a list of the hottest girls in the swim team and they put me last, said I was too ‘muscular’ for a girl and that I looked like I was pregnant sometimes. Which wasn’t really bad but everyone saw it and it was embarrassing, and they have been saying things about you, and Mum and Cait, because you’re Lesbians and um, he-he kept telling people I made up stories about my past to get attention and sympathy and when we did those persuasive speeches the other day he asked the teacher when I finished whether we got marks taken off us for claiming to have personal experience with things we didn’t,” you spat out before pausing briefly, “but can we please not talk about it? I don’t want to, not right now at least,”

“We can talk about it later, I won't force you to talk about anything but we will have to talk at some stage, okay?” She replied, trying to hide the fact she was fuming, “But I also want you to know that what he is doing isn’t right, and you have every right to feel this way, I promise you we will fix this,” she told you and you nodded softly.

“What do you want to do the rest of the day?” Leah asked as you had brunch at one of the cafes near your school, you just shrugged your shoulders as you took another bite of your sandwich. She’d told you that you weren’t going to school that morning, you had a meeting with Josh the head of sport at 8:20 and then you’d leave. You think she still felt guilty about yesterday's events, however you weren’t complaining, the school said they were investigating this issue and as this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this and been the main culprit it would be more than likely he would be kicked out of the sport program if not the school, however his parents were quite rich and he was a good swimmer, you couldn’t deny it, so you doubted whether that was actually true, realistically there was probably more chance of him staying then going. The deputy principal was also being investigated as he was the point of contact for several other complaints about these boys, but mainly just the one and he had swept it under the rug.

[a66-1]

starving.

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

Part 1 | ???

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen. (these tw are for the whole thing, im pretty sure this is gonna be a series)

a/n: hey. if you need help, dm me. ill talk to you if you need it :). (also i made my banners. if you want one dm me! i make them for free, just with credit :)) NOT PROOF READ

i hope your doing okay honey.

Stepping out of the shower, the towel around you just big enough to touch ends is slipped around yourself. Showering is getting harder. You can barely stand glancing at the mirror now.

You dry yourself off, and hand the towel back up. You can do it, just walk past the mirror to grab your clothes.

You take the steps past the mirror, and turn your back to the mirror to change. Slipping your bra on, and it squishes the skin on your back and you grimace.

Once your dressed, you turn back around. The nagging voices are just waiting to pounce. I mean, what? You used to be so skinny.

You used to be pretty.

You decided to let your hair air dry, and you walk into your bedroom. You had work today, but you really wish you didn't. It was a bad week, you'd skipped 3 meals in the last few days and you know what your therapist would say.

'The progress you've made, hun. You can't go back now.'

The bad days are getting too close to each other now. You used to have at least a week between them, but now it's barely 48 hours. Maybe being off medicine isn't working good anymore.

Maybe you're no good.

You throw in a big hoodie, one that covers you, and some sweat pants, glancing at the big mirror in your room.

You can't stop analyzing yourself.

There's not one good thing on you is it?

Fuck.

The rest of the day was spent at your stupid 9-5, with your stupid boss, in your stupid, lonely life. Christ, being off anti-depressants is really hitting you hard. Everyone at your job is stupid and today every customer who wants to blow you ear off about how you kids these days, by the end of the day, your so tense that your shoulders are aching.

You got about 30 minutes left at this off-brand kroger store, when a big, big ass man walks in, shoving a mask with a skull print on it on. You curse to yourself, you really don't want to have to call the police for a robbery, you just want to go home.

To be honest, if he had a gun, you'd be half tempted to let him shoot you-

"Ma'am?" A heavy British accent came from your right. You turn your head, and scan his few items. You don't bother with the how are you's and you sigh.

"It'll be 16.84." You drag your eyes to his, and he reaches to his pocket, pulling out..

A wallet. What else were you thinking?

He hands you a twenty, and you hand him his respective change. He bags his own items, because honestly, you seem like the only worker in the store. Your face is written with exhaustion, whether it be from this job or something else, and the guy notices.

"Have uh... A good day." He nods to you, and walks off.

You purse your lips, and sigh, closing your cashier, because fuck finishing today. You're too close to a breakdown, and you're not trying to let anyone see.

You drive home, your hands tight around the wheel. You know it's a bad idea to be driving this emotional, to the point you wonder what would happen if you swerve your car into a tree.

You won't do it though.

You need to get back out there. It's why you stopped taking your meds.

You promise yourself that tomorrow you'll go out, and at least get a one night stand, you want need, anything.

Once home and in bed, you scroll and scroll and scroll. Doom scrolling is too common on these longer nights. You have a pillow tucked into your arm, and your hand squeezes it every time that pang in your lower chest rings out. Loneliness, you think.

You always scroll through your old friends instagrams or snapchats, seeing their nice bodies and nice boyfriends. You've been so nice and kind and karma should be on your side, but it always failed.

Especially after your last boyfriend.

Your friends say to wait.

To wait.

To wait.

But waiting is getting harder. Days are getting longer, and your head seems to spin more when left to its own devices. Why do you have to wait?

Your looks.

Your personality.

Who'd wanna be seen with you?

You flip your phone over, and shove your face in the pillow, your breathing staggered.

You fell asleep late, that night. The tears brought you to exhaustion.

woah why did this take 2 tries to write.

be waiting for pt.2

TRUST FINALS ARE SOOM COMING TO AN END and summer i will be STEWING TRUST!!!

Taglist!

@i-am-hungry-24-7

thank you for all the support. drunk simon blew up and im crying bc i came back after a 2 year hiatus and i wasn't getting the same feedback as usual so to finally seeing people enjoy my work again makes me feel great. <3

sorry simon wasn't in this part much. you gotta know the reader first tho, right?

bye babes..

-a661

[ninyard]

okay this was supposed to be a reply to an ask but it got too long so i give u: my first thoughts on the bonus chapters pt 1 (TFC bonus chapter)

David's chapter

Coach Hernandez had warned him Neil was distressingly single minded about Exy, but surely the fucking Yakuza of all things should have made a dent

Obsessed. I wonder what else Hernandez told him

His hip was years healed

Was this mentioned before? Did he break it? When did he break it? Was he playing pro and it's why he retired/became a coach? Just headcanoning this rn

[Kevin] set the bottle down, looked around for something to clean his mess with, and ended up patting at the puddle with his hand.

Kevin Day I Would Die For You. why is that the cutest thing he's done in the whole series

"What could you be holding on to still that would drive you this far away from her?" "No. Don't ask me that."

gnawing at the cages of my enclosure. this is too much for me. SO many thoughts

[About Abby + the kids crutches] Maybe she was right, or maybe she didn't have enough nightmares to understand. David rubbed a thumb along his knuckles, looking for blood he'd washed off years ago.

??????????????????????

"Did you think you were my only lover? He isn't yours, David. You have nothing you need to worry about."

Why did this literally break my fucking heart

Nine years later she was dead

Hello? Am I insane or did anyone think Kevin was WAY younger when she died? This changes SO much for me

"You're not just a Fox," David said, before he could think to stop himself. "You're Kayleigh's son." Kevin's expression fractured as he recoiled. [...] The silence that fell between them was wretched and deep.

i know kevin's head was screaming I'M YOURS TOO and just,,, once again him being older when she died changes SO MUCH. that's his MOM. He's KAYLEIGHS SON. how much did that fucking sentence hurt him? he knows!!!!! and she's not around anymore!!!! throwing up.

Kevin looked so much like her, except Kayleigh had never looked so defeated and afraid. She'd been fierce and vibrant and fearless.

This bonus chapter is NOT good for me because now i need so much more kayleigh content it's unhealthy. like i NEED more of her

When he started thinking about rings he put himself on a plane home.

I know this could be about,,, literally anywhere in the US. but IMAGINE it was Ireland. Imagine he was in Ireland with her. and ALSO???? him wanting to marry her??? like please. dont do this to me

"Coaches have no honor," Kevin said, ragged with renewed heartbreak and despair. [...] "Your word is enough. Just yours."

PUUUUUUKE. too much to unpack.

"They'll be too busy drooling over you to care what you're saying. Works on me every time." Nicky wasn't the only one so easily swayed, but if Nicky and Kevin were both too blind to figure that out David wasn't going to put it together for them.

I know the automatic assumption is Andrew but like,, what if he means Neil. and misread how obsessed neil is with him. Just a thought. But either way what a THING to SAY DAVID

David wasn't a praying man, and he'd never quite decided whether he believed in an afterlife, but for a second he glanced up at the sky in search of Kayleigh's disapproving glower. "I'm sorry," He said, and he went back inside to find a drink of his own.

once again screaming crying throwing up. He cared about her SO much

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 4

Series Masterlist

➪in which you and bradley hang out for a third time and are both left questioning whether or not a friendship could form between the two of you, or something else entirely.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.7k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Bradley was still thinking about the quick kiss you pressed to his cheek last night, even a whopping sixteen hours later.

Your lips felt soft and unfamiliar, but he found himself wanting to feel them again. And again. 

You had only given him a small, friendly peck, but it was enough to have him driving back to the frat house with a semi that only got worse the longer he let himself think about you. 

It was quite ridiculous, the effect you have on him. He felt like a teenager again, getting hard from just a kiss on the fucking cheek. 

Still, you were his friend - at least he and you were on the way to being friends - and he didn’t want to let himself think about you like that.

He ended up taking a cold shower then going to bed, but to his surprise, he was still thinking about you when he woke up seven hours later. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? He was supposed to be bettering himself so he could get Bri back, but he was barely thinking about her lately. 

Bradley grabbed his phone and sat up as he clicked onto his messages, and he saw that Bri hadn’t gotten back to him after he finally texted her a response yesterday. 

Typical. 

He wished he hadn’t texted her back, because now he had taken the bait she left out and looks like the one who can’t move on, when she so clearly had. 

Instead of getting annoyed at her, though, he let his thoughts shift back to you, and he was clicking on your contact before he even realized it.

Would it be too weird to tell you that I thought about you all night? 

Morning, by the way. 

He figured he had nothing to lose, and if you were weirded out by what he said, then it was a good thing you and he had only hung out twice, so he wouldn’t be giving up too much. 

But he should know by now that you two fit each other concerningly well, and how you weren’t one to be scared away by his forwardness. 

Y/n: No way, I thought about you, too. 

Y/n: Morning, btw.

Bradley felt a dumb grin form on his lips as he checked the time, seeing that it was nearing ten in the morning. He got up and lazily threw his sheets over his bed in a half-assed effort of making it, using his free hand to text you back. 

So we’re both thinking about each other. Any suggestions on where to go from here?

He dressed himself in dark jeans and a flannel before throwing his backpack over his shoulder and making his way across campus to his class, and when he found an empty seat and sat down, the text he received from you left him smiling for the most part of the two hour class. 

Y/n: Round three?

-

Bradley suggested a movie night at his place since his roommates won’t be home, and you were a bit nervous to go back there since you would be completely alone with him this time and not wedged between him and a wall like you were at the party. 

You were also excited, because hanging out with him had been the most fun you’ve had since attending university, and you were in your second year now. 

He didn’t need to know that, though.

You tuned out for most of your classes, and when you changed into a pair of sweats and a cropped tee, your phone went off. Thinking it was Bradley, you pick it up with a smile that immediately drops when you read the caller ID.

Luke.

Of course it was him. 

Even though you were actively ignoring him, he still wasn’t getting the hint that the relationship was over. You knew you needed to send him a final text and set things straight, because you were ready to move on, and he was making it harder than it should be. 

Please stop texting me. We’re done, Luke. I will always be grateful for you and our time together, but it’s time we both move on. I wish you the best. 

That sounded nice, right? You hoped so, anyway. You didn’t want to hurt Luke; you simply wanted him to get the message and stop contacting you until you were both over each other. Maybe you could be friends later down the road, but that was a hard maybe. You were never friends with Luke, you went from strangers pretty much right to dating. 

You wanted to take your time with your next relationship, whether that was with Bradley or not. Though, you couldn’t be blamed for hoping that he is your next.

With no further communication with Luke, you pocket your phone and start the walk across the reasonably big campus and towards Bradley’s frat house, and you smirk at the reminder of why you set his contact name as Fratley. 

You reach the front steps and knock on the door, second guessing your choice of outfit and wondering if it was too casual, but what else were you supposed to wear for a movie night? Comfy casual? Or uncomfortable non-casual? 

When Bradley opened the door in a similar outfit, you felt better about yours, and the not so subtle way he looked you up and down definitely had your worries disappearing and your face heating up. “Hi,” 

“Hi,” he said back and opened the door a bit further. “Took you long enough, I’ve been cleaning for the last hour and a half.”

You cover your mouth with a quiet laugh and step into the house. “You mean this place doesn’t look like the aftermath of a party all the time?”

Bradley playfully scoffed. “Do you think I enjoy living in that filth? I hibernate in my room half the time to avoid seeing what new mess the guys made,”

You laugh again and follow him into the living room. It looked a lot bigger than the last time you saw it, without all the people, and it was actually quite nice. “Well, I’m not sure how long you spent cleaning in here, but…” You turn to smirk at him, finding him already looking at you. “Good job.”

He holds his arms out and leans down in a bow. “Thank you,” he returned your smirk. “Did it all for you. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was thinking about you.”

You blush and look away before he could see the affect his words have on you. “It’s nice to see this place not crowded,” you change the subject and move to sit on the couch. “I can’t believe we met at a party here.”

Bradley stays where he is, the smirk still painted on his lips as he crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, if I had known this was going to happen, I would have agreed to that party a lot sooner,”

You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re full of it,”

He laughs and gestures to the doorway that leads to the kitchen. “You pick the movie and I’ll grab the snacks. Are you feeling like soda or something stronger?”

You debate it for a few seconds and come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be drunk this time around, but one drink wouldn’t hurt. “How about one beer and one soda?” You suggest and he nods with a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen. 

Your face was still a bit hot as you sat by yourself, and you knew you needed to get a grip. Bradley was just another guy; a cute, funny and confident guy. 

