#this actually made me think about each character's love language... maybe I could make a post about it sometime...

[angelizs]

Hiii I just wanna request something (Srry if ur not taking requests rn) anyways can you do Ruggie,epel,riddle and lilia with a shy s/o who’s love language is physical touch (aka just hugs and cuddles half the time basically)

HII ANON I'm so sorry for taking so long!! I don't even know if you stuck around tho I hope so! and yes, I do take requests but they aren't my priority right now, as I have many other wips I'm working on, so they take forever, as you can see. still, I'm flattered you like my writing so much you'd make me a request! if you're seeing this, I hope you like it <3 

Summary: Riddle, Ruggie, Epel and Lilia with a shy S/O whose love language is physical touch (lots of hugs and cuddles)!

Notes: gn!reader, mostly fluff with some angst sprinkled in (mentions of overblots, nightmares and past traumas, but nothing too serious don't worry!), headcanons + short scenarios since a format wasn't specified, hope you enjoy it anon!

Riddle

Riddle isn't used to receiving affectionate touches, so it takes some time for him to get used to your habits. Not that he's complaining! Just... give him some warning next time, okay?

The first time it happened it went like this: Riddle, being the busy dorm leader he is, had a meeting with his dorm students to attend. He was helping you out with a subject you didn't understand and, as much as he loved to spend some quality time with you, he really had to go. As he got up, you did the same. Since you're shy, you'd usually just wave him goodbye with a cute smile, so this was quite unusual. He wasn't expecting to receive a farewell hug.

Riddle froze, unsure of what to do. His whole face was as red as Heartslabyul's roses and he was stiff, hand hovering at his side. Every place that you were touching felt like it was on fire, it was very strange. Still, it was... nice. It was very nice. The pressure from your body holding his, the pure affection transferred from such an act, the feeling of being cared for. It was nice.

You quickly let go of him, cheeks burning as well, and stuttered some parting words  before scurrying away. He stood there for some minutes, staring at the spot you had long left, face still red and thoughts running wild.

Riddle wasn't used to this at all, but it was nice, and he couldn't help but crave your touch.

(He was a little out of it during the whole meeting, the scene from earlier repeating on his head. Trey got so worried he ended the meeting halfway through.)

The next times you met, be it on a study date (you'd both deny it was a date though) or a casual hangout, Riddle would expect your farewell hugs, even look forward to them. He made sure to reciprocate them, wrapping his arms around you softly and resting his head against your shoulder, closing his eyes and taking a brief moment to just be there with you and feel loved.

Cuddles would take some more time to happen, since just the hugs were already a huge step for both of you. (Not to mention the casual touches you'd give so freely. A hand on his arms or your head resting against his was enough to make his face burst to flames and his mind be consumed by that single moment). 

It was on one of your late night studies session, you were both at Ramshackle's lounge, cups of tea gone cold on your table and books pilling up on each other. The couch was calling for you and your exhaustion from a long day of classes crashed onto you as you listened to Riddle's calm voice explain some potion's formula. Truly, you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you couldn't help but relax near him.

The weight of your head hitting his shoulder made him stop in his tracks and just stay still as he processed the situation. He normally would feel a tinge of irritation from his lecture being cut short, but he couldn't stay mad at you, specially when he saw how tired you were but insisted on keep trying to get the formula right. 

Riddle could try to clean up your table, but that would make him move too much and disturb your sleep. When he saw how peaceful you looked, completely safe by his side, he couldn't bring himself to wake you up. Thus he adjusted your positions on the couch, making you both lean down to not put a strain on your neck, and wrapped his arms around your torso to make sure you wouldn't fall in the middle of the night. Just a quick nap and he would be back at his dorm.

You both wake up cuddling the next morning. Both your faces burn in embarrassment and you're quick to get up and apologize, offering to make breakfest for him. He accepts the offer, but as you're having tea together, your hair tousled and your eyes drowsy, he thinks on how it was the best sleep he's had in a while.

From then on, you get a bit more bold in your physical touches, the shyness ebbing away bit by bit when you're near him. He still gets caught off guard at times, but he loves it. From someone who never got such things growing up, it means the world to him how you're willing to show your affection in such a way.

He'll always blush, no matter how much time passes. You find it extremely endearing. Throw in a compliment in the mix and you've got the ultimate combo to fluster and please him at the same time.

Ruggie

Ruggie found it adorable how your shyness contrasted his shamelessness. He thought you two made for quite the pair. 

He's used to physical touch, being in Savanaclaw where play fights and roughhousing is pretty common between students, so your occasional touches weren't anything new, though they were gentler than what he was used to, and he didn't give much thought to it.

That changed after Leona's overblot. When the fight was over, the feelings of helplessness came crashing down on him, the fact they'd surely lose the tournament even after all their efforts and that his closest friend (were they even friends? The doubt crept up to him) had betrayed him, uttered the words he hated to hear. The exhaustion and the fact he almost died- his friend- his dorm leader- Leona almost-

Before he could spiral any longer, you came crashing onto him, figure shaking as your arms held him close, tightly as if trying to get your bodies as close together as possible, to feel that he was there and real and alive. He could feel your heart beating like crazy against your chest, mirroring his own. His shoulder, where you were leaning your face on, felt wet. Your hands gripped onto his shirt like a lifeline. You were muttering something, voice breaking, as if saying "we're okay" over and over. 

Ruggie embraced you back, holding on just as tightly, burrying his face on your hair. He never was held like this, like he was something precious, like he truly had worth. In that moment, in your arms, he felt loved.

Ruggie's hunger isn't limited to food. In fact, you'd come to notice that he seems to be hungry to be loved too. Ever since the incident, Ruggie seemed more eager to share little touches with you, letting them linger longer, doing things out of his way to have an excuse for you to touch him, like doing little favours in exchange for a hug and, if you were feeling bold enough, a head rub. 

For him to take time out of his busy schedule to spend it with you in hopes that he'd get your affection back meant a lot to you, so you tried to overcome some of your shyness to be able to show him just how much you appreciated it and all the little things he did, even doing some acts of service on occasion for him as well.

The cuddles came some time later. You knew Ruggie had nightmares at times, some regarding his life before he came to NRC and some about Leona's overblot. He didn't want you to worry about it and waved it off, but you could see when they had an impact on him, his darker eyebags and exhaustion making it clear to you. You'd give him back rubs as he rested his head against yours, letting him decide if he'd like to talk about them or just spend some time in silence when that happened. 

One night, you were woken up by your phone ringing. You answered, still half asleep, and were surprised to hear Ruggie's shaking voice coming from the other side, breath ragged as he murmured something about being at your door. Without missing a beat, you ran down the stairs, not caring about the creaks of the floor or the coldness of it against your bare feet. You opened the door before he could even end the call, hurrying him in to get out of the chilly night air.

He looked like a mess, hands shaking and eyes dropping, chest heaving up and down. As soon as you closed the door, you embraced him, one hand rubbing up and down his back while the other patted his hair, trying to calm him down. The grip he had on you was so tight it could bruise, his voice came out rushed as he explained his nightmare. You decided there was no way you'd leave him alone that night, not when he sounded like that.

You took him to your bedroom, noticing Grim was still sleeping on his side of the room, and proposed to share the bed. You were a bit awkward as you got in a comfortable position, but seeing him in that state made you put the shyness away for a moment, focusing on making sure he was okay. You let him bury his head on your shoulder, arms wrapping around his back and hands playing with his hair until he fell asleep, waiting for his breath to soften. 

Both ended up sleeping in for the next day, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about skipping class when you saw how refreshed he looked in the morning, his usual playful demeanor coming back as he joked with you while he cooked breakfeast. 

You've been showing him more physical affection since then, hugs and cheek kisses getting more common on the times you met with each other in the middle of your busy days. His ears perk up and his tail starts wagging as he offers you a cheeky grin.

As used to it as he is, there's a spot behind his ears that if you rub juuuust right will always fluster him and make him let out little giggles. If you rub it after a long day he'll melt in your arms. You got yourself a happy hyena! 

Epel

Epel is used to touch, living with a big family who'd always show affection with hugs and headpats. Therefore, when you started to show it to him the same way, he reciprocated instantly, going as far to initiate it himself, oftentimes through handshakes, pats on the back and side hugs.

If your shyness stops you from reaching out he'd notice and do it himself, helping you to come out of your shell bit by bit, not making a big deal out of it and letting these interactions be casual. He'd be happy to help someone he cares about! 

The first time you initiated a hug was very special to him. It was after he had another spat with Vil about his behaviour. As much as he pretended these didn't affect him at all, deep down he'd get hurt by the harsh words his dorm leader could direct at him. He knew Vil wanted only his best, but his methods weren't the most effective on someone as headstrong as Epel. 

He was hiding in a corner of the hallways, a secret spot he hoped not even Rook could find him in (if such a thing was even possible), head resting against his knees. His thoughts kept going back to the lecture Vil gave him this time, eyes watering against his will and making him furiously rub his face to get rid of them.

That's when a familiar soft voice was heard, making him look up at you. You had a worried expression as you kneeled over to meet him eye to eye, hand hesitating for a second before you rested it on his shoulder and asked what was wrong. He muttered that you didn't need to worry, it was just the usual routine that came with being part of Pomefiore, refusing to meet your eyes, ashamed you've seen him in such a pathetic state. 

You called his name and he turned around. He couldn't ignore it when you said it like that, with so much care, each letter dripping from your lips like honey. The hand on his shoulder pulled him forward until he met your chest, your other arm coming from behind to support his back. You told him it was okay to feel upset about what happened, that he could come to talk with you whenever he wanted to, that you'd listen to him.

He felt a rush of affection run through him as he noticed how firm your tone was, so certain. You were defending him, taking his side, and that meant a lot to him. It didn't feel patronizing, as it would sometimes happen with other people who felt he needed protection since he was so "small and cute". No, with you, it felt like he wasn't alone, like he had someone to count on to have his back, someone that trusted him and wanted him to trust them back. And of course he did, so he let himself lean into your touch fully, a nonverbal "thank you" both understood.

After that, he started to notice you liked to hug a lot. His side hugs became full ones and his heart oftentimes skipped a beat when he saw your pleased face. It felt good to see how happy he made someone he cared so much about.

The cuddles came in naturally, so much so neither of you noticed it until afterwards. You've gotten so used to each other's touch it wasn't anything novel when, a certain day, Epel rested his head on your lap as you were studying in the courtyard and started to talk about his day, complaining about the extra homework Crewel had given his class and gushing over the next spelldrive club meeting he'd have. You listened on, adding in your own two cents and laughing along, your hand playing with his hair. 

Only at night, once you're about to go to sleep do you think about that moment and notice how you two started cuddling like it was something you've always done. Your face heated up at that and you couldn't catch any sleep, thinking over and over about that. Epel was in a similar position, butterflies in his stomach as he thought about how soft your lap felt or how gentle your fingers were as they treaded through his hair. 

Even if there was a bit of awkwardness the next time you met, you quickly overcame it as you noticed how you were both in the same situation. The cuddling continued to happen more frequently, to the point none of your other first year friends even batted an eye at it. 

He likes it the most when he takes you to a ride on his blastycle and you hug tight onto him, head resting against his back, trusting him to keep you safe, it makes him feel dependable and adrenalin rushes two times more than when he rides alone. If you let him try to carry you he'd also be delighted, wanting to prove that he can (even if you two topple over after taking two steps, at least you're having fun).

Lilia

Lilia has lived for so long, touch isn't anything new to him. He'd seen the bad side of it, the hands that hurt and kill, and the good side, the hands that soothe and protect. He's done both, with his own hands. 

Raising Silver, he came to learn the importance of physical touch as an act of affection. For someone used to the violence of the battlefield, being able to experience touch as a soft thing, as a show of love, had been quite the change. He learnt to love the way fingers can run through another person's hair, the way lips can brush a forehead, the way hands can fit together, the way love can shine through little daily actions, every touch becoming a whisper of "I'm here, I care about you, I love you."

Being quite the extrovert, Lilia has no shame in showing affection for others in a physical way. A pat on their head, a hand on their back, chin resting on their shoulder, it all comes easily to him, and he's delighted when you start doing such gestures with him too! Considering your shy nature, he's happy you felt comfortable enough with him to reciprocate his antics.

Hugs aren't something he usually does, as he prefers more casual types of touches, but he likes it when you start hugging him more often! It's a good change of pace to keep things lively!

It starts small, little hugs as greetings or farewells, and then as thank you's and you're welcome's. It's like a whole language you two share, no words needed when your actions speak louder. 

It's on Halloween that it really hits him just how much these moments mean to you. The two of you decided to go check the other dorms' decorations when he was on break, arms interlocked as you walked around campus and commented on the details and costumes. Whenever a student would appear to jumpscare you, you turned to him in a hug, burrying you head on his neck, trusting him to protect you from anything that might come your way. It was the trust, the comfort, the smile you gave him everytime afterwards that made him realize that that's your way of saying "I love you" without words.

He starts to appreciate these touches even more, giving you hugs more frequently, be it to celebrate a victory or to console your sadness.

These hugs envolve to cuddling, as in one moment you'd find yourself sitting side by side, legs touching, and in the other you'd have your back against his chest as he propped his chin on your shoulder. It usually flustered you, but you've grown used to it enough to be able to relax into it.

