#HIT POST ALREADY STOP STALLING!!!!!

[scaredofmyocs]

If I made an OC who was sad all the time bc he kept having things that were specifically horrible for them happen to them (and also me because they would be facing my issues bc) and they are somewhat me but they're aware something greater than their comprehension is putting them in situations that are horrible for them and want to be freed desperately bc I feel that do you think that would be too meta and also possibly cause a paradox and that by thinking about it I have already perpetuated the cycle. Or am I fucking deranged I think it's that second part I think I need therapy 4 years ago

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[actual-changeling]

Season One meta posts in 2024? Yes, very much so. We need more of that.

Will this be slightly unhinged? Yeah, probably, so welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner.

Everyone has probably connected the kiss back to the wall-slam scene in Tadfield Manor by now, but while I was re-watching it for the nth time and combing through it frame by frame like a mentally sane person, I realised just how orchestrated it was from beginning to end.

I assume we can agree that Aziraphale called Crowley nice on purpose to get a hint of intimacy out of him, but I think this time it is very different from the other instances during which he reacts with anger to being called nice.

My first main observation is the way Aziraphale positions himself.

We pick up after Crowley's explanation about the non-lethal shooting happening outside, and they are facing each other at an angle, with Aziraphale having stopped a few steps behind him.

Now, until the slam itself, Crowley doesn't move, he remains where he is, waiting. (We'll come back to that in a bit)

However, instead of remaining at a safe distance or standing literally standing anywhere else, he walks a small curve to then stop right in front of Crowley. Not at his side or a little bit away or at a respectable distance—no, right in his face. You can judge his position by looking at the wooden door (?) in the background.

The following camera position makes it hard to see the amount of distance between their faces, but we know that he must be close enough so that Crowley can immediately grab his coat without problem.

Excuse my art skills, but just to make sure everyone is on the same page, have a little drawing showing their positions and movements.

Now, that manoeuvring takes Aziraphale a few seconds, and what does he do? He stalls. Look at what exactly he tells Crowley:

You know, Crowley, I've always said that, deep down, you are quite a nice—

There are a lot more words than necessary! He could have shortened that sentence but he didn't, and on top of that, if you listen to him say it, he makes two noticeable pauses, one after 'Crowley with a little look outside, one after 'that'. By then he has reached his final position, so no more stalling, he can try to finish his sentence now.

Alex, you might say now, of course Aziraphale did it on purpose, but Crowley only reacted to what he said.

And to that I respond, nope, he was 100% in on it.

I know because when Aziraphale stops in front of him, he waits. He does not move, he doesn't shut him up even though he has heard the same spiel hundreds of times—no, he is waiting and allowing Aziraphale to initiate their little game.

This face is not the face of someone who is already angry or confused about which words will tumble out of Aziraphale's mouth. He even arches his eyebrow in a motion that I personally interpret as 'go on'.

Crowley is listening and waiting for the signal, and the moment Aziraphale says 'nice', he grabs him and pushes him up against the opposite wall. It's an extraordinarily quick reaction, the kind you have when you know you're about to act and what you'll do.

Some further evidence that the entire moment was orchestrated by the two of them.

Aziraphale stretches out his arms behind him to brace himself against the wall, he was expecting to be moved that way and intentionally put himself into a position that would allow Crowley to do so.

Additionally, by grabbing his lapels the way he does, Crowley can make sure that the back of his head doesn't hit the wall. If you watch the clip by yourself and slow it down, you'll discover that Aziraphale gently rests it against the wall on his own while Crowley is talking.

Aziraphale is completely relaxed not only because he knows Crowley would never hurt him, but also because this entire thing is a game that they willingly participate in. It is dangerously under-negotiated, sure; luckily they more or less agree on the ground rules.

Obligatory close-up with the noise squish because I am a blorbo connoisseur and not a heathen. The little eye gaze at the lips, and if you ask me, and this is my post so you ARE asking me, Crowley is very much looking at Aziraphale's lips from behind his glasses.

But I have one more observation to make!

I could never quite put my finger on why exactly the scene felt off, but now I am convinced it's because despite the act, Crowley isn't actually upset. There ARE times when Aziraphale actively crosses a boundary and endangers him with his compliments, but this is not one of them. The growling, him baring his teeth, the fact that he is pressing their entire bodies together, him leaning in thar far, and also what the FUCK is he saying?

The excerpt from the script books:

First part okay, I can buy that, a bit basic but alright. But 'nice is a four letter word'? Where exactly was he going with that and how was that sentence going to end? It's close enough to the topic to pass as real for any outsider who might overhear them, but if you actually listen and try to comprehend it—yeah, no, he was about to go full gibberish.

The goal wasn't to yell at Aziraphale about calling him nice, it was all about prolonging the physical intimacy by holding a monologue.

If you still don't believe me, have a look at their faces when they get interrupted.

Crowley has a "whot?" expression on his face and not a single hint of anger or annoyance. Aziraphale has an expression I will lovingly call "perish you peasant and let my demon husband slam me against a wall in peace".

If someone gave you only this picture—no context, nothing—what would you assume they were doing before someone rudely interrupted them? Based on what the fuck is happening on their faces and the complete lack of distance between their bodies, you'd probably assume they were snogging each other senseless.

Which they were, in a way, just without the lip contact.

I rest my case.

[sugrhigh]

BACKSTAGE - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- your best friend caught the eye of the bass player in a band local to boston, your hometown, so you’re invited to the second to last stop of their US tour. they can definitely put on a show, and all of them are very welcoming when you meet them backstage. then there’s the asshole grumpy drummer with the inflated ego, who can’t seem to stop staring.

warnings- cursing, smoking, drinking, ???

band au (triplets are in their mid 20s)

drummer!matt x fem!reader (this song ^^ inspired me and it’s good af so i’m including it)

a/n: this has been brewing for a while and i kinda forking love this concept, i hope i brought it to life well! hope u enjoy and as always my inbox is open for whateva #kisses ****part 2 to come

@fawnchives @55sturn @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick @sturnlova @cupidsword @junnniiieee07 @mattnchrisworld @cherrypostsposts

“are you sure you want to do this?” you ask her as you two linger by the bar at the back of the venue.

people are clearing out, all happily chattering after an incredible concert. you have to admit that it was a great performance, and the sold out crowd helped.

they’re a pretty talented band. and the bass player really wants your best friend.

all it took to get him interested was a single comment on one of his recent posts. adelaide is undeniably gorgeous, and she’s also built a decent following through her recent modeling jobs.

she stands out in any comment section and in crowds like these, so it makes sense that he hit her up. that’s why you’re here anyways.

mister bass player had invited you guys to the first of two sold out shows in this place. it’s the last stop on the band’s US leg, in their hometown, which happens to be where you and adelaide live.

“yes dude, for the hundredth time, im sure. and he’s waiting on us, so stop stalling. i know you have more balls than that.” adelaide gives you a pointed look.

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “i promise you i don’t care enough about what these guys think to be scared.”

“now that sounds more like you.” she teases as she pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

the light from the screen illuminates her face, and you watch as she taps something out quickly.

“chris said someone is gonna come get us.”

“can’t wait.” you smile sarcastically as you respond.

addy doesn’t even get the chance to yell at you about your attitude before a big buff guy dressed in all black approaches the two of you, dark hair slicked against his skull. SECURITY is printed across his jacket in bold yellow letters.

“you ladies enjoy the show?” his voice is deep, which matches his huge stature perfectly.

“oh, it was amazing! i’m assuming you’re jason?” adelaide beams at him, pushing her dark curls out of her face.

he nods once. “that’s me. you guys ready to head backstage?”

“yup, just lead the way.”

the two of you follow jason back down toward the front of the stage, around the protective barricade to a door that almost blends right in with the venue’s dark walls.

he knocks on it three times. another tall man opens it for him and ushers the two of you inside before people start to pay too much attention.

“dressing rooms this way.” the new guy leads you through the backstage area, down a narrow hallway until he stops in front of one of the doors. there’s a little placard with their band name on it, which is cute.

this time nobody thinks to knock, because it’s already pretty loud. once the door swings open the sound is even more overwhelming.

you count seven people, all sitting around on the couches and vanity seats in the dim lighting. three of them are nearly identical, which surprises you. you thought there were only two brothers in the band.

several bottles of champagne crowd the coffee table already, and they’ve only been off the stage for ten minutes.

all of them are watching the two of you now, and it makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

“look who it is.” one of the twins (or apparently triplets) that’s sitting on the couch sets his glass down and gets up to greet you.

his brown hair is long, longer than the others, hidden slightly by a black boston hat. he’s dressed in a celtics jersey and baggy jeans, clearly happy to be representing his city tonight.

“good to see you, chris.” adelaide smiles into his chest as he pulls her into a tight embrace that lasts for a few seconds too long.

“i promise it’s better to see you.” he smirks as he finally pulls away, not even trying to hide his gaze as he admires the way her outfit hugs her body.

then he turns to you, and you suddenly feel like a spotlight is shining directly in your face.

“it’s nice to meet you too, y/n. addy tells me you’re even cooler than she is.” chris says, wrapping his arm around your friends shoulder lazily.

“can’t argue with that.” you shrug with a grin, impressed that he remembered your name without having to ask.

he looks around and clears his throat, and the others stop chatting. “everyone, this is adelaide and y/n. introduce yourselves.”

one of the clones that was sitting beside chris speaks up now. “shouldn’t they know who we are?”

he looks directly at you with an uninterested gaze that’s somehow still so intense you almost lose your breath. he’s in all black, fluffy hair styled a bit shorter than chris’s.

his harley davidson muscle tee is cut off right above his black pants, revealing just the smallest sliver of his stomach as he leans back against the cushions casually. so many tattoos, so many rings.

it’s annoying that you notice this, even despite how pissed off you are at his stupid question.

“i hate to burst your bubble, but i wouldn’t be able to guess your name even if someone put a gun to my head.” you bite back without thinking, and laughter erupts around you.

“that’s exactly what you deserve for a dickhead comment like that, matt.” another currently-unnamed guy says.

he’s on the other sofa with the last of the carbon-copy brothers, arm around the waist of the beautiful girl that’s perched on his lap. the couple smile at you and adelaide.

“feel free to ignore him. i’m nathan, lead guitar.” he introduces himself.

“i’m his girlfriend jen.” the dark-haired woman chimes in, offering you a friendly wave.

“im nick,” the triplet sitting next to them finally reveals his name, “i’m not in the band, i’m just their tour photographer. my brothers got the musical talent.”

“kids a genius with a camera though.” chris adds, still sidled up against adelaide.

“names sam. i’m the singer.” a blonde boy with hair cropped close to his skull says with a nod.

he’s sitting on one of the vanity chairs that’ve been set up in a half circle, tipping the rest of his champagne back after he speaks.

“and i’m just his older sister gabby.” the girl beside him sticks her hand out, and you take a step forward to shake it.

“dont say just. and i love your necklace.” you compliment the barbed wire chain around her throat, and she waves her free hand at you, flushing slightly.

“you’re sweet.”

“it’s nice to meet you all. the show was fantastic, we had a blast.” adelaide addresses everyone with that award-winning grin you know and love.

chris leads her over to the couch and they sit down, pressed against each other like they’re attached at the hip. you have to admit it’s a little cute. you take the open chair next to gabby, opting to avoid sitting next to matt just to be near your friend.

“are you both from boston too?” sam asks, reaching to refill his drink.

jen gets up from nate’s lap to grab two more glasses from one of the cabinets, which is a kind gesture that you weren’t really expecting.

“yeah. we met in college and ended up staying in the city together.” you answer as he moves to pour your champagne next.

“that makes you what, 22? i am about to serve you alcohol.”

you can’t help but laugh, so adelaide answers instead. “we’re 25, but i’ll take that as a compliment.”

he puts his hands up in apology as you grab your glass. “so not recent graduates then, my bad.”

you can still feel matt staring at you, and when you meet his gaze over the rim of your drink he doesn’t shy away. your own eyes narrow slightly, because you dont understand why he won’t fucking quit it.

“what do you do for work?” nathan questions, and you finally break out of your trance to look over.

“i was in publishing for a bit, but i mainly model now.” addy responds first.

chris’s hand goes to grip her thigh endearingly as she sips her champagne. “can’t you tell?”

“stop it.” she nudges him slightly, though you can see a faint blush appear beneath her bronzed skin.

nate rolls his eyes before looking your way. “and you?”

“i’m a media manager for a few different brands.”

“really? like who?”

it’s matt speaking, you know even before you turn your head to meet his cold eyes once more. he’s challenging you, inked arms crossed over his chest defensively as he waits for an answer.

“well for one, those pants you’re wearing? i work with that company.” you reply bluntly.

you’d recognize those cargos anywhere, the faded star patches are a dead giveaway. matt’s face drops in surprise, and nick snorts, giving you a nod of approval that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i can’t believe you work for vamped. we all get like, half of our wardrobe from there.” he admits.

“raiding her closet is a real treat, trust me.” adelaide makes it sound like a joke, but she actually does love to come over and steal all your favorite pieces.

it would be annoying if you didn’t love her so much.

jen smiles, cuddled back up on her boyfriend’s knee as she looks between the two of you. “i like you girls already.”