Yeah, you were fucked. 

Bradley still hadn’t come back when your phone went off, and when you saw that it was Sam calling you, you declined it and opened your text thread with her to let her know that you were busy at the moment. Then she beat you to it.

Sammy: YOU BROKE UP WITH LUKE????

Your heart dropped a bit, though you’re not sure why. You didn’t just break up with Luke, the break up happened months ago, and Sam knows this. 

Sammy: Y/n what the fuck

Sammy: You guys were supposed to work it out.

You scoff and type out a response, and you were a bit annoyed that Luke went running to his sister and your fucking roommate instead of moving on and letting things go like an adult would. 

We broke up months ago, Sam. That’s not new news. I’m busy right now, so I can’t talk about this. And I don’t want to. I’ll see you at home later.

You lock your phone just as Bradley returns with three cans in one hand, and another can and a bowl of chips in the other. You were a bit impressed as you reached up to take the three cans from him with a laugh. “Wow, no need to show off,” you joked and he shook his head with a smile as he set the bowl down onto the coffee table. 

“I don’t like making more than one trip,” he replied and you hum in agreement as you take a chip and watch as he sits next to you. He left very little room in between you, but you didn’t care a bit. This close proximity allowed you to inhale the piney scent of his cologne and see every fleck of gold in his brown eyes.

Oh yeah. You were seriously fucked. 

-

Bradley’s plans of getting Bri back had been completely pushed to the back of his mind, and it’s been that way since he met you. 

The more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t miss her as much as he did that morning she broke up with him. He was far too preoccupied with thoughts of you, and that scared him a bit for a few reasons. 

One; he met you only a few days ago and has spent more time with you than he has with the majority of his friends.

Two; he was supposed to be focusing on trying to fix things with Bri but wasn’t putting much effort at all into that task at the moment as he sits literally right next to you on the couch. 

And three; Eli and Wes might start to believe he’s actually going through with the stupid bet.

Which wasn’t what was happening at all. Yeah, you were the girl he drunkenly and stupidly picked when he came up with the bet, but he was hanging out with you because he wanted to. Not because he was planning on getting money out of it. 

“Did you pick a movie?” He asked as you leaned back on the couch and opened your beer, and he couldn’t deny that he found the way you liked his favorite type of beer attractive. You were really attractive, there was no questioning that. 

You freeze for a couple seconds before giving him a shy smile. “I did not,”

He laughed and grabbed the remote from off the coffee table and leaned back as well. “Well, pick something,” he said and handed you the remote. 

“Why me?” You pout and flip through the possible options of movies. “I don’t know what kind of movies you like.”

“I’ll watch anything,” he shrugged and opened his beer, hoping the cold liquid would help ease his heated body. He had no idea why he reacted to you like this, but he felt like an out of control teen all over again for the second time this week. 

You huff and skim through a few more comedies before settling on a horror movie from the 90s, and Bradley lifted a brow at your choice. “What?” You asked as you tossed the remote onto the cushion beside you and crossed your legs. 

“Nothing,” he answered, nonchalantly draping his arm across the back of the couch. “I just didn’t take you as a scary movie girl.”

You scoff and glance up at him. “The scarier the better,” you say back and he swore you moved a little closer to him. 

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who can watch a horror film then sleep peacefully right after,” he challenged, daring to move his leg just an inch closer to yours. 

You shrugged and gave him that unbelievably sexy smirk he loved seeing. “Like a baby,” 

He refrained from asking you to marry him right then and there, and instead he shifted his attention to the TV mounted on the wall and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “You’re crazy,” he uttered as he kept his eyes on the screen.

You laugh quietly and sip on your beer as the movie begins. 

Bradley had no idea when the small gap between his body and yours became non-existent, but as he held you against his side with his arm around your shoulders and your beers discarded, he didn’t care to know. 

You were warm, and it might’ve been from the blanket he threw over the both of you, but he liked to think it was because you were feeling the same way he was. 

Your body fits damn near perfectly with his, your height difference making it easy for him to hold you like this without his arm cramping up. 

About an hour into the movie you had fallen asleep, your head pressed against his chest and your arm draped over his lap. You had shifted like that in your sleep, and he borderline loved the way your body reacted to his, even while you were sleeping. He turned the sound down a bit until he could barely hear it, but he didn’t mind the fact that he had to really strain to be able to understand what was happening.

Bradley felt himself falling asleep, too, when your phone lit up from its place on the coffee table. He didn’t mean to, but his gaze naturally shifted to the lit up screen and he accidentally ended up reading the text you received. 

Luke: What a fucking waste of time, huh? We get into one fight and you just decide to check out? Fuck you, Y/n. Don’t talk to me ever again. 

Bradley could only assume that Luke is your lovely ass of an ex boyfriend, and he felt his brows furrowing as a warmth settled over his face.

Who the fuck did this guy think he is? No wonder you broke up with him.

Bradley never talked to Bri like that, or really anyone for that matter, let alone someone he loved. Luke loved you? As if.

He wanted to grab your phone and call the fucker, but you shifted again and drew his attention away from your bad choice of a boyfriend. You pulled the blanket up further and nuzzled your face against the side of his neck, and he felt himself calming down a bit as your quiet and even breathing met his ears. 

You were so sweet, how could anyone ever talk to you like that? 

Without meaning to, Bradley fell asleep with his chin resting on the top of your head, and the next morning he had a pain in his neck so fucking bad, he nearly got up to take enough painkillers to knock him back out again so he could sleep it off. 

Then he glanced down at you, still asleep on his chest, and he thought that maybe it was worth it since he got to wake up to the pretty sight. 

The TV had turned off automatically during the night, leaving the living room dark as he had closed the curtains before you got here yesterday. He grabbed his phone and squinted at the brightness as he checked the time. It was almost nine in the morning, and he knew he needed to get ready for his class that was in about an hour, but he really did not want this little moment with you to end just yet. 

Reluctantly, he gently began shaking your shoulder after a few more minutes had passed. “Y/n,” he quietly said, watching as you began to stir. “Wake up, babes.” 

He didn’t mean to call you that, it just slipped out, but the way you slowly sat up and grinned over at him made him want to call you that all the time. “Morning, babes,” you greet in a hoarse voice, reaching up to rub at your eyes as the blanket falls from your shoulders. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine,”

You gasped, “In the morning?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed and began massaging his neck, trying to work out the kink he felt. 

“Shit,” you mutter and grab your phone, making Bradley remember the rude text you got from Luke. He hated the fact that he knew what you would be reading the next time you checked your phone, and he wished he could’ve done something about it but knew it wasn’t his place. He’d let you tell him more about your ex if you wanted to, and he’d keep his opinions to himself for now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep and stay over.”

“It’s okay,” he waved you off and slumped back against the couch again. “You must’ve needed it. You slept for quite a while.”

You blush and smooth out your hair. “I should get going, I have class soon,”

Bradley nodded and watched as you stood up. “Do you want a ride back to your place? I’m going that way anyway,” he offered. “I need coffee.”

You laugh and look down at your casual outfit, which was strangely sexy to him. “You know, usually I’d turn down a three minute drive and just walk, but I don’t really want to be seen in this so early in the morning, so yeah,” you answer and pull the blanket off him, folding it and setting it aside. 

He huffed out a laugh and stood up as well. “Let’s go then,” he said and began walking with you to the front door. “You look hot, by the way. You shouldn’t care what people see you in.”

You blush again and glance back into the living room, seeing the scattered beer and soda cans. “I can help clean up first,”

“No, it’s alright,” he grunted and grabbed his keys from off the table near the door. “I’ll do it later. I don’t ever make a mess, so the guys won’t get pissed at me for leaving it like that.”

Nodding, you step outside when he opens the door and walk out to the Jeep. Once you are inside, you turn to him with a small smile. “I keep saying this, but I had fun last night,” you say quietly as he reversed out of the driveway. “I know I fell asleep pretty early on, but still.”

Bradley laughed and put the car in drive. “I had fun, too,” he said. “You weren’t kidding about the whole ‘falling asleep after horror movies’ thing, huh?”

You covered your mouth as you laughed, too, and Bradley wondered why you often did that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “Nope,”

The drive was a short one, and two minutes later he was pulling up to your dorm and regretting not offering to walk with you instead of driving as it would’ve given him a few extra minutes with you. 

He put the car in park then turned to you, meeting your eye as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride,” you say in a teasing tone. 

Bradley laughed quietly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then he leaned in and kissed your cheek like you did with him after dinner at Five Guys, and when he pulled away he saw that a pretty blush had taken over your face again. “No problem,” 

You smile again and hop out of the car, getting to the third step and hesitating for a few seconds before you turn around and make your way to the driver’s side door. You pull it open and grab a fistful of his shirt, guiding him into a kiss he was all too willing to accept. It didn’t last long, unfortunately, but it still left the both of you wearing dumb smiles when you pulled away. “I’ll see you later?” You whisper and he nods, reaching up to gently tug on your bottom lip before your smile grows and you step away, closing the door afterwards. 

You give him a small wave before disappearing into the dorm and leaving Bradley with a heat deep in his body. He had to force himself to drive to the coffee shop a few minutes away, and then back home once he got his fix. 

When he entered the house, he saw Eli sitting on the couch with a smirk on his face. “Fun night?” He asked as he nodded towards the cans and empty bowl. “Was it Bri?”

Bradley scoffed as he put his coffee cup down and began gathering up the cans. “No,” he answered and put the cans into the bowl. “Y/n.”

Eli’s smirk grew at that and Bradley instantly regretted telling him about you. “Ah, Y/n,” he laughed. “You really want that money, huh?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes. “No, actually, I don’t,” he replied and grabbed his coffee again. “I don’t want your stupid money, okay? I like Y/n, really. She’s nice and so not the person I thought she was.”

Eli just nodded but was still wearing that stupid smirk as he looked back down at his phone, and it made Bradley feel a bit uneasy. 

“I’m not kidding,” he warned. “Let it go.”

Eli raised his hands in surrender. “I’m chilling, man,” he muttered but Bradley knew better. 

But he refused to waste his time trying to get his friend to understand him when he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. So he just left him there and brought the bowl to the kitchen before getting ready for class, still thinking about the kiss he shared with you that he wished was so much longer. 

He already couldn’t stop thinking about the peck you gave him on the cheek, but now he had gotten a taste of the real thing, and he was so close to throwing out every promise he made to himself about bettering himself for Bri and giving all his time to you.

[yuri-is-online]

Fyuuture Kid AU is actually my favorite au of yours; I just think it's cute! How's floyd Yutu? I feel like there would be a thin line between "You're cool ig" and "You and shrimp are a little... close. Stop it." But once he knows that's his kid? Yeah all bets are of. Sorry Azul; he actually CANT go to work today he's too busy being a FATHER and a HUSBAND (these single fucks can cry about it)

No because this is exactly what I see happening and just the image of Floyd being like "nah I can't hang out spouse needs my help with the kid. Oh you wouldn't get it because YOU GOT NO BITCHES" he's just so silly I love him so much (つ╥﹏╥)つ

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of the fyuuture kid au, Floyd's part can be found here, and the explanation for the au can be found here. You can find even more stuff for it on my masterlist under the series section.

Yutu wasn't really prepared for the first people he saw to be his parents. He knew he was going to have to see them eventually, and he did a lot of preparing mentally for seeing Yuu again but his dad? His father who he has heard so many stories about, the person he admires second only to you?

"And who's this little guppy?" The whites of Floyd's eyes widen as he zeros in on him, Yutu's senses force him to drop into a defensive stance and get in between the danger and Yuu. He's being circled by a larger, more dangerous predator. Every nerve ending in his body is screaming he is in danger, that Yuu's in danger, but he feels happy. He knows what his father's voice sounds like now.

"I ain't a guppy." The points of his teeth flash, but Floyd isn't amused by Yutu's claim.

"You are what I say you are, small fry."

Floyd! Yutu is very extroverted. He enjoys talking to people and had a lot of friends before and after being isekaid. If Yuu or one of his friends was more introverted he took a great deal of pride in doing most of the talking for them. He likes being helpful, or at least he says he does. If you've seen those videos of morays who act like puppies around divers they've known for years, that's sort of how Yutu acts. He's a big puppy who pretends not to know his own strength. Unless your his parent, he fears no man, but Yuu's wrath? That scares him.

He's similar to Floyd in school performance, he doesn't like to pay attention so he doesn't always do well. He didn't have a choice about paying attention to magic classes though, among all the different versions of Yutu, Floyd! Yutu might be one of the most cracked when it comes to combat magic. If you were to ask him about it, he'd say he sees his skill as another way of being helpful, but that prey drive is no joke he does like a good fight. Just not when that fight is against his dad...

He has always loved the water, whether he was swimming or out playing in the rain he always felt most at home in the water. In your world he was on his school's swim team, and while Yutu gets why he isn't allowed to be on NRC's he is still a bit salty about it. On the one hand he gets to actually live in the water now. On the other he sort of needs to find a hobby.

Maybe he could focus more on cooking? Or fishing? Or would that just be hunting under the sea...

The oceans of Twisted Wonderland were never safe, but in the time that Yutu arrived in they had become borderline unlivable due to blot pollution. Yutu really loved being in Octavinelle for allowing him to experience a little slice of what the Coral Sea was supposed to have been like. The version of the dorm he was placed in didn't have the lounge anymore, so he is very curious about Azul's business.

Papa (Floyd) Leech isn't very impressed. On the one hand he thinks it is kind of funny watching the shrimplet run around campus following Yuu like he's convinced they're going to disappear. Floyd feels like that sometimes too, it makes him want to drown you in his embrace and keep you here forever but he tries to ignore those feelings most of the time.

On the other hand knowing he can't just drop by Ramshackle and have you all to himself anymore makes it really hard to ignore them. Shrimplet doesn't even have the sense to be afraid of him, Floyd swears he gets excited when he threatens to give him a squeeze. And what's worse is you are really protective of him! Sure you're protective of Baby Seal too, but he's got enough sense to piss off when Floyd glares at him. He does leave when Floyd threatens to fight him, but not because he's scared. He looked sad actually, which Floyd clocks and brings back to Jade and Azul.