One time, a history study session turned into him telling you stories from his past, tales of people long gone that managed to capture your interest, be it because of the enthusiastic way he spoke about them or because it was all new to you, someone who wasn't from this world before. The way your attention was solely on him, eagerly hanging onto every word and even making questions or little sounds of surprise, made him feel elated that his old stories could still entertain. 

When he started to talk about his travels, your eyes shone with excitement, the desire to discover a new world and the possibilities this chance presented. You asked him if he could show you it all someday, from the dunes of the Scalding Sands to the waves of the Coral Sea. This proposal of sharing important moments of your life with him made warmth spread through his body, fondness coloring his voice as he softly agreed.

It's not strange to find the two of you cuddling or stading closely to each other, touching in some way, be it by interwining your hands or leaning on each other. The Diasomnia dorm grew used to the sight of you huddled together on the lounge's couch, even Silver seemed happy that his father had found someone that made him feel loved.

Lilia specially likes when it's just the two of you, cuddling on his bed, and you take his face into your hands, fingers softly rubbing his skin, heavy lidded eyes taking in every detail and reaction. Such an innocent gesture, warm hands holding onto him so gently, makes him feel cared for more than grand declarations ever could. Give him a little kiss on the nose or the forehead and his chest will burst with affection, making him give you little kisses all over your face, your giggles sounding heavenly to him. 

Masterlist

[allygatoor]

i think it's time that we as a society realized that actually eternals wasn't bad it was just not standard marvel fare and that's okay

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 9. the end

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?

WC: 9.1K

Series Masterlist

A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.

Two Weeks Later

"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."

"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.

"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"

Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.

"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."

The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.

"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.

"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"

"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.

"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."

"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.

"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."

"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"

You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.

Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.

"Can I go with you?"

Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."

Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"

He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."

You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.

"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.

"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.

"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"

He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.

"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."

Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."

You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."

"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.

You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."

With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.

Maybe you planned it that way.

"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.

"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Promise."

It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.

"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.

"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."

Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.

"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."

Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.

"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"

"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."

Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.

"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.

As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.

"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"

Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.

"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.

The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.

As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.

"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."

Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."

Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.

They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.

He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.

Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.

The perfect hiding spot.

He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.

Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.

He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.

When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.

The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.

"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."

It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.

They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.

"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.

"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.

"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."

Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.

"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.

To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.

"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.

"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.

"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."

"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"

"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?

Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.

You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.

Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.

You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"

"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."

You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.

"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

"I've got no fuckin' idea."

In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.

"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.

"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"

"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.

"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.

"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you said?"

He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."

You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."

His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.

"I love you, Joel."

His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.

"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."

Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.

For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.

His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.

When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.

When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.

It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.

"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.

But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.

"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."

You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.

You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.

He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.

"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.

"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?

"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.

Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.

It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.

When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.

You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.

It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.

"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."

You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.

"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.

"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.

"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."

Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.

"Leave it on."

Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.

It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.

You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.

"You okay?"

You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.

"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.

His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."

"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."

He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.

How's that feel?

Do that again.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.

His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.

"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.

"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"

"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.

Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.

You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.

After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.

The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.

You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.

"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."

He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.

"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."

He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.

"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."

"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.

You chuckled when you thought about it.

"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."

"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"

"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.

"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.

"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"

"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Yes! How did-"

"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.

"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.

"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"

"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"

"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"

"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."

He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"

"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"

All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.

"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.

Three Months Later

"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."

You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.

"Maybe I'm a natural, then."

Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.

You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.

"Have any dreams lately?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."

When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.

After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.

And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.

You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.

"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.

You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."

He grinned and holstered his revolver.

"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't start."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."

"I ain't flirtin' with you."

"Yes, you are!"

He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."

"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.

"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."

"Okay."

You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Pun intended?"

He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.

"Like this?"

"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."

Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.

"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.

"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."

You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.

"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.

"Here. Lemme help you."

He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.

"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."

"Her?" you teased.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."

"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"

"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."

"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."

"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.

Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."

You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.

For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.

"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.

You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.

When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.

"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."

His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."

You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"

He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."

You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.” 

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown. 

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better. 

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her. 

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!” 

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug. 

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted. 

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum? 

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise. 

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.” 

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear. 

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?” 

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits. 

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.” 

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks. 

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.” 

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.” 

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.” 

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.” 

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment. 

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[thebibliosphere]

Hm. I'm rereading something I wrote, and I can't decide if it's going to be infuriating for some readers, or if there will be more going "OH, same!"

Given that my readership is largely in the Autistic 🤝ADHD vampire fan club (Vlad), I'm hoping it'll be the latter, but it's still making me hesitate because it's not how people expect sex scenes to read.

Everything's usually boiled down to a laser-focused precision of sensations and evocative, heated language -- and that does eventually happen with this. You just have to get past Vlad's brain wandering around for a bit because while Nathan's doing a good job of getting his attention in the moment, he's not being consistent, and it's giving Vlad's brain time to wander. Like noticing that Nathan squints a bit when he reads. ("(Hyperopia, Vlad’s brain supplied helpfully before he could smother it.)") Or just generally having full-on conversations in his head in the downtimes between stimulation -- and by downtime, I mean the split second it takes for Nathan to grab something from the nightstand.

Another part of me worries people will think I'm playing to stereotypes or I'm hamming it up to be "quirky," but given my brain is the epitome of the "hyper 8-year-old boy who can't sit still shiny disorder" despite being a 36yo cis woman, I've pretty much resigned myself to some people calling Vlad a stereotype anyway.

A larger part of me just... kind of really wants to see this kind of thing in a sex scene. I want to see my own thought patterns and acknowledge that even when you're getting hot and heavy with someone -- arguably an act that should consume all of your attention -- you'll still find your mind wandering. You'll notice something out the corner of your eye and go, "fucking shit, laundry, do not forget, do not forget" (and then you'll forget), or you'll be about to go down on someone, and the dick joke your friend told you three months ago will pop into your head and suddenly you're snickering with no tactful way to explain it.

(This is another thing that I always think is sorely lacking in sex scenes. No one's messy. No one's laughing like an idiot because they just thumped their head into the headboard, or a joke just popped into their head. Or someone's body made a fart sound because there's lube in places and things are thrusting. Like, maybe it's me, maybe I'm weird, but I think those are the moments you can build real romance out of. Not necessarily erotica, because those things (supposedly) aren't sexy, but there's so much emotion you can show with partners who are able to laugh with each other in those moments. You can show so much love and reverence through the mundane it hurts.)

It'd just be nice, for once, to have the character be absolved of the guilt that often happens in those moments because you're supposed to be focusing on what is happening, and your idiot brain just won't shut up.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter too much. It's a short story I'm hoping to fling out at some point (as soon as my idiot brain shuts up and lets me finish it). But it feels more important than it actually is because it feels like I'm exposing a major part of my psyche. Like pinning down all the ugly parts of my brain that can't ever actually be pinned down, no matter how much I try.

idk. Words. Things. Stuff. I'm going to try and finish this and then see what I want to do with it.

[luna-azzurra]

do you have any advice for writing a love confession without making it grossly cheesy or awkward?

im writing one between long time childhood best friends that are EXTREMELY close and im so stuck

Since these two characters have been best friends for a long time, the confession should feel like it’s built off their history together. Maybe start with a memory that’s meaningful to both of them. It doesn’t have to be a huge, dramatic moment, something small but personal, like a time they supported each other or a running joke they’ve had forever.

For example, one of them could say something like

“Remember that time we got caught in the rain walking home from school, and you made up that ridiculous song to keep me from freaking out? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately… and I realized that’s when I first started seeing you differently.”

When people confess their feelings, especially in a real and vulnerable way, it’s usually not in flowery language. If you try to make it too poetic or dramatic, it might feel forced. Instead, keep it honest and straightforward. They don’t need to say “I’ve loved you all along” in some grand, movie-like way. Let the confession come out more naturally, almost like they’ve been fighting it for a while and finally just have to get it off their chest.

You could have them say

“I don’t really know how to say this, and it might sound weird… but somewhere along the way, I started seeing you as more than just my best friend.”

There’s no way for this kind of confession to be totally smooth, and honestly, that’s what makes it feel more authentic. They’ve been best friends forever, so there’s going to be nerves, maybe some hesitation or stumbling over words. Lean into that awkwardness, it actually makes the moment more relatable and shows how important it is to them.

Maybe one of them starts talking, realizes they’re rambling, and tries to correct themselves. Like

“Okay, wait, that sounded dumb, let me start over. What I’m trying to say is… you mean a lot to me, more than I’ve probably ever said out loud, and it’s kind of terrifying because I don’t want to mess things up between us. But I’ve gotta be honest, this is how I feel.” The vulnerability in admitting they’re scared to ruin the friendship makes it more heartfelt and real.

This is probably the most important part! These two aren’t just falling for each other out of nowhere, they’ve built this strong, deep friendship over the years. So the confession should acknowledge how much that means to them. Make it clear that the romantic feelings don’t take away from their friendship but add to it.

You could have one of them say something like

“You’ve always been the person I turn to for everything, and that’s not gonna change, no matter what. But lately, I’ve been feeling something more, and I can’t keep pretending it’s not there. I just hope it doesn’t mess things up between us.” This way, they’re emphasizing that the friendship is still the foundation of everything, but they can’t ignore the fact that it’s evolving into something deeper.

Overall, just make sure it feels true to the characters and their relationship. Don’t feel like you have to tie it up neatly with a perfect line or a romantic kiss right away. The beauty of this kind of love confession is that it’s messy and emotional, and it should reflect the complexity of their relationship. They don’t need to have all the answers right away. Let the moment be about the honesty and the fact that they’re finally admitting something that’s been building for a while.

Maybe end with something like

“I don’t know where this goes from here, but I had to tell you. You’re too important to me to keep pretending like I don’t feel this way.” This leaves room for both characters to process what’s happening without forcing a big romantic resolution right away. It’s more about them taking that first step into new territory, which feels more genuine and in line with the close friendship they’ve had for so long.

[teambyler]

New Mil*ven footage: There's a reason they get interrupted (Byler analysis)

Whoever posted this new footage said they're "not breaking up" because El is smiling?

That's presumptuous of you ;)

Source

Maybe they're not breaking up in THIS scene. Or maybe they are, and making clear that things are alright between them. It's possible to be on good terms with someone you break up with. (Shocker!) And even crack a smile while you're wishing the other the best.

One really can't conclude either way. The body language does suggest honesty between them though. (Something not seen in s4.) But that honesty could be about anything.

WHAT'S MORE IMPORTANT IS THAT WE GET THE INTERRUPTION TROPE LOL:

If you ask me, this is CONFIRMATION that not everything's sunny in Mileven land. This is not a "will they or won't they?" interruption of a kiss, because they're already a canon couple. No, this is something closer to the Pineapple Pizza Interruption scene(TM) where SOMETHING the audience is WAITING to be said is NOT said:

In s4, the GA was supposed to think Mike was going to say "I love you." (Or perhaps he was going to call it off after thinking the painting was from Will? Can't say for sure.) POINT BEING: the Interruption Trope is a writing device to tease something, only to deny it. The purpose of it is to set up an IMPORTANT conflict/tension in the story that will be resolved later.

(EDIT: After writing all this I realize that there's another time interruptions happen: AFTER a scene achieves resolution. Will and Mike had one of these in 4x4 with "It looks like it'll be up to us again." "It always is, isn't it?" and Jonathan barges in. For Mike and El, the Painting Lie still needs resolution and is almost certainly related to this conversation. So everything I say here might actually not get interrupted and is actually SAID, leading to a new phase in their relationship. I just think it's less likely because any frank discussion of the Painting Lie makes a Byler conclusion too obvious. Okay, on to the likelier theory!)

Now what is this NEW unspoken thing between Mike and El? Season 4 was all about Mike being unable to say "I love you" to El. And now he has already SAID IT. On paper -- what Milevens call "canon" -- the Mileven relationship is fine and healthy.

So why prepare the audience for a NEW development in their relationship if it's not a breakup, or at least an emotional confession of some kind that threatens the last canon development that made everything "fine"?

The Painting Lie is Chekhov's gun. If this scene is indeed early in s5 (there are very few scenes with Mike and El together in the s5 teaser, perhaps she's with Mike only at the start of the season), then there's very little time for the writers to prepare something ELSE "waiting to be said" that is NOT related to the Painting Lie.

So what is being interrupted? Is it:

Mike asking if she commissioned the painting?

El saying she didn't commission it and telling Mike she thinks Will loves him?

Mike has realized the painting was from Will and is about to confess he doesn't know how he feels about him?

One of them is initiating a breakup?

WHATEVER IT IS, the Painting Lie challenges the stability of Mileven because it was core to the Pizza Freezer Confession(TM) that was supposed to tie up Mileven in a neat bow at the end of s4. The moment the Painting Lie is mentioned, this tells the GA that not everything will stay the same between Mike, El, and Will.

By the time Mike and El get interrupted, (1) the audience has already been made to expect something to come to light between them (likely related to the Painting Lie), and (2) resolution of this plot point will not happen right away and is IMPORTANT to s5.