“yeah, and i respect anyone who can humble matt that quickly.” sam nods along in agreement, and you recognize that he’s talking about you in particular.

“oh, so i take it he’s like this all the time then?” your question is directed at sam, but you’re looking at the subject himself as you ask it.

“pretty much.” chris nudges matt with a silly grin, and he scowls in return, though he’s still watching you.

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, and you don’t like it one bit. to be fair, you don’t know him at all yet, but you know the type.

you’ve met enough high profile people through vamped to understand that this kid thinks he’s some kind of god, probably because his friends tell him so.

but you’re not his friend, and you don’t owe him any politeness if he can’t bother to reciprocate it. you keep your eyes on him as sam redirects the conversation away from the two of you, another challenge of your own, and he finally looks away a moment later.

you take it as a win.

a few rounds of drinks later you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, blissfully tipsy as you continue to swap stories about anything and everything with the rest of the group.

chris and adelaide are in their own little world, whispering shit back and forth to each other like school girls.

matt hasn’t said a single word to you since you name-dropped your highest paying client just to embarrass him. he watches the rest of you interact, though that burning gaze of his always seems to meet yours anyways.

its driving you crazy, and you’re itching for a quick pause from the socialization, as nice as (almost) everyone has been.

“i’m gonna go for a smoke.” you address the group, mainly adelaide, and you’re met with a couple nods.

“same.” matt replies gruffly, and your heart falters.

of fucking course.

he pushes himself to a standing position before you can protest, or say anything really. his shirt is even more cropped now that he’s stretched to his full height, and you’re staring straight at his exposed happy trail and v-line. you’re pretty sure you see the top of a small tattoo by his hip.

your mouth goes dry, and you busy yourself grabbing your little purse from the floor.

“hurry back, i wanna hear more about this PR box fiasco.” gabby points a finger at you as you get up next, and you smile even though you know it’s a weak attempt.

“i’ll be quick.” you promise her.

adelaide gives you a little wave goodbye, which doesn’t quell your nerves as you turn to follow matt, who doesn’t wait for you to catch up.

he just throws the dressing room door open carelessly, letting it swing back so you have to stop it with your hand before it hits you. you glare at the back of his head, though you follow him in silence because you don’t know the way outside.

another security guard stands in the hall, and matt greets him with a quick nod as he heads outside, once again neglecting to hold it for you.

you mutter a quick hello to the man before stepping onto the little back patio. it’s the end of summer, edging toward fall now, so there’s just a slight chill in the air.

he’s already leaned up against the brick wall, situated on one of the steps down to the gated parking lot. for the first time tonight, he’s actually not looking at you, and it’s somewhat of a relief.

you dig around in your bag to retrieve your crinkled carton of cigarettes, flipping the lid open to pull one out and stick it between your lips. you’re about to put them away when matt clears his throat.

“can i bum one?” he asks softly.

it’s the least aggressive he’s been all night, and it throws you so off guard you can’t find anything to say back so him. so you just nod slowly, grabbing another cigarette for him and passing it over.

“thanks.”

“you got a light? couldn’t bring mine in.” you mutter, though your words slur because of the cig that’s between your teeth.

matt nods, ruffling his hair with one hand as the other slips into his back pocket. he pulls out a red disposable lighter and ignites it in one swift motion.

he holds it up to your mouth, burning the end of the thin roll of tobacco. he’s staring at your lips, thinking about how soft they look wrapped around that filter paper.

matt doesn’t want to be wondering what it would be like to feel them against his own, because you embarrassed him. he hates being embarrassed, especially by someone who walked right into his dressing room like she owned it.

you’re unlike any girl he’s ever met, and he’s fucking entranced.

you inhale, glancing to meet his blue eyes as the smoke fill your lungs, completely unaware of his thoughts. it’s familiar, and it calms you down a little bit.

you pull it from your mouth to exhale, watching as he lights his own before slipping the plastic device back into his pocket. he slumps back up against the wall, kicking one leg up to steady himself.

it’s silent again for a moment while you both enjoy the brief hits of nicotine, letting the clouds swirl up into the night. you both go to ash at the same time, and he breaks the tension first.

“so, what did you think of the show, sweetheart? your friend spoke for you, but i’m sure you have your own opinion.” he says, one side of his mouth tilted up.

you weigh up his statement, rewinding to an hour ago. you guys were in the upper wing, right by the stage in the front row. the view was great, and the energy was definitely there.

you remember matt, sweaty and focused as he banged on those fucking drums like his life depended on it. your eyes were drawn to him for a lot of the performance, to the intensity he brought to the stage.

that was before you knew about his superiority complex, though you should have been expecting it. he is, after all, a rising rock star.

“it was good.” you reply bluntly, shrugging as you bring your cigarette back to your lips.

he fully smiles now, though it’s not a warm one. then he follows your lead and takes another drag as well, his tattoos shifting as his muscles flex and relax due to the movement.

“don’t fucking humor me.” matt finally says seriously, and you narrow your eyes.

“i wasn’t, but it doesn’t matter either way. you think you’re the shit regardless.” you snap back.

matt softens a bit at your tone, but he’s also backed into a corner. you confuse him, because you’re impossible to read. that’s never happened to him before, and it’s annoyingly enticing.

“you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“i know your type.” you argue sourly, sucking in another mouthful of smoke.

he turns his full attention to you now, shifting so he can look you right in the eyes. you wish it didn’t intimidate you so much, but the way he’s been leering at you all night makes you sweat.

“and what type would that be, hm?” matt goads.

you nudge at the concrete with the toe of your sneaker, pausing briefly to compose your answer.

“you’re arrogant, which either comes from the fame or the praise, or most likely both. in fact, you’re so cocky that you probably can’t be around anyone without patronizing them. i bet they all tell you how talented and badass you are, but you wanna know what i think?” you ask him, taking a hit of your cigarette for dramatic effect.

and it works. matt is hanging onto every word, waiting for you to deliver the final punch as you take a step closer, blowing the vapor toward him.

“i think that the whole time, they’re just waiting for you to shut the fuck up.”

for a second the world is still, and neither of you move an inch. he’s just studying you, eyes skipping across your face like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“you want to know what i think?” he questions you quietly, and you can’t help but watch his lips as they move.

so pretty and pink, and you know he would taste like tobacco and sweat. you want to give in, but you won’t. one thing about you is that you’re stubborn, and you refuse to make the first move for this asshole.

“i think you like it.” matt finishes, so close to your lips now that he’s practically whispering his words against them.

just as you think he’s about to kiss you, to give you the power you crave, he tosses his cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out before stepping around you.

the only reminder that the moment was real is the door slamming shut behind him.

[stuffedfullbabe]

part 4 or 5 of the Catheter posts. (as gender neutral sub and male dom. can be anything tho)

You and your partner have been testing the limits as to how much you can hold. By drinking various diuretics', copious amounts of water, limiting your intake, drinking a mix of water and your partners piss as well as filling your own bladder with warm water, cold water and saline over time. All to say that you can now hold quite a bit.

You and your partner have planned to drive across the country (US) to visit some friends and see the sights of small towns and large cities that you've never visited. The first leg of the trip is a 9 hour drive, you two had planned not to take any stops unless the driver needed a break. You both had filled the car with stuff a day prior, so only your backpacks and a few personal items were left. You had a few days of not holding leading up to this, just to keep your bladder strong - but you were forced into wearing a rather large plug during that time.

What you hadn't planned for was your partner not letting you pee in the morning. As the two of you raced around the house, grabbing final things you moved towards the bathroom "Nope! We don't have time." your partner said, pulling you out of the house and into the car. "If you really need to go when we get to the first rest stop in two hours then sure but after that we aren't stopping!" You were thankful that you did not need to go very badly, but you knew that you needed some relief at the rest stop.

__________________________________

At the rest stop, the two of you got food and you waited for your partner to use the bathroom. You went in with them and they pulled you into one of the stalls, making you sit on the toilet. "just go already" your partner mumbled as they opened the backpack on their back. You go, feeling your bladder finally empty - however after a moment you feel something slide into place. You look down to see your partner has just slid a catheter line into your bladder. This was nothing new for you, but you did not expect them to bring any on the drive.

"I don't want to stop again in another two hours, knowing your bladder. Deal with it." they whispered, thankful that only you two were in there. Once the balloon on the inside of you bladder was inflated, to ensure nothing came out - your partner pulled out a funnel and attached it to the line coming out of you. "I never said I was going to use the bathroom properly did I?" they had a mischievous look on their face before they began peeing into the funnel. You watched in mild shock and horror as your once empty bladder filled - your partner must have been holding all night for it to get this full. Their piss filled you to just under half capacity.

You whimpered as they plugged the line back up and slapped your bladder. "This isn't coming out till we get to the hotel." You nodded and pulled your underwear back on, then your pants , before leaving the bathroom.

------------------------------------------

Two hours later, and you are ahead of schedule, the nine hour drive is now a seven hour drive and your nearly halfway there. You reach the halfway point's 'on the go' station. You wait with anticipation, wondering if your partner - now dom - will use you again or what. Your partner parks the car in the furthest corner of the parking lot. Furthest from the road and building. They got out of the car and headed to the back door behind yours, pulling out a Gatorade and passing it to you, while also grabbing another bottle of water for themselves. Since the first rest stop, they've drank through three of the 20 pack of water bottles. You watch as they wiggle a bit while putting their water in the middle console. They close the door and wander back over to you, opening your door.

"Pants down. I need to pee." You do as they say and pull out the same funnel. You stay sitting and watch as their piss flows directly into your bladder, wincing when it hits capacity. They haven't stopped peeing though. You whine as they keep going, letting everything out - and finally it stops. You watch as they plug you right back up. "My, look at that. Your bladder looks like a little balloon!" You look down to see that yes, your bladder is bursting and is visibly puffing outwards. Your partner watches as your slowly pull your clothes back on and they buckle you in, making sure that the seat belt only gets tighter the more you move.

---------------------------------------

You finally reach the hotel, Your bladder hurts, your whimpering as the car goes over a speed bump and through a pothole. Finally the car has stopped. "We're at the hotel baby" your partner says lovingly "You've got a bit of this Gatorade left. How about you chug it now and then we can go in. I'll give you the room key so that you can head up first, but you cant go pee okay? If you have the urge just go while your alone, come back down to me and I'll hold your hand until were done okay?"

You agree and go ahead to the room. You check the room out - queen bed and a small desk. There's a bar fridge, a coffee machine and the bathroom is huge. Also the wall separating the bathroom and the room is half frosted glass, half clear glass. You can see into the bathroom. You whimper as you spot the toilet through the frosted glass. 'No I must be good! I can wait' you mumble to yourself as you carefully get up from the bed and check out the bathroom. Despite your mind yelling at you to go pee, you find yourself ignoring it, instead staring at the rainfall shower. It looked soooo nice!!! A shower in that after holding for so long??? a dream!

You take one last glance at the toilet before walking out of the bathroom and back to the bed. You sit on it carefully, being very conscious of your massive bladder. Your partner/dom enters the room with a few of your things, just clothes, some snack and drinks and toiletries. They look at you, noticing that your bladder really is showing. "The lady at the front desk asked me if you were pregnant. I had to say yes. Honestly baby, you look pregnant. Have you seen yourself?" they say, pulling you to your feet, not caring about being gentle. You whine at the sudden movement but see how massive your bladder really is. The floor to ceiling mirror shows your massive bladder sticking out, bulging forwards -when your dom lifts your shirt you can see its a little red.

"Your so cute" your dom whispers "So full for me. So much piss inside you that isn't even yours to begin with." they practically groan. You whimper as they begin to massage your massive bladder, a simple press would have made you burst if not for the catheter line. They press harder, feeling that your bladder really is rock solid. They begin rubbing and pressing lightly on your bladder - all while their other hand is groping your body. You barely notice as they pull your clothes off you - till they harshly tug you into the bathroom. Your eyes water as they press you to the wall of the shower, your bladder being compressed by the wall.

You begin to cry and beg to pee when they release you. They turn the shower on and look you in the eyes "Ill take the catheter out if you can hold it until the line is out ok?" You nod and let them take it out, squeezing your whole body until its out "You can go baby." You try to and you find you cant, you whine as you keep trying. You partner sighs and presses on your bladder, finally emptying you. They leave the shower for second to grab the shower stool and place you on it "There you go, let it all out."

-------------------------

You wake up a few hours later in the comfy bed, in your pajamas and with a completely empty bladder "Ill be easy on you tomorrow. We are here for another day or two." You cuddle into your partner and fall asleep

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Poly!Larissa x Morticia x Reader with the shapeshifting and all, if you don’t want to do it just let me know cause I know some of the request can make people feel uncomfortable.

😊

Hey hey hey anon! I am absolutely comfortable with writing this 🥰 Thank you for requesting it! Had some inspiration from one of @prettyprettyprettybaby ‘s posts on this one. Hope you Enjoy 💞

Some Fun… ~Poly!Morissa xFem Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, threesome, semi-public sex, pet names, praise kink, shapeshifted d!ck, g!p fucking, eating out, implied exhibitionist kink…?, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You weren’t one to usually got to restaurants and such especially not alone, but tonight you had spontaneously decided to go wine and dine yourself.