You asked another question about what happened to the boys in the bad future, and I want to save most of my thoughts related to what happened to Floyd for that answer, but Jade was still alive when Yutu got isekaid and he was able to meet him. They had a really good relationship, so when Jade comes sniffing around for information, Yutu is able to dodge his questions pretty easily. Future! Jade actually used his signature spell on him before he traveled back in time just to fuck with his past self. He did make his nephew promise to tell him if the one use rule applied to this case. Partially for science, partially because he knew that it would give his younger self the chance to keep the information to himself.

And keep it to himself he does- sort of. He makes sure Yutu knows he knows, but he never explicitly says anything to him. No what he wants to do is distract Yutu so Floyd can be a sulky coward in peace. That he does make clear to Yutu, he would like his brother to have more than one kid for him to be a bad influence on and he needs him to actually make a move on Yuu for that to happen.

I am not 100% on how the reveal on how Floyd learns about what's happening and who Yutu is, but once he does he is very serious about it. He wants to know what Yutu thought about him, why he knows more about Jade then his dear old dad, and what happened to Yuu to make him so protective. Wasn't he there at all? He'd never abandon his mate or his son... little shrimplet knows that, right?

Well he's just going to have to make sure he does know that. And everyone else too, "these single fucks can cry about it" indeed. Yutu is getting dragged to the Atlantica Memorial Museum so they can swim and talk about Azul's overblot, and how cute his parent was for standing up to him. He still wants to spend time alone with Yuu sometimes, but he gets why Yutu is afraid of letting them out of his sight now. He would feel the same way. If Floyd can manage it he wants to take him back home too (not to introduce him to the grandparents since that would just raise questions), since Yutu never got to go there.

Floyd would be such a good dad. An embarrassing one too, you know he teases Yutu, roughhouses with him, and openly flirts with Yuu in front of him. He's really looking forward to getting to be embarrassingly in love with Yuu in the future, and no silly "end of the world" thing is going to stop him.

[bigassmoonchild]

Meetings

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: When did things ever go your way? First, you nearly lost Simon. And now? You were so close to losing your family because of one stupid fucking thing. You remembered why you kept your distance.

Content Tags: Fluff, Simon being nervous, Simon being Good With Kids, Bits of Intimacy, Violence, Attacks, Fights, Braxton Hicks, Slight Awkwardness, Crying, Comfort, Kind of Hurt/Comfort, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I'm entirely unsure of when this series will be ended. It should be soon, unfortunately, but I would love to be able to write for more things (especially the Nine series, I've really been lacking on that). Either way, here she is! Little bit shorter, but it's okay (you'll love it).

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Simon was absolutely terrified. He wasn't entirely sure what to bring to meet your family, but you'd been antagonizing him about trying to bring a suit. 'Just be yourself,' you'd told him. And so he'd packed up a small amount of his wardrobe, some sweats and jeans, a few of his nicer shirts and pants, and a few hoodies and regular shirts.

He still wanted to bring a suit, or something similar, just in case they wanted to go out somewhere nice. He knew only what you told him about your family, about your parents. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he'd do if your father did anything to your or his now almost-pack.

If he was truly scared, he would never tell you. The flight went alright, slight hiccups of turbulence here and there. "Let me drive us there, lovie," he whispered as you waited for your luggage. His hand was resting on the nape of your neck, rubbing against the mating gland softly.

You shook your head. "From what I've heard, you are a horrid driver. I also know how to get home, so I'll have the pleasure of driving us. Carefully," and he gave a short laugh.

Even under his balaclava, he felt rather exposed. Not knowing exactly where he was wasn't something he entirely enjoyed. He was unsure, on alert and rather nervous. He never came around this way, and it had been a long travel for the two of you. A layover or two, you'd ended up stealing his hoodie for comfort at one point (definitely not because you threw up and it got on your shirt).

That was something that helped him, though. Seeing you clearly claimed as his, scent marked and all. It was calming, made him focus on something as the two of you waded through the crowds in the airport and on your way out.

His hand rested on your leg the entire drive to the hotel, just so you could drop everything off and get fully ready for the day ahead of you. He watched, carefully, as you got dressed in a pretty little sundress and make yourself look 'nicer'.

On the ride there, you seemed antsy. Your fingers tapped quickly on the steering wheel, the foot not on the gas was tapping quickly. Your scent was mildly stressed, shifting from your normal, sweet scent to something spicier. His Alpha was bugging him, snarling some things about omega stressed and fix it.

For some time, he allowed his eyes to drift shut. You'd bugged him into wearing just a normal balaclava for this, after some discussions about whether or not he really needed to wear it in front of your family (the answer was yes, obviously).

And as the car slowed to a stop, rocking just slightly with the shift in gears to par, he opened his eyes and breathed deeply. It was a nice little house, not too big but just big enough for a family. No picket fence, he humored himself.

Opening his door, he stepped out and gave a little stretch before coming onto your side and helping you out. You pressed a little kiss against his cheek, letting him drape the jacket he was wearing around your shoulders. You gave him a little smile, and it warmed his heart just enough to shake most of the nerves away.

The front yard was filled with pups of all ages, a few of the older ones sitting on the stoop to watch them. You greeted each one, ruffling some hair and pulling them into side hugs. Simon followed quietly behind, waving a little to the older ones who gave him a strange look.

As you opened the door, a waft of slightly warm air came out. It smelled of apple pie, some stronger spices following closely. The inside looked warm, soft lights turned on in the inner most rooms, pictures hung on the walls of all different people.

Sliding his boots off, he watched as you greeted a few people looking around your age. "Simon, these are my siblings," and you smiled, eyebrows raising in a gesture to make him smile. He gave a short one, just enough for his eyes to squint. Pointing to each one, you gave him a name "Clint, Clair and Arthur," he gave a little wave.

Clair pulled you to the side, whispering quickly into your ear and glancing at Simon every few words. Clint and Arthur dragged him off to the living area, settling him down and tossing a beer into his hands.

"How d'you know her?" Clint gestured to you, walking into the kitchen with Clair and hearing a short squeal.

"Work," he answered easily. "You know what she does?" Clint shrugged and Arthur looked away.

"Just know she's doing some doctor shit," Arthur said, jaw clenching. "Didn't think it'd be military," his eyes found Simons and held the stare.

Simon looked down, not wanting to start a fight the first time he met your family. You'd kill him before any of them got to him. "She's safe," he told them. "Doesn't go on missions or anything, mostly works on the medical bay on base," he told them. Simon would never tell them exactly what happened that day, what felt like centuries ago.

He watched as the heli went down. He heard the shouts, watched as a figure struggled out of the debris and heaved a sigh of relief when your voice called over the coms.

You returned, not too much later, with what appeared to be your mother, sister and possibly father in tow. You sat between Arthur and Simon, looking over to him and giving him a soft smile.

"What is it you brought us all together for," your father huffed deeply. Your mother, in turn, smacked at his arm and threatened him to be nice. He scoffed and looked away, coughing deeply.

You glanced up at Simon one more time. "I wanted to introduce you all to Simon. We're," you paused and breathed deeply. Simons hand found your shoulder, squeezing softly.

"We're mated," he finished your sentence and everyone stared. Hard.

Clint was the first to shoot up, taking a step towards Simon before you jumped between them. Christ, if your brother tried to beat his ass you would kill him. Clint snarled at you, causing Simon to stand. He was tall, you suddenly realized. Much, much taller than Clint.

Your father finally spoke up. "Sit down, Clint," he snarled and the two men sat. "How'd this happen, girl?" You shook your head.

"Just happened," you whispered.

"And we weren't told anything? How long has this been for?"

"I don't know, maybe a year? I've been busy with work," you huffed. You could feel your heartrate rising, heart pounding in your ears before Simon chuffed against your back. You heaved a deep sigh, closing your eyes as his fingers found your wrist gland.

No one spoke for some time, you finally sat next to Simon once more.

"Well I'm happy for you," Clair spoke up. "He seems like a good, strong Alpha. As long as he makes you happy, I'm all good," and you smiled at her. Your mother, off to the side, was nodding with her. With everyone, mostly calmed, small talk began.

A few of your nieces and nephews had piled in after hearing the commotion, piled in the entryway. A few had gone up to Simon, smelling him and he allowed it. Quietly sitting there, letting the pups even climb on him to get a better scent.

"That's not all I wanted to tell you," you whispered, playing with your fingers while watching Simon carefully lower down the little one who'd climbed on him. Your father closed his eyes, leaning back. He breathed deeply, holding his breath for a few moments.

"You're pregnant," he said. "Can smell it, not too different from Arthur," and once again, Clint blew up. He leaped for Simon, snarling hard. Simon didn't move, grabbing the pup in front of him and moving the little one out of the way before Clint landed on him.

Simon didn't respond to the punches battering against him, and Arthur tugged you out of the way. He was the only other Omega, other than your mother. Your father stood, growling loudly before launching into a fit of coughs.

Clint paused, staring down at Simon. "Fucking monster, getting my sister all caught in your messy ass military shit," and you stood. Shoving Clint hard, baring your own teeth. Clint turned on you, eyes wild. He stood over you and snarled, hands moving to reach for you. Simon, at that, finally jumped.

His hands caught Clints, grasping tightly and snarling harshly at him. It quieted everyone, Clint tugging to get his hands out of Simons grasp. "Touch her and I'll break every damned bone in that hand," and Clint finally bared his neck. Submitting.

Clint had always been the big bad Alpha, taking after your father. He'd gotten into so many fights in school, you'd never even had any form of a partner. If he smelled an Alpha on you, even if it had been an accidental brush, they'd be beaten.

A cramp pulled you away from everything, your hand finding your now swelling belly as pains wracked it. A warbled groan fell from your mouth and you felt hands gently wrap around you. They lowered you onto the couch, and when you opened your eyes Simon was crouched just between your legs.

You could smell the fear in his scent, changed from the anger that had just been surrounding it. "'s nothing, Si, probably just some braxton hicks. I'll be okay," and he shook his head.

"Pain isn't normal, lovie," he whispered. "Especially not after some severe stress," he added carefully.

No one moved, just watching the two of you. You smiled carefully, pressing your hands against his cheeks. "I promise," you told him.

He nodded slowly, finally giving in. "He's a good Alpha," your mother spoke up. "I don't care if anyone else here doesn't agree," she added. Your father nodded with her statement, sitting back down and closing his eyes once more.

"Clint can leave," he said and said man scoffed. He grabbed his coat and left, slamming the door shut behind him. You looked to your father, eyes wide. "He protects you. Any good Alpha would do that, packmate or not. I am," he paused. "Accepting of this," he finally finished.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Simon kept something of his touching you the entire time, finally pulling the balaclava off of him to eat. He complimented your mothers cooking, who pushed some of it to Arthur. Simon complimented him, alongside the few pups he could recognize as his.

And as you bid your goodbyes, promising to come back tomorrow for some more talking and celebrating, you watched your father shake Simons hand. There were some whispered words between them, and when Simon came back he once more slid the jacket around your shoulders.

He opened the passenger door for you, closing it carefully and climbing into the drivers seat. The ride back was quiet, and you watched as the lights and houses passed by you. His hand rested on your thigh, your fingers wrapped around a few of his own. His thumb drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, and your head rested against the window.

"That went better than I was expecting," he suddenly spoke up. You gave a wet laugh, tears suddenly brimming your eyes. His head turned to look at you quickly before going back to the road. You could feel the hot tears running down your cheeks, the car slowing to a stop as you opened your eyes.

He pulled the passenger door open, tugging you out and pulling you into his arms. Your nose pressed into his chest, sobs finally spilling out of your chest.

"I just wanted them to love you like I do," you sobbed and he hummed against you, rocking the two of you slightly. Simon pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, chuffing gently against you.

"They just need to warm up to it," he whispered. "Once they actually know me, I'm sure they'll begin to accept it more. At least your father accepted me," he added. You nodded against his chest, propping your chin against it and looking up at him. His balaclava was still off, and he gave you a little smile of his own.

His fingers wiped away your tears, allowing you to press back against his chest and breathe deeply. Your tears had stopped, but you still felt so hurt. Your own flesh and blood, and they didn't like him. Clint was supposed to be your older brother, the Alpha who protected you. Not hurt the people you loved.

Your hurt turned to anger, pulling away from Simon. "If that motherfucker touches you again, I swear to god," and he shook his head. In the dark, you couldn't see much of his face. You hoped to god that Clint hadn't left any marks, you weren't sure what you'd do if you found out he had.

"Weren't the best punches I've ever had," he told you. "I've had worse, lovie. I promise you that nothings hurt," and you nodded carefully. His hands cupped your cheeks, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips.

When he pulled back, you whined and he gave a chuckle. "I'll give you more when we get back to the hotel," he told you. You nodded, letting him slide your arms through his jacket and zip it up.

"I love you," you whispered as he opened the passenger door. He pressed another kiss against your lips, squeezing your hand.

"And I love you," he responded. Closing the door, he went around the car and got back in. You watched as the lights flashed across his face, allowing yourself to soak in how he looked.

When you got to the hotel, he opened your door for you and offered a hand. Holding it tightly, he led you to the room. When he slid the key against the door, he opened it for you and led you in by the small of your back.

Kicking the door shut, he pulled you in and kissed you once more. "Bravest little Omega I've ever met," he whispered against your lips and you laughed. "Going to protect me from all the Alphas?" And you nodded, tears of laughter brimming your eyes.

With one more kiss to your lips, he tugged you against his chest. Gently rocking you once more, your arms wrapped around him as much as they could.

"Love you so damn much, Doc," he whispered against your hair.