That's because Stranger Things follows nearly 100% of all TV/movie writing in following a three-act structure. The start of each season sets up the conflicts and character motivations that drive the rest of the season. (Just as the first episodes of s4 set up El's "problem" of feeling like she's the monster and why she went on a journey of self-discovery.)

It's hard to imagine the writers setting up Round THREE of Mike struggling to say "I love you" to El. No, what's being interrupted is the next development, which has to do with the Painting Lie and its ramifications for Mike, Will, and El.

Add to this the fact that all the teasers we're getting suggest that El is separated from Mike and most of the others for some chunk of the season. What's left unsaid between them might remain unsaid. And we know that Mike and Will are side-by-side much of this season. (As promised, Mike said they will "be a team.")

Which begs the question: WHAT is interrupted between Mike and El, and what is it setting up plot-wise? Is it something whose RESOLUTION involves multiple scenes of Mike ALONE with the boy who canonically loves him and made the painting that made him feel so wonderful? Someone who Mike confessed he REALLY missed and Hawkins "isn't the same" without him?

The conflict's GOT to have something to do with Mike's feelings for Will. It FAR surpasses any other possibility, given how much set-up there has been for it.

Another plot point for season 5: on Will's end, he still hasn't come out of the closet. Doesn't part of his "emotional arc" have to include coming out to his BEST FRIEND? This is probably set up in the first episode, also.

That, together with the interruption of Mike and El, helps prime the GA to look at every scene with Mike and Will, reading every interaction and figuring out what will happen between these 2 best friends who have never lied to each other, until now. We'll even see a flashback of when they were younger. How their relationship changes after the inevitable revelations is central to s5.

The ENTIRE SEASON will be the Interruption Trope for Mike and Will, while they confront the full danger of Vecna together. It will be "the painting tucked away in Will's backpack" times a hundred.

-teambyler

(My own theory of how Byler will culminate, in case you haven't seen it!)

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 7

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Reader and Alejandro interactions that make Simon jealous and a wee bit insecure. Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

____ pulled into the underground parking lot of the apartment complex, sighing. She had just come back from an underwhelming meeting with her editor. 

She had proudly submitted the first few chapters of her manuscript, hoping they would be a hit, but was instead bombarded with the many suggestions of changes that should be made; while the plot itself was alright, the main complaint had to do with the male lead. 

“Frederick is not captivating or interesting enough. He needs more depth and personality… Definitely something different from Elystran,” the voice of the editor echoed in her thoughts as she killed the engine of her car and stepped out of the car. The thought of it once again made her shoulders slump with disappointment. 

Just as she did, out of the elevator across her parking spot came Alejandro. He spotted her and smiled. “Hey,” he greeted, twirling his car keys around his finger. 

“Hey, where you off to? I thought you were at work already.” 

He shrugged, “Took a day off for a doctor's appointment.”

“What happened?” 

“Nasty back pain,” he sighed. Then noticing her dull spirits, he asked if she was okay. 

“Yeah, I just came back from a meeting with the editor and apparently, I have a lot of stuff to change in my manuscript.” 

“Ah,” he nodded solemnly, “I'm sorry to hear that.” 

She shrugged. “It is what it is.” 

Alejandro was silent for a moment, unsure whether to ask whatever he had on his mind. He decided to just go for it. “Do you mind if I read the manuscript? I'd like to see what it's all about. Maybe get a sneak peek into your next book too.” He winked at her. 

“I was actually thinking of asking you just that.” She beamed, happy that he asked. 

Alejandro raised his eyebrows. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Actually, most of the problems in my manuscript are with the male lead, so I think your valuable input as a man would really help me out. And your general opinion as a reader too.” 

The man couldn't help but feel flattered. “Is that so? Then I'd be happy to help you out. Just send me the manuscript and I'll read it soon.” He threw his car keys in the air and caught it in his rugged, tan hand and smiled. 

“Perfect.” Just as she was about to say something else, she got a notification on her phone, which she immediately took out, hoping it was a message from the editor changing his mind about the manuscript. 

But it was Simon. Though a little disappointed, she still smiled, and he noticed.

“Boyfriend?” he asked, raising his eyebrows teasingly at her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, grinning. She kept the phone back in her pocket, deciding to answer him later. 

Alejandro found it a little odd that she wouldn’t reply to Simon immediately, but he figured, “Maybe it’s just me,” and decided to let it be. 

“I’m offended you didn’t tell me you started dating,” he smirked, playfully putting on a tone of feigned offense as he put his hand on his chest. “How’d you two meet?”

She laughed at his dramatics and then briefly related the incident to him. 

“So you two started dating only a month and a half after meeting each other? That's… quick.” Alejandro remarked, raising his eyebrow. He knew people could fall in love at first sight, but that wasn’t the case with everyone. 

“Yeah,” her voice squeaked and her gaze faltered; she cursed herself for it. “We found a lot in common and… hit it off.” 

“Hm…” he exhaled, noticing the vagueness and lack of conviction in her voice and body language, but decided not to comment on it, not wanting to jump into conclusions too soon. “Well, good for you. I’m glad you found someone,” he said with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He then looked at his watch. “I should get going. Don’t wanna be late for the appointment.” 

“Alright, see you later!” she said with some eagerness, wanting to end the conversation, for she didn't know how else she could cover up. 

“See ya, muñequita.” 

Simon had recently followed ____’s spam/personal account, and saw that the skeleton plushie made a very frequent appearance. It showed up even on her main account to her tons of followers. 

The story on her personal account posted late in the morning showed the skeleton perched against her laptop screen along with the caption, “Serious writer’s block rn. He’s cheering me on!”

The next image, posted three hours later was of Alejandro in front of a laptop that looked like hers, captioned, “@-alevargas is giving me some pointers. He's ruthless 💀”

Simon grunted, feeling a spurt of jealousy. He rolled over on his side on Gaz's sofa, nearly kicking Johnny– who was seated on the floor– on the back of his head. 

He didn't hear his friend's yelp as he was too busy feeling bummed that she didn't ask him, especially after the two shared meaningful conversations over her novel before. 

“It's not like I can control who she chooses to share her work with,” he told himself resignedly, “Besides, we're just friends. I'm not supposed to be feeling jealous like this.” 

Yet he couldn't help it. 

Simon decided to scope out his competition by paying a visit to Alejandro's Instagram page. Upon reaching there, he found that the man was an up-and-coming part time model with a fair amount of followers. Even though Simon saw him in real life and found him to be a handsome man, his modeling photographs rendered him dangerously handsome; he had perfectly tanned skin, thick glossy black waves styled gorgeously to suit his masculine features, straight pearly whites for teeth, a near perfect five o'clock shadow, an athletic and muscular body, and a dazzling smile characteristic of motivational speakers. He was Mexican, to top it off, which meant that he most definitely was an outgoing and energetic guy. 

Simon felt his confidence fade into insignificance. Here was a man perfect in every respect like an expertly cut diamond, and compared to him, Simon felt like an ugly, misshapen rock. His own features contrasted with Alejandro's in his brooding, glaring eyes, his pale skin, thin lips, crooked teeth, his somber and quiet outward personality, and most of all, his marred face and body. 

He immediately exited Instagram and dropped the phone on his chest, sighing. “Yeah, with a bloke like him as competition, there's no way I'm winning,” he thought to himself, now resting his arm over his forehead. 

“Oi, Ghosty,” Johnny nudged Simon's leg with his elbow. 

The familiar nickname irked him all of a sudden, as it felt like a reminder of his flaws. “What?” he asked, trying not to sound snappy. 

“Did ye ask ____ if she wants tae come for our one night camp?”

Simon grunted. “I'll ask later.” 

“No. Yer gonna forget. Also, tell her that Lindsey is coming too.” 

Lindsey. Simon remembered Johnny telling him about her soon after he confessed their stalking. A short, freckled, ginger girl; Johnny spoke about her a lot and with excitement too, even calling her ‘Jolene’ in reference to the Dolly Parton song. Simon wasn't particularly surprised that Johnny was gallivanting with yet another lady; that's what he had always been doing since high school. His wit, charm, smiles, energy, and particularly his Scottish accent recommended him greatly to the opposite sex. He only hoped that Lindsey wouldn't take him too seriously. 

Simon picked his phone back up and sent a quick text to ____  about the camping trip and its general details. No sooner was he about to throw his device aside on the coffee table to pay more attention to Gaz who was playing his electric guitar nearby, her reply came. 

Author Girl: of course I'd love to come! 

Simon Riley: great. I'll let you in on more details later

Simon Riley: Johnny has invited your friend too apparently

Author Girl: Really? She didn't even tell me.

Simon Riley: u better ask her about it then. 

There appeared to be a slight delay in her reply even though she was online, and he wondered what she was up to. Finally, a reply came after two minutes. 

Author Girl: I'll do that :) 

Simon Riley: Are you busy? 

Author Girl: yeah kind of. Alejandro is giving me some suggestions for my story

He felt a twinge of jealousy again. “He's still there? At this point, maybe they make a better pair than she and I,” he thought despairingly. 

Simon Riley: yeah, I saw ur Instagram story. How's it coming along? 

Author Girl: it's coming along great. We're almost done here

Simon Riley: he's at your place? 

Author Girl: yeah, he came over to give me some enchiladas he made and I invited him to come in. 

Another twinge of jealousy, and another skill to add to Alejandro's repertoire. 

Simon was so close to typing, “I wish you invited me instead,” but immediately deleted it. 

Simon Riley: cool. 

Simon Riley: I'll leave you two then, I got other things to do

Author Girl: sure. I'll text u back soon :) 

Simon Riley: alright. Cheers

She noticed how he went offline so quickly and stared at her phone for a moment. “Is it just me or did he seem a little off?” she wondered to herself, hoping she wasn't reading too much into it. She shrugged it off, thinking it had to do with whatever he was busy with. 

“Muñequita?” Alejandro's voice interrupted her reverie.

Her eyes snapped back to the man sitting across her. “Yes?” she smiled, not realising she had been engrossed with Simon. 

He looked at the clock on her wall. “I should get going now. It's gotten late,” he said, now placing her laptop on the coffee table and rising. 

“Oh right, I've kept you here long enough,” she chuckled as she rose too. “Wait here for a moment.” 

Alejandro, confused and curious, stood by the coffee table as he watched her disappear behind her kitchen door. She soon appeared with a can of soda, which she put in his hand. 

“That's for you, as thanks for the enchiladas and helping me out,” she said, grinning at him. 

He chuckled and playfully gave her forehead a gentle knock with the edge of the cold can. “Thanks, muñequita,” he smirked, opening the tab of the can with a single finger and taking a long sip of the soda. “Well,” he began as soon as the sip was drowned, “I'll be off now. Good night.” 

“Good night, Alejandro. Take care,” she said as she walked him to the door. 

“You too, nena,” he gave her a little smile. “Call me if you need any more help, alright? I'll be at your beck and call,” he said only half-jokingly, giving her a wink. 

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “You don't need to do that, but I'll let you know.”

As soon as he left, she breathed a heavy sigh. The conversation with Alejandro was fruitful, but she was exhausted. She decided to decompress and wind down for the night by taking a nice, long shower and a soak in the bathtub. She then had a simple dinner and just before bedtime, she was found on her bed in her satin pajamas and her phone, cuddled with the cushions and plushies; Little Simon, the most preferred and well loved, was tucked under her arm and pressed against her breast. 

Her cute animal video marathon was interrupted by a message from (Bigger) Simon. 

Simon Riley: wyd? Are you busy? 

Author Girl: watching videos. Hbu? 

Simon Riley: [photo] 

Simon Riley: watching a film with the lads. It's boring 

The photo showed a glowing television screen in a dark room, and a little cameo of Johnny's familiar mohawk at the bottom as he was seated on the floor in front of Simon. 

Simon Riley: I'd rather talk to you

She felt her heart skip a beat. 

Simon Riley: I hope I'm not disturbing you btw

Author Girl: no no you're not

Author Girl: tbh I'd rather be talking to you too 😂

It was now Simon's turn to feel his heart skip a beat. 

Simon Riley: good, because I'm in for a conversation 

Author Girl: what do u wanna talk about? 

Simon Riley: hmm

Simon Riley: how did it go with Alejandro? 

Unbeknownst her, Simon had to revise that text several times so as to not make himself sound unnecessarily overprotective, prying, and smothering. He hoped that he sounded casual and carefree enough. 

Author Girl: went well. He gave me a lot of pointers for my male characters. My editor wasn't so happy with my male lead so I had to consult an actual guy to help me out

Simon Riley: you could've asked me

Author Girl: yeah well Alejandro was the first guy I came across so I thought I'd ask him. I was going to ask a bunch of different guys too so I'll be asking you next 😁

Simon Riley: good. I'll be glad to help. 

Simon Riley: btw about the trip

Simon Riley: I need to fill u in w the finer details. Can I call you rn? 

Author Girl: sure

She sat up straight on the bed with bated breath. Though he had a few phone calls with him, she still felt a little bit nervous. She was about to get lost in her thoughts when the blaring of her ringtone made her jump with fright. She scrambled to pick up the call. 

“Hey!” she squeaked in a high pitch, and immediately cleared her throat. 

“Hi darling,” he said, his voice deep and affectionate; she could hear him smiling. “You alright? You seem a little… I don't know, surprised?”