That’s how you ended up in this high end Italian place, known for their wine. So with a glass of red wine in your hand and having already eaten, you were spending your night away in this fancy place.

The bell of the door rang, indicating someone had walked in. You turned your head slightly to see who walked in, and your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In walked a tall, blonde goddess accompanied by another less tall, raven haired goddess.

They say a few table away from you but you had a direct cross view. They only ordered salads and then went straight to wine. Your eyes kept fluttering to them. You tried to stop staring, but you were finding it extremely difficult…

A little while later, the women began to get up to leave. A part of you was saddened that they were leaving your presence. But you were even more stunned when instead of going to the exit, the women started to approach you. The raven haired woman took a seat across from you, and the blonde stole a chair from another table to sit adjacent to both of you.

“Um… hi…?” You stuttered, your gaze flickering back and forth from woman to woman in a frenzy.

“We understand that this is not customary, but you see, we saw you staring, Darling, and we thought we might come introduce ourselves…” the blonde spoke with the most sinfully delicious British accent ever.

You gulped and nodded with a strong blush.

“I’m Morticia and this is my partner, Larissa, and we’re in an open relationship…” the raven haired goddess spoke with a sultry tone.

“Oh…?” You chocked out, setting your wine down.

“And we thought from your lingering gaze, Darling, that you might be interested…” Larissa purred.

Your mouth went dry and your breath hitched. Then both women got up. Your eyes frantically looked back and forth. Then Larissa leaned down to the shell of your ear.