"'n I love you, Si,"

Taglist:

@sae1kiekie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @404lunar @josieguts @actuallyhiswife @the-queen-of-england183 @littlelovebug98 @cringeycookies @averytiredfanfictionwriter @kariiiel @caramlizedtomatoes @krillinitboi @http-paprika @snorklingfae @zoom-zoom77 @lukneetoonz @wise-owl @waves-against-a-cliff @hollowmasque @megkviss @bootabo2000 @ducks118 @bunnyvs @perfectus-in-morte

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter six: home

summary: takes place after 'make my heart surrender' ends (so if you haven't read the series, you can do so here). after surprising carmy at the restaurant, he has something really important to tell you. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: time jump, fluff, 'i love you', smut (18+ mdni), no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, not proofread -- will probably go back and make some edits

word count: 3.9k

listen to: no such thing - john mayer | you're the best - wet | pancakes for dinner - lizzy mcalpine | want want - maggie rogers

a/n: hi it's me! i'm tired of breaking my own heart are you tired of me breaking your hearts?!! if you're wondering what the heck happened between chapter 5 & 6, make sure to read 'make my heart surrender' or at least, this final chapter!

didn't think you were getting smut with this final chapter?! gotcha!! i had to take some DEEP breaths while writing this. thank you so much for all of the kind comments, external screaming, and dms about this series. i love you all sm. here's is thee much needed and well-deserved fluffy chapter where carmy finally says (redacted).

read: chapter five | masterlist

“God I fuckin’ love you.” 

Your words echo in Carmy’s head all shift, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t said it back yet. 

The restaurant has been slow for lunch, and in every single moment he’s had to think about it, the words felt like they were on the tip of his tongue:

I love you. 

I love you too. 

I love you and I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. 

But what was he supposed to do? Tell you in the middle of your mise en place? Follow you into the walk-in and tell you there? He almost regrets not just saying it back right then and there – the minute he realized that you and Richie were both pulling a prank on him. Carmy decides that telling you here, at the restaurant just won’t do – just wouldn’t be romantic enough – and he knows you deserve more than that. 

As you finish up your prep for dinner service, you eye Carmy carefully. He looks totally wrapped up in thought, and you can’t imagine what he must be thinking this hard about. You’re here. You can’t believe you’re here. And you could care less about anything else right now.

“How ya doin?” you ask him, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He doesn’t know if you can see it on his face – that he’s thinking way too hard about this. 

“Uh, I’m-. Just thinkin’ about strategy… for dinner service,” he lies, trying his best to throw you off his trail. 

“Okay,” you reply, unconvinced. 

But it’s clear that he’s not going to give you much more than that.  

“You should go home,” he blurts out. His response takes you by surprise, and as soon as he realizes it sounds like he doesn’t want you here, his face softens, quick to course correct. 

“I just mean-, you must be tired. From the drive. As much as I appreciate the help…” he trails off. “It’s been slow today anyways. You should take my key and head home. If you want. Get some rest.”

Home. 

You smile in response at the sound of it, knowing that, after today, Chicago is your home. 

“You sure?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he insists. “If it stays this slow, I may even be able to get home early.”

You’re sure you have the silliest grin on your face as you hear the word again. 

Because this is your home now. 

Because Carmy is your home now too. 

“Well, if you insist,” you say with a shrug. 

“I do,” he says back, a seriousness in his voice. 

“Okay,” you giggle in response, agreeing to his demand. 

Carmy’s always trying to take care of you. It’s one of the things you love the most about him. Whether he’s asking you if he can make you something or asking to walk you home, you’ve always known that this is how he shows his love. 

You and Carmy both wash your hands, and he follows you towards the locker area, watching you hang up your apron in the locker that will now be yours. He busies himself with finding his apartment keys while you gather your things. 

“I kinda missed this place,” you say, even though you’ve only been gone three weeks. 

“Yeah?” he asks, a light in his eyes as he watches you. 

It feels surreal: seeing you here, knowing that you’ll be at his place when he gets back, that he gets to keep you. 

“Yeah. And maybe even some of the people too,” you smirk, cheekily. 

Carmy blushes, taking a few steps towards you with his keys in hand. 

“Need the address?” he asks. 

“I remember how to get back there,” you reassure him, playfully. 

It hadn’t been that long since you walked home with Carmy the night that changed it all: the night he’d made you his carbonara, the night that feelings were revealed, the night you made love. You’d followed him back to his apartment two nights in a row after that, letting yourself surrender to this thing between you that you’d both spent over two years fighting. And you’d let him take you to bed each night, getting lost in the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way his skin felt against yours. 

You’re still in shock over how much has changed in your life in the last month alone.

It felt like heaven. 

It feels like heaven. 

And you wonder what took you both so fucking long.

At the same time, you know it happened exactly when it was supposed to happen – that anything before this wouldn’t have worked. 

As Carmy hands you his keys, you give him a goodbye kiss, the tension between the two of you palpable. It’s the kind of ‘I can’t wait to get you alone’ tension and you can’t wait till he gets off his shift – your thoughts filled with all the things you want to do with him when you finally do. 

It takes a while to leave the restaurant – everyone wanting to get in their hello or goodbye in – before you’re on your way home to Carmy’s apartment. On the drive there, you laugh to yourself about how the staff of The Bear have been betting on how long it’d take for you to come back. It fills you with a sense of warmth, confirming that this was exactly the move you needed to make. Since it’s close by, and you still have your stupid fucking U-HAUL, it doesn’t take long to get back to Carmy’s apartment. You make a mental note to find a good storage container to rent out so you don’t have to lug this thing around while you look for a place. 

By the time you get into his apartment, suitcase in hand, it’s clear to you that Carmy wasn’t expecting you. His home is messier than you remember it being when you left three weeks ago, but it’s not so intolerable that it’s maddening. 

You put something on the TV in the background, while you unwind, taking a shower then tidying up a little bit around the apartment. You let yourself enjoy the simplest of pleasures: your favorite pair of sweatpants that you can’t believe he’s kept, and a comfy bralette you’ve packed at the top of your suitcase. 

But it all starts to hit you as you start slowing down: after spending the night in Cleveland, you’d driven all morning to Chicago, jumped in on the line for dinner prep. You’ve barely had a moment to slow down and holy shit, are you exhausted. It doesn’t take more than a few episodes of Pasta Grannies for you to pass out on the couch. Carmy’s YouTube playback is set to autoplay, and as your eyelids become progressively heavier, you promise yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few moments… 

“Hi sweetheart,” you hear a voice say, causing you to slowly blink your eyes open. 

“Carm?” you mumble, only half awake. “Is it you? You’re really here?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did I wake you?” he whispers, letting out a small laugh. 

You giggle as Carmy comes into your line of sight. He’s perched on the edge of the couch as you reach for one of his hands so that you can touch him. 

“Yeah, but I’m glad you did. What time is it?” you ask, becoming more and more awake by the minute. 

“Ten-thirty. Business picked up a ton for dinner.”

“Damn.”

“So much for getting off early.” 

You hum in response, sitting up momentarily to grab his hands, pulling him towards. Carmy smiles, laying his body over yours, before leaning in for the softest, gentlest kiss. 

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he smiles back at you, the words just on the tip of his tongue. 

I love you too.

You pull him back in for another kiss, this time deepening it. You laugh again, as Carmy breaks the kiss, an inquisitive look plastered to his face. 

“What?” he questions. 

“Nothing. You smell like hot giardiniera,” you giggle as your lips twist into a smile against his. 

He laughs, “Yeah?’

“Uh huh,” you say. 

“I’ll shower,” he suggests, playfully. 

“No, no it’s okay. I’m kinda into it,” you reply, earning another chuckle from him. 

“It’s okay,” Carmy replies, shaking his head. He places a peck on your lips before sitting up properly, earning a groan from you as he pulls away. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Maybe we can move this to uh… my bedroom?”

“Are you putting the moves on me, Berzatto?” you tease him, shooting him a playful look.

“No! I just meant-, since I know you must be tired-,” he stammers, a blush running across your cheeks. 

You shake your head, sitting up to reassure him with another kiss. 

“I’m kidding,” you say with a chuckle. “And I’m also starving. 

“Yeah?” he sounds. 

“How about this? Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll order us a pizza. I’m sure we can find something to do while we wait for it to get here,” you say suggestively. 

Oh. 

“Sounds great,” he agrees with a quick raise of his eyebrows. 

You watch as Carmy disappears into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling your ears, you scroll around a little for a good pizza spot nearby. You settle on something New York style out of habit, ordering a few things for delivery. 

By the time Carmy gets out of the shower, you’ve curled up with yourself in his bed, scrolling around on your favorite social media app. You let out a whistle as soon as Carmy enters the room with only a towel tied around his waist. You can tell he’s tried his best to dry his hair, running the towel through his perfect curls a few times. You’ve got all this pent up sexual energy, and seeing Carmy like this, all hot, nearly-naked, and wet is really doing it for you. 

Hell, he could be in a full hazmat suit and the man would do it for you. 

You watch as he rummages through his dresser, searching for a t-shirt and a pair of briefs, but there’s no fucking way you’re letting him get dressed. You toss your phone to the side, standing up from where you are on the bed.

As you approach, you snake your arms around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. He cannot believe this is real: that you’re here, in his bed, in the sweatpants that he knows you love. That you’re here to stay. That you’re here and you’re his. 

“Hey,” he says, his lips twisting into a smile as you begin to leave soft kisses across the back of his shoulders. 

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, nipping at the skin you’ve just kissed. 

Carmy hisses at the feel of your teeth, letting out a laugh that seems to rumble in his throat. 

“Can I help you with something?” he teases you. 

He feels your lips curl into a smile against his skin, smirking in response. 

I fucking love you too. 

But before he can say anything, your hands are pushing his towel down past his hips, desperately envious of the way the material clings to him. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “I think you know.”

He lets the towel fall to the floor, and Carmy groans as you wrap your hand around his hard on, hissing as he feels you pump him a few times. 

“Seems like you’ve been thinkin the same thing,” you say again, feeling how hard he already is. 

He bites into his lower lip, his eyes rolling towards the back of his head as he enjoys the way you touch him. 

“Been thinkin’ about this all day, sweetheart.”

“Well…” you trail off. “I’d love to hear more about what’s been on your mind.”

“Yeah?” he croaks out, the pleasure you’re bringing him causing him to short circuit. 

“Yes,” you sigh out, wound up with desire. 

Finally, Carmy turns around, grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a passionate, lust-filled kiss. His lips are on yours like he’s been starving, as if nothing would satiate him the way tasting you will. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss, as you feel his tongue slide against yours. Carmy begins backing you up towards the bed, guiding you down to his mattress. 

“Had this on my mind since you left Chicago,” he mumbles, his pupils wide, fully blown out in lust. 

“Me too,” you manage to get out. 

He leans in once more, pressing his lips to yours once more. You drag your teeth against his bottom lip, before he breaks the kiss, his mouth and hands searching for real estate lower. Carmy leaves hot, open mouthed kisses along your breasts, your torso, and you’re practically pulling off your bralette like it’s burning your skin. 

“Been thinkin’ about this. You…” he admits, his voice hoarse. 

You gasp in pleasure as Carmy drags the sweatpants, along with your panties, down over your hips, tossing them who knows where behind him. 

“... tasting you.” 

You moan as he positions himself between your legs, kneeling on the floor, his chest pressed to the bed. Your legs quake with anticipation as you feel his hot breath fan over your core. Every moment he spends making you wait is killing you. 

“Carmy, please,” you beg, as he begins leaving soft kisses along your inner thighs. You can tell he’s making himself wait too, building the anticipation so that when he lets himself have you… 

“Carmen!” you moan. 

He practically groans against you as he uses the tip of his tongue to trace your clit.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he muses, before burying himself between your thighs again. 

His mouth is on you, tracing little shapes with his tongue, licking up and down your progressively wet core, while his hands keep your legs spread wide. 

All for him. 

He continues to eat you out, completely enraptured with the way you taste, the way your moans and gasps sound, the way you say his name, calling out for him and only him. As he slips a finger inside of you, you bury your hands in his hair, your hips thrusting up into his hand and against his mouth. 

“Holy fuck, Carmy,” you gasp, your mind completely taken over with the pleasure he’s giving you. 

He can tell that you’re close, adding another finger, taking note that you seem to like it even more. It’s as if he’s memorized every single thing you loved, everything that seemed to make you tick, and applied it to this time. 

“Carmy, I’m gonna-,” you cry out, your legs shaking as he brings you over the edge. 

You’re gasping, writhing against the bed, your legs still pushed wide by tatted hands as you begin to come down. You look down, tugging Carmy’s hair to bring him back up to you. When he finally looks back up at you, he’s grinning, completely satisfied with the pleasure he’s brought you. He makes his way back up, laying his very naked body over top of yours, leaning in for another kiss. 

You can taste yourself on his lips, and he doesn’t know if it’s possible to get harder than he is. 

“That’s what you were thinking about?” you whispered against his lips, spreading your legs to make room for him. You can feel his hard, aching cock against your wet center, and if you think you’ll die if he’s not inside of you as soon as possible. 

“All day.” 

He kisses you, nipping at your top lip momentarily, before continuing with:

“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about it, actually.” 

That and something else. 

Three words he can’t seem to get out. 

Even though they’re begging to be said. 

You reach down, wrapping a hand around him, sliding his thick tip against you so that he can feel how wet and needy you are for him. 

“I can think of a few other things I want,” you beg him, feeling him shudder against you as you drag the tip of his cock over you again and again. 

“And what’s that?” Carmy asks you cheekily. 

Instead of answering, you guide him into you, earning a gasp from the both of you as he splits you open. Carmy takes his time pushing into you, making sure to pause when he’s fully seated inside of you. 

Your eyes are locked with his, allowing yourself to get totally lost inside of the pools of blue. You’re sighing out in pleasure, squeezing around him, your lips so fucking close to touching it’s near-painful. Carmy begins to slide out of you at a dangerously slow pace, thrusting into you, deeper each time. You’re pulling him down to you, and it’s as if you can’t get enough – enough of his mouth on yours, enough of him to hold onto – even though you have all of him. 