“No,” she said breathlessly, “No, no, I'm fine.” She chuckled. When she heard the faint sound of traffic on his side, she asked, “Are you out already?” 

“Just the balcony,” he answered.” How could you tell?”

“I could hear some traffic.” 

“You're sharp,” he complimented. 

She smiled. “Thanks. Now, what did you want to discuss?” 

“Right, yes,” his voice immediately turned serious. He gave her all the finer details of the trip for a few minutes and at the end of it, he asked, “We're planning on using a car to get there since it's gonna be the five of us and it will save on petrol. Do you think we could use your car?” 

“Well if my car is in good enough condition for you, then I don't mind,” she said, a hint teasingly. 

He chuckled. “If I check it and find anything wrong, I'll give you a bollocking,” he teased back. 

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes, smiling, “You gave me enough of a bollocking the other day when my battery died. I'm not going to let you do it again.”

She heard him laugh, and like it always did, her heart melted. 

“You deserved it,” he scoffed. “But anyway, batteries and bollockings aside, you're okay with your car being used?”

“Absolutely.” 

“And you're comfortable driving long distances? Like I said, it will be a three hour drive, which is quite long by European standards.” 

“I'm okay with it. It's been a long time since I've driven that long though.” 

“Don't worry, if you're tired, I'll take your place.” 

“You? But didn't you say you were a bad driver?” she smirked. 

He could hear her smirking and thought he'd try to make her laugh. “If I try really hard, I can avoid hitting a tree.” 

She burst out laughing. “You're banned from the driver's seat!”

He smiled, gratified. “Whatever shall I do,” he said sarcastically, smiling and shaking his head. 

“If you can prove that you won't hit anything within the first five minutes of the drive, then maybe I'll consider letting you drive for longer,” she challenged, shifting in her seat on the bed and running her finger over the contours of Little Simon on her lap. 

“Challenge accepted,” he said with a self-assured snort. 

She smiled at his confidence and willingness. “So where are we all meeting again?” she asked. 

“At my place. I'll send you directions for it after this.”

“Okay,” she exhaled, now thinking of what his place looked like. What sort of decor and aesthetic he preferred, what sort of colors he liked, and if he kept house plants. 

The two continued to converse a little more until their eyes felt heavy and they started yawning. 

“Are your friends still watching the movie?” she asked, by this time half sitting up and half laying down on her bed. 

“I think it's almost over,” Simon, who was still seated in the balcony, looked over his shoulder at Gaz and Johnny who had their eyes still glued to the television set, despite them having melted into the sofa. “You sound sleepy, darling. You should go.” 

“Hmm…” she sighed. “But I don't want to go,” she whined in a soft, sleepy mumble. 

“Why not?” he questioned smilingly, not wanting her to hear how her sleepy whine was making him melt. 

“I like talking to you,” she replied in a tone that was trying to convince him to stay. She rolled over on her side, holding Little Simon close to her chest. 

The man's distant eyes softened as he heard this and he felt a little tickle in his stomach. His voice deepened, quietened, and mellowed as he replied, “Same here, my darling, but we'll talk again soon, alright? You sound like you're gonna fall asleep right now.” 

He heard another little whine, and he chuckled, unable to stop finding her cuteness so endearing and sweet. “Go on now,” he encouraged gently. 

She finally relented. “Good night, Simon,” she said in a half-whisper. 

“Good night, my love.” 

There ended the call, and Simon kept his phone on his thigh, feeling his face turn warm against the cool, damp air of the outdoors. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled. 

“Fuck me…” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. 

This phone call was a huge boost to his earlier insecurity. Their banter, her acting cute, her not wanting to stop talking to him was evidence enough that she preferred him over Alejandro. He could only hope that his hunch was right and that she wasn't doing the same thing with the other man. 

When the sound of her puppy-like whine echoed in his mind again, he groaned, wishing he could punch a wall so he could feel manly again. 

Any more, and she was going to be the death of him. 

The same woman, blissfully unaware of how her unintentional cuteness affected Simon, was now half-asleep on her bed, fingers curled loosely around her phone, and Little Simon nestled under her arm. 

“Elystran, from your first book, was bubbly and energetic. So I think that it would make sense for Frederick to be a little more reserved and aloof, but someone with power and authority, unyielding, and kind to nobody but Adelheid. Maybe if you knew someone with similar traits like these, you could use them as a model.” Alejandro's words from their earlier discussion echoed in her thoughts. 

Like lazily floating clouds on a clear summer's day, her thoughts drifted, trying to think of who would make the perfect model. 

Her thoughts settled on one man: 

“Simon.”

End of Part 7.

Part 8

Thank you all for your love on this series! I enjoy writing this and all your wonderful likes, comments, and reblogs fuel my passion some more. It's sm fun to write fluff; too bad I don't see a lot of it on tumblr lol. But anyway, thank you all once again. Remember, if you enjoyed this and want to be notified for updates, leave a comment so that I can add you to my tag list. x

[short-black-diamond]

HI!!

please could you do a how you met each other for the blue lock characters!! more specifically for Sae, Rin barou and kaiser!! thank you <333

Hellyu!

Sure! Let's do this! Also I'll write them in a scenario because I just can't with headcannons. Also I'll do it with a female reader if that's alright with you. If not, tell me and I'll change it <333

Warnings: Sae is a perv, Rin is a blushing mess, Barou thinks you're his soulmate, Kaiser gets caught talking about you

---

Meeting them for the first time

Sae:

Who would've thought that it'd pay out to be a tourist guide in spain? You were glad that you took spain as a second language to learn in Europe, and now, here you were, leading extraordinary people around.

To be more specific, Sae's team. As you were talking to them in english and spanish, Sae felt intrigued by your presence. You weren't one of those girls who only took the job to flirt with his teammates, esecially Sendo and Oliver, who tried to get your number, but it always ended up with you roasting them.

You were talking about the sights, as you gushed about what you found out about the historical incidents and blooming eras of spain, and Sae felt his mouth turning upwards, his heart race speeding up.

He actually couldn't believe when a hot piece like you introduced yourself as the tour guide for the team, and it helped even less when it was one of the hottest days in spain, and you wore, well, reveling clothes.

He practically couldn't take his eyes off you, even less when you turned around and walked ahead of the team, or when he asked you about one of the sights, and he had to look down on you, staring (in)voluntarily at your boobs.

But enough of that, let's go to the moment you two introduced yourselves to each other:

"Hello, my name is ____ ______! I will be your tourguide for today, and if you have any questions, please raise your hands or ask away!", you exclaimed happily.

Sae looked at you for a moment before raising his hand. "Yes?"

"Are you single?", Oliver asked, instead of Sae. Sae wanted to ask just that, to be honest, but he could spare the teases from his teammates that way. Now he just had to find a way to kill Oliver who was shamelessly flirting with you, even though you made fun of him, making him shut up right away.

Sae fell for you at first glance.

...

Rin:

It was more like...an accident? You had to look after your little brother, where your mother ordered you to go shopping with him. Your little brother wanted to play tag with you at the supermarket, which obviously wasn't a good idea, and he stumbled against a pair of long legs.

"___! I told you to stay by my side!", you scolded as you helped him up, and then you looke dup to the stranger with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry love, are you hurt?", you asked Rin, and he blushed at the nickname. "N-no. I'm alright...", he stuttered, and you sighed in relief.

"That's good to hear, I'm sorry for my brother, he's just hyper-active all the time...", you grumbled as your little brother hid behind you, looking at Rin with big doe eyes.

Rin looked back at your brother, before he looked again at your pretty face. "M-my name is Rin. Rin Itoshi...!", he said, and his cheeks took on a red hue.

you had rosy cheeks as well as you wondered if he'd like to have your number. Maybe it'd be best if you asked him, because he looked like he could faint. "That's a pretty name. Rin...", you spoke, and Rin gulped.

A pretty girl like you saying his name with a smile?! And you were the first girl he approached, not the other way round! He'd boast that to his family later, expecially Sae.

"Can I have your number?", you asked suddenly as you ignored your brother putting dozens of yogurt into your shopping cart. Rin stared at him for a moment before quickly fishing out his phone and giving it to you.

'That works too...', you thought as you put in your phone number with a bashful smile and a sweet blush. "See you, love.", you said softly before you went to the colder section to put the products your brother had put in away. Your brother threw a small tantrum.

Rin looked at you and then at his phone, where your name was.

'____ . <3....that's a pretty name.'

...

Barou:

You two met in the grocery shop as well, and you were groaning at the cleaning products. Barou stood beside you, examining some dish-washing utensils.

"What...?! Where that one cif product???", you raged quietly as you looked through the visible products, sighing in frustration at the thought of said product not being on sale anymore.

"Need help?", Barou asked with a small blush. You were actually a really pretty young woman, and the footballer was delighted to see your passion for having a clean home, because he could figure as much when he sometimes saw you having a light argument with one of the workers.

"Ah, sorry for bothering you, but there's been this bottle, cif, and it was really great for helping me scrape away the food which would sometimes stick to the pan when I'm frying something."

Barou looked around, before he raised his head. "Ah.", he made, and he took it out. Your mouth stood agape. You were outraged.

"Is this the one you were looking for?", he asked as he handed you the bottle. You stared at it angrily, and Barou frowned.

"These fuckers...I've been wasting my time here when I could've just looked up!", you exclaimed angrily before looking at him with a grateful smile.

"Thanks...uh..?" "Barou Shoei. And you?"

"____ ______. I hope you'll help me picking up stuff from the higher shelves in the future as well..?"

"You can always count on me."

You two smiled at each other.

...

Kaiser:

You met Kaiser in germany, as you were goingg through München to look at some of the sights. You were mostly looking forward to eating some kebap/Döner, and you already smelled the delicious meat.

As you were standing in line, you heard Kaiser talking to Ness, which were both standing behind you.

"Dises Mädchen vor uns ist eigentlich echt süß.", Kaiser remarked. (The girl in front of us is actually pretty cute.)

"Echt? Dann frag sie doch nach ihrer Nummer, Michael!", Ness cheered. (Really? Then just ask her for her number, Michael!)

"Hm...Ich will zuerst sehen, was sie sich bestellen wird.", Kaiser mumbled. (Hm...I wanna see what she'll order first.)

These dumbasses didn't know that you were Austrian.

"Hallo! Ich hätte gerne einen Döner mit allem und auch scharf!", you ordered, and Kaiser raised his eyebrows in surprise and Ness sweated. (hello! I'd like to have a Döner with everything, spice as well!)

You turned around as the man worked on your order. "Ich bin ____." (I'm ____.)

Kaiser and Ness introduced themselves before Kaiser and you exchanged numbers.

Kaiser blushed in embarrassment when he thought back on how he and Ness were openly talking about you behind your back, literally, but it all subsided when you texted him first.

---

ahhhh your request was so much fun to write my love! I hope that what I wrote was okay with you, if not then I'll change it, okay?

Requests are still open!

Read you in the next post!

[bogkeep]

some time ago i watched This Video about ergodic literature and got inspired to get the book S. by jj abrams & doug dorst. i've finally started reading it and i have Thoughts

the video i linked shows and explains the premise of the book, but here's the tl;dr - two students(ish) are writing annotations in the margins of a novel called 'ship of theseus' by mysterious author V M Straka while passing it back and forth. they are getting to know each other as well as trying to solve the mystery of Straka. it's a non-linear epistolary story told through a footnotes, scribbled comments, and inserts such as postcards et cetera.

there's a couple reason this book caught my eye in particular:

- i love "two people getting to know each other through letters/accidental text messages/notes" trope. it may just be the internet denizen in me but i'm a sucker for characters who get to know each other through text.

- immediately intruiged by the mystery author's name, Straka - it means magpie in czech, so i feel like i'm getting a head start on the mystery because i'm the specialest little boy in the world!!!!

- it looks cool as hell

(i purchased a used copy that was apparently a library copy so it feels extra Authentic hehe)

ANYWAY i'm still very early in, but i have many impressions to chew on already. first off, i really love the whole premise/medium, and it looks Really Good. there's a lot of really cool details that make it look authentic (if we ignore the COMICALLY LARGE MARGINS) - the book absolutely looks like something i could find in my grandparents' bookshelf. the comments being written in different colours of pen to signal when in the chronology they were written is very good. everything is pointing to a Very Fun and Immersive reading experience.

howeverrrrrrrrrr

while i Am having fun so far, there's also a lot of details that keep shaking my suspension of disbelief. like i am trying my best to hold on to it - im accepting the Comically Large Margins and the silly premise that these two people absolutely had to pass the book back and forth to communicate. like i am fully on board with that. it's just... i feel like this book is trying to Appear more clever than it actually is?

i think maybe the main problem for Me Specifically is that it's pretending to be a book written by a Probably European author and translated to english, but S. was so obviously written/created by americans and not intended to be read by someone who knows any of the languages they're dragging into this.

i was correct in assuming Straka is meant to be czech, as ship of theseus was originally written in czech - but it's weird to me that the narrative is completely uninterested in like... the original? there is a foreword by the translator, who goes on and on about the mysterious circumstances under which v m straka died, but the fact that the original language is czech is mentioned in a *footnote*. i would think a foreword by a translator would, realistically, say more about their credentials or their actual process of translating. or is that weird??? i took a class in classical literature in uni where that's kind of a big deal so maybe i'm biased???