“Meet us in the bathroom in 10 minutes if that is indeed the case…” she husked.

~~~

Those was the longest fucking 10 minutes do your life. You stared at the clock intently, and as soon as the clock hit minute 10, you scurried to the women’s restroom. There was only one stall and so you knocked.

“It’s me…” you spoke in a hushed tone.

The door swung open and a creamy, strong hand pulled you in, closing and locking the door behind you. You were slammed against the bathroom door, the raven haired woman’s lips smashing against yours. You moaned into the kiss with need. The blonde was leaning against the door, drinking in the show unfolding before her. At one point, you both pull away breathless from the heated kiss.

“I want to feel her…” Larissa lustfully husked, taking Morticia’s place and trapping you flush against the door.

You gasped as your hips instinctually started grinding against her now very apparent bulge.

“Want to feel your walls fluttering around me, Darling…” Larissa groaned.

You bit your lip and nodded eagerly.

“Please please…” you chanted.

The both of you stripped down to your bras quickly. Morticia helping the blonde with the zipper of her dress and you currying to removed your pants and knickers. With the final throw to the side of Larissa’s knickers, your eyes widened as you got a full look at the woman’s hardened cock. Your needy eyes fluttered back up to the blonde.

Larissa didn’t even take the time to shoot you a teasing quip about your lingering gaze. No, she tapped her sides, indicating for you to jump up, where your legs straddled her waist and she held you against the wall while lining her veiny cock up with your throbbing cunt. She slipped into your heat with ease, causing a throaty moan to escape from your lips.

“God yesssss—” you hissed, Larissa’s dick filling you up in a deliciously overwhelming way.

Morticia was right next to both of you, now teasing her own cunt, moaning at the sight of the two of you. With the pressure of you being pressed between the blonde and the wall, Larissa began thrusting into you.

“Harder, faster Larissa please…” you whimpered, dying of her slow, torturous pace.

Larissa smirked at your plea, looking over to Morticia who was grinning like a Cheshire Cat and nodding eagerly.

“Alright, but you’ll have to stay quiet, Darling…” she breathily purred, “Can you do that…?”

You bit your lip and nodded eagerly.

“Words, Sweet girl…” Morticia warily purred.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched.

“Yes yes, I can take it please—!!” You whimpered.

At this, Larissa’s lips crashed into yours, before she was pounding into you relentlessly. She pulled away from the kiss only to start marking your neck and shoulders. But you couldn’t keep quiet… Whimpers, moans, and mewls escaped your lips, as the blonde pounded into you without mercy. Morticia hushed you and her hand snaked up to your mouth, covering your helpless moans up tightly.

“Gotta be quiet, sweet girl…” she hummed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Oh Shit—!!

You began panicking. But the two women were ahead of you. And the blonde didn’t stop pounding into you. Your screams were muffled by the raven haired woman’s hand.

“Shhhhh, we’re not going to stop for a mere stranger, hmmm Mon Amour…?” She purred.

Larissa chuckled darkly, “Oh no, not gonna stop until we’ve filled our pet up with my cum, so deep she’ll be having my baby…”

You let out a particular leud moan now, the idea of being caught along with being bred.

“I can feel your walls clenching harder and harder, Darling…” Larissa groans.

“Oh my, does being caught turn out pretty, little pet on…?” Morticia taunts, her eyes blackened fully with lust.

You nod vigorously, nuzzling your head in the blonde’s shoulder to muffle your screams. All of this being enough to send you over the edge unexpectedly. You came with a violent spasm and many muffled cries. And Larissa was quick to climax after you, filling you up all the way. Morticia followed right after that, riding out her high on her own fingers.

From there, Larissa slid out of you, catching you as your legs buckled. You looked around and found the raven haired woman was sitting on the counter with her legs spread out wide.

“Be a Good pet and eat me out…” Morticia purred.

“Yes Ma’am…” you panted.

You nodded vigorously and crawled over to the raven haired goddess, placing your hands of her creamy thighs and diffing your tongue deep inside her soaked pussy. The woman’s hand snuck it’s way into your hair, pushing you further into her cunt. You worked Morticia up to the edge quickly and with skill. And she came with a leud groan, which Larissa quickly silenced by smashing her lips to Morticia’s. You happily lapped up all of the raven haired goddesses juices, before meeting your own lips with hers.

The three of you were a panting mess as you hurriedly cleaned up in order to let the next person have the bathroom. You said your goodbyes, Morticia taking one last heated kiss from your lips and Larissa pecking each of your cheeks lovingly.

Then the two women left first. And you followed out after five minutes. When you went back to your table, you found that your bill had been paid and that Larissa had left her business card with her number and a note that read,

Don’t be afraid to call, Darling <33

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Morticia Addams Masterlist

[avocadorablepirate]

What Do We Call This? - 12

prev || mini masterlist || next

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, the occasional OP spoiler

A/N: I'm too sleep deprived to proofread the entire final part, so I decided I’d split it. But honestly I don’t know what the heck I’ve written here either.

The next part will probably come out some time during the week, or I’ll just post it next week. Anyway, I hope you like it!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

The celebration after the battle should have been a moment of relief for Law. Two Yonko’s had been defeated, thus ending the alliance with the Straw Hats. They had finally accomplished the initial goal of the alliance, and yet Law found it hard to join in on the festivities. His mind was occupied by the tension between you and him. He had tried to approach you several times during the night, only to be met with avoidance, and it was driving him to the edge.

Fortunately, he finally managed to corner you at one of the stalls, and pulled you along to a quiet corner. However, the initial determination that he had felt before talking to you, instantly dissipated at your words.

"Your alliance with the Straw Hats is over. That means you won't be sailing with them any longer." You paused, taking a breath as if gathering the strength to continue, and Law felt a sense of dread wash over him as he braced himself for your next words. "And since I'm onboard their ship, that means we won't be sailing together any longer."

The words hit Law like a punch to the gut—something he had dreaded but always feared would come. However, hearing it aloud was an entirely different matter. The whole reason he had wanted to talk to you was to sort things out, and then gather the courage to ask you to join his crew. He had always hoped that maybe a part of you would have liked to come with him. Now, that hope was shattered.

As you continued, Law watched you avoid his gaze, clearly struggling with your own emotions. His mind raced. He knew you were wrong, that his feelings for you went beyond mere protectiveness. But his words came out in a jumbled rush. "(Y/N)-ya, that's—that's not what I meant—"

You cut him off, shaking your head firmly, and with your final words to him turned and left. Law clenched his fists, frustration and helplessness bubbling inside him. He watched as you walked away, each step feeling like a knife twisting deeper into his heart. He wanted to call out to you, to stop you, but the words were stuck in his throat.

That night, Law found no peace. He wandered the festival with his crew in a daze, his mind replaying your conversation over and over. The celebrations around him felt like a cruel joke, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. You had said that maybe you would meet in the future, but Law knew that in this line of work, it was very unlikely. The thought of this being the last time he saw you shook him to the core, and he was desparate to do something about it. But what could he do? You had already made up your mind.

_____________________________________________

As Law exchanged “farewells” with Luffy and Kid, he stole a glance at the Thousand Sunny, hoping to see you. But you were already inside the ship, likely avoiding him, or so he assumed. As he boarded his own ship, Bepo approached him, worry plastered across his face, "Captain are you sure we're ready to leave? You said you wouldn't leave without her."

Law gritted his teeth, those hadn't been his exact words when he had told his crew about asking you to join them, but in his heart he knew that was what he meant. Leave it to Bepo, to know exactly what he was thinking.

"Raise the anchor," was all he said as he walked further into the ship.

The Polar Tang set sail, the Thousand Sunny and the Victoria Punk not far from it. As if not already irritated, Eustass' snide remark only seemed to serve as fuel to Law's raging annoyance. Ignoring his crew's protests, Law yanked at the helm, steering the ship towards the very waterfall they had climbed to reach Wano.

While his crew braced for impact, Law stood determined. His thoughts however, drifted to you. Luffy had done the very same thing as him, and just like the Polar Tang, the Thousand Sunny was plunging down the same waterfall. "Strawhat-ya that idiot!" Law muttered under his breath (rather hypocritically). His gaze shifted to the Thousand Sunny, and what he saw left him reeling. In an instant, he summoned a blue orb.

_____________________________________________

You were helping load supplies onto the ship when you heard faint voices come from the harbour below: Kid, Luffy and Law. After your conversation with him at the festival, you had called it an early night and started your morning loading the Sunny to avoid running into him. But now, something urged you to take one last look at Law, to just lean over the railing and catch a glimpse of him. So you did just that.

Law stood next to Luffy, his usual stoic expression in place, except now the dark circles that lined his eyes were all the more prominent. A pang of guilt swept over you, knowing you might be the cause.

"You should go down and say goodbye to him." A voice jolted you away from the railing. Your face flushed when you found Robin standing behind you, a knowing smile on her face as she let out a chuckle. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, making you feel a bit self-conscious.

"What?" you asked, flustered.

"You want to talk to him, don't you?" she said gently, her smile widening as she watched your reaction.

"We already did last night," you muttered, trying to hide your unease. You looked away, focusing on the supplies in front of you.

"A real man would say goodbye to you again," Franky chimed in from behind a stack of crates, and despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh. You went back to your task, trying to push away any thoughts that made you question your decision. But as you lifted another crate, you couldn't help but steal another glance over the railing. Law was walking away from Luffy and to his ship, figure slowly disappearing from your view.

The Thousand Sunny set sail, and you busied yourself with organizing the remaining supplies, lost in thought, and completely unaware of Kid's taunting remarks. It wasn't until you heard Usopp and Chopper pleading with Luffy that you snapped out of it.

"What's going on?" You approached Sanji, who watched the pair desparately try to hold back Luffy from the helm. Before he could respond the roar of water filled your ears, and your heart raced with fear as the ship suddenly plummeted.

Instinctively, you grabbed onto the nearest stable object, which happened to be Sanji. Clinging to him in fear for your life, you left the cook stunned.

Luckily, the Sunny landed safely in the waters below. You sighed in relief as you released Sanji and fell to your knees, desperately trying to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)-chan~," you heard Sanji gleefully call out to you moments later, though his voice sounded almost muffled. The next thing you heard was Sanji cursing at Law. As you looked up to see what was the cause of his irritation, a familiar sensation washed over you - a feeling of displacement. You shut your eyes in fear as you felt nothing beneath you, bracing for impact. But instead of a rough hardwood floor or the cold ocean water, you felt a pair of arms around your waist and back.

You opened your eyes to find yourself aboard the Polar Tang, in Law's arms. His grip was firm, and his eyes held a mix of frustration and desperation. For a moment, you were lost in his intense gaze, but reality quickly set in.

"Tra! Give her back!"

"What are you doing?" you exclaimed, trying to wriggle out of his hold. "You can't just teleport me here!"

Law set you down, his eyes locking onto yours. "I'm not going to let you go with them," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "The Straw Hats don’t understand how your powers work. If you go with them you'll keep hurting yourself, pushing yourself until it's too late." Law's expression hardened. "I won’t let you go," he said, his voice laced with determination.

You took a step back, shaking your head. "This isn't your decision to make. Transport me back to the Sunny," you demanded.

Law remained silent, his eyes never leaving yours. His jaw tightened, and it became clear that he had no intention of complying. Frustration bubbled up inside you. You glanced behind, seeing the Sunny getting farther away.

"Send me back now," you said, your voice resolute, but Law shook his head. "It's too far now. Stay on the Polar Tang."

Not wanting to hear anymore protests, Law turned away, leaving you on the deck, and headed into the sub, instructing his crew to follow. Only Ikkaku stayed behind. She approached you with a somber expression, offering a hug when she saw your tear-filled eyes.

"C'mon, let's get you some tea."

She led you to the kitchen, sitting you down at the table before making a cup of tea. Once it was ready, Ikkaku sat beside you, gently nudging you to get your attention when she noticed you staring blankly at the table.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked noting your pained expression. Her question was enough to break you - opening the flood gates. You buried your head in your hands, trying to hide your tears, but Ikkaku had already noticed, pulling you into another hug as she stroked your back in comfort.

As you clung to her, your shoulders shaking with each sob, the weight of your frustration and helplessness poured out. It wasn't just about being left on the Polar Tang; it was the feeling of having no control, of being swept along by decisions made without you. Ikkaku's steady presence and gentle touch were the only anchors you had in that moment of emotional turbulence. The warmth of her embrace slowly began to calm the storm inside you, bit by bit.

After a while, you managed to pull yourself together, your breathing becoming steadier. Ikkaku didn't rush you, allowing you to take the time you needed. She continued to sit beside you, her hand soothingly rubbing your back.

"Why does he have to make things so difficult," you mumbled, sucking in a breath as you tried to calm yourself.

Ikkaku handed you the steaming cup, her expression sympathetic. "He's just worried about you. But I admit, he should have handled it differently."

Once you had managed to regulate your breathing you took a sip of the tea, the warmth soothing you slightly. "I get that he's worried, but he can't just force me to stay here. It’s not fair."

Ikkaku nodded, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, and I'm sure Law knows too. He just let his feelings cloud his judgment."

You looked down at your cup, your emotions swirling. A silence settled between you, broken only by the soft hum of the submarine.

"Hey, why don't you get some sleep for now. We can figure this out tomorrow," Ikkaku suggested, finally breaking the silence. She hesitated, but added, "Maybe we can find a way to get you back to the Straw Hats," she said with a small smile, and you tried to offer her one as well, feeling a bit of the weight lift off your shoulders, despite knowing that it would probably be months before you saw the Straw Hat pirates again. "Thank you, Ikkaku."

Unbeknownst to you, Law had been listening. After talking to his crew, he had intended to retreat to his quarters to collect his thoughts. However, as he passed by the kitchen he heard the sound of crying, and he couldn't bring himself to walk away, stopping at the door when he recognised your voice alongside Ikkaku’s. He quietly listened to your conversation, and his heart sank when he heard your words, immediately regretting the pain he had caused you.

As footsteps approached the kitchen door, Law swiftly stepped back, attempting to compose himself. He debated leaving but hesitated, knowing you were about to exit. Moments later, you emerged from the kitchen, your eyes red and swollen from tears, and you locked gazes with him.

"(Y/N)-ya," he began, his voice strained with regret, but you cut him off.

"Don't," you said, voice hoarse. "I don't want to hear it. "

You turned away from him, heading towards your cabin, and Law watched with a heavy heart, tempted to pull you back. But he stopped himself, hoping that if he gave you your space, eventually he could explain himself to you, and you would understand.

_____________________________________________

A/N: I hope the next part doesn’t seem too rushed considering it’s the ending :/

taglist: @trafalgardaria @deathsmajestysworld @cottoncandyloverrrr @magnificenttaledreamland @kitsunechan707

[morning-star-joy]

and it feels good to be known so well

a stranger's heart without a home chapter 16

Pairing: friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: A midnight call turns into a new phase in your relationship with Joel. Meanwhile, Ellie and Dina plot for your monthly dinner with the Millers. Afterwards, you share a moment of remembrance with Tommy.

Chapter Warnings & Tags: Explicit Smut (18+ Only MDNI) unprotected p in v sex, Mentions of Death (Reader's mother and younger), Grief/Depression with more Catharsis/Healing, Language, Arguments (Resolved), Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort

A/N: Early post! I hope you guys have a lovely weekend. Also, I may use the TV character descriptions in this fic but I'm giving much needed love to the game versions of the characters with the moodboard for this chapter!

Wordcount: 11.8k

chapter 1 || chapter 15 || chapter 16 || masterlist

ao3 link

September went away, with the deeper chill of October following right on its heels. The full transition into the depth of autumn left the trees in Jackson mostly bare, multi-colored leaves crunching underneath your boots as you walked the streets.