You’d let him consume all of you if he wanted to, you think to yourself, as he swallows your moans in his mouth.

It’s tangled legs, and tangled tongues, and whispered pleas. 

“God, you feel so good,” he grunts, burying his head in your neck as he speeds up. You can tell the both of you are close – that all the pent up sexual energy means that neither of you will last long. 

But you don’t care. 

You’ve got all the time in the world now. 

“Carmy,” you whine, desperate for him to let you cum.

You know you have his attention, as he raises his head, locking eyes with you again. 

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” you whisper, desperately. 

“Fuck. That’s so hot,” he groans, his eyes wide.

Unwillingly, he peels his body off of yours, letting you sit up straight. He thinks he may have died and gone to heaven as he watches you turn around, kneeling on all fours over his bed. His hands immediately go to your ass, dragging calloused palms over the curve of it as he kneels behind you. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he gasps, guiding himself back into you. 

He thinks the sight alone may send him to an early grave as you bow your back, your ass still high as you press your chest against the bed. 

“Your ass is fucking incredible,” Carmy says, pulling out slowly, before thrusting back into you with a force that makes you cry out. 

“Carmen,” you whimper, your legs shaking beneath you. 

This feels too good. 

“Hmm?” he asks, his hands smoothing over your low back, following the way your back seems to arch in pleasure. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

He knows he won’t last much longer. His hands hold onto your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he begins to speed up. It feels unreal, incredible, being this deep inside of you. And he gets to watch: watch the way you arch your back, watch your body respond to every single thrust, watch you grasp at the sheets and pillows, searching for something to hold onto. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna last long, baby,” he stutters out, his thrusts becoming more erratic as you beg him to keep going. 

“Please, Carmen. That feels so goddamn good,” you plead with him, face down into his sheets. 

“Shit. Fuck,” he howls, his voice booming against all corners of the room. 

Carmy places the gentlest hand against your low back, as if it to ask you to lay down, laying his body over yours from behind. He pauses, because it just feels too damn good, and he wants to revel in this moment before this ends. Ever so slowly, he begins to drag his cock in and out of you at the most torturously slow pace. His mouth leaves small kisses against your shoulders, nipping at your soft skin as he continues to make love to you. 

“Faster, Carmy. Please. I’m gonna cum,” you pant. 

You’re not sure just how much more patient you can get here. You feel him begin to speed up, and you’re moaning into his mattress against, begging for him to make you cum. He can feel you squeezing around him, and the sight of himself fucking into you really isn’t helping either. 

“Fuck,” he manages to get out, his hips beginning to stutter against your ass. 

“Yes. Whatever you want. I’ll give you whatever you want,” he repeats, earning the most blissful ‘Carmy’ from your lips he’s ever heard. 

“Baby, I’m so close,” you whine. 

“Yes, me too. Yes. Fuck, I love you,” he calls out, shutting his eyes as he cums. 

He can feel you shuddering around him, as he fucks you through your orgasm too, completely unaware of the words that have flown out of his mouth. 

You’re both panting, breathless from what you’ve just done, as you begin to come down. 

“Holy shit,” he finally says, leaning his forehead against the back of your shoulder. 

“You can say that again,” you chuckle, trying to catch your breath. 

“Can we do this tomorrow? And the day after that?” you ask, playfully, turning your head to kiss him. “And the day after that?”

Carmy smiles, “Absolutely.”

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get cleaned up and back into comfy clothes. Carmy knows there’s no point in fighting you for your favorite pair of his sweatpants as he picks out another pair, remaining shirtless for your viewing pleasure. The pizza arrives shortly after, and you find yourself in bed, with the man you’ve loved for so long, getting a much-needed refuel break. 

“You know I hate eating in bed,” Carmy points out, watching you get crumbs all over his sheets. 

“Yeah, well I’m getting my own place so… that’s a future problem for you and me,” you answer, without a single care in the world. 

“For when we move in together?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters – seeing if that’s something that’s still on your mind. 

“Right,” you confirm, confidently. 

But you’re in. 

You’re all in. 

It seems like you’ve passed whatever test he’s given you as the corners of his lips curl into the softest smile. 

“You know… you live in Chicago now,” he teases, in reference to your choice of pizza. 

You scoff in response, throwing in a playful eye roll for dramatic effect. 

“Oh fuck you.” 

He laughs. 

You eat quietly, enjoying your first night in Chicago as a resident. You watch as Carmy’s face changes, as if he’s trying to find the right words to say what’s on his mind. Instead of asking, you wait, knowing that he’ll bring it up when he finds them. 

“Hey uh…” he starts, hesitantly. “I just want you to know… that I… I meant what I said earlier.”

The more serious tone he uses piques your curiosity as you stare back at him blankly, unsure of what he's referring to.

“What do you mean?” you ask back.

Carmy takes another beat, pausing as he musters up the courage to clarify with:

“That I love you. I didn’t want you to think I just said it because… well you know.”

Because you were naked.

Because he got caught up in the moment.

Because he was inside of you.

He licks his lips, before opening his mouth to say it again: 

“I love you.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, his eyes are on you, watching your face for any kind of reaction.

But you’re beaming as you hear them and it all begins to make sense. It was something you’d said earlier, but the fact that he hadn’t said it back hadn’t been on your mind. Is this what he’d been thinking about all day? You just figured he'd say it back when he was ready.

You shake your head, a grin plastered to your face as you reply,

“I know, silly. I love you too.”

Fin. 

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery@strawberryalicia @astronautelilanded @veryplatoniccircunstances @fonteyn @hlkwrites

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. vii

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: Reader and Joel try (poorly) to keep their budding relationship hidden from Sarah. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 6.3k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY. Angst, PTSD (though not explicitly stated). References to abusive parents. A bit of a drunken brawl. Men being generally shitty and misogynistic. Alcohol and marijuana mention. Fluff. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: Strap in, ya'll. This chapter is pretty heavy at times but I promise, it'll be worth it. Things have been going well so we needed to bring some drama! Also, some of my links are breaking and I try to update them but as of right now the masterlist should have links to all the chapters ! Also special shoutout to @str84pedro for reminding me to close out the 'Joel getting his wallet back' storyline. And @ay0nha for the Hank Williams joke. tysm my friends.

-June 27th, 2003-

“Joel.” 

Pleasure swirls low in your belly, his name comes out as a throaty moan.  

“Aren’t you-oh, fuck,” you manage. “-worried y-your neighbors might see?”

You’re splayed open on one of the patio chairs in his backyard, fingers curled in his hair. The dress you’d worn is hiked over your hips, thong pushed to the side. Joel has long since pulled your legs apart, one of them hooked over the cool metal arm of the chair, the other pressed against his cheek, his beard rubbing your skin raw. 

“No.” His lips pull away from the suction they have on your clit, but the two fingers he’s got inside you continue to work diligently, scissoring and curling against a spot deep within you that serves as the cause for all your stuttering. “They shouldn’t be lookin’ over the fence,” he murmurs, voice surprisingly clear and steady considering what he’s doing to you. “And if you stay quiet, you won’t give them a reason to.” 

Joel hums contentedly as he latches his mouth back against the sensitive bud, sucking furiously, and you do as you’re told, panting into your palm to keep your whimpers to yourself. It’s Joel who seems to be struggling the most to stay quiet, especially when you arch your back to press your hips into his face, and he moans against you. He loves going down on you – you’ve learned through lots of experience. As if to prove it, you look down to where he’s knelt between your legs and see that his free hand is squeezing himself over his jeans. 

It’s only been ten minutes since you walked through his front door. Currently, you can’t remember what your plans had been for the night. Seeing a movie? Going to dinner? For a walk? Your brain is mush. But Joel had suggested you have a quick drink on his back patio before leaving and, well…here you are. 

You can’t get enough of Joel, and yet, you never have to ask for him. When you have plans, they’re often abandoned, and you end up tangled in bedsheets together. Whether it’s his place or yours, he’s taken you everywhere and every way you can think of, but you still want more. He is just as insatiable. 

Sarah has been away at camp for two weeks now, which means you’d actually gotten to spend an entire weekend together. This past Saturday, Joel had made good on a promise to spend an entire day in bed with you, and then Sunday was spent the same way after he’d revealed to you he had never had sex stoned. Well, we need to fix that, you’d said. It felt like a huge accomplishment when you were able to drag yourselves out of bed and clean up for long enough to grab a meal at a 24-hour diner that wasn’t far down the road. Such a short drive, even, that when you’d tried to suck him off in the car on the way home Joel had said there ‘wasn’t enough time.’ 

Of course, most of your flings started off with this phase, but Joel still found ways to surprise you at every turn. You didn’t know it was possible to be with someone who was so thoughtful, so sincere. It was easy to trust him, to be yourself with him, even if you were still learning how.

Tonight is your last night alone before Sarah returns from camp, and Joel’s determined to use it to his full advantage.  

After you’ve come on his fingers, against his tongue – and he talks you through it – Joel pulls you onto his lap. He’s still on his knees, crushing you against him, and you can feel him straining through his jeans.  

“We’re not gonna make it to the movie, are we?” It’s more of an observation than it is anything else, pulling back from one of his greedy kisses.

“You wouldn’t be upset if we didn’t go, would you?” There’s some sincerity in his expression, like he almost feels bad. 

“Stay here with you, or go see a terrible action movie?” you say, shaking your head, steadying your breathing. “That’s a tough one.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but doesn’t hide his smile. “Want to go upstairs?” 

“Sure.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At this point you’ve been in Joel’s room more than once. But you notice new things each time. There’s photos of him and Sarah he has framed on his dresser, one from when she’s just a toddler, and he looks not much older than a kid himself. He has a stack of books there too, but they’re collecting dust, one of them is some sort of thick construction manual, and the other is titled Everything You Need To Know About Creating a Startup. You would sooner crack those open than you would your old law textbooks. There’s always a pile of clothes on the floor, and you don’t think the chair in the corner has ever not had a couple pairs of his work jeans strewn over the back.

Joel lays back on the bed, stretches out like a cat, his arms above his head, flannel and t-shirt combo lifting to reveal the swathe of hair that trails down and disappears into his jeans. You’re well accustomed to his body at this point, but it still doesn’t stop your stomach from flipping every time any inch of his skin is revealed to you. The muscles in his biceps flex as he props his head back on his forearm, looks over at you, pausing in the threshold. “Why are you bein’ shy all the sudden?”

“Can’t I just look at you?” 

Joel’s face gets flushed, or at least, it sort of looks like it does, and he holds a hand towards you. “Get over here.” 

You step forward to take his hand, and he tugs you onto him, shifting his weight so the line of his body is pressed against yours. Since he’s already gotten you off, and you had a few moments apart while walking upstairs, you’ve both calmed down a little, and the kisses he gives you are lazy, exploratory. 

Outside, all the light has nearly left the sky. A cool breeze filters through his open windows, the sheer curtains billowing out. When you shiver, Joel pulls you closer, one broad, warm palm raking up your arm, brushing over pebbled skin. 

Joel makes love to you slowly, languidly, hovering over you. This isn’t new, it’s how he always seems to like it. Before, it had never been your favorite. You used to think it meant there was a lack of enthusiasm, but you must have been with the wrong people. With Joel, it just makes sense. You’re still able to taste the desperation dripping off of him when you trace your tongue along his collarbone, and can feel how badly he wants you in the unhurried drag of his fingertips. The way he touches you, so confident, but also so tenderly, makes you feel insane. All you want to do is take and take. And he’s so eager to give it to you. 

When you wake the next morning, your cheek is resting on his sternum, and his palm in the dip of your spine. Window still open from the night before, you can hear the morning doves calling – probably what woke you to begin with. Something you’ve learned is that when given the chance, Joel loves to sleep. You do too, obviously, but it doesn’t seem to come as easily. So when you tilt your head back to look up at him, you’re surprised to find him already awake. Sunlight glitters off the amber in his eyes, and there’s such a warmth to his gaze that your first instinct is to turn away. 

But you don’t. You let him kiss you, let his beard tickle your neck. 

“I love waking up next to you,” Joel whispers. 

Even though you’re too afraid to say anything in return, he doesn’t hold it against you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-July 5, 2003-

Sarah answers the door to her house before your knuckles can even make contact with the wood. She all-but pounces on you as you step over the threshold, wrapping you in a hug that’s so tight you barely can breath, and pulling back before you can return it. “How are you? Where have you been?” 

“I’m good, just busy,” She’s been back for a week and you still haven't had a chance to see her. Work has been hectic, and you’d even had to work during the holiday yesterday to meet a deadline for a new client. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she gives you another quick hug.

You wait for her to pull back before she speaks again. “How was camp?”

“So much fun,” she nods. “But I got eaten alive by mosquitos so I’m kind of happy to be home.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t know how well I’d do out in the wilderness for so long.”

“Oh yeah,” Sarah raises her eyebrows. “The New Yawk-er,” she says with an unconvincing accent, but grimaces. “Sorry, that was bad.”

“We’ll work on it,” you pat her shoulder.

There’s a fresh smattering of freckles across her nose from the days she’s spent outside under the Texan sun, which is unrelenting this time of year. It also seems she’s grown another inch since the last time you’d seen her, but you can’t be certain. “My dad is upstairs. Running late as usual,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You can come in. I have so much to tell you.”

You act tentative, because as far as she knows, this is your first time in her home. When you sit on the couch, she plops next to you, leaning against the cushions. “What’s this?” you reach for one of the many photos strewn out across the coffee table. 

“Oh, that’s my dad and his brother when they were kids.” The photo is of the two young boys seated in a red wagon. Tommy’s got a half-eaten strawberry in his hand, his lips and cheeks stained red. And he’s leaning back against Joel, who's wearing a cowboy hat that’s far too big for him, his plump cheek resting on the top of his brother’s dark curls. You are ashamed by the twinge of bitter longing that twists in your gut when you see their carefree smiles, despite it being one of the sweetest one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. But you’re even more ashamed that for one quick second, you wonder what Joel would look like with a son that age. Would he be just as adorable? “My dad was going through a bunch of old family photos the other day,” Sarah says. 