BUT ALSO the fact that straka's identity is So very mysterious and very possibly a pseudonym... if you're like, genuinely trying to untangle this mystery, wouldn't you make a note about the meaning of the name??? like wouldn't you put a picture of a magpie on your conspiracy board about it?? Straka is absolutely a valid czech surname because most czech surnames are seemingly random nouns or adjectives, but if you think it's a pseudonym then someone made a very deliberate choice!!!! HELLO!!!!!!

then they listed the names of people who are thought to possibly be v m straka (of varying nationalities), and like okay maybe i'm nitpicking but i has to take a pen and fix some of them. they used SOME special letters for some of the names but very sporadically - they wrote vaclav instead of václav, and ekstrom instead of ekström... like at least be consistent if you're going to ignore special letters!

the worst language offender by far is this:

if you want "the monkey dances" it's "opice tancuje". you could also do "opičí tanec" for "the monkey's dance". this particular abomination is causing me physical pain.

one of the first inserts i ran into was a letter written in swedish + a direct translation:

GUESS WHAT I CAN READ SWEDISH TOO... i can't tell if the "original" letter is supposed to be the swedish or the english one - while the swedish seems to be grammatically correct (I THINK), it extremely reads as Something Written In English And Getting As Directly Translated To Swedish As Possible. it reads very stilted and oddly phrased. i get the impression i'm not actually supposed to be able to understand it, it's just here for Flavour, and that's fine! this one i can easily justify as the swedish being the in universe translation.

here's another very small thing that made me sigh very deeply

"at what point does this book stop being straka's alone & become *theirs*?" THE BOOK IS CALLED SHIP OF THESEUS. AREN'T YOU GUYS DOING LITERARY ANALYSIS OVER HERE??? IT'S THE FIRST CHAPTER AND YOU'RE JUST SPELLING OUT THE PREMISE TO ME TO THE POINT OF CONDESCENSION.

like. okay. maybe not everyone knows what the ship of theseus refers to (also i want to point out it feels like a very english language phrase to me. it Does exist in czech but it doesn't sound like a good or catchy title i think) - but i really do feel like two university students doing a deep dive into this book + author would 100% analyse the meaning of the title, that's like 101 level stuff!! this comment would be so easy to save - just have Mr Black Pen add a quippy comment about this being a bit on the nose, or pointing out the aptness or irony of the title, Anything. it would add so much to the believability for me.

like i didn't study literature at a higher education level so maybe i'm completely off base, but i DID study art history, and it seems almost absurd to me that these characters are doing so much digging and mystery solving about the author's mysterious past and rereading all of his books to find out more... and not engage with the basicest basics such as, the original text(s) pre-translation, possible cultural contexts, tHE TITLE... why are they drawing connections from choices made BY THE TRANSLATOR that absolutely would not be there in the original czech!! !!???!!!????!!

anyway my biggest actual problem so far is that i'm really struggling to read the actual ship of theseus. i have fun reading the annotations, but the actual book... i am Struggling. i've never been any good at reading ~*The Classics*~ so it might just not be my vibe, but i'm not sure if TOS is even a Good Book? like in this universe it's Allegedly a classic and very iconic or whatever. and obviously it's a challenge to write A Classic that makes its mark on history. and gods know there's discourse about whether or not The Classics are actually good books and that's way above my paygrade. but idk i couldn't get through chapter 1 without skimming through it because it kept boring me so bad.

i suspect i might just, keep reading the annotations storyline and not bother too much with the 'book' part of the book. i genuinely wanna see where the story goes!! despite my complaints i Am sold on the emotional core of it.

i think the premise rules so hard but i really feel like the authors are too monolingual and american and maybe haven't read that many books????? i can't speak on the latter but the former.............. maybe im the one who's too european

[mikuni14]

I Hear The Sunspot - Ep 5

I just want to say how special this series is to me. Normally the way this relationship is handled would probably make me drop this series (because I totally read them more like friends, than lovers yet, please don't be mad at me). But here comes something, I don't know how to call it, a simple sincerity? Which is something that happens not that often tbh and which proves how much properly done, honest emotion are needed in BL series not only in general, but which could aslo fill in all the gaps creating a complete whole that in the end makes me unable to tear myself away from the screen 😉

This series touches the heart and mind of the viewer. I really like the fact that the series shows Kohei and his hearing problems from a medical perspective, all this sitting and waiting in hospital waiting rooms, doctors and nurses who take care of him, making appointments, even something like replacing his hearing aid. They show him as a patient and as someone whose life largely revolves around his health problem, who must always take it into account when making every, often the most mundane decisions, as well as the stress and fear associated with the deterioration of his condition. This is not as common as it may seem, because very often illness or disability are treated only as a plot device, something that in romances usually only serves as something to connect lovers in some romantic setting, such as cute caregiving (like in the books that Miho reads), and not something that actively affects the everyday life of the characters. This really appealed to my mind, this respect for Kohei and the viewer's intelligence 🙂 (besides, it would be hypocrisy, calling out Miho for infantilizing and romanticizing Kohei and treating him the same by the plot)

I absolutely love our MLs, their interactions with each other, with their famiy - mom and grandpa, with their friends. How they receive verbal and non-verbal support. Their wide range of emotions, experiences, struggles, reflections, sacrifices. Giving in to emotions on the spur of the moment, but also thinking about them for a long time. Their kindness. And that's what really appealed to my heart 🥺

That's why, despite the fact that I missed a more clear transition from friendship to love with Kohei, I can't bring myself to criticize, because the series makes up for it in other areas.

Kohei is so wonderful, but Taichi steals the show, the actor who plays him is amazing, his appearance, behavior, body language, very pleasant voice. Taichi in his performance, demanding an explanation, crying on those stairs and then appearing as if nothing had happened on the roof to continue his relationship with Kohei and just.. stating the facts matter-of-factly, while Kohei is internally conducting an emotional Olympics… that's Taichi my best boy 🤩

Yep, a special series with a specialest boy who doesn't know his feelings yet, maybe doesn't know how to react to Kohei's kiss and confession, but KNOWS that not reacting at all, that moving away from Kohei even without bad intentions and respecting his wishes, will actually hurt Kohei. And that alone is enough for him to appear by his side, the rest will be figured out along the way. It's his kindness, sincerity and being uncompromising that doesn't allow him to leave Kohei to his despair and dark thoughts.

Kohei's mom remains one of the best in BL series, grandpa is still cool too, because he always gives Taichi space, his friends also show interest, ask questions, and they are completely cool and supportive of Taichi, just like his boss (who with that mustache looks like he's from some anime, I just don't know which one).

It's really nice that Taichi knows about the "Kohei's special burger made with love" (oh, Taichi's face in this scene 🥺), I'm glad it's not a secret anymore. Now I also ask for the "secret" of meeting with Miho to come to light.

Sooo, tbh, I'm a whore for big fan of things like "I can only hear you", or "only your touch can help me", you know the "only you and no one else" trope in love stories. That's why when Kohei said he can only hear Taichi, I was like: oooooh yeah, they're going straight for my throat. Gosh I LOVE IT. This is made just for me lol

🥺

[sylenth-l]

hello! hunter age anon back once moe with another question!!! (sorry ig yhis gets annoying!!!)

i want to ask about Cayde's dynamic with andal!!! like, how to portray their relationship and maybe cayde's general psyche when it comes to people and forming bonds.

Not at all, I love getting questions about my guys!! (I'm just bad at answering them aksdjhflks OTL)

It's… complicated, I'm never sure how to describe characters' relationships with words. I know it sounds incredibly cheesy, but to me Andal and Cayde are two halves of a whole, one feels incomplete without the other. Even if we're talking about them being just friends, they're the type who always show up everywhere together and if for some reason they aren't, they'll be texting each other non-stop still. "We're two halves of a whole idiot" - that's literally them.

You could say that they knew and understood each other perfectly, but I feel like while it's true in general everyday scenarios, on a grander scale Andal always had an upper hand in that. He knew Cayde like the back of his hand, he trusted him and believed in him far more than Cayde ever thought of himself. Cayde however wasn't exactly that sharp when it came to serious things about which Andal avoided speaking head-on - like, Cayde couldn't understand why Andal takes his Vanguard duty so seriously. It was only after he spent years as the Hunter Vanguard himself that he started to get what Andal must've felt. I don't think it's Cayde's fault or something though - Andal most likely barely ever talked about that, and he himself didn't exactly need people talking about their feelings to understand them.

I think it's safe to say, judging by how everyone speak of him and the leadership positions he seemingly effortlessly always ended up in, that Andal just gets people, he understands them extremely well and can find a common language with just about anyone. He was the one who made "significant progress in faction accords". What kind of person you must be to make faction leaders come to an agreement, at that time especially??? Convincing, sharp and charming sounds like an understatement alksdhfkjaks

So, I think it was that quality that helped Andal almost immediately see right through all of Cayde's clowney facades. And his own kindness and honesty pretty much left Cayde totally disarmed. Andal got to know him - the real him - and loved him, thought of him as his best friend. And made damn sure Cayde was aware of that as well. That's actually so, so incredibly important - because with the way Cayde is, he constantly thinks that deep down people surrounding him either dislike him or are disappointed in him. No matter how much time they spend together, it's not something he himself will just get one day because "well it's OBVIOUS" or something. His relationship with Ikora and Zavala are probably the most striking example of that. Ikora says he was one of her closest friends - Cayde says he's not sure if Ikora even likes him. The City is flooded with Cabal, lightless Guardians scattered all over the system, humanity is in shambles - and Cayde is genuinely surprised Zavala is looking for him and needs him. He leaves messages for both of them in case they kill him, making it sound like he wouldn't be surprised at all if they did. That… really shows the abysmal gap of misunderstanding between them, to put it lightly.

But Andal! Cayde never once doubted Andal and Andal's feelings for him. The good old days he speaks so fondly of is the time when he ran around the Solar system with Andal and their pack. Even if he sometimes laments that Andal is too serious and bad with jokes, that seriousness and honesty is actually just another proof that if Andal says so, then he really does like him and is impressed by whatever Cayde wanted to impress him with this time. 

I think it's probably one of, if not the most important part of what made Andal so incredibly special to Cayde - that freedom of being able to be equally honest with him, be real. Goofing off because he simply wants to goof off - not because he prefers to give people lower standards so that they won't be disappointed in him when he fails. Sharing his muddy concerns and fears that he barely even can put into words, knowing it won't be laughed at or brushed off as unimportant. Absolutely everything got better instantly if they were in it together. The mere presence of one of them in close proximity immediately cheered the other up.

I don't know, I can talk about them for hours and still not say what I wanted to say. I always miss the most important stuff somehow, no matter how many words I pour in. Honestly, I think that to better understand what was happening between them, all you have to do is to (re)read "The Man They Call Cayde" - literally half of it is basically Cayde's love letter to Andal.

[dropthedemiurge]

Honestly, at this point, maybe they both should move on and focus on themselves.

I get why Dohoe is acting this way, but I still don't think it's justified, you know? I can 100% understand why he wanted to keep a wall up - I personally would want nothing to do with the person who became the perfect daughter I could never be for my abusive dad. I can even get how Dohoe might've seen himself in Hyeonho and established a truce then grew close, both of them having quietly studied their way out of that town.

I understand all of that, truly. However, Juyeong is still a person, and he doesn't deserve what he is getting. It's true Juyeong is the one who is pushing for a way back into his life. And you know what? maybe Juyeong doesn't deserve closure. But, he also doesn't deserve disingenuous intimacy or vaguely classist comments about where he is in life. He doesn't deserve the mind games. Dohoe is being very unkind. If you're going to let him back in then commit.

I think that unless we see Dohoe go and work through some sort of therapy then the best conclusion would be a bittersweet ending. One that would see Juyeong learn to not invest so much into another person and start figuring out what he even wants out of life.

Dohoe has a lot of healing to do, both of them do. Will being together make it impossible? No. But, from what we are seeing, Juyeong's presence itself is a trigger for Dohoe. Juyeong, who so quickly made a home out of Dohoe, who currently can be likened to a puppy desperate to play with his busy owner, reminds Dohoe of his own. It's quite tragic, really.

A lot of people got an off vibe between them in the episodes that just came out. The reconciliation didn't do it for me personally (could be a language barrier thing tbh). The overall tone is also getting a little too corny for my taste, I'm not a big fan of love triangles and I thought the show was actually portraying it well at the start so I am disappointed to lose that authenticity.

I did not find anything romantic about Juyeong renting a nice car when he is struggling to make rent for his apartment, just so Dohoe (who is classist now for some reason??) will give him time of dsy. If this is the direction the show is taking I will be sad at the lost potential. I have enough confidence in the show to believe that it is all intentional. I think the juxtaposition of the two sex scenes was meant to highlight their emotional distance. Something isn't quite right and I think that is exactly what we are supposed to think.

Fingers crossed for next episode. 🤞

- ☁️

That's what I thought, anon!

Maybe it's not destined for them to be happy with each other without all their burdens. After all, the show is called 'Let Free the Curse' (in Korean too), the requesting, the demanding, the pleading way, and not 'being free of the curse'. The show keeps telling these characters in every episode that they need to let themselves free of the curse, and yes - it was external first, but Dohoe and Juyeoung grew up to be adults, yet they choose the curse over and over again.