Eugene was chatting away at your side as you walked your horses back to the stables after patrol. You nodded along, sharing smiles and laughing at his endless stream of jokes.

It felt good to be spending time with your old friend again, without the heavy weight that had hovered over your last discussion. Talking to him was what you had needed in the moment then, and you were grateful for his unwavering support, but you had missed moments like this where you got to just joke around with him.

“Hey,” Eugene said after the laughter from his latest joke died down between you, stepping into the stables as he looked at you and asked, “by the way, what happened to my decanter?”

Your brows furrowed for a moment, mouth opening to repeat in confusion, “Your decant—”

Then it hit you, and you froze up momentarily before clearing your throat louder than you needed to.

“Oh, right. I left it—ah,” you cleared your throat again, suddenly finding it difficult to speak as Eugene flashed an annoyingly knowing smirk at your sudden hesitation. “I left it at home. I’ll swing by later this week to give it back to you.”

“You will, will you?” Eugene responded, his smirk growing into a look almost akin to mischief, and you stiffened as you wondered where he was going with this. “That would be awfully nice, especially considering—oh, hey, Joel!”

You nearly dropped your horse’s reins, taken aback by the sudden mention of the man who you had just realized was still in possession of your friend’s decanter, from when Joel had brought you in from the rain and taken care of you.

Glancing back over your shoulder, in the direction Eugene was now flashing that same knowing smile in, you plastered a forced smile on your own face as you watched Joel look up from where he was brushing his horse’s mane.

His eyebrow rose in question as his eyes landed on your face first, despite Eugene being the one who had called out to him. Joel glanced over as the ex-Firefly gave a small wave, returning the friendly gesture with a nod of acknowledgment.

You were already turning to keep walking your horse to its own stall when Joel turned back to you, his deep voice coming out in an innocent question, “How was your patrol?”

Pausing, you turned back to face him as surprise flashed across your face before you could stop it. He definitely noticed it, judging by the way he shifted almost awkwardly at the look, before you replied quickly, “Uh, good.”

You nodded, clutching the reins of your horse tighter and ignoring the way you could practically feel Eugene’s smirk focused in on you as you repeated, “Yeah, it was good.”

Joel returned your nod with his own, pulling his gaze from you to run the brush through his horse’s mane again while he murmured, “Good. That’s good.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, giving one last nod before spinning on your heel, heading quickly towards your own stall.

When Eugene continued to smirk at you as he passed by your stop on the way to his stall, you growled underneath your breath, “Not. A. Word.”

“Oh, I don’t need to say nothin’,” Eugene grinned, and you bristled at the sight of it, sending him a glare before his next words made you freeze. “The eyes say it all.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, quickly looking away from his retreating form to your horse so you could unload your gear and take care of the animal.

Eugene’s echoing laughter through the stables was hard to ignore, but you managed.

It wasn’t Joel’s question that had taken you aback—he had gotten into the habit of asking how your patrols went ever since he and Tommy had rescued you from the hunters. He never mentioned the incident directly, but you knew that his recurring, supposedly innocent question stemmed from some place of concern; some remembrance of the event that had left you bloodied, bruised, and more than a little bit broken, before he tried to patch you back together as best as he could.

No, what had taken you by surprise was that he had asked it so openly when the two of you weren’t alone.

You paused in the middle of brushing your horse’s mane, gripping the brush tighter as the thoughts stirred emotions inside you that you didn’t think you could even begin to untangle and decipher if you wanted to.

With a sigh, you continued to take care of your horse, feeding them a few small sugar cubes as a treat before returning Eugene’s call of farewell with one of your own. You took another few moments to run your hand across your horse’s freshly brushed mane, patting them gently a few times before pulling your backpack back on, followed by your rifle over your shoulder.

What you had not expected while you were walking out of the stables was for Joel to still be there.

You absentmindedly glanced towards his stall as you walked past it, expecting it to be closed. So when you saw him still standing there, you nearly jumped, eyes widening as you glanced over him.

His fingers were in the process of deftly twisting his horse’s mane into braids, and you raised an eyebrow, leaning against the opening of the stall to watch him before you could think about what you were doing.

Joel didn’t say anything to you when you joined him, focusing on his task at-hand. You knew he noticed your presence though, judging by the way he shifted slightly, his head turning more towards you even as his eyes remained on the last parts of the mane he was braiding.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” you finally asked, nodding towards what he was doing.

Joel finally spared a glance towards you, his fingers halting momentarily before looking back down so he could finish tying off the last braid.

“You said it yourself, didn’t you?” he replied, looking back at the confusion on your face with a hint of amusement before he clarified, “‘Can’t take the Texas out of the man?’”

“Ah,” you said softly with a slow nod.

Something about the action managed to pique your curiosity, though, and you found yourself leaning forward to see better when he finally stepped back to glance over his handiwork. After a moment, he gave a satisfied nod, a small smile twitching onto his lips, and you couldn’t help a tiny smile of your own at the sight.

You hid it by turning away, but you waited for him to gather his own supplies and weapons before heading towards the exit of the stables when he fell into step by your side.

“Alright, so, how else are you truly a stereotypical cowboy?” you asked, your tone teasing, glancing sideways at him when he huffed at your choice of words. “You have your selective manners, including being such a Southern gentleman and not swearing at the dinner table.”

He glanced towards you with the briefest look of surprise at the second comment, before chuckling under his breath as you continued, “You were familiar with horses before the apocalypse. You have your stylish décor choice of a big hunk of wood in the shape of your home state.”

Joel snorted at that last part, shooting you a glare that wasn’t nearly as cold and deadly as those you had seen him send people—including you—in the past, and you smirked at it.

“What else?” you asked as you pressed your finger to your chin, pretending to be deep in thought over the issue. “Don’t tell me you’re an expert line-dancer, Miller.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he picked up the pace to walk ahead of you a bit more, and you stopped for a moment before quickly catching up to him.

“Oh my god, you are,” you laughed, and he shook his head at your amusement.

“Shut up,” he muttered, but the thought of Joel—Joel fucking Miller, the hardest of the hardasses in Jackson—actually line-dancing was giving you more joy than you ever thought it could.

“God, what I would do to see that,” you managed to speak in between cackles, and he gave you a glare that was a bit harder this time, even though there was still the faint hint of amusement in his dark eyes.

“Well, what about you, then?” Joel said with a huff that almost seemed embarrassed. You tried to catch a glimpse of his face, wanting to see if there was a faint dusting of that pink you had seen on his cheeks before when he was drunk, but he kept it stubbornly turned away from you, even as he continued, “What secrets of Washington do you carry with you?”

You shook your head, giving your own eye roll as you recognized how he was shifting the topic off himself, but you took enough pity on him in that moment to let him.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t get as full of a life as you before shit went down,” you said a bit bluntly, but not unkindly.

Joel still did wince a bit, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets with a nod.

“Right.”

A silence hovered in the air between you, and you found yourself restless under it. It wasn’t the first time Joel had tried to ask you a more personal question—the other time was when he was asked about your “secret talents” on his birthday, before he was distracted by trying to guess your age. 

After learning a new, mundane fact about him just now, there was something inside of you that urged you to let him in on some kind of dull fact about yourself, even if it was small.

“Fishing,” you admitted on a heavy sigh, your eyes closing as you knew you were going to regret letting him know this.

You heard Joel stop walking, but it took you a few more steps to stop yourself. When you did, you sucked in a breath, preparing yourself for his humor at your expense before looking back at him.

And yes, there was a bit of humor at the revelation hidden in the depth of his stoic gaze. But there was also some surprise at the information you had dropped about yourself, along with a hint of something almost akin to warmth that made your stomach flip.

“Fishing?” he repeated, a smile slowly curling onto his lips, and you huffed before turning away quickly.

“Yeah, fishing,” you repeated with a small shrug when he caught up to you again. “People were pretty crazy about the great outdoors in Washington, and my dad was one of them. He would take me fishing. It was like…our time to bond, I guess.”

You could feel Joel’s attention as it focused fully on you while you spoke, but it wasn’t as intense as it usually felt. That hint of warmth was still palpable, and you bit your lip before turning your face away from his observation this time around, just like he had done to you only a moment before.

“Did you enjoy it?”

A snort escaped you at the words, looking back at Joel in surprise at the consideration he had shown just by asking the question.

“Not particularly,” you answered honestly with another shrug. “But my dad did, and I liked spending time with him.”

Your head tilts back, watching the warm colors of an autumn sunset paint the sky above you.

“He wasn’t the easiest guy to be around,” you admitted quietly, brows furrowing as you let yourself think of your dad. “He was all about tough love, which only got tougher after my mom…”

You trailed off, shoving your hands into your own jacket pockets. Joel’s gaze on you hadn’t wavered, and though you weren’t looking at it, you could swear you felt it soften slightly at another quiet admission on your life before Jackson.

“But still, he was my dad, you know?” you finally said, not adding anything else about your mom, because you knew Joel had understood what you had been about to say. “I wanted his approval…or something, I guess.”

You glanced back at Joel for a brief second before looking back down at your boots, watching the leaves crunch under your steps.

“That makes sense,” Joel murmured, and the tension in your shoulders that you hadn’t even noticed was there relaxed at his validation of your emotions. “At least he stuck around.”

The words along with the hint of bitterness Joel spoke them with made you curious, but you decided to keep the focus of the conversation off of him for the time being.

“Hardly,” you replied with a quiet scoff, though it wasn’t directed towards the man walking by your side. “I mean, yeah, he was there. But he wasn’t really…there.”

You shook your head, struggling to find a way to explain it, when Joel asked quietly, “Before or after?”

Even though the words were vague, you knew exactly what he meant—if your mother’s death, and your father’s subsequent absence and subpar caretaking, had occurred before the end of the world, or afterwards.

You wished you could say that it was before. You wished your mother had gone with peace, that her last moments were of natural causes—or at least, pre-apocalypse natural causes.

“After,” you said softly, eyes downcast, distracting yourself from the grief the memories brought forth by counting out each color of leaves that crunched underneath your feet.

Two red, one yellow, three—no, four orange. Another red—

“Hey.”

The gentle word made you look up, and you recognized the look in Joel’s eyes instantly, as it was one you had seen before, at his birthday party when you were holding Hope.

“I’m good,” you murmur, giving a half-smile towards the silent question of if you were alright or not. “Sorry. Sometimes, it’s just—it gets—”

“Heavy,” Joel finished quietly for you, and you let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t have to keep struggling to explain how you felt.

You gave a nod, which Joel returned before you both looked away, and that was that.

When you reached your house, and the gate of your fence swung shut behind you, you glanced back over your shoulder to where he still stood outside of it as you called, “Well, I’ll see you—”

“Tonight?”

You stopped short at the term Joel supplies, eyes widening slightly. The unexpected word hung in the air between you, because it had not been what you were about to say.

No, you were going to go with the typical see you around that had become a habit between you. It was a way to ensure you would see each other again at some point, without making a promise that you couldn’t keep to each other.

But tonight?

It was just a word—one that he had already said once before, after his birthday party. It couldn’t possibly carry that much meaning or weight to it.

But still, you just watched him, a few feet and that picket fence as a barrier between you. Uncertain what to say in response to the surety of that offer.

After a moment of your silence, Joel shifted, his gaze beginning to close off as if he sensed disapproval that you didn’t have.

“Yeah,” you find yourself saying quickly, pulling his attention back to you from where he had begun to back away.

Now it was his turn to stop suddenly, his eyes meeting yours when you gave him a small nod.

“Yeah,” you repeated, confirming his offer even as you took a slow step backwards towards your porch. “Tonight.”

Joel watched you continue to back up for a moment before giving his own nod. You watched as he turned on his heel, heading in the direction of his house to deposit his own supplies and bide time until another midnight call.

You bit your lip as you spun around, holding back the inexplicable urge to smile as you bounded up your porch steps to your front door, ready to kill that same time on your own until you saw him again.

It was almost funny, how accustomed you had gotten to the feeling of the dead of night. 

Even if you weren’t staring at a clock—which you were embarrassed to admit you had gotten into the habit of doing more and more lately—it was almost like you could sense the shift from the time of night where it was still somewhat reasonable to still be awake, to those godforsaken moments when the rest of the world was asleep, and you could do whatever the fuck you wanted.

You sat at your kitchen table, your chin resting in one hand as the other laid on the table, drumming a steady rhythm out against the surface. Now that Joel was off nighttime guard duty and coming over regularly again, you had started to pull the blinds back down at night. Since you knew he was coming, there was no need to sit and watch the trees behind your house rustle in the dark night whenever a midnight breeze brushed past.

In a strange way, it almost made it more exciting when you would hear his footsteps carry up the few steps to your back door before a knock sounded. Even though you knew it was him, not seeing his approach made your skin tingle with a strange anticipation, even though this was a dance you had done dozens of times by now.

But tonight, those footsteps were carried by a dull thud and a mumbled curse you couldn’t make out completely through the wall.

A frown pulled on your lips, your head tilting before the steps continued up to your door, and that short knock—always two times—resounded through your kitchen.

Standing, you moved around your table to the door, pulling it open with a mix of confusion and the slightest hint of concern on your face.

“What was that?” you asked, arching an eyebrow as you glanced over him, noticing the way he had been rubbing his knee before quickly straightening.

Clearly he hadn’t expected you to answer the door so quickly, and he leaned back, his gaze flashing away from you to the kitchen behind you.

“Nothing,” he murmured, trying to brush past you into the house when you sidestepped in front of him.

When you stepped in front of him again as he tried to walk the other way around you, he fixed you with a half-hearted glare, saying your name in a low tone that sent shivers down your spine, even as you returned the warning with your own annoyed uttering of his own name.

Joel sighed, reaching up a hand to brush through his hair, and you got a little too distracted by the way his long fingers laced through the graying curls that had only gotten longer over the past few months, before his answer pulled your focus back to his face.

“I just…bumped my knee,” he muttered, his face shifting away from you in a way that you recognized as embarrassment. “It’s dark, and I wasn’t looking. That’s all. May I please come in now, ma’am?”

A smile threatened to break across your face at the “please” and the “ma’am,” your stomach flipping pleasantly at the sound of the Southern gentleman manners directed towards you before you moved back to let him through.

“By all means,” you said smoothly, gesturing for him to enter, which he gladly did.

You let the door close behind him, and when you turned back, Joel’s hands were already on your hips, pulling you towards him as his mouth moved to your neck.

He pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses up it, the sensation of his teeth grazing against your sensitive skin there drawing a quiet moan out of you. Joel’s grip tightened on your waist at the sound, his lips brushing your jaw before moving up to your ear.

“How do you want me?” he murmured, and a soft breath escaped you at the sensual question, your hands curling around the buttons of his flannel, even though you both knew you wouldn’t undo them.

It was a question he had started asking more and more lately during these midnight calls. Whenever he asked it, you knew it meant one of two things: how you wanted him to fuck you that night, or where you wanted to do it. Maybe both.

“Mm,” you hummed with a light shiver as his teeth grazed against your earlobe, mouth falling open with what was almost a sigh before you answered, “couch.”