“Cute,” you observe. 

But Sarah doesn’t seem as interested in them as you do, so to avoid any suspicion, you put the photo down. You let her recount her trip, starting with day one, and moving on. Sarah explains what it was like to live in a cabin for a week, to sleep for a night under the stars. She learned archery, and swam, and rode horses, and hiked, and wove friendship bracelets with the other girls there. She shows you one of the multicolored woven bracelets on her wrist, and pulls an identical one out of her pocket to fasten around your own. It’s so thoughtful you aren’t quite sure how to thank her, and you’re hit with a fresh wave of guilt over the secret you’ve been keeping. It had been easier to ignore when she wasn’t around. 

You hear Joel shuffling down the stairs before he comes into view. “You ready, babygirl?”

“Yeah,” Sarah answers. “We’re waiting.”

“Hey,” Joel says when he reaches the landing. He pauses, looks between you and Sarah, huddled on the couch together, and then nods at you once. “Nice to see you.” 

“You too,” you say, rather rigidly. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Of course,” he says over his shoulder as he heads into the kitchen. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, you almost buy it. Almost.

The county fair only lasts a week, and tonight is the last night you’re able to go. Sarah had called you at work a few days earlier to invite you. She seemed adamant that although it was a yearly tradition to go with Joel, she wanted you there. I asked my dad already and he said it was fine. It had been awhile since you’d gone to a carnival, and you weren’t one to turn down the opportunity to eat a funnel cake and drink some fresh-squeezed lemonade. 

“Alright,” Joel returns from the kitchen with his car keys, all business. “Let’s head out.” 

He holds the door open as Sarah filters outside, followed by you. But you stop yourself in the threshold, turning to Joel. “Did you remember your wallet?” You ask him out of habit, because historically speaking, he’s always leaving it behind. 

Joel pats his pockets, groans, throwing his head back. “Shit.” and then disappears back inside. Briefly, you worry that Sarah might have picked up on the implications of the question – maybe you know him a little too well – but she doesn’t even seem to be paying attention, and you scold yourself for being so paranoid. 

“Good catch,” Joel says as he exits the house, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket. He grins at you and Sarah. 

You bite back a teasing remark. Are you sure you’re the oldest child in your family? Sometimes he seems just a tad too frazzled, forgetful. That might’ve drawn a laugh from him, or a pointed ‘Shut Up’. But you’ve got to keep that sort of thing to yourself, if you can.

You pile into the car, Sarah in the back and you on the passengers side, but it doesn’t stop her from leaning forward to stay in the conversation while Joel puts his elbow over the bench seat and looks over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. It’s a hot night, so he’s only got on a fitted t-shirt that’s a tad too tight through his chest and upper body. You do everything in your power not to let your gaze linger on him. It’s hard to believe someone could make putting a car in reverse sexy, but if anyone could do it, it’s Joel. 

“Do you like The Chicks?” Sarah asks from behind you, once you’re on the road. 

“I don’t listen to much country music,” you’re honest. 

“You live in Texas,” Joel interjects. 

“Yeah, you live in Texas,” Sarah echoes. “I think you’ll like them. Dad, will you play my favorite song?” She nudges you to get your attention. “He finally fixed his radio.”

“Is your seatbelt on?” Joel does a double-take when he notices how far up she’s sitting. 

“Yes, I actually can get a pretty good range of motion with this thing.”

“Well it needs to go across your shoulders,” Joel adjusts his rearview mirror so he can see Sarah better. 

“It is, Dad,” she chastises. “Can you please play the song?”

You smirk. Joel puts one of the discs sitting in his center console into the CD player, and then skips forward two tracks. 

“Turn it up,” Sarah says immediately as the first few bars of quiet guitar kick in. 

“I should’ve never bought you this album,” Joel grumbles, but reaches out and obeys. 

I said I wanna touch the earth, I wanna break it in my hands, I wanna grow something wild and unruly….

“Are you going to learn to play this on guitar like I asked?” she questions Joel, who is focused on the road.

“No,” he deadpans.

Oh, you play guitar? You’re tempted to ask, like he doesn’t put on a show for you every time you decide to get stoned on your back porch – which has been often, lately. But it seems a little too risky, so you keep your mouth shut. It’s better right now to be an observer.

“Why not?” Sarah asks. 

“Not my style.”

“It might be good to expand your catalog outside of Hank Williams and Johnny Cash,” Sarah encourages. 

“I play more than just them,” Joel defends himself.

“Whatever you say,” Sarah says, but looks over at you as though she’s skeptical. You grin and roll down your window. 

I said, cowboy take me away, fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue…

“Turn it up,” Sarah prompts again.

Joel pretends like he doesn’t hear her, so when she requests again, you reach out to do it. Instantly, you’re met with a firm, smack on the back of your hand. “It’s loud enough,” he says.

“Dad!” Sarah exclaims, and seems almost shocked that he would do such a thing, offended on your behalf.

Joel doesn’t turn from the road. “She’s fine.”

“Ouch,” you dramatize, shaking out your hand, egged on by Sarah. 

“Oh, come on, I barely touched you,” Joel reaches out, squeezing your hand gently in response. A force of habit. For a second, you’ve both forgotten where you are, who you are with. Joel pulls away, clears his throat and looks back at the road. “You’re fine.”

You know if you look for Sarah’s reaction, you’ll give yourself away. So instead you continue to antagonize. “What if I was turning it up for myself?” 

“Yeah, dad. It’s a really good song.”

“It is,” you nod. “I’m enjoying it.”

“Stop that. Don’t encourage her,” Joel warns you. 

You reach back out to turn up the radio. 

“Oh, come on,” Joel rolls his eyes, realizing he’s outnumbered, but he sort of laughs as he does it, running his hand through his hair. 

I wanna be the only one for miles and miles, except for maybe you and your simple smile…

You look over your shoulder to wink at Sarah, who is beaming. Satisfied now that the music is blaring from the truck’s speakers, she settles back against her seat and looks out the window, the wind tousling her hair, her sweet voice singing along faintly to the rest of the song. Joel gives you a sidelong glance when she’s not looking, the same unidentifiable warmth in his eyes that you had seen last weekend, and you let your eyes remain on him for another moment, before forcing yourself to turn away. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun is down, and the lights of the carnival glitter and twinkle as you weave through the crowd. Sarah’s arm linked through your own, the other around a giant stuffed teddy bear you’d somehow managed to win at the shooting gallery booth. All those summers of your brother forcing you to play ‘target practice’ with his BB gun when you were supposed to be honing your serve finally paid off. There’s a band playing swing music somewhere, but there are so many people around, and you’ve sort of lost your spatial awareness. Joel and Sarah both seem to know where they are going, so you stick with them. 

Every now and then, in the fleeting moments when Sarah runs up ahead of you, or turns her back to look at something, Joel will take her place. You had been a little worried that your teasing in the car may have gone too far, but he doesn’t seem upset. It’s quite the opposite, really. He’ll wind an arm around your waist, put his lips to your temple, squeeze your hand. He seems completely at ease despite the relative chaos around you, and always manages to pull himself away just in time. 

“Should we go into the funhouse?” Sarah asks, after your little group has pulled off to the side. 

“Eh,” you wrinkle your nose. “I’ll pass.”

“What?” she’s incredulous. “No! You have to, come on.”

“I don’t really want to,” you shake your head. 

“Why not?”

“Sarah,” Joel interjects. “She said no.”

“They make me claustrophobic,” you say, tone much softer than her father’s. You were pretty sure you’d be fine, but it seems dumb to traumatize yourself doing something that’s quite literally supposed to be fun.

Surprisingly, Sarah doesn’t continue to press, and instead turns to her father. “I think I’ll stay back,” Joel says. “But you go ahead. We’ll wait.” 

“Ugh, lame,” Sarah rolls her eyes, but doesn’t protest, pushing the giant stuffed teddy bear towards it. Joel tucks it under his arm – he’s already holding a bag of popcorn, and she bounds off.

“I didn’t know you were claustrophobic,” Joel says, his eyes locked on Sarah until he sees her disappear into the attraction. Then he turns to you.

“Only in specific situations,” you explain. “Plus, did you know that funhouses were originally invented to give people panic attacks?”

“What? Really?”

“No,” you say. “I just made that up.” 

Joel shakes his head. “I guess if I’m thinking about movies I’ve seen, nothing good ever comes from a funhouse.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Carnivals in general don’t usually great media representation.” 

“Well, I hope you’re having fun at this one.”

“I am,” you smile at Joel. The crowd is just tipsy enough to be pleasant, and it’s not late enough in the evening for any children to be having the tired-hungry-overstimulated meltdown yet. Plus, you’re in good company. “Are you?”

“I would be havin’ more fun if I didn’t have to watch you walk in front of me in that little dress all night.”

You look down at the floral sundress you’re wearing. It’s very flattering and feminine, and felt right for the hot summer evening. “You don’t like it?”

“No,” Joel says. “I like it a little too much.”

“Oh,” you nod. “I mean….I did sort of wear it because I figured you would.”

“Darlin’,” Joel puts his head back and groans dramatically. “Please don’t tell me that.”

“What’s the issue?”

“Because I can’t touch you. I could now, but instead I’ve gotta carry all her shit.”

You snort, amused, crossing your arms. “You’re in the trenches, huh?”

“Exactly. At least you understand,” Joel smirks. You’re unable to resist the urge to lean close enough to wrap your arms around his torso and kiss him, despite being rather out in the open. Joel lets out a noise that sounds like relief, hand on your waist, keeping you from pulling back. 

“How long do you think she’ll be gone?” His eyes flick behind you towards the funhouse. “Think we could sneak off, pay off a carnie to keep watch so we could- what’s that face?” 

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “You’ve clearly thought this through…”

“Well, I’ve been third wheeling all night so I had time to get creative,” Joel drops his hand from you and turns you both around so you can see in between two booth games. “You see over there, between those two tents…there’s a dumpster-”

“Sounds hot…”

“Right?”

“...And also kind of like the beginning of an episode of Law & Order.”

Joel loses it, and you steal a bite of popcorn from the bag in his hand to hide how satisfied you are at making him laugh so hard. You nudge him in the ribs with your elbow when his hand goes to cover his eyes. 

“What’s so funny?”

The smile doesn’t leave your face as quickly as Joel’s does when you both pivot to find Sarah standing behind you. “Hey babygirl,” he offers a weak grin. “That was quick.”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “There wasn’t a line.”

You try not to act suspicious, but you’re wondering how much she heard. Apparently, not enough to be skeptical, because she continues on. “And you’re right,” she looks at you. “It wasn’t very fun.” 

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching to take some more popcorn out of the bag in Joel’s hand, hoping it just seems like a nonchalant, platonic thing. “They’re kind of a lot right?”

She nods, shrugs, and then reaches for the popcorn herself. You might be in the clear, and make a pointed effort to keep more distance between you and Joel for the rest of the night.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Do you think we should stop for another snack?” Sarah asks, like you haven’t already eaten your weight in junk this evening. But you’ve arrived at a little picnic area surrounded by food trucks and vendors. “Maybe we can sit down for a little.”

“That sounds nice,” Joel says. “Why don’t you two get in line, I’m gonna run to put this in the car.” He lifts the prize you’d given to Sarah up with a grimace. Somehow, he ended up carrying the plush bear all night.

“Is it too heavy for you?” Sarah teases. Joel doesn’t even answer, just rolls his eyes and turns around. 

“I’ll be back,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Sarah’s giggles subside and Joel disappears into the crowd. 

“Where do you wanna go?” you ask her, putting your hands on your hips and taking in the area. At this point in the night, many people attending appear to be fairly plastered. At this point in the evening, most of the families with younger children have cleared out, and it’s well past dinner time, so there aren’t a ton of people hanging in the area. “I probably owe you dinner. And your dad a beer, since he’s paid for everything.” 

“He’d like that,” Sarah says. “I’m glad you two are friends.”

“Oh?” you glance over at her. “Yeah, me too.” Sarah just stares at you, doesn’t say anything. “You have a nice family. You, your dad, your Uncle Tommy…”

Sarah just keeps studying you.

“What?” 

Her eyes narrow, just a touch. You recall what Joel had told you about her picking up your mannerisms, but you never realized how horrible it was to be on the other side. Still, it was you, who had taught her this, so you do your best to appear confused. What do you want from me? It works, and she smiles, shakes her head, then looks at the ground. “Nothin’,” when she looks back up, there’s something melancholy about her expression, and she kicks the toe of her Converse into the gravel. “Can we get a funnel cake?” 

“Lead the way.”

As you follow her to the food truck, her petite form gets jostled by some of the patrons waiting in line near a drink stand. You have to squeeze through them to get by. There’s a picnic table near the walkway where a bunch of men sit – hunched over, listening to a man on the end of the bench tell a very animated story. Several empty draft cups and beer bottles are stacked or lined up on their table, and the sickeningly sweet smell of the tipped cigarillos they’re smoking makes your nostrils burn.

Just as Sarah’s about to pass them, the man talking stretches his arms wide, and the hand that just so happens to be clutching a solo cup filled to the brim reaches out directly into Sarah’s path. 

It’s too late. She collides with his arm, and the beer is knocked from his hand, landing on the picnic table and spraying everyone in the vicinity with liquid and sticky foam. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Sarah says, putting her hand over her mouth, genuinely apologetic. 

And that’s where it should’ve ended. 

“What the fuck?” the man, who looks to be about your age, maybe a little older, gives her a once over. 

You reach Sarah. “Are you alright?” you ask, stepping between her and the man, turning her away from his nasty glare. Before she can answer, he speaks up again.

“You better learn to watch where you’re fucking going, girl!”

Sarah’s jaw drops, even though she’s staring at the gravel. You turn to face the man. “Hey,” you keep your voice light. “Calm down, dude, it was an accident.”

“Oh, it was an accident?” The man looks down at his shirt, soaked through, then back up at you, his hand landing on the table. “Seems like a pretty big fuckin’ accident.”