I am so damn curious where this is all going.

I agree with all your comments, but also I don't think the blame is solely on Dohoe, you know. That's the thing, there are 2 completely different viewpoints and 2 different pasts that haunts them. Like you said, Juyeong's presence itself is a trigger for Dohoe. We already heard about it in the past 2 episodes, how Dohoe sees him. He is one of 'Them' for Dohoe: enjoying and resorting to violence, selfishly expressing emotions, upholding chains and rules (be it with religion or taekwondo). Dohoe loved him and told him to go away, to break free, tried to care for him in the inevitable violent space -- yet Juyoung stayed, and continued being violent with his dad (and then befriended him), and almost dared to say this was all because of Dohoe, because he sacrificed himself for him when nobody asked him to. As someone who almost became the monster too (when he grabbed that knife), no wonder Dohoe hated the past and everyone connected with it on that side. Juyoung is a selfish monster who made him happy and then came to haunt him. I get it.

And for Juyoung, Dohoe was a sunshine in rain, the little snowflake of happiness in the middle of a shitty life and abandonment. They shared first kisses and thrills, hiding from everyone, dreaming of running away to Seoul together, dreaming about the entire future together - that's how he was able to bear and withstand every beating, every shitty day and neverending insults. His parents got rid of him in hopes he'll stop being a sinner, and Juyeoung couldn't do it, but he found Dohoe – but wait, Dohoe disappeared and left him too. Without explanations, without giving hope (until the message was found years later). Everyone left him, so Juyeoung latched at the monster who beat him up because he felt the similar loneliness. Of course, this will always hurt, of course, he won't be able to move on, of course 12 years time gap feels like one long day because the questions were never answered, because hope was never properly torn out of him. And him seeing Dohoe living a 'better' and more rich life, saying he's finally free but obviously living a lie, still, like he used to -- again, more unanswered questions, and Juyoung deserves answers!

I think language barrier is one thing, but I also got an off vibe with their reconciliation, not in Korean but more like how fast it happened. How not enough information or discussion was provided - but then the episode proved that Dohoe deliberately avoids talking about it, and Juyeoung doesn't call him out, so I think the 'reconciliation' is also a deliberately shown lie. Like a fake snow that is only a surrogate of real happiness.

We're not supposed to be satisfied with them yet. They aren't. Like you said, something isn't quite right and I also think that's exactly what is being told to us. Hohyeon is another guy who's stuck in the past and this curse, but he deserves his own post xD But yes, to me it feels like very deliberate. Happy reunion isn't happy at all.

I'm not sure we'll ever be happy for them, unless both of them let free the curse, once and for all.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 15 - Have You Ever Seen The Rain

📖I need to make two apologies. First, I am so sorry for the long delay. While work was beating my ass, I actually received a rude comment on my Wattpad account for the last chapter that triggered a horrible writer's block. It was taken care of, and it didn't bother me at the time, but I didn't realize how much it affected me until I started to write. Then I decided to use it for inspiration!

Secondly, I'm so sorry for what is about to unfold. This one was planned from the get-go (which is also probably why I struggled because this is the one chapter I dreaded having to write).

(I'll be running from the pitchforks as they come, Woot Woot!)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child, Shitty family dynamics, Angst, verbal fights, sexist implications, one slap across the face, and Jake being Hangman.

#6k words

Part 14 | Masterlist | Part 16

The story behind how you started ego-checking some of the cocksure pilots at Hard Deck is less interesting than one might think.

It all started with a game. 

You weren't kidding when you told Jake you were a library, loving geek who'd rather spend her time deep in the stacks. That was the plot of your entire post-secondary experience. You didn't know how to flirt. You stayed clear of frat parties and cliquey groups. And if a guy tried to flirt with you, you ran for the freaking hills without a backward glance.

You only decided to take that bartending job in building H's damp, dark basement because you were dead-ass broke. But the thing about being a bartender on a University campus, there were moments when you had nothing but time on your hands.

You had to get creative.

Looking back, you would blame the writer-orientated part of your mind that decided to create that little game of making up stories for the people who regularly visited the miserable bar.

The quiet girl, always sitting in the back corner, cramming for a test or writing a paper. Did she like the ambience, or was she avoiding the library? Or was she trying to work up the nerve to ask out one of the bussers, waiting for the perfect meet cute?

Maybe the nerds who gathered every Friday at the arcade-style game consoles playing Pac-Man needed to leave their dorm because Friday nights tended to be the one night everyone liked to party.

Those popular girls sitting around a table with their $5 cocktails, lowcut tanktops, and jean shorts, always on their phones gossiping over the latest social media post from their favourite celebrities. Did they have Regina George in their ranks? Which one was sleeping with the other's boyfriend? How much blackmail did they have on each other?

Which one would murder the other first?

That little game you invented for yourself got you out of your shell. It also made it easier to deal with the persistent football jocks who'd try to flirt with you for a free shot.

Ridley would always get a kick out of it whenever you told her. You'd always imagined her curling up in a ball and kicking her feet back and forth while she squealed in laughter over the phone.

"Be a character in one of your freaking stories. Or better yet, act it out! You're a damn writer, Lizzie."

She was right. So you did. 

You'd never forget the laughter of that football jock when your rejection of his flirting attempts to weasel a free drink out of you resulted in his childish reply of, "Well, nobody's perfect, Sweetheart, least of all you."

"I never said I was," you had said with a smile.

You must have said something right because a few minutes later, Penny was introducing herself and chatting you up, asking if you wanted a better job bartending.

You were all too happy to leave. But nothing could have prepared you for the hotshot, ego-driven, and stupidly horny Top Gun pilots who frequented the Hard Deck. 

Between remembering their drink order or what side of the room they tended to gravitate towards, you needed more than your little guessing game to figure out their tells. You did pick up little things about them, though.

The WSOs were the kindest; ironically, they stood out in the crowds. Always a kind smile, never a bad thing to say about anyone.

The female pilots were always badass. At least, you thought so. Strong. Always commandeering the room the second they walked in. Always nice, no question about it. But mess with them; you got schooled hard.

They were the literal definition behind the saying, 'Do no harm, but take no shit.'

And with each new group that came in, the male pilots, the single flyers you had called them, paled compared to those jocks. They never changed. A pair constantly vied for first place with each new group that came through the Top Gun program.

Always a pair of males. Women always knew there was more at stake than a freaking trophy.

Those guys talked to you. Well... properly flirted at you.

That's where your little game came in handy. Picking out the little things about them, letting your mind do the creative parts next. It's how you turned Jake down so quickly that first time.

But the guy currently approaching the bar? He did not fit the bill of any regular customer you had seen in a while.

Tourists came and went without question. They stood out like a pack of flies, unsure where to go, with friendly faces and always asking what the best places were. They tipped great, and they never returned.

This guy? 

Not a tourist.

He was from out of town. The plaid shirt, jeans and cowboy boots were unusual for a California bar. It was also how he gaped at the walls and ceiling, taking in all the Navy memorabilia Penny had collected over the years. If you hadn't been paying attention, you could have sworn there was a look of distaste on his face with each new item he saw.

But what irked you was the sense of familiarity you couldn't place while looking at him. Blonde hair and a sharp face. Something in how he carried that toothpick between his teeth, not in the way god forbid fucking Tyler had, but as if it was a piece of grass. Also, in the way he walked.

Then he openly leered at a woman's ass as she walked by, and it all made sense.

Ah, a Wham, Bam, Thank You, Mam.

He sat in the empty chair directly in front of you, still watching the women's retreating form. You didn't want to serve him, but a tiny part of you hoped your assumption had been wrong.

It had been a while since you had to rebuff flirty advances; the newer pilots going through the Top Gun Program hardly said anything to you except smile and relay their order.

You suspected Jake was behind it.

"What can I get you?" you smiled at the guy. He slowly pulled his eyes away with a sly grin. The second he caught sight of your face, his mouth stretched even wider as he leaned forward on the bar.

"Your number and the name of a good hotel."

You should have known better. 

If it looked like a duck, it quacked like a duck too.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you straightened the line of shot glasses under the bar, not once looking up as you answered him. "Well, I can answer one out of two of those questions, but I'm afraid the only hotels around here are resorts. There is a bed and breakfast about ten minutes down the road that will give you a good deal."

"Will they give me a good deal if I mention your name?"

"Only my friends know my name, and you are simply a customer sitting at my bar wanting a drink?" you raised your eyebrow, tapping your finger against the bar.

He made a show of thinking about it, rocking his shoulders back and forth. He finally nodded, leaning forward to answer you.

"Whiskey. Straight."

You recognized his accent as you reached beneath the bar to grab the bottle. It was more pronounced and slightly more profound, but without a doubt, he sounded like Jake.

Good old southern Texas Charm.

Normally you'd engage in small talk, but you wanted nothing more than to leave this asshole alone. Thinking he'd leave it be after you poured him his drink, you slid the glass forward, then made your way over to the other side of the bar.

The words he called out after you made you stop in your tracks.

"You must get attention all the time. Having your pick of the litter each year."

You whipped around, offended. " Are you calling me easy?!"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying a good-looking woman like yourself, in this place... you clearly aren't sticking around because of the pay."

Oh, you wanted this guy gone. That could have been one of the most double-standard comments you had ever received. Old Liz would have sputtered, maybe run into the back fridge and asked one of the other bartenders to handle it.

You now? No chance in hell. If he were going to give it, you would give it right back. You weren't going to play the boyfriend card. You could fight your own battles, and something told you even if you told him you had a boyfriend, he'd think you were lying. He seemed like the type that wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You've got some nerve." You crossed your arms, matching back to him from the other side of the bar. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not here because I'm looking for attention or have trouble finding a date. You've spent all of two minutes sitting at this bar, talking shit, while I've been fighting the urge to point out your confusion regarding basic anatomy." 

He raised his eyebrows at your reply. "My confusion?" 

You leaned forward, resting your arms upon the bar, eyeing him sourly. "Is your mouth your asshole, or are you just one?" 

It was one of the more cruder remarks you had ever responded with. But this guy was trying to go for gold. Unphased, he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up. "Hey, no need to be aggressive. You should take it as a compliment. I never called you anything derogatory." 

You huffed, pushing yourself away from him, rolling your eyes. "Calling me good-looking, then proceeding to say I'm only working here because it's 'easy to access' is still calling a woman a slut. You don't need to say the word to imply the meaning." 

You ripped the dishrag from your shoulder, running it under the tap, muttering more to yourself, "There's no way that shit works on women."

"It does on the women back home," he answered you.

"Oh, so are you staying? Don't tell me you're a new pilot at Top Gun."

They'll beat that attitude right out of you.

"Oh, I'm just passing through. I figured I'd scout out the area. I heard this was a Navy bar. Don't understand what all the fuss is about." 

You didn't answer him. Opening your mouth only led to him replying, and the quicker he finished his drink, the faster he'd leave. He took your silence as a means to continue. 

"Still playing hard to get?" 

"You ask me a question. I might choose not to answer." 

"Wow. Subtle." 

You turned, a hand on your hip. "You can't honestly expect me to speak to you, a complete stranger, after the way you just undermined my job because I'm not giving to your attempts. There is nothing to get." 

He smiled, holding out his hand. "George Seresin. There, not a stranger."

Well, shit.

You wanted to hang your mouth open like a fish. You were staring down Jake's brother.

Now you understood Jake's reaction to Janet's warning. His anxious behaviour in the back of his truck. His lost-in-thought stares or the way he couldn't stop looking at you and Sadie when he came home from work this week.

George Seresin was a very unwelcome, uninvited and long-awaited guest.

Something snapped in your stomach, a twinge of weariness that Jake didn't confide in you. Then again, your slight disappointment was overshadowed by something greater.

Clearly, you were fated to ego-check both Seresin brothers while standing behind this bar. Because the idea came without warning, without doubt, or any sense of hesitancy. 

George Seresin was at the Hard Deck.

He was right in front of you, trying to flirt with you without any idea who you were. 

And he was sitting in the best spot in the entire place.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You stepped backwards, turning to lean up against the bar. As you did with Jake all those months ago, you took the rag and started to wipe.

"So let me get this straight," you said, dragging the damp cloth around his glass, not once looking up. "I tell you my name in some effort to prove we are not strangers. I'm supposed to forget about your 'comments,' so you can use that good old Texas charm to woo me into your bed with a promise of a good time?"

You finally looked up, George only staring back at you with a heated smoulder.

"Something tells me none of those loose cannons cannot even promise you a good time. A quick roll in the sheets before they let some brass monkey in a fancy suit tell them where to shoot. You look like you could let loose for once in your life."

You froze, losing your grip on the rag and fingers twitching. Scanning Jake’s brother, you leaned against the bar, resting your weight on your elbows, throwing the fabric over your shoulder as you got inside his bubble. You never once broke eye contact as you pinned him down.

George bought it, hook, line and sinker. He was so focused on you and your face that he was oblivious to everything and everyone around him, including how your hand slowly reached up toward the rope hanging from the top of the bar.

The second he looked at your lips, you tugged.

Cheers and music flooded the Hard Deck when everyone heard the distinct ring of the barbell. You guessed the song right away, old habits dying hard.  Slow Ride, its distinct beat letting you know Jake was here and he had seen the whole thing.