Joel nodded, one of his hands moving to the small of your back, fingers spreading across it as he began to back you up through the kitchen towards the living room. His mouth moved back down to your neck, then to your collarbone, biting down gently at the skin there and drawing another moan out of you with it.

The fact that Joel had started asking that question after your date that Tommy set you up with at the bar was not lost on you. You figured that it was some kind of way for him to prove to you that he didn’t see you as just a convenient way to get a quick orgasm, and that actually warmed your heart a bit.

Another part of you wondered that if he started to ask it because he wanted you to say the one place neither of you had dared to bring up as an idea again ever since you had fucked there once:

Bedroom.

You didn’t know why you had gone back to upholding that rule, even after you had already broken it once—twice, if you counted the time you had gone into Joel’s room to comfort him on his birthday, even if you didn’t have sex then.

Maybe it was the way that being in one of your bedrooms together reminded you too much of that vulnerability that had begun to show between you—the honesty in the words he had spoken when you both had been drunk, and he had been jealous and possessive.

Being his.

You gasped, head tilting back as Joel sunk into you with a grunt once both of you were half-naked and comfortable enough on your sofa, his body on top of yours with your legs thrown over his shoulders. He began to rock slowly into you, face buried against your neck, hot breath pressing to your skin as you began to whine from the familiar, delicious feeling of him filling you up.

“God,” you breathed out, one of your hands gripping his shoulder as the other wrapped around the back of his neck.

Your fingers swirled against his skin, almost playing with the curls at the back of his neck, and he grunted as he began to roll his hips faster. You answered his increased pace with a whimper of approval, and he thrusted faster, his hard breaths turning into quiet grunts into your neck.

“Joel,” you whispered, and he answered your silent plea by lifting his hips slightly and snaking a hand between you, his thumb finding your clit to rub circles over it.

A gasp left your lips again, mouth falling open as your body pressed back against the sofa with each thrust. The furniture creaked with his efforts, and you were high off the sound of it mixed with the slick sounds of his cock rolling in and out of you as he fucked you faster and faster at your sounds of approval.

You bit your lip, feeling your pleasure begin to skyrocket as his thumb rubbed over your clit in the way he knew worked you best. When his other hand on your waist slid up your side to squeeze around your ribs, you sucked in a breath, but for a feeling other than the familiar pleasure that found you whenever you were in Joel’s arms.

Joel froze instantly at the sound of it.

A whimper escaped your lips as his thrusts stopped, thumb stilling on your clit, and you were about to complain about his sudden stop when he pulled back from your neck to frown down at you.

His eyes, though still dark and half-lidded with a familiar desire, were narrowed slightly as his gaze flicked over you.

“What’s wrong?” he muttered, his voice raspy and slightly breathless from his efforts, and your hand snaked up through his hair again while you shook your head.

“Nothing,” you replied just as quietly, tugging at his hair and earning a growl from him that made you smirk. “C’mon, fuck me.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting into a familiar analytical look, fingers pressing just slightly against that same spot on your ribs.

This time, he saw you wince, and he instantly pulled his hand back as his face shifted into a rare show of concern.

“Joel—”

But he was already slipping out of you, drawing a whine of protest from you as he carefully unhooked your legs from over his shoulders.

“Show me,” he said simply, the words more a command than a question as he gestured towards your side.

They weren’t hard, but they were firm, and drew a glare of annoyance from you.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you huffed, your irritated tone of voice making his own face contort into his own familiar glare. “I want you to fuck me, not take care of me.”

He stiffened at the words, and you had the decency to at least wince at how harsh they sounded the moment they left your mouth. Especially as in the back of your mind, in the depths of your heart, you knew it wasn’t true.

Your relationship with Joel had been steadily moving in a positive direction that you never could have dreamed of months ago. You were both opening up to each other, actually taking the time to get to know each other in ways you hadn’t before. He knew things about you now that you didn’t think anybody else knew, not even Tommy or Dina.

And it felt good.

It felt good to be known that well.

So why the fuck had you said that to him? 

Even as you thought it over, a deep part of you knew exactly why; that way he was looking at you was new. It was almost blatant concern, a sign that Joel might actually, truly care about you, in some way, shape or form.

And that terrified you.

Anything that Joel made you feel, everything you were still trying desperately to suppress or outrun…it was too deep, too much. You didn’t know what to do with it, these feelings you had never had before. It scared you.

And with anything that brought fear from you, you reacted with that innate response to run away or fight it. Maybe if you managed to push Joel away, you wouldn’t have to deal with these feelings anymore; heart racing, hands shaking, fighting the inexplicable urge to reach out and touch him, to bring him closer and closer, until the distance between you was finally erased.

Fuck, it really did terrify you.

But still, that way his face hardened, jaw setting in his own annoyance at your rudeness before he looked back at your covered injury—still wanting to assess the damage, to make sure you were okay even after you unnecessarily snapped at him—made your chest ache with well-known guilt.

Before you could begin to try to take your words back or apologize for the harshness of them, he responded in a low, steady voice, “Well too bad, you get both.”

Now you were completely taken off-guard, blinking in surprise up at him as he gestured towards your side again.

“Show me,” he repeated, though his voice was softer this time, not as demanding. When you didn’t budge, still stubbornly trying to hold off this tide of emotions, his eyes became sincere as he added in a quiet, eager tone, “Please.”

That quickly evaporated any remaining fight in your bones, and you sighed in defeat. Reaching down to grab the hem of your shirt, you pulled it up enough so that Joel could see the large bruise that was already beginning to form on your side.

Shit, looks worse than it felt, you thought with a wince, daring a glance back up at Joel to see his eyes flash and jaw tick at the sight you had just revealed.

“Joel—”

“You said your patrol was good,” he muttered as his brows furrowed, looking up to meet your gaze with a look of disapproval before glancing down at the patch of bruised skin again.

“It was,” you huffed, trying to pull the shirt down again when he caught your hand, keeping the shirt pushed up so he could properly assess the damage. His grip was gentle, letting you know you could pull away if you wanted to, and your guilt for your attitude washed over you again at his consideration.

“Joel, seriously, it’s not a big deal,” you sighed, trying to persuade him even as you knew he wouldn’t stop checking the bruise until he was sure you weren’t more hurt than you let on. “There were a couple of Runners I wasn’t expecting, and I fell. Hit a table. Nothing serious.”

“Stop saying that,” he grunted, gaze flashing with irritation again even as he continued to examine the bruise.

Your stomach dropped at the unspoken meaning behind the words that were in response to that goddamn phrase that kept leaving your mouth, whether you wanted it to or not.

It’s not a big deal.

You thought back to the times you had said it before, the question Joel had asked the third time it had left your lips, after you had fucked in your room.

Is it true?

Your eyes flickered over his face, over the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the sight of his lips tilted down in a rare glimpse of concern, and your chest tightened.

You still didn’t know.

Or maybe, at this point, you just didn’t want to know.

You were suddenly anxious to brush him off again, evade his concern with your deflection of dry humor or a biting remark, a defense mechanism that was so heavily ingrained into you at this point. But the look of worry in the depth of his dark gaze stilled your innate cruelty, and you let him assess the bruise until he was satisfied.

When he was, Joel pulled his hands away from you with a silent sigh, his eyes meeting yours again with a shake of his head.

“You should’ve told me.”

The words made you frown, averting his gaze to stare at a blank spot on your wall behind him. That knee-jerk reaction to respond with a cold remark flared, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn’t reply with anything else that you’d regret. 

Joel sighed again, more audible this time as his hand moved to cup your knee. It was a gentle, feather-light touch, one you could easily pull away from if you wanted to.

Giving you a choice.

“You can tell me.”

Those words were murmured, his tone so quiet you almost wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t still hovering above you. They managed to pull your attention back, your eyes flicking over his stoic face to see a hint of that same honest vulnerability you had gotten a glimpse of in both of your bedrooms.

Your mouth opened, then closed. For a moment, you were at a complete loss of words for a response, before you settled on, “It’s not…easy.”

Joel searched your gaze, nodding slowly with a quiet, “Yeah, I know.”

You finally softened then, because you had no doubt that he did know. He knew exactly what you meant without you having to even say it.

More than that, he knew you.

Even with all the things you still didn’t know about each other; the parts of your history, the details about your lives, the mundane facts you hadn’t shared yet—he knew you.

Maybe better than anyone did.

And, god, that felt so fucking good.

But still terrifying.

When you were in danger of getting lost in those eyes, you cleared your throat, searching for a distraction from your confusing feelings. Glancing down, you lifted your eyebrows as you gestured between you.

“Well, I’m still wet,” you said bluntly, eyes darting down to his erection that was definitely still prominent. “And you’re still hard.”

Joel huffed, shaking his head even as a small smile tilted at the corner of his lips at your familiar lewd language.

“You are truly a master of seduction,” Joel muttered, and you laughed quietly as his hand found his dick, bringing the head of his cock to rest back against your entrance again.

You were mesmerized by the sight of it covered in the slickness of your desire, watching with bated breath as he slowly sank into you again.

“Well, I am the devil herself,” you teased breathlessly, head falling back against the armrest of the couch as you smirked up at him while he bottomed out with a quiet groan of satisfaction. “Am I not?”

Joel shook his head, though that smile grew just slightly before his head dipped back down, mouth finding your ear again to whisper a husky, “You are.”

He left no time for you to come up with a witty remark as he quickly picked up the same pace as before, only giving you a few moments before his thumb found your clit again.

Even though his movements were as fast as before, there was something more gentle about it this time. He wasn’t fucking you into the couch as much, instead rolling his hips into you, staying at a deep angle that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. His other hand carefully grips your thigh, avoiding going anywhere close to the bruise on your ribs.

“Fuck,” you whisper, licking your lips as he rubbed your clit faster at the murmurs of desire that dripped from your lips. “Fuck, Joel, fuck.”

You continued to mutter mindlessly through your pleasure until your orgasm finally hit you, your back arching off the sofa, chest pressing to his while the climax gripped you tightly and washed over you in delicious waves.

Joel braced one arm above your head, his hips stuttering before he pulled out. His free hand that had been on your thigh found his dick, pumping it a few times until you felt his hot cum spill onto your lower stomach, and you hummed in satisfaction at the sound of his groan of pleasure and heavy breathing above you.

He leaned even more on his arm that he had braced on the armrest, his hot, heavy breath nearly mingling with yours from how close he had gotten from the motion. It made your heart skip a beat, your mouth dry as Joel exhaled, and your eyelids fluttered with the way his breath fanned across your face before he pushed himself off of you.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured as he stood and dressed.

You sighed once the tension of that brief moment passed, allowing yourself to relax back into the sofa. Eyes drifting shut, you listened to him move into the kitchen, hearing rustling and the faucet turning on and off before he returned.

Your eyes didn’t open, your muscles too loose, the haze of the afterglow too strong to allow you to do anything but spread yourself a bit so it was easier for him to clean you up. The sensation of the warm rag on your skin made you hum, your cheek pressing further into the armrest of the couch while he cleaned you with gentle diligence.

Only when Joel was finished carefully cleaning your stomach and thighs, and he stood back up to go drop the washcloth off in the bathroom to be cleaned later, did you reopen your eyes to watch him come back. He bent over, picking up your panties and jeans to pass them back to you, and you gave a lazy, lopsided smile to him as thanks.

Neither of you said anything as you shimmied your clothes back on, collapsing back onto the sofa with a satisfied sigh as he sat at the other end. You watched him cross his arms and lean back into the cushions, his face tilted up to look at the ceiling while you worried your lip between your teeth.

What you had said when you snapped at him was bothering you, gnawing away at you in the back of your mind, even as the conversation seemed to have moved on. You had still been clouded by a haze of lust even when your annoyance at his fretting managed to fade, and now that you were satisfied, your biting words were coming back to haunt you.

You hadn’t even noticed that your fingers were drumming against your other arm from where it was folded across your stomach until Joel spoke.

“You’re nervous,” he murmured, and you tensed, fingers freezing in their unsteady rhythm subconsciously at the random accusation.

“What?” you asked, brows furrowing, and he finally looked down at you.

“Your fingers,” he replied quietly, gesturing towards them with a nod, causing your eyes to widen. “You do that when you’re nervous.”

Breath catching in your throat, you could only think fuck, he did notice.

Joel shifted, watching the impassivity dissipate on your face, some reflection of whatever you were thinking probably flashing across your features in that moment. He began to rise from the sofa, saying quietly, “I can go if—”

“No,” you interrupt too quickly, too loudly, sitting up straight and stopping him short with the motion.

He looked back at you in surprise at the sudden movement while you brushed off his concern with a wave of your hand.

“No, it’s—” you shook your head again, searching for the words. “It’s fine. I don’t…”

You huffed, hating that you had to say it. Even though you knew that he deserved to hear it, that didn’t make it any less hard. You would probably be the first to admit you had a big fucking pride, one that had a tendency to fuck you over. And whenever you did fuck yourself over, you had a nasty habit to dig yourself into an even deeper hole without even trying to get out of it.

Self-sabotage was an understatement when it came to your defense mechanisms. 

“Just—” you cut yourself off, rubbing a hand over your face with a sigh. “Just sit down, okay? Let me…”

You huffed, dropping your hand from your face, crossing your arms tightly as you shifted so you were facing forward on the couch, giving him space to sit next to you.

Which he did, after another moment of you struggling to get the fuck over yourself and just say it.

“Take your time,” he murmured, and you bristled at the kindness of his tone, the absolute understanding in the sentiment. 

Somehow, it managed to rub the salt of how patient Joel could really manage to be when he wanted into the wound that you were creating in yourself the more you reverted to your tendency to bite out sharp words around him.

“Look, Joel,” you sighed, dropping your hands to your knees, fingers starting to tap against them until you forced yourself to stop, not wanting him to worry any more than he apparently already was. “I’m bad at friendships, and talking, and all that emotional shit.”

You ran a hand through your hair, distracting the urge to fidget with your fingers by untangling the strands.

“But I shouldn’t have said that,” you admitted quietly, finally folding your hands in your lap, staring at them when there were no more tangles to undo in your hair. “About the…”

You licked your lips, daring to spare a glance towards Joel, hesitating when you saw his eyes were focused on you, his gaze carefully neutral but still serious, showing he was listening to what you had to say.

“About the…” you sighed, closing your eyes briefly, trying to build up the courage until you blurted, “…the taking care of me thing.”

It felt like your heart was in your throat, your eyes opening to see his face was blanketed in surprise for a moment before it softened again. He had that same look of listening intently now, but somehow it was more gentle than before, and you stiffened.

“Joel, I’m fucking mean,” you laughed quietly, without humor, shaking your head as you looked at him straight-on now. “I—I lash out like a fucking caged animal when I don’t know how to deal with something. And I’m sorry if I hurt you, because that’s not what I want to do.” 

You steeled your nerves, trying to guard your heart as much as you could while simultaneously showing a part of it to him, even though you didn’t know how to.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, trying to pour your eager sincerity into the words, and your shoulders relaxed with a silent sigh of relief once you were finally saying it the way that he deserved to hear it. “You didn’t deserve that, or any of this bullshit I keep saying. You were just trying to help. I just—I suck at this.”

You laughed again, the sound still unhappy, still bitter towards yourself, reaching up to run your fingers through your hair subconsciously.

“Friendships. Letting somebody…letting them take care of me.” Your hands continued to twist, probably causing more tangles now after you had taken the time to untangle them earlier. “I don’t—I don’t know how.”