“She said sorry,” you shrug. And if you really want to get down to brass tacks, asshole, it was totally your fault, you think, but you keep your cool.

The man drags himself to his feet. Your head tilts back to look at him, notice how he hulks over you, and you ignore the feeling of your heart rate picking up. But you stand your ground, pushing Sarah backwards without looking, hoping to put some space between her and what is becoming an increasingly ridiculous situation. Who the fuck picks a fight with a middle school girl?

“Are you at least gonna pay for another round?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you pretend to reach for your purse, even though you have no intention of giving him any money. Prick. You can’t help yourself. “You’re at a county fair in Texas, what do you want, like, two dollars?” 

The man flicks the plastic tip of his cigar onto the ground. For a brief moment, your eyes float towards the men at the table behind him. Some of them are watching, seemingly amused, while others stare at the table. Like they know they should be doing something about this, but they aren’t. They won’t. Typical. 

The truth is, you’re scared. You’ve been here before. Helpless, praying that some adult would intervene - and being let down every time. Surely, someone had to know. Surely, someone could���ve helped you. In the end, you had to do what you were doing now. Look out for yourself.

“Shut the fuck up, you fuckin’ cunt.” He says it like it’s supposed to end the conversation. But being a woman who's been on her own most of her adult life, and regularly seen as a threat to men’s fragile egos, you give him zero points for creativity. 

Your fatal flaw is your mouth. It can get you into trouble, it can get you out of trouble, but one thing is certain; when you’re angry, you always have shit to say. 

“Is that all you got?” you ask. 

Any bit of bravery that remains vanishes entirely when the man’s hand rises. You take a step backward but know it’s too late, flinching in anticipation. Sarah, who's huddled behind you, clings to your waist, and you nearly topple over her but luckily, you don’t lose your footing. 

The impact never comes. 

Well, not for you, at least. 

Joel has materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, and his hands are fisted in the collar of the man’s shirt. He’s yelling something unintelligible, and it doesn’t really register because you are too focused on the fact that he looks like a wild fucking animal – teeth bared into a nasty snarl, his voice gravelly. Your Joel, the sweet and gentle man who you’ve come to care so much about looks positively feral. 

Of course, it’s only then that the other men at the table decide to intervene. It takes three of them to pull Joel off before he can do any significant damage, and they all scatter, heading out in the opposite direction. 

You can’t move. It could’ve been worse, you think. There wasn’t even a punch thrown. But it caught enough attention from the crowd that you can hear people murmuring amongst themselves now, like they deserved to have an opinion as bystanders. 

Sarah releases her grip from you as Joel makes his way back towards you both, looking shockingly calm after what you’d just seen him do. His daughter tucks herself against his chest, he murmurs something into her hair. You’re still frozen in place, but you manage to turn your head away from the scene, sniff, and straighten up. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Joel’s voice is in your ear, his hand is on your shoulder, his face coming into view. For one split second, you’re struck by the impulse to pitch forward, to bury your face into his chest and allow yourself to be comforted. That’s until you see Sarah under his opposite arm and you remember where you are. You’re not a child. 

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Like he doesn’t believe you. You nod, step away enough that his hand drops off of you, and you cross your arms. “I saw what he-”

“I’m fine,” you put every bit of venom that you can into your voice without letting it crack, and you see the change in his face. Whiplash. Oops. That’s too far in the opposite direction. “Really, I’m good,” you say, much more gently this time. Then you force a smile, before realizing that even if you are okay, it’s not really appropriate to smile in this type of situation so you abandon that strategy. 

Breathe. Reset. 

Reaching out, you squeeze Sarah’s arm. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her cheeks wet, but she doesn’t appear to be crying anymore. “Are you alright?” you ask her. 

Sarah nods, relaxing slightly. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

“Of course,” you answer, and now that you’ve shoved every emotion that came bubbling up back to their rightful place, you’re able to offer: “Guess I’m not too great at deescalating.”

“Well, he wasn’t very nice.”

“He was a fucking asshole,” Joel rubs her back, but doesn’t release her. It’s only then you can see he’s still on high alert. “But I think that’s our cue to get out of here.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Keeping control of your emotions, as you have gotten older, does not work as well as it used to. And this…event….feels like you’ve gone to pull a loose thread off a sweater, only to realize it was the one that held the whole damned thing together. You don’t realize until it’s too late, and the next thing you know, you’re on the floor of your closet, scraps of fabric all over the floor, and no idea what to do with them. Oh, and it’s cold outside, so now you have nothing to wear. 

In the car on the way home. Sarah and Joel chat a bit. They go over everything that happened in detail, starting with the spilled beer. You don’t speak. You can feel your heartbeat thrumming in your body, your jaw clenched so tightly it’s begun to ache. It’s hard to tell if you want to scream or cry – maybe both, but as the whole situation solidifies itself in your memory, you’re starting to feel like it might be more of the latter. And you just want to get home, so when it happens, you can be alone.

It’s not great to know that you have fucked up the whole vibe. Unfortunately, you cannot give anything else right now. Joel keeps looking over at you, and you imagine he thinks you’re acting pretty pathetic. 

Joel pulls into his driveway, puts the car in park, and you can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Until he speaks up. 

“Sarah, can you give us a minute?” he asks, and you hear his car keys jingle. Elbow on the window frame, fist pressed against your nose, you stare at the dashboard. “I’ll be inside in a little bit.”

“Yeah…” Sarah answers, though she sounds timid. There’s the click of a seatbelt, and she slides out of the car on your side. As she passes your open window, she pats your shoulder gently, and you nod. You watch her walk up the path to her front door and ignore the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you. 

He says your name, and you give in, turn to look at him, just for a second. “Thank you for looking out for her,” So earnestly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there earlier.”

“Yeah, well….it wasn’t your fault.” 

“It wasn’t yours, either.”

“Yeah.”

The front door slams closed. Sarah’s inside, and Joel reaches out, moves a bit closer to you. He lays his hand on the side of your face, guiding you to look at him. You can’t meet his eyes, or he might see right through you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Has something like that-?” 

You know what he’s getting at. You don’t need to hear the rest of the question. “No.”

"Please," Joel takes a deep breath, dropping his eyes. “You can tell me the truth.”

You hate that he knows you’re not. And you hate yourself for hurting him, for being so cruel and dismissive when he’s only trying to help. But what is going to happen if he knows you? If he really knows who you are? “Joel,” you shake your head. “I can’t get into it.” 

“Okay,” he says, nods. 

“But….” you raise your hand, let it clasp around his wrist, over his watch. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Why don’t you come inside for a little, huh?” He asks. “Watch a movie with Sarah and I?”

“I don’t know, I-” You’re not sure how much longer you can keep the tears to yourself. You’d been planning on letting them out the second you walk inside, and bottling them up for more time sounds excruciating. So what are your valid excuses? “She might figure out that-”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care about that right now.”

“It’s late.” You say, as if you’re actually going to sleep tonight.

“You just spent the whole night with us. What’s another hour or two?” 

Those were your two best shots. Joel finally asks. He’s pleading with you, you can see in his face. This is for him. It’s not even about you. Well, it is. But it’s sincere. He’s not just pitying you. “Alright.” 

Sarah seems just as relieved to see you walk through the front door as Joel had been when you agreed. She sits between you on the couch while you watch some shitty action movie Joel picked out, and falls asleep curled up against his side. Once her measured breathing fills the room, Joel reaches over to clasp your hand, thumb rubbing over the back of your palm, and he doesn’t let go.  

Your plans to end the night crying yourself to sleep are long forgotten by the time you get home.

-----

taglist: @netflix-imagines @waymorecake4me @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow @user294829329 @gushington-central @hollyismentallyillhelp @dresseduplikeacarcrash @corvusmorte @aheartgonewild @19891213 @emoslave44 @elthreetimes @gushington-central @peqchsoup @dresseduplikeacarcrash @user294829329

-

-

-

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, died roughly 9 months ago. Unable to handle any more time alone in your formerly shared apartment, you decide to join a local therapy group you heard about from a friend. Little did you know, you’d meet a beautiful redhead going through a similar situation. You know you need to get better. For both your sake, and Natasha’s memory.

Warnings (Entire Series): This series deals with mature topics, including, but not limited to: death, mental health issues, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, grief, trauma, general unwellness, illness (both mental and physical), and a most likely inaccurate portrayal of group therapy (though it’s much better than whatever was going on in TFATWS.) Please mind the warnings below.

Warnings: death of a romantic partner, depression, mentions of death of a family member, anxiety.

||Part 2|| 🌻 Series Masterlist 🌻

———————————————————————

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 The apartment had never been this quiet. It was never so silent. There had always been some kind of white noise, whether that was the coffee pot or the washing machine running. It had never been completely silent, up until now.

You could divide your life into two parts. Before the accident, and after. Before the accident, your life was awesome. Of course, some pretty awful shit had happened to you, but it didn’t compare to all of the good shit that happened too. You liked living. You liked being alive. Now, well, you weren’t as sure. 

It had been nine months. Nine months since the worst day of your life. Your life had been so full, and now, it felt so empty. 

You get up. You get ready. You go to work. You drive home. You turn on the TV. And then, you just sit. 

It’s been a while since the funeral. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d left your apartment for fun. You went to work and you went to the store. That was pretty much it. 

The last time you’d left for any reason other than those had to be..maybe six months ago? 

You’d gone to a coffee shop with your friend, Sharon. 

“You’ve been so different after..you know. I completely understand, of course, but you shouldn’t have to live like this.” She said after sighing. She takes a sip of her latte from the porcelain mug in front of her.

“After my aunt died, I felt just like you, really. Remember my cousin Dottie? She went to a group therapy thing by the old Target. I don’t think they have it anymore, but some office nearby has to have one. I don’t know. I just think it would be good for you.” She suggested. 

“I’ll think about it.” You said, knowing you were not going to be thinking about it. Part of you felt ignored, knowing that the relationship between you and your late girlfriend was different than that of Sharon and her aunt. You said nothing, staring down at your own drink. 

“Good. I’ll send you some links later, alright?”

You nodded numbly. 

You’d really ended up ghosting her after that, along with all of your other friends. Sharon was the only one who continued to try and reach out, sending you a message every two days or so. She didn’t stop, knowing that you were at least reading them. 

You’d never reply, but that didn’t stop her. 

Your phone vibrated in your pocket as you laid on the couch. You knew exactly who it was. 

Hey! There’s a group near your apartment that’s only just starting up. I have a friend who went there for just one on one therapy, and she said the people were super nice. You should think about it 💕

You sighed, letting your phone drop on your stomach. And then, in an instant, it was like you’d just snapped out of a dream. You looked around your apartment, seeing how dirty it had become. Trash littered on the kitchen table and counters, trash bags stacked in a corner. It smelled gross. You smelled gross. You felt gross. 

“What are you doing?” You mumbled to yourself, standing up. “This is fucking awful.” 

You grimaced, and you realized that Sharon was right. You should think about it.

So you did.

You took out the garbage. You took most of the junk off of the table. You did some of the dishes. You took a nice, long shower. You made some kind of improvement. Even if it wasn’t much, it was at least something.

It was better than nothing. Then, you took Sharon’s advice. Sending her a quick thumbs up emoji, you clicked the link she sent you, opening the website.

A small form later, you were officially signed up. The first meeting would be on Wednesday.

—————————

“What do you think, Nat?” You mumble, adjusting your shirt. You weren’t wearing anything particularly nice, but you could tell there was a stark difference between what you looked like now, and what you’d looked like a few days ago.

You glanced down at the photo of the two of you you’d set on your dresser. Sucking in a deep breath, your phone vibrated in your pocket, your ringtone playing from its speakers. You’d set an alarm for when it was time to go.

The car ride there wasn’t too long. You’d been on much longer car rides before. One summer a few years ago, you and Natasha went on a road trip to a bunch of national parks.

You parked in the parking lot of the large building. Staring up at it, you noticed the logo and name. It was an eagle, you were pretty sure, in a circle. S.H.I.E.L.D. Therapy Offices, white letters on the front of the building announced.

Taking in more deep breaths, you nodded a few times. You were ready for this. Even if you weren't, there's no getting out of it. Not now.

Your legs felt hollow as you walked into the building. You were greeted by a large waiting room, which looked open and friendly enough. There was a reception desk, and a woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes smiled at you.

“Uh..hi,” you greeted awkwardly as you walked up to the desk.

“Hello. Are you here for that group?” She asked, and you felt your eyes widen. How would she know that? Did you look out of place?

“Sorry. We normally don’t have any appointments scheduled around now. Until the group, I mean.” She explained, and you nodded, smiling. Her name tag read ‘Maria Hill’, and you mentally took note of her name.

“Alright, I just need you to fill out this.” She slid a clipboard with some kind of form over the counter.

You smiled again, taking it and going to sit down. There was one other guy already there. He was wearing a purple shirt, his brown hair short. You couldn't tell what color his eyes were as he looked down at his phone.

You filled out the paperwork, going and taking the clipboard back to Maria.

"Thank you. Peter's gonna call you guys in when Dr. Coulson is done." She said, taking the clipboard from you. You went to sit back down, watching your feet.

The door opened, and two men—one short and skinny, and the other was about average height and seemed to have a bit of muscle on him, but you couldn’t be sure—walked up to the reception desk. The smaller one was blonde, with sky blue eyes and pale skin. He wore khaki pants and a t-shirt that was loose on him, and stood quite confidently. Not particularly bold or self-centered, just..open. He seemed very friendly, and you watched through your eyelashes as Maria Hill smiled at something he said.

The other guy dressed with a lot less confidence, and he stood awkwardly next to the blonde man. His hair was brown, and went down to a little above his shoulders. He had a jacket on, even in the warm weather. His eyes were a steel blue, though you only got a glimpse of them.

They quickly filled out their paperwork, and a few more people walked in. Most notably, a redhead. For a sliver of a moment, you mistook her for Nat. You mentally kicked yourself for it. You'd be lying if you didn't believe Nat could just walk through the door of your apartment any moment.