George reeled back, shocked as a few people came up and slapped him on the back, thanking him. You laughed softly at his reaction, pushing yourself away to help the few customers you knew who would take advantage of the free drink.

You had never rang the bell for someone like him. George Seresin would be the only exception.

"What the hell just happened?" he called after you. You didn't bother turning around, flinging your hand to gesture over your head, "Read the sign!"

George followed the direction of your hand, landing on the piece of wood dangling by the silver chain.

You disrespect a lady, the navy, or you put your cell phone on the bar, you buy a round.

You had already helped a few customers when he managed to tear his eyes away to glare at you heatedly. You turned to face him with a gleeful grin. Instead of asking him which one he thought you rang him out for, you started teasingly singing along to the chorus.

You hadn't done that in a while. It felt good.

"What did he do to warrant that?" 

You smiled up at Jake as he approached the bar. He never took his eyes off you as he leaned on his elbow against the top of the bar beside George. 

"What do you think?" you laughed at him.

Jake smirked. "I'd say he didn't take no for an answer."

"He did a little more than that. Tell him to put his cell phone on the bar, and he'd get three out of three."

"Ouch," Jake dramatically drawled. He finally turned his head, nodding once in his brother's direction. "Hi, Georgie." 

You stiffed a giggle. 

George huffed, jutting his chin out in your direction. "This one is trouble."

"Don't I know it," Jake said, looking back at you. "Pulled the same trick on me the first time I met her. Only she didn't ring the bell. Guess I did something right, considering she let me come back."

George glanced between you and Jake several times, and you could see the gears grinding in his head. 

"Hi," you beamed at him, walking over and holding out your hand. "Elizabeth Beck. Your brother's girlfriend. I guess we aren't strangers after all."

George stared down at your hand, then gritting his teeth, knocking back another gulp of whiskey. He spat out his following words with the glass still to his lips, "So you are real. Jake, there's no way you're dating her."

 You didn't try to hide the snark from your voice as you lowered your hand. "You thought I was imaginary? Sorry to disappoint."

George still chose to ignore you. "What's the matter, little brother? Need your girlfriend to speak for you?"

Jake stiffened, and it took everything in you not to ring the bell once more. Cause you knew if you did, Jake would be the one to help throw George out, and you didn't know what repercussions he could face.

"At least he has a girlfriend," you scoffed. "I can't imagine you've ever had a meaningful relationship with how you treat women."

You spied his empty whiskey glass, grabbing it firmly.

"Wham."

Sliding it across the bar's smooth surface, you caught it in the palm of your other hand.

"Bam."

Reaching into the pocket of your apron with your free hand, you slapped his bill down in front of him, rounds and all, attempting your best version of a Texan accent.

"Thank you, Mam."

Not wanting to waste more time on him, you turned to Jake, slightly worried. Some of you didn't know how to act around Jake when he was like this. When he was so... Hangman.

You gently touched his wrist, murmuring softly, "I'll see you in a half hour?"

He twisted his arm in your grasp, sliding his hand down so he could gently squeeze yours. But his eyes screamed a different, intense, unsettling story. As if he was assessing you for any threat.

"Sure."

You tried not to let it bother you, his non-chalent reply. Trying not to frown, you let go of his wrist to serve another customer, calling out as you walked away, "It was nice meeting you, Georgie!"

Jake watched you go with a slight turn of his head, proud you one-upped his brother but wishing you didn't leave him alone.

He knew why George was here. What he wanted him to do. No amount of smirk, cockiness, or even Hangman, could save Jake from this. George was the grave reminder that no matter where the Navy sent him, whether in California or on the other side of the world, there was no end to the metaphorical leash the 'hell bringer' had on both of his sons. 

George scraped his chair back to stand. "Come on, little brother," he gruffed out, tossing his credit card onto the bar. "We need to have a chat."

—-

With Ridley's Jean jacket in hand and your bag, you placed them on the bar as you greeted Jimmy after finishing your shift. "Can you watch these for a second, Jimmy? I'm just going to the bathroom before I find Jake. We're going to pick Sadie up from Penny's and take her out for dinner."

The older man smiled. "She's feeling better?"

You nodded. "Mild concussion. She was okay after a few days and back at school. Bummed about not being able to play in soccer playoffs, though. Hence the trip."

"That girl loves her soccer. What a shame."

"Jake's is making it easier on her. I don't know what I would do without him."

He tilted his head towards the bathroom hall with a knowing grin. "Go get ready for your date."

You blushed, walking away, calling over your shoulder, "It's not a date!"

After freshening yourself up, you took a few moments to stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You saw the famous callsign board hanging on the wall behind you. You scanned the names from the mirror, looking for Jake's, doing a double take when you couldn’t find it. You turned, properly facing the wall.  

Like the sign in the bar, it was a piece of wood with the words engraved into the top, “Ladies Beware: Navigate the Hard Deck with Care!” and underneath that, “Pilots who fly solo.” Several metal slots were glued to the surface, designed so she could easily slide plastic slate with a pilot’s callsign into place. 

You recognized a few, even Rooster's, though his was listed way further down, out of harm’s way. But Jake's was nowhere to be found. 

Then you realized - Penny had taken his name off.

She didn't do that for a lot of people. You could only recall one other instance when she removed a pilot's callsign from that board. She prided herself on it, so much so she never removed Maverick's at the top of the list, even after they got back together.

You needed to tell Jake. 

With a hint of a smile, you eagerly walked out of the bathroom to find him. He was standing with George at the pool table, the elder Seresin brother lining up a shot as he spoke. As you approached them, you honed in on Jake, realizing he looked uncomfortable. Stiff, shoulders square, and his fists were clenched tight.

The closer you got, the more you heard of their conversation, and when you heard Sadie's name fall from George's mouth, you froze. Hearing him utter her name, especially in that hardened tone, was a punch to the gut. The urge to hide behind one of the support pillars in the middle of the room at the last second was too great to ignore, and you made yourself as small as possible. 

You had stumbled upon a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. George’s voice accompanied the sound of the eight-ball scattering the balls across the table. 

"Come on, man," he said, his tone laced with arrogance. "Think about it. She threw her whole life away for her niece. She's tied down now, and you deserve someone who can give you more than that."

Jake remained silent. George continued, encouraged by his lack of protest. "You're a Navy pilot, for crying out loud. You could have anyone you want. Why settle for a girl with so much baggage?"

You weren’t stupid. You knew enough about George to realize he was the golden child, the favourite used to getting his way. George would only see you as Jake’s attempt to one-up him on something. 

“You know why I'm here,” you heard him say firmly. “Dad doesn’t approve. He wants you to know if you continue on with her, you will never be welcomed back home.”

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your stomach. There would never be a time when you asked Jake to choose you over his family, even with what you knew. You wanted to go out there, but this was Jake’s battle. Storming out to threaten anything but a kick to the balls was out of the question. 

But when Jake finally spoke, his words were like shards of ice piercing your skin.

"Yeah, you're right."

A strangled noise escaped from you, a sound of raw pain and disbelief. You clapped your hands over your mouth, trying to muffle the sob threatening to escape. George’s reply triggered the blood rushing through your ears, the pain in your forearm from your nails biting hard into the skin. 

“You know I am,” he laughed, another clack of the pool balls sounding out. “

There was only one way you saw this - Jake played you like he played those other bartenders. 

You couldn’t hide any longer. You pushed yourself away from the pillar, swerving around to confront them. 

“So Sadie and I were just a game to you?” 

Jake turned sharply, shock in his eyes. “Liz,” he held his hands out in front of him. “It’s not what…” 

“Not what?” you said heatedly, tears streaming from your eyes. “I heard plenty!” 

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat, confronted with your beat red face and tears. You were not supposed to hear all that. 

The shock on his face was not enough to erase the sting of his words.

"Come on, Liz. You don't understand... it's..."

"What's there to understand, Jake?" you interjected, your voice seething with a volatile mix of pain and anger. "That I'm just another one of your bartenders?"

“Liz, don’t.” 

“Enlighten me, Jake.” You crossed your arms. “Tell me all the reasons why. That bringing me flowers wasn’t a game. That getting close to my niece wasn’t a game. Asking me to give you a chance, taking me out on a date.”

 You sobbed. “Taking me up in that damn plane.” 

The thought was erupt, tearing itself from the deepest part of your mind. You couldn’t help it, the words spilling out in blinded anger. “Was my grief an opportunity for you to get into my pants? Telling me it would be alright so you could leave me high and dry? Telling me it was going to be okay?” 

There was a sudden shift in his expression, his gaze hardening. As if a switch had been flipped, the warm, understanding man you knew disappeared, replaced by a stranger draped in defensiveness and sarcasm.

"Oh, excuse me," he declared. "I didn't realize I was your knight in shining armour, rushing to your rescue the second you need all your problems fixed. The girl who never had a relationship, thinking a man would solve all her issues."

The words hit you like a physical blow, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. Jake's harsh gaze didn't match his usual soft and protective demeanour. It was like looking at a stranger, someone you didn't recognize. The man before you was not the Jake you'd fallen for.

This man reminded you of your father. 

Was this his plan all along? You racked your mind, searching for any indication this had been coming. But what only stood out was Rooster's words echoing in your head where you found none. 

Did you really only add your name to the list of women Hangman had pursued?

Because here and now, those months of working through the trauma of losing Ridley didn't matter. 

Was anything about this past year even worth it? The moments you worked through when you would avoid anyone mentioning her because acknowledging her in the past tense was too much. Avoiding the things that reminded you of her. Till helped you through it.  

She would know what to say right now. She would be the one beating his ass with verbiage and scathing remarks. She would nail the moment and get it right. 

It hit you, the hidden weight of how desperately you missed her. 

Suddenly, you were that girl again, starting her first shift in that basement bar, wondering what to say to the students who saw you as a mere bookworm with no character or class - because you couldn't compare to the girl sitting in the corner writing her paper, actually having the courage to ask that busboy out. 

Or the geeks in the corner cheering as hard as they did when they beat their high score on the console, uncaring of strange looks. Or that girl, finally standing up to her 'so-called friends' when one had been spreading rumours and crude remarks about her to the others behind her back. 

He really did leave you out to dry. 

"Stay the fuck away from my niece," you managed to gasp through your tears. "And stay the fuck away from me."

You wanted to believe your assumption that Jake was merely putting on a front. Hangman, his alternate self, was his attempt at protecting himself. 

You had a hard time doing so.

There, plain as day, across his face was the most condensing grin you had ever seen as he dramatically drawled out slowly, "No fucking problem, sweetheart."

You didn't believe in thinking about everything you regretted throughout your life. Ridley was the only exception; if you had done more, moved back home after school, or gone to the police the day you kicked Tyler out, maybe she'd still be here. You couldn't change what had happened in your life, so spending time thinking about it in the present wouldn't do you much good. 

So it was no surprise to you when you followed through with your knee-deep reaction, your hand coming up out of nowhere, open and firm, slapping Jake hard enough across the side of his face, his head turning with the force of it.

You knew you shouldn't have. You weren't a violent person by any means. Next to Tyler, you never had raised a hand to anyone. You were too hurt to care you just slapped him.

That should have scared you shitless.

Rather than voice the obvious, you remained silent, allowing every repressed thought, every buried emotion to resurface.

Ridley - dead. 

Sadie - hurt. 

Tyler - lurking. 

Bradley - damaging.

It was all too much.

George's figure stood out from behind Jake amongst your blurry vision, tears creating a vignette in your line of sight. You tore past Jake, sticking your finger out only to push George square in his chest. He stepped back at the force, hand shooting out to balance himself against the pool table.

Jake wouldn't have done that had George not shown up. Had he not played with Jake's emotions.

"You need a fucking ego check and to grow the fuck up," you seethed at him. "I don't know whose got your balls on a very tight leash, but you have no right to go around and fucking up other people's relationships."

George didn't answer you, taking his hand off the table to stand properly. You pressed him again. "Does it give you some sick fucking pleasure to hurt your brother? Dad loves me best, so I'm going to remind everyone just cause I can?"

George was still avoiding your heated glare, fixating on his football ring, twisting the piece of metal back and forth. It only pissed you off further.

"My eyes are over here, Jackass! Have the decency to look me in the fucking eyes when I'm talking to you."

If nobody had been watching when you slapped Jake, you clearly had their attention now. Even with the music blasting from the speakers, every conversation in the Hard deck had gone quiet. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but you couldn't care less.

You were too far gone.

George slowly cocked his head to face you. Your breath was harsh, your body jolting with each gasp as you gave in to the anger. "My sister died, and I took in my niece. What's so fucking wrong about that? That I threw my life away, that I have no future?" 

He shifted on his feet, about to transfer the pool stick into his other hand, when you reached out and snatched it out of his grasp, tossing it behind you with a clack. 

"You're damn right I did! That's what you do for people you love. I would sacrifice my entire life so she could have hers. And I would do it again in a fucking heartbeat. I will stay on the other side of that bar for the rest of my so-called miserable life, getting catcalled and dealing with assholes like you if it gives her the best shot with the shitty hand she's dealt. You, George Seresin, have no right to judge the choices I've made in my life." 