When you continued to mindlessly tug at your hair, the familiar warmth of a callused hand closed around your fingers, and you finally paused in your nervous fidgeting.

Joel pulled your hand into his lap, clasping your palm tightly, and you relaxed at the familiar feeling, even as some other part of you tensed when you finally looked up at him.

“Neither do I,” he admitted quietly, staring down at your joined hands while you gazed at his strong side profile.

Your eyes followed the familiar sternness of his furrowed brow, the handsome slope of his nose, the facial hair that had grown longer since the first time you had met him last winter.

You would never admit it, but you actually preferred the way that it looked now.

There were more strands of gray in his hair, which curled more the longer that it got. You resisted the urge to reach out to it, wondering if it would feel just as soft between your fingers if you played with it now instead of just grabbing and tugging at it during sex.

When Joel glanced back up at you this time, you didn’t look away.

His gaze flickered over your face, taking you in, and you wondered if he was observing you the same way you had just been observing him.

Something about that thought made your heart beat just a little bit faster.

“How about this,” Joel finally said quietly, his grip tightening on your hand in his lap, his dark eyes moving back up to your eyes from where they had been resting on the scar on your cheek. “I know we don’t know how the fuck to do it, but we…”

He trailed off, swallowing thickly for a moment, and your stomach flipped as something shifted in his eyes, a subtle transition from his usual look of demanding to something…softer. Sweeter. 

“We figure it out,” Joel finally finished, his voice almost a whisper now. “How does that sound?”

The words made your heart skip a beat, realizing what he was trying to say, what went unspoken with the proposition.

Taking care of each other.

Your eyes moved over his face again, taking in all the signs of age and weariness now that he was facing you fully. There was no telling how many lives had seen this face in their last moments, no way to know just how many deaths were delivered by the hand that now held yours so tightly.

Maybe it should have made you pull away. 

Maybe you should have recognized Joel Miller as the cold-hearted, ruthless killer that he was, and you should have turned your back on him right then.

But instead, you saw Joel. 

The man who held your goddaughter so tenderly. 

The cowboy who was so offended by swearing at the dinner table with his family. 

The father who found it in his carefully guarded heart to love another daughter more than anything in the world.

The brother who looked out for Tommy long before you could. 

The human being who recognized the pain in your soul and partook in it, just to lessen the burden of it for you, in any way he could, no matter how small or how seemingly trivial.

So you didn’t pull away.

In fact, you held on tighter.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you heard Eugene’s voice: Maybe it’s your turn to hold onto him.

And then, another echo from that same discussion followed.

Let them take care of you.

For a moment, your eyes caught on that small scar near Joel’s temple, looking over the length of it, wondering just what stories every scar on his body told before you met his eyes once more.

“This a new rule, Miller?” you asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

But he just shook his head, his eyes not moving from yours.

“No,” he murmured, his hand squeezing yours again, and you felt that ache in your chest reappear. 

The ache you had felt when you left his home after he took you in from the rain, offering you a space of solace that was so rare, you didn’t know if you had ever really felt it before. Not like that.

“No, not a rule,” Joel repeated, his eyes locked with yours. “A choice. It’s up to you.”

When you didn’t say anything, too caught up in your own shock to think of what to say, Joel’s eyes wavered, licking his lips before adding, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the best man around. I’ve done bad things. We all have, but I’ve done worse. And I sure as hell don’t deserve redemption.”

You frowned, mouth opening to say something, but he waved off any attempt at validation you were about to make.

“I also don’t deserve…” he trailed off, gaze finally breaking from yours, even as he continued to hold your hand tightly. “…friends.”

Glancing back at you, a small, skeptical smile tugged at his lips, and you relaxed at the sight of it. "But, hey, maybe you’re just as bad as me. Misery loves company, right?”

You laughed quietly, his smile growing a bit wider in response. The words eased something, some pain deep inside of you, and you blinked a few times, unable to help a soft smile from growing on your face.

“Yeah,” you murmured, the smile growing on your face as you saw relief pass through his eyes at the simple, single word of agreement you gave. Needlessly, perhaps desperate to see more of that look in his eyes, you added, “Yeah, sounds good to me.”

You both smiled a bit brighter at each other as you felt the foundation of whatever this was shifting underneath your feet again.

This time, you didn’t care.

“It’s getting really fucking annoying,” Dina groaned, her voice full of fed-up exasperation, “the way they keep dancing around each other.”

Ellie looked up from where she was practicing her chord progressions, looking at her friends who sat on the sofa in her little home she had made out of the garage on Joel’s property since returning to Jackson.

“It’s none of our business, Dina,” Jesse tried to dissuade her with a sigh, and Ellie’s eye twitched as he reached a hand out to place on his girlfriend’s knee before going back to playing her guitar.

“Excuse me!” came Dina’s gasp, and Ellie wasn’t sure if it was from mock offense or real offense as she continued, “Anything that is her business is my business, thank you very much.”

Ellie snorted at that, and she realized quickly that the sound had been a mistake as Dina’s attention shifted to focus completely on her.

“Ellie!” Dina exclaimed, jumping up from the couch to bound over to where she sat at her desk. “El, come on, you gotta have my back, here.”

She just shrugged, trying to seem totally cool and nonchalant about what Dina was talking about, even as Ellie forgot exactly what it was she was talking about when she was standing that close.

“Uh, well,” Ellie cleared her throat, stopping her strumming as she leaned away from Dina when she began to lean down closer with an impish look in her eye. “I mean—yeah?”

Dina cackled, leaning back again as she pumped a fist into the air in victory.

“Hell yeah!” she cried, spinning around to point at Jesse and add, “Fuck you, Jesse! Ellie has my back.”

When Dina spun back around, her grin was as bright as the sun, and Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. It was impossible to stop a small, nervous smile from curling onto her own lips as she looked up at the girl she has had a fucking giant, hopeless crush on since they met.

“Yeah,” Ellie replied with a nod, her tone a bit brighter when she repeats, “Yeah. Totally.”

“So now, we plan,” Dina said dramatically, grabbing Ellie’s hand to tug her over to the couch, pushing Jesse over so that they could sit together and…plan?

Plan for what, exactly?

“Okay, so,” Dina started, clasping her hands together with a wide, mischievous grin. “Our mission: get my girl and your old man to stop eyefucking each other all the time and just admit that they’re totally in love.”

“Mission—” Ellie broke off, her eyes widening before exclaiming, “What?”

When you heard that Ellie was bringing a guest to dinner with the Millers this month, you hadn’t been expecting Dina.

You stared at your young friend as she entered the house with Joel and Ellie, brows furrowed in confusion as she bounced up to you with a grin.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming to dinner,” you said, eyes narrowing as you noticed a familiar look of mischief in her clever gaze.

“Do I have to tell you everything I do?” she replied cheekily, her brow arched in playful defiance.

“No,” you allowed, even as a part of you was slowly realizing that she had definitely come here with some sort of plan tonight. “But you do anyway.”

“Well, maybe I have a few secrets,” Dina teased, glancing at Joel and Ellie at the same time you did as the pair moved past you towards the dining room. 

You shared a brief look with Joel that told you he was just as confused and suspicious of this turn of events, in the same moment Dina and Ellie shared an understanding look of mischief that made you suddenly nervous.

“Or maybe you do,” Dina added in a quiet, sing-song voice, shooting you a wink before she leaves you stunned while she practically skipped to the dining room.

You had followed after a moment you took to recompose yourself, keeping your expression carefully neutral as you moved to sit next to Dina at the table by reflex. When she rushed away from you to the other side of the table, quickly taking the seat next to Ellie right when Joel pulled it out to sit, you both blinked in surprise down at the two grinning teens.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Miller!” Dina said brightly, smiling at him before turning her attention to Ellie, a matching glint of chaos in both their eyes while Joel slowly had to make his way back around the table to sit next to you.

The strange behavior did not stop during dinner.

You had gotten used to Ellie not saying that much during these dinners, but tonight she was saying a lot.

It would’ve made sense if she was talking to Dina, but she wasn’t. Weirdly enough, most of what she was saying was directed towards you.

It was almost a barrage of questions, feeling close to an overly friendly interrogation at times. Your eyebrow raised in skepticism more than once, but you answered her curiosity easily enough, having no problem with it since she seemed to not stray too close to anything too personal.

That was, until—

“So, do you have a boyfriend?”

You choked on your food, lifting a fist up to your mouth as you coughed, and the rest of the table watched you in concern—especially Joel, as the sudden, out of the blue question made his eyes widen a fraction.

But Ellie?

That troublemaker had a grin growing on her face, one that matched Dina’s from beside her, and you realized then that if the two girls really did end up together one day, they wouldn’t only be a power couple, but a fucking force of nature that could burn the world down together.

“I—” you cleared your throat once you could speak again, taking a large sip of your water before shaking your head. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Ellie,” Joel hissed, shooting her a disapproving look from where he sat across from her, one that was the opposite of the look of absolute manic glee on Tommy’s face at this sudden line of questioning.

“Yeah, why not?” Tommy asked as he leaned in, his grin matching Ellie’s while Dina giggled across from you, and you groaned.

Reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, you let out a quiet sigh before muttering, “I just don’t.”

“That’s a shitty answer,” Ellie replied, and you looked at her in shock mixed with the faintest hint of amusement at her bluntness, something that only made her eyes light up with a wider grin.

“Ellie!” Joel chastised again, louder this time, glancing around the table before looking back at her.

“What?” she said loudly, glancing over at Joel, even as she waved a hand back towards you. “It is! I’m just curious why somebody as pretty as her isn’t tied down yet. Don’t you think that’s odd, Joel?”

When the next question was directed to him suddenly, Joel blinked rapidly, his face contorting into a look you didn’t recognize from him for a brief moment before his expression smoothed out again.

“I’m sure it’s private, Ellie,” he said quietly, the tension in his body obvious from how his shoulders were bunched up. “Stop interrogating the lady.”

The lady, you thought over in your head, resisting the urge to smile at the term as you watched Joel and Ellie’s gazes clash in a battle of wills.

“But she’s just so pretty! Right?” Dina perked up now, picking up where Ellie had left off as she and Joel continued to duke it out with silent looks.

When Ellie broke their locked gazes to look at Dina, you wondered if anybody else saw the glow of affection in the girl’s eyes.

“Right!” Ellie agreed as Dina glanced around the table, the two troublemakers nodding at each other before Ellie looked directly back at Joel and repeated with knowing emphasis, “Right, Joel?”

Joel’s mouth opened and closed, and if the turn the night had taken wasn’t so fucking weird, you could have laughed at how utterly taken aback the two teens had made him with just a few simple words.

“I—” Joel cut off, his eyes finally flashing to meet yours, and your throat suddenly felt dry as he hesitated again. “I mean—”

“You don’t have a girlfriend, do you, Joel?” Dina suddenly spoke up again, placing her elbows on the table as she leaned forward, and you almost choked again at the blunt question.

Looking between the two grinning teens, you suddenly realized just what they had intended to accomplish when they showed up together tonight.

Jesus fucking Christ, they were trying to set you and Joel up together.

One sideways glance at Joel showed you that he was starting to put the pieces together himself. A familiar analytical look was in his eyes as he looked between them, followed by his trademark sternly furrowed brow smoothing out when the realization started to dawn on him.

“I’m just saying,” Dina sighed dramatically, her gaze turning back towards you with a growing smirk as you began to glare at her. “If you’re both conveniently single—”

She cut off as you swiftly kicked her under the table, causing the silverware on her plate to jostle slightly as she winced. Dina’s face contorted in her own glare back at you, and she kicked you back, making the table shake again, much to Maria’s growing annoyance as she fixed you both with a warning glare.

“Dina,” you snapped—though not quite as commanding as you would have liked as Maria’s disapproval was still fixed on you—before repeating Joel’s sentiment to her, “don’t interrogate the man.”

“I, for one, think that the interrogations are quite entertaining,” Tommy spoke up from one of the head seats at the table, giving his wife a charming smile when she shot him a reprimanding look from the seat at the other head.

“And I think that the interrogations are inappropriate dinner conversation,” Maria countered in a warning tone, one that made you all shrink back to mind your manners again—even Dina.

Ellie’s incessant interview of you seemed to end after that, as you all respected Maria’s unspoken warning to behave yourselves.

The conversation changed a few more times throughout the rest of the dinner, the tension dissipating as the atmosphere became easier, more friendly, until you all ended up on the topic of your goddaughter. 

“I swear she’s been saying dada,” Tommy was saying, using his fork to scoop up one of the last pieces of casserole off his plate.

“No way,” Joel snorted disbelievingly, ignoring the glare his brother sent him as he shook his head. “Sarah didn’t say her first word until she was a year old. Hope is—what, six months old, now? Seven? It’s babbling, Tommy.”

“It’s a word,” Tommy argued back, pointing his fork at Joel, only for Maria to say his name with a disapproving look at his lack of manners.

He at least had the decency to murmur an apology to his wife, lowering his fork down to his plate to stab at another piece of his food in an almost petulant way.

For a moment, Tommy glanced back up in confusion, his gaze darting from Joel to you, and you realized that it may be from surprise that Joel had mentioned Sarah when you were present. But he elected not to say anything, turning back to finish his meal.

You swallowed your own food, glancing down at your own plate as the words slipped from your mouth without thinking, “My sis was about a year old too, when she said her first word. Tommy is just delusional, but we knew that already.”

A smile was on your lips as you looked up, one that faltered slightly as you looked at the faces around the table.

There were matching looks of surprise from Maria, Dina and Ellie, and you quickly realized that none of them knew that much about your history. You had never talked about your life before Jackson to anybody but Joel—the only reason that Tommy knew any of it was because he had lived through part of it with you.

You began to feel self conscious as you saw each of them begin to put the pieces together in their minds, probably suddenly understanding you and your motivations in ways that they hadn’t before.

Glancing away from them, you found your eyes pulled to Joel, subconsciously searching for a familiar sense of comfort in his eyes.

When you met them, you saw a subtle kindness that you were slowly getting used to seeing more and more towards you, a small smile flickering onto his face that helped calm your nerves that had started to flare up at the unintended revelation.

Meanwhile, Tommy looked absolutely fucking stunned when you finally risked a glance towards him.

For a moment, he stared at you as if you had just said there was a ghost in the room—which you supposed there was, for a long time.

But then that surprise disappeared, a look of pure happiness overtaking it. His smile was wide and bright, lighting up his entire face, and you couldn’t help but smile back at it, feeling a warmth grow in your chest.

“Well,” Tommy started cheerfully, not even annoyed at your teasing about his mental state as he picked up his glass. He raised it slightly towards you, and you knew the salute didn’t have anything to do with your joke even as he said, “You got my number there, friend.”

When dinner was over, you and Dina stood side by side in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes since Maria had to take care of Hope as your goddaughter began to cry from her nursery upstairs. The two of you listened with the occasional laugh and shared smile as Joel, Ellie and Tommy’s loud conversation carried over from the living room.

As the liveliness of that conversation began to die down, and you couldn’t hear what they were saying clearly anymore, you were both left with nothing else to distract you from the quiet weight of what you had admitted tonight.

You rinsed a plate before handing it off to Dina so she could dry it, reaching for the next one to clean when she finally spoke quietly, “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Your body stiffened for just a moment before you relaxed with a quiet sigh, remembering that this was only Dina. She wouldn’t judge you for anything you had to say, just like you would only ever accept her.

“Yeah,” you murmured, scrubbing at the plate to get the stubborn flecks of food off. “I…don’t talk about her a lot.”

Dina nodded, not saying anything else for a moment as you rinsed off that plate and handed it to her before you grabbed another.