Her voice was warm, friendly. As she spoke to Maria, you could hear it. When she turned to fill out her clipboard, you saw her large doe-like green eyes. She smiled softly at you, before coming to sit a few seats down from you. She was beautiful, you couldn’t deny it.

Pushing that strange thought out of your head, you waited patiently.

A young man, with brown eyes and brown hair, walked through a hallway and into the waiting area. This must be Peter, you assumed.

“You can all follow me this way—Dr. Coulson’s ready now.” He announced.

[disabled-dean]

Asterism of an F-Series Ford Pick Up- 17k

Now with BELOVED amv by @butch--dean 🖤

Summary: When you've been to hell, desire is isolating and ugly.

Or: Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is exceptionally horny about it.

“Once on a hunt when he was a teenager, Dean had been caught too close to an explosive when it had gone off. There had been the moment when the projectile hit, and the moment when it had detonated. And just before it had, there had also been a moment when he had believed that maybe it wouldn’t.

He had thought about that moment for years, over and over again, until something else had taken its place. And the way that that moment was quiet, the way it was still- that is how this feels. To lie beside Cas in the bed of his truck, their shoulders barely touching.”

Follow @deancastruckwip for bonus content <3

Ten Minutes From Home [Lebanon Coda] WIP 48K

We've truly come a long way since the iconic:

"Physically restraining myself from writing a coda fic for Lebanon, where John stays over at the bunker, Cas comes home in the middle of the night & there's tension between him and Dean over whether or not they will still share a room, and then 29-year-old Mary has to sit through Thee most homophobic breakfast with her dead ex-husband, closeted son, and his common law married, ancient eldrich boyfriend."

This fic is a deep dive into some of the juicier elements of Lebanon, including- justice for Mary Winchester and her rich internal life, the intricate dance constructed around Dean's homosexuality and John's neglectful/abusive parenting and the impact of the Michael arc on Dean and Cas' relationship. Also features: recovering!alcoholic dean, a staggering amount of risky bunker sex, biblically accurate sibling interactions, and studies on objectification. Also Sam is practicing witchcraft as a treat, and I put that guy in eating disorder recovery (because he fucking needs it) <3

Haven't started posting this one! But you can follow @lebanon-wip for excerpts, inspo, and bonus content <3

An Easier Softer Way WIP 38k

Recovery!natural. Injured after the hell rescue goes wrong, Dean ends up disabled and living in a small rural town in Eastern Washington. With Sam fucked off to god knows where and without the fight to distract him, Dean has nothing left to focus on but his burgeoning sobriety, and persistent dreams of hell.

Set in the arid low-lands of the river valley, surrounded by apple orchards and twisting irrigation canals, Dean becomes convinced he can see a great beast stalking through the hills bordering the town. The same beast he has dreamt of since returning from hell, the same one he can sometimes feel beside him when he knows that he’s alone.

Walking the line between grief and reality, isolation and community, Dean has to pull together what's real and what isn't as he adjust to his disability, and finds faith that he is capable of building lasting relationships and creating a life for himself worth loving.

Also eventually Cas shows up, and they save the world.

He’s still debating just getting the fuck out of there when a women at the head of the long table clears her throat, and starts to read from a laminated print out. The edges of Dean’s vision blur out a little. He has to leave. He has to- the woman is still reading. Dean tunes back in in time to hear, “-At some of these we balked. We thought that we could find an easier, softer way. But we could not."  Here, the speaker pauses, and Dean feels like she looks right at him. But she doesn't. She just gives the laminated sheet a little shake, clears her throat and continues, "With all the earnestness at our command, we beg of you to be fearless and thorough from the very start.” And no one could ever call him a coward. So he stays.

Honestly the most plot I've ever worked with (and very deeply personal) so this one could be a while. @aneasiersofterway for inspo, vibes, and bonus content.

[bluedalahorse]

These are thoughts wholly clouded by menstrual nonsense and the busy nature of the beginning of June, so this is in no way formal or an intelligent statement. But, I think about Sara and August’s final scene together at least once per day. Sometimes I want to write something longer about how it’s wonderful that it isn’t just some straightforward scene of Sara having fully gotten over her feelings and being able to laugh in his face, that there’s vulnerability and compassion and grace there in how she talks to him and talks about herself.

It can be tempting to read Sara’s voice as the authoritative voice of the narrative coming through and sentencing August to a lifetime of loneliness. But… I actually do think Sara is speaking mostly for herself and her own needs in that moment, she is the voice of moral authority for herself, and that’s… actually sort of the point. She is showing self-compassion in that moment, and her ability to grow, by prioritizing herself and her other relationships.

Meanwhile, I think August, flawed as he is, owns a piece of the truth too, and maybe he doesn’t have the words or the perspective or enough therapy to make sense of what he’s learned from Sara yet or implement it right with her. Their love for each other wasn’t all good but I actually think August was right that it wasn’t all bad. Sara is absolutely right in that they should not be in a relationship about it right now. But I also think it’s through interaction with Sara that August has learned something about self-compassion, and it’s Boris who points out that self-compassion and compassion for others are intrinsically linked.

And whether August knows it or not, that capacity for self-compassion is transforming how he interacts with Nils and Vincent, with his mother and stepfather, with Wilhelm. He’s able to be a bit more vulnerable and open with them, and not always be the guy who knows everything and is stoic and strong and Hillerska-prefect-perfect. Maybe he hasn’t opened up with everyone we want him to yet (look, I too want him to be on better terms with Simon and Felice someday, even if I don’t need them to be best friends) but I can definitely see what the show’s vision for him is there, that they’re having him start with where his initial wounds (his home life, his first year at Hillerska) are.

What holds August back with Sara is less that he hasn’t learned anything from her, and more that he’s still hanging on to a fairytale ideal of romantic love and using that to frame his understanding of their relationship and what he learned from it. He thinks it is her compassion for him that makes him self-compassionate, that he can only feel these things when they’re together, that he’s only complete with her. But ultimately, he has the power to care for himself and care for others whether or not they’re in a relationship or not. And hopefully in the future he’ll be able to finally understand and put words to that. I have hope for that based on how his relationships with his friends and family are changing, and how his understanding of the monarchy is changing. I just refuse to believe there is zero difference between 1.1 August and 3.6 August, despite what some discourses insist.

(Incidentally, this hamartia around romantic love is one that Wilhelm shares. He puts his own romantic love for Simon on a pedestal SO MANY TIMES and, for the longest time in the series, doesn’t actually understand that love with clear eyes. I mean hey, it makes him be an crappy friend to Felice more than once! Only at the end does Wilhelm fully come to understand self-compassion as an important thing that can drive his leaving the monarchy. And this is is why it frustrates me when the fandom narrative is some strict dichotomy where Wilhelm and Simon have the “real” and “good” love whereas Sara and August can only have the “unreal” and “doomed” love. Look, we have multiple imperfect teenagers on complex, not-always-linear timelines who all have different traumas and need different things. They all have the capacity for self-delusion in different ways and they also all have a piece of the truth. Let’s stop keeping score and start enjoying the ocean of feelings.)

A lot of the Discourse around August centers on the idea that he should be less selfish and like… sure? It’s annoying and angering when he’s self-aggrandizing? But I actually think the show’s making the point that underneath those self-aggrandizing tendencies are just… total self-abnegation, which frankly makes August more destructive than anything else.

Okay, I guess I did write a long thing. Two closing remarks!

One, since I promised that any meta would ultimately be fuel for my creative process: this is why the fic I am almost finished focuses VERY heavily on August’s friendships and family relationships. In fact I am figuring out how to handle a particular narrative twist now in light of that friendship message. We see so many intriguing glimpses of his other relationships in season 3 that I couldn’t not explore them in my writing.

Two: amatonormativity was the real enemy all along, and this post (like all my posts) has sneakily been an aromantic public service announcement HAPPY PRIDE.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

The Trainee Episode 8, Tensions

I had a premonition from this week's episode about what online reactions to the conclusion of The Trainee will be, and I want to take this chance to preface the discourse. Episode 8 lays out all the tensions The Trainee utilizes to drive its plot and character development. Because of the specific topics it explores and their relevance to both our lives and our tv viewership, I expect no matter how the show ends, people are gonna have oPiNioNs. To me, that relevance is a sign of a show's success, whether I would make the same decisions or not, especially when the show addresses it with as much thoroughness as The Trainee does and braids them all so well together into every element of the show. Spoilers ahead.

Personal vs. Work-life

These values hold the biggest tension in the series, as we saw how unhealthy balance between the two caused so much conflict last week. This episode gave us more balance. After the last couple episodes, I had started wondering if we had forgotten about Ryan's homelife (I miss Ink :'(). How refreshing to get so much time outside of work in this episode, then!

Of course, we now know two characters live at the same location as their family's businesses. We get Ryan doing his printer duties at home again--interestingly dressed in blue after GMMTV this week officially released his "green guy" color scheme in the series (check out @respectthepetty 's rundown of character color schemes and their meanings for the show). This color change suggests Ryan's confidence and security with his home business duties. We also got to see that Ba Mhee's grown up in a home business environment in the form of her family's restaurant. This gives us an unexpected parallel between them. It personally had me considering their relationship to workplaces compared to the other characters.

Despite their different attitudes towards it, both Ryan and Ba Mhee seem to represent the potential for growth in a workplace environment instead of depending on pure passion and confidence in a field. They grew up in workplace environments that they didn't get to choose and where they were likely expected to do basic jobs to support without needing to be dedicated in a way that they caused them to feel married to the occupation and kept them from living their own personal lives. They don't necessarily think of a workplace as an environment where they need a professional version of their self to be "turned on." It's quite the opposite from their mentors and romantic counterparts Jane, Judy, and Tae.

Ryan's personal life, in the form of his best friend, waltzed into his work environment, which caused Jane's personal feelings--those things he tries so hard to bury deep down and keep out of sight of his coworkers--to emerge outside of his full awareness as he shouted orders directly to Ryan to the point that the clients noticed.

Whereas Ryan and Jane had thoughts of their professional life enter into their personal life, Ba Mhee had her professional world phsyically crash in on her personal life, as Judy met her unannounced at her family's restaurant. While I naively expected Judy to have breached that line to apologize to Ba Mhee for taking advantage of her mentor position, the show had different plans. I'm so intrigued to see how this dynamic plays out, and this moment in the episode was what led me to believe the show CANNOT resolve this tension adequately for all of its audiences because of the other two tensions the show is exploring, which have dramatic impacts on how we interpret an appropriate resolution of this first tension.

Maturity vs. Immaturity

I'm chose the language of 'maturity' specifically to point to the multiple questions the shows asked about these romances so far. We've gotten references to age between the two (Ba Mhee notes the significance of the age gap between her and Judy, Jane has not answered Ryan's question about his age). We see the differences in status and direct supervision roles at the office, which also comes with differences in knowledge about the field.

However, we also get to see the levels of maturity with which these characters deal with their problems and mistakes. Two trajectories have occurred in the show so far within this category. Ryan and Ba Mhee have grown in their abilities to take on responsibility, and I expect we will see how some of the aspects with which they entered into the office, while seemingly 'immature' are actually more mature and necessary to create a healthy and functional office environment. On the other hand, we have the peak ideal of professionalism Jane and Judy demonstrated at the beginning of the series. We can all admit that it was hot af to see people just getting the job done. The last two episodes are deconstructing the myth of these figures to give us more human characters with their own flaws and blind-spots. @dropthedemiurge has a great mini write-up about the contrast between the mature way the interns deal with their problems in this episode compared to the immature responses of the mentors.

I love that episode 8 is called "New Shoes" because we finally got to shift to Jane's perspective (and Tae viewed things from Ba Mhee's perspective). Everyone is becoming more understandable to one another in an equalizing fashion. Where does that equalization land us in the romance questions, though? How you feel about appropriate age gaps and office romance is, to some extent, going to be quite cultural. (Looking up Thai laws, it looks like a few things we've seen in the series, specifically with Judy if considered unwanted by Ba Mhee, would have crossed the line into sexual harassment).

Whatever your perspective, The Trainee has infused the series with the serious issues of sexual behavior in the workplace, from Ba Mhee and Pie's sexual harassment by a crew member, to Jane's less obvious sexual harassment by the company's client, Joy, to the client choosing to work with the company because of Judy and Ba Mhee's looks. To address and satisfactorily resolve these trends of sexual harassment fully would take quite a feat, and even then, in the way it will inevitably run up against the two romances at the heart of the show, its conclusion will have to wrestle with the final tension, which is...

Fantasy vs. Reality

The film industry is a dream factory, and this show absolutely ADORES contrasting dreams and reality. Look at Ryan and then Jane's confused daydreaming of each other throughout the morning. Look at how Ryan and Jane must stand-in for lovers for a lighting check. Look at how the stage lighting runs through the vents as they have their conversation about the shoes. We are constantly reminded throughout the show that the show itself is being constructed for our entertainment within a film industry itself. We love a meta romance!

Romance in life and in film lives in an in-between space between fantasy and reality. You have to give yourself over to romantic moments and believe in love and connection and magic, but you also have to work at relationships and compassion and paying the bills, etc. Actors and creators in romance have to make the audience believe in the reality of the love and affection on screen, and there's plenty of documentation of more than a few pairings occurring through the creation of romance works, with just as many people hating the people they're creating the appearance of romance with. The BL/QL world goes double for this confusion of fantasy and reality with the fan service of lead branded pairings and such.

Most important to The Trainee, though, is the history of the Boss-Employee trope in BLs. Its got its critics and its lovers, with great reasons on both sides if you ask me, and that's the biggest reason I can't imagine The Trainee pleasing everyone. It loves the tension between reality and fantasy, maturity and immaturity, and the personal and the workplace too much! It can't fully land on one side, and that's going to upset people on both sides. But I personally will relish it, however they choose to conclude, because few shows are taking on these kind of tensions with such dexterity and attention to detail.