Your breathing was harsh, ribs aching with effort. Every vein, every pore, was consumed with pure white rage. And yet, you still found yourself growling out, "You have no right judging your brothers either." 

Even after breaking your heart, you still stood up for Jake. 

"He risks his life every single time he goes up in that jet just so the whole world can fucking survive. So you can go on day in and day out and let your father control what you want to do with your life. So you can gallant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours? So Jake’s here for you to bully and control every time he comes home? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The burning sensation in your cheeks mirrored the fire in your eyes, unshed tears making them shine brighter. The salty sting of tears blurring your vision did little to diminish the searing gaze you levelled at George.

"My sister believed everyone deserved a chance. That people cared, regardless of what they did or who they were. I had forgotten that until my niece invited Jake to a barbeque, till she invited him on a hike because he was being treated differently. Despite what I heard and everyone telling me otherwise, listing off why I shouldn’t. That he will hurt me and my niece, and I still gave him a chance.”  

Squaring your shoulders and balling your hands to fists at your side, you take a step forward, a dangerous glint in your eyes. You lean towards him, your face close enough to feel his breath, your jaw clenched and muscles tight.  

"You are the first person ever to prove my sister wrong,” your voice is dangerously low, underlying anger accompanying each word. “You sure as hell don't deserve that sentiment." 

As you stepped away, George lifted his head to glance around the room, everyone's eyes pinning him down. The older Top Gun instructors had stood at their tables and chairs, arms crossed. Some of the current students in the program also stood, the others sending him the most scathing glares they could manage. Even some regulars who weren't aviators were casting him a scornful glance.

You spun, ready to leave him in embarrassment and escape this literal fucking mess, when you caught Jake's bewildered gaze, his mouth hanging open in slight shock.

You weren't sure whether it was that look or the dying embers of your outburst that made you spin back around to snarl, "So, leave your brother the fuck alone! Live your own goddamn life without judging others for the choices they make! Cause you sure as hell don't know what it means to sacrifice something for those you love. If you need an example, look around this goddamn room."

Jake reached for your wrist as you charged toward the front door. The second you felt his touch, you shook your hand loose, a wrenching sob tearing through your chest.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

You didn't bother seeing his reaction to your remark, rushing to grab your bag and Ridley's jean jacket off the bar.

The skin around your wrist burned from his touch, the rough callouses once a comfort but now felt like coarse sandpaper. You wanted to get under a shower or jump in the sea, hoping to remove the feeling of every memory, kiss, and word.

God, you let him touch you. Do things with you.

You were going to throw up.

God forbid you didn't want to walk home. But you needed to go, be anywhere but here, and you didn't have your car. Barely keeping it together as you took off toward the door, you had half a mind to look up to watch where you were going, deaf to Jake's shouts of your name.

There was Bradley, sitting in the first booth by the door. His brow furrowed as you made your way over to him, probably having witnessed the ordeal. You were too upset even to question why he wasn't marching across the bar, ready to knock Jake to next Sunday.

It had been weeks since the fight, with no communication in between. But it was a distant memory compared to this. 

It didn't matter what he implied. It didn't matter what happened in your hallway.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

You just needed your friend.

With each step you took toward him, your shame only grew greater. You couldn't even look him in the eye when you stopped, standing next to his side of the booth, hugging yourself tighter.

"Can you take me home, Bradley? I don't want to be here anymore."

Bradley's opportunity to act smug had finally arrived. But he didn't do anything other than frown. Standing up from his booth, he threw a few bills onto the table before blocking everyone's view of you. He placed a comforting hand on your back, gently pressing you forward as he uttered quietly, "Of course I can, Liz."

You kept your head down as you stepped towards the door, but Bradley, so willing to help you without so much of an 'I told you so,' made whatever resolve you had, crumble. Your knees wobbled, and your heart dropped into your stomach. You fell, and Bradley's arm whipped out, gripping your hip and pulling you tight to his side to support your weight.

Burying your head into Bradley's shoulder, you hid your face. You didn't want to see the looks of everyone in the Hard Deck, whether pity, concern, or applause, as another wave of tears wrecked your body.

Closing your eyes seemed better than reliving the truth.

And because you kept them shut, you didn't see George place a hand on Jake's shoulder, preventing him from going after you. Nor did you see the look of devastation wreck his face; the weight of every wrong decision he had ever made coming back to haunt him. 

Whether Jake turned on a dime to punch George square in the jaw, you heard none of it. You hadn't even bothered to turn back to look as Bradley carried you out the front door.

.... So... Who is going to pitchfork me first? 👀

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Part 16 - In the Blood coming soon

Wickett ;)

[katyahina]

Ranni's two sisters (if not cousins?)

It is not just my thoughts, but more like three people discussing the ideas hahah. So, @swallowtail-ageha brought to me the idea that the name of the towers deeper in Caria Manor, The Three Sisters, could be not quite a fancy architecture name, but refer to actual sisters, given the description of Carian Filigreed Crest that we get from Iji:

The way it is specified here that Ranni is Rennala's daughter makes it feel as though other princesses were not, so they could have instead been daughters of Rennala's siblings! I will get to the possible interpretations, but I just want to bring up something interesting that I think makes it even more likely that specifically TWO other princesses existed! When I heard the suggestion about there having BEEN three sisters, I instantly remembered this bit:

Besides a 'normal' Mausoleum, in Liurnia, there are interesting two Mausoleums pretty close to each other geographically, that are unique compared to others! You probably remember them - they do not have a bell underneath but they can leap like frogs, they do not have any spirits around, and they can ONLY duplicate the ashes of the bosses that aren't shard-bearing demigods:

^ Like that, same character (thanks @val-of-the-north for all these screenshots). And there are no other Mausoleums like that.

So, yeah, Ranni once having had two sisters would likely mean that they were not contenders for the throne, as there were no extra sits resorted for them in Leyendell. But this could be more than same fate as those demigods / shard bearers who "failed" Marika. Like, think about it! There are two Mausoleums in Liurnia, that still was a domain of Carians at some point, which behave "downgraded" compared to others, whereas normally Mausoleums are where fallen/failed demigods got buried:

With how these Mausoleums are, it seems like people that are buried in them are not demigods / had no shard, yet still were important enough to earn a burial of this type? And like... would not that make sense if 'being important enough' was being related to the royal family?

I am not entirely sure why they would have no shards themselves? This is where variants really start to split! @swallowtail-ageha suggested that merely being Radagon's child was not all yet to be one, and I can see that! This is actually the full idea:

^ These are ALSO very good points! These Mausoleums are for those who died during Night of the Black Knives, so I agree that whatever the reason for them to (very likely) lack shards is, they died that night too.

And back to the reasoning, me and @val-of-the-north were also discussing the potential ideas of either 'sisters' being actually cousins or Rennala being divorced twice, hah..

The cousins idea would defeat the purpose of the name Three Sisters, sort of, unless you could say it meant 'sisterhood' of princesses. The Japanese name is スリーシスターズ (Surīshisutāzu), like... you can already see that it is English name, simply English 'three sisters' written in Japanese with syllables, rather than Japanese words used. And in English language, sisters could mean not just literal! (Japanese script found in this ( x ) document). What works with it is not just description of Carian Filigreed Crest refering to Ranni being Rennala's daughter as the unique thing, but also Renalla herself showing unambigiously special feelings towards her! It is harder to say a lot about the idea that Rennala had someone before Radagon, it could have happened under pressure of having had a heir, and so the first divorce (or maybe even more likely, loss) did not break Rennala like Radagon leaving did, since she didn't love that previous person? It just leaves even more things to work with- not exactly a bad thing if you love writing many headcanons!

And as for these variants, it made both me and Val think of a guy that might have been relevant:

On the portraits we see Rennala, Azur, Lusat, the conjoined twins guys, (very likely) Sellen and... this guy. Honestly? Could have been not actually a simp really devoted scholar in Raya Lucaria that delved deep into Moon stuff, but Rennala's brother! The royal family basically took over Raya Lucaria, and considering Moon worthy as much as the Stars was specifically what they brought into it! But Azur and Lusat, teachers of Sellen, have been very important already, since the former direction of the academy is connected to them. At the same time, their associated colors are turquoise and blue, whereas Twinsage crown features the same colors both, and Sellen... well, she knew Azur and Lusat, and has been around long enough to deeply resent how much academia has changed. All things considered, she was equally important to the twins before getting banished. The remaining guy behind Lazuli Conspectus sticks out in comparison... unless he tagged along WITH Rennala when she took over the academy!

And yeah, alternatively, he could have just been her previous husband, that was more just a tool under pressure of having heirs; she took over Raya Lucaria before marrying Radagon, and maybe something just happened with that guy, which did not effect her very much since she didn't feel anything for him. A little bad look though.. unless there was a plot twist of Radagon murdering the guy but it was one of the things wiped from collective consciousness with Celestial Dew, and that's why nobody seems to mind? Perception filter! I am not sure with which idea I agree more myself 🤔 But yeah, if the third person is involved, I'd say it had to be this guy - father of the other two "sisters"... Whether they'd be actually cousins or actually half-sisters.

___________________________

So yeah, these are the thoughts! Sorry that was probably a little chaotic, Elden Ring theories are totally not my forte compared with BB ones! It is just that Swallowtail activated my brainrot with that suggestion and I instantly had something to add to that, hahah;

[sigridstumb]

Unmasking makes me an asshole, though.

The more I think about my autism, the more I think I don't have an actual personality.

Hear me out, this one is complicated.

And I am ABSOLUTELY NOT speaking for All Autistic People, so if this doesn't sound like your experience, cool! No worries! Have your own autism, I understand that it comes in a huge variety of flavors!

I learned as a very young child that what I said and did was Weird and Wrong. So as a very young child -- four or five years old -- I started copying people. I copied other kids, I copied adults, I copied characters in books most of all. This method was hideously flawed, and I was frequently called out for copying people. But sometimes it worked. Sometimes I had social interactions and people responded positively to me. Over time, over elementary school, I slowly learned ways of behaving that made me less visible. That made me blend in.

By the time I was fourteen, I wasn't getting beaten by other kids anymore! It was this miraculous thing, this ability to slide through social worlds and pass as almost like everyone else. I loved it.

In high school I began experimenting with it more. I could act differently around different people! I could talk one way to one friend, and they really liked what I said and they responded very positively, and I could speak in a different way to another person and they responded positively to that! It was only weird and strained if I was in a situation where BOTH of those people were present. Then they each thought I was a weird fake liar, because why did I act like THAT? What did I REALLY think and feel? When was I lying, and to whom?

Everyone. I was lying to everyone.

No-one. I was lying to no-one.

I had Goals. Social goals. 1) Not be hit, kicked, spat on, tripped, or shoved. 2) Not have adults angry with me. 3) Not have anyone know that I was an alien mutant waiting for my superpower to kick in. 4) Have sparkly interesting people like me and think I was funny and kind.

I watched people. I listened. I practiced facial expressions in the mirror. I read a LOT of comics, because in comics characters perform actions while thinking about their motivations, and I could see what facial expression and body language they used to convey or hide what they thought and felt. I played AD&D, and tried out different voices - vocal tones, accents, pitches, etc. I learned what the people I found interesting liked, wanted, thought, and felt. I gave them what they wanted, and in return they wanted me around.

This worked so well, most of the time, that I continued doing it until about two years ago. Three decades, more or less, I did this.

When was I lying? And to whom?

Constantly, to myself.

I do not know how to turn the people-suit off. Now that I understand and know what I am doing, I don't know how to stop. Or, rather, I can absolutely stop! And then my closest relationships get damaged. There's this whole "everyone should be able to unmask!" thing going on, and I get it, I truly do, but if I completely stop masking I AM A FUCKING ASSHOLE.

I don't want to be an asshole. I care about people, at least a handful of them. Maybe twenty, total. I don't want to hurt them. So I run scripts literally all the time, in every interaction, I run scripts between what I think and what I say because my first responses DO NOT SUPPORT MY LONG-TERM GOALS.

When someone I care about wants to tell me about something they are interested in, my first thought is almost always "why are you telling me this? I don't care about this." But I care about the PERSON, so I run one of the five or so "I am interested in this conversation" scripts. When someone I care about has something bad happen to them, my first thoughts are usually either to say something I think is funny about the bad situation or to say nothing because there is nothing I can do about the bad situation. But because I care about the PERSON, I run scripts of either sympathy or problem-solving, or both.

I don't think this is lying to people. My long-term social goals are to have these people in my life. There are tasks I must accomplish on a regular basis to maintain relationships. Tasks like maintaining facial expressions, correct vocal tones, and proper scripts.

But I think I am lying to myself, in some odd way. Or, rather, I don't know what I would want or how I would act in my life if I did not have relationships. I don't know what my personality would be were I not performing the Sigrid-people-suit in literally every interaction. I don't know, because every time I get close to not performing the people-suit, people I care about are hurt by my words and actions.

In the meantime, I think about it and I talk about it with my partner, and we have come up with ways to manage my unmasking a little bit. It's challenging, and hurtful to both of us sometimes. (I learned last week that apparently there is no neutral register of acknowledging other person's statement of fact, and that if I do not make my acknowledgment sound positive, it sounds negative and mean. I truly believe and intend a neutral "I heard your statement," but this is not an area in which unmasking works for my relationships.) But we are working through it together.