When she spoke again, you thought it would be another question, so you were surprised by her own quiet confession that made your chest tighten with sympathetic pain, “I had a sister too.”

You looked over at her, noticing the way her head was bowed, hiding her face from you as she dried the plate before setting it on top of the growing pile of clean dishes.

Dina had arrived in Jackson with no family, something you had always known—it was the main reason you had decided to start looking out for her—but, Jesus Christ, you didn’t know she had lost a sibling too.

“Oh,” was all you could say, the sound soft and understanding before you turned to clean the last plate.

After another moment of silence that only felt more deafening once you finally turned the water off, Dina did ask another question. It was quiet, somber, but not painful in the slightest.

If anything, it was almost healing.

“What was your sister’s name?”

When she glanced up at you with the question, and you saw the sad understanding in her eyes, your heart broke at the sight of it. All the time you had known her; the years you had gained some kind of comfort in looking after her, a sense of peace from protecting her…you hadn’t thought that she may have felt the same feeling of filling an empty spot in her own life just by spending time with you.

So you told her your sister’s name, watching Dina process it in her mind with a slow nod.

“What about your sister?” you asked, taking the towel she passed to you so you could dry your hands while she leaned against the counter.

“Talia,” she answered with a small smile, one that you returned as you moved to stand next to her.

“Your sister’s name is pretty,” you said softly, watching Dina’s eyes waver with emotion before her smile grows.

“So is your sister's,” she murmurs, and your own smile gets just a bit wider before you wrap your arm around her shoulders, tugging her into your side in what you hoped was a comforting gesture.

When Dina sank against you, and you heard the quiet sounds of her sniffling from where she rested her face in your shirt, you rubbed her shoulder to soothe her, content to be a source of comfort for her in the same way she was one for you, until you both were ready to face the world again.

Once you were, you walked her back to the front door where Joel and Ellie were waiting to take her back home. You gave Joel a nod of thanks like you had once before at your game night months ago, but this time he returned the gesture with a small smile before leaving with the teens.

Before you could head home yourself, Tommy caught up to you, a couple drinks in hand as he nudged your shoulder with his own.

“Hey, spend some time with your oldest pal, would you?” he teased with a wink, and you gave an over-exaggerated sigh, even as you followed him out to the porch to sit with him.

He handed your drink to you, settling into the chair beside you while taking a sip from his own.

Night had already fallen, and the stars were bright tonight, twinkling down at you from where they were so far out of reach. You gazed at them together, slowly sipping at your drinks, and you knew what he was thinking even before he said it.

“You know,” he started slowly, and you turned from your observation of the dark expanse of the night sky to look at him. He was staring down into his drink, swirling the amber liquid around before saying, “I still remember the way her eyes would shine when she got excited.”

Your lips twitched into a smile, even as they began to quiver just from the quiet, simple statement. 

“She was a hell of a smart kid,” he continued, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. You watched the side of his face as he smiled wistfully. “Knew way more about outer space than I did. I tried to help her find the constellations for a while, but I didn’t know where anything was, and she’d always call me out on my bullshit.”

A laugh escaped you, but it was shaky, your throat tightening with emotion at the duality of love and pain in his eyes. For the first time, it really hit you just how much Tommy must have mourned your sister too. How much grief his heart may still hold.

You had been a package deal with her when you first met him in Seattle. It was at her urging that you both pleaded with Tommy to let you join the Fireflies, and while he had become as thick as thieves with you, he had always held a special soft spot for your sister, taking care of her as if she was his own family.

“Do you think she would have been surprised, seeing a place like Jackson?” he asked quietly, looking up at you, and you nearly choked on a sob when you saw the held-back tears shining in the familiar warmth of his kind eyes. “Do you think she would have liked it here?”

“Yeah,” you managed to croak out, nodding quickly, trying to hold back your own tears. “Yeah, she would have loved it. The sky is so clear here. She would have—”

You lifted a hand, covering your mouth to hold back a sob that finally managed to escape. Tommy instantly shifted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and drawing you to him. You sank into the familiarity of his hug, head turned to cry into his chest while he gently rocked you. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized this was the first time you had let yourself cry like this since you had come to Jackson years ago.

“I love her so much,” you cried, your free hand curling into his shirt, and you felt him nod above you while his hand rubbed at your back. “I miss her so much.”

“Me too,” he whispered, his own voice choked up, and you sobbed again. “I miss estrellita, too.”

You didn’t think you could cry any harder, but the familiar, fond nickname managed to make you do just that. So distracted by your own grief, you had been blind to Tommy’s, and that made you hurt more.

But you finally allowed yourself to feel that pain in this moment, without suffering in it alone, instead sharing it with another person who had loved her so dearly.

When the tears eventually subsided, you stayed pressed to Tommy’s side, finding comfort in the way his hand continued to run over your hair and down your back to soothe you. You heard him sniff above you, and you pulled back, watching as he quickly turned his face away from you to rub at his eyes.

“Thank you,” you whispered with a smile, one that he returned, even with both of your voices cracking, eyes red and puffy from crying together. “It’s…nice, to talk about her.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, his smile growing wider. “Anytime.”

You both settled back into your seats then, staring back up at the stars that continued to shine down on you, feeling more at peace watching them than you had in years.

“You know, I always think of her on nights like this,” Tommy said quietly, gesturing with his drink towards the sky. “Nights when the sky is clear, and the stars are shining. For how much she talked about the stars, she really had them all in her eyes.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, head tilting as you gazed up at those stars she had always loved so much. “I think about her when I see them, too. Every time.”

And for the first time in years, with your best friend at your side, you began to trace those constellations again for her.

[taeminsung]

pairing: stray kids x reader

prompt: stray kids reaction to s/o pulling them onto their lap

a/n: a little bit different than what i usually write, but please enjoy ♡

bang chan..

Fingers typed furiously for a moment before a silent beat echoed in his head and then his finger was hitting the delete button until the white page was once again staring back at him. Glancing back at to where you sat, fully engrossed in the book you had brought, Chan only groaned as he pushed his chair back and began pacing in his small studio. It was supposed to be a quick writing session before going shopping for the trip back to Australia. Consumed in his own head, he chewed on his lip and continued to walk in small circles, failing to notice the way you had put your book down and watched him with a small head tilt. The feeling of your fingers pulling his shirt back startled him as he crashed into your lap, only to immediately melt into your hold as your arms wrapped around him. Slow down, hmm, you mumbled into his back pressing a quick kiss on his back. Giggling to himself, he adjusted so that he was sitting between your legs, back pressing into your chest just existing in the moment.

minho..

The sun had set long ago but that didn’t stop you two from wandering the streets, grabbing snacks at different vendor stalls along the river walk. Stopping under a tree, Minho quickly told you to pose for a few photos before switching with him, so he had a few photos to post for stays. Turning back to you, he couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips as he watched you plop onto the bench that was nearby, tossing your head back to look up at the night sky. Snapping a quick photo, he made his way over to stand by you, tipping his head back to get the same view as you, missing how your attention was already back on him. Before he could even register what was going on, he pulled into your lap, yelping when he felt your cold fingers press against the bare skin of his back under his shirt. I’m cold¸ he heard you whine, and I thought you looked cold too so I figured we could pause and warm each other up. Honestly he couldn’t argue with your train of thought so instead, he wiggled in your lap, fine, a few minutes of this then back to the dorm for proper cuddles, he said with a head nod.

changbin..

There was a level of surprise when you had showed up at his door, dressed ready for the gym, shyly asking to tag along for the first time since you two had gotten together. Changbin knew that you weren’t self-conscious to be at the gym, it was more being at the gym with him since he was an avid goer and you only recently decided to start going more. Using different machines, he caught himself watching you in between his sets, smiling to himself as you work through your own sets, with a cute look of determination on your face. After some time, you ended up using the equipment next to him, causing his body to gravitate towards you only to be pulled down into his lap. Caught off guard, he didn’t know how to react until you whispered, people won’t stop staring at me, can you just sit here for a moment? Instead of cooing at you for making him feel loved, protective mood was on as he stared down the few people, he noticed hadn’t taken their eyes off of you.

hyunjin..

A breeze blew through both of your hair as you wandered through the back garden of the museum you had just spent hours in. Hyunjin couldn’t help but fall a little bit more in love with you as you explained that you had packed his sketch book and supplies so that he could draw as much as he wanted too here. Grabbing your hand, he led you around the area, circling to find the best place for you to sit so that he could draw you surrounded by the incredible nature, knowing full well that he would be setting it as his phone background for the next several months. Finally settling on a place, he quickly gets distracted with where he wants to lay out his jacket for you to sit on, completely unaware of how you had sat on the bench, eye solely focused on him before he felt himself losing balance and being pulled down. A loud squeak was released before slamming his hand over his mouth, with wide eyes looking back at you. Can we be one of those cute couples that everyone envies? you blinked at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. Feeling a blush creep across his face, he hums his agreement adding you are the most adorable thing in my world.

han..

For a brief moment, Han felt like the worst boyfriend to ever exist, simply because he had trapped you in the small sound booth not realizing that the door locked from the outside. After apologizing for what felt like five minutes, he now was darting back and forth, dragging his hands through his hair trying to explain to you that the other members were on their way to rescue them. Staring at your face, he couldn’t quite read the expression that was there as you closed your eyes and took a long breath. Pivoting on his heels, he tried to make it to the other side of the tiny room only to be pulled backwards and into your lap. Silence fell before you exhaled, please stop moving for five seconds, it’s making me sicker than I already feel, leaning your head back against the wall. Something broke in Han’s brain as he sat in your lap, a foreign place he never thought he'd be, but hearing your words, folded his hands in his lap and sat as still as he fought the urge to bounce his leg up and down.

felix..

Walking through the front door of the dorm, Felix was so happy to see that your shoes hadn’t moved an inch from where you left them the night before. Entering the room more, he finds you on the couch watching your favorite drama with Minho asleep on the floor, likely having gotten home only an hour or so before him. The overwhelming feeling of the day started to settle into his bones and the long hours of practice making his legs wobbly as he tried to make it over to the couch instead of the floor like his hyung. Arms wrapped around his waist as he was tugged down not only into the couch but also into your warm lap. Everything inside Felix starts to feel like it’s on fire as you hug him closer to you causing any lingering stress to melt away. Long day? You whispered to him, affecting his body forcing it to simply melt a little bit more into you as his eyes closed not finding the strength to respond.

seungmin..

A part of him couldn’t quite figure out how you had managed to get into Chan’s studio but the other part of him was silently celebrating whatever you did to be there. It had been days since Seungmin had been able to see you in person, having to instead settle for video calls at odd hours of the day. He had only grabbed Chan’s studio because he knew that he was at the gym and Seungmin just wanted a quiet place to write a few lyrics that had been plaguing his brain since the last time he had seen you. Seeing you again, helped him finish the remaining lyrics that seemed to have evaded him until now. Standing up to stretch, he felt the tug on the back of his shirt as he lost his balance and landed in your lap. A silent question pressed on his tongue at what you were thinking since you were at JYP. I missed you a lot, can we just stay like this for a bit? you pouted at him, making the unasked question dissipate from his mouth being replaced with only until someone comes, shifting so that he doesn’t crush you.

jeongin..

Pulling his hat a little lower, he pulled you along to avoid the growing crowd that seemed to be filling the small shopping area. Jeongin knew that you didn’t love the large crowds, especially if they were fans because they sometimes got too close for your comfort. Looking for a quiet corner, he led you over to the less populated sitting area, letting you sit but keeping his fingers laced with yours while he looked out at everyone to assess if it was time to go for the day. Before he could blink, he was in your lap, immediately trying to wiggle this way out of your hold forcing his body to stop when he heard you whisper, please just stay here, I like the weight of you right now. Feeling like his chest was just punched, he adjusted how he was sitting so that some of his weight was on you but not enough to cause any pain. Playing with your fingers, he thought of how strange it felt to be in your lap since normally you were in his, and then his mind drifted to how odd it was that he was allowing it in public.

♡ ── thank you love for reading! requests are open.  

[the-unaligned]

Bravern episode 8 spoilers

EP 8 Analysis

This is going to be super incoherent and is mostly just going to be me rambling but idc, I need to post this somewhere so it’s not ruminating in my head until I assault some random human with word vomit

So this is mostly going to be focus on episode 8 but I will touch back on previous episodes for references.

Anyways Episode 8 basically just confirmed the “Bravern is Smith” theory and I am so hype

What is the “Bravern is Smith” theory?

So the Bravern is Smith theory is a theory that.. well.. Bravern and Lewis Smith are the same person.

I’m not sure who started it but (I think) it started when the opening showed for the first time and we got to the scene of Smith’s arm becoming Bravern’s. From there it spiraled, more and more evidence pointing towards it, such as: Bravern knowing A LOT about Smith, Bravern making a lot of human pop culture references and speaking English interchangeably with Japanese (Smith does this too), Bravern being a super robot (Smith is a massive Super robot nerd) and a ton of other things

Episode 8:

Now we get into why I’m finally making a post about this, I’ve been following along with this theory since episode 2 and have been taking my notes on it but I never bothered posting about it anywhere

Why now?

Because episode 8 might’ve just confirmed it.

Let’s start with the opening:

So this right here is the catalyst that started this all, Smith’s arm turning into Bravern’s. Now, we knew all that, but the one thing we never knew until now was “who tf is glowy bitch”

Well,

I think is Knuth

“But why her? She looks nothing like the silhouette”

Look here, she has plates of armor that highly resemble two pairs of wings. Who else has two pairs of wings? The silhouette. Same placement and everything. I think the silhouette is meant to be vague, as to not tip the viewer off right away that the silhouette is a deathdrive.

We’ll come back to this later, I need to talk about Bravern’s lines during this episode.

I’m not entirely sure how to explain it but this line will be important later, for now it’s just more Super Robot inspirational speech

Right here is the important line, the title of the episode (which is what tipped me and a lot of other people off to Smith dying) and the last thing Bravern says to him. Now normally when entering a battlefield, you’d tell your comrade “Good luck”, “Until we meet again” makes it seem like someone will die, this is a line usually used when you’re not sure when you’ll see someone again. Bravern used this because he knew what was going to happen to Smith, and either he can’t stop it, or he doesn’t want to.

Bravern knows because he has gone through this before, as Smith.

That is likely why he told Smith to “save as many people as he can”, likely because when he went through this, a lot of people died

(This ties into my own branch of the theory where Bravern has already gone through all of this before and went back in time to change the outcome)

Now during the fight, Bravern isn’t really focused, he’s taking hits he’d normally be able to dodge and isn’t really rushing like he usually does. I think it’s because he’s trying to stall, trying to keep Isami away from Knuth and Smith so their fight can happen, either that or he’s distracted due to knowing what’s happening not that far away (or it could be both)

Before we get to this next part I wanna point out a quote I noticed during the episode from Knuth. I can’t find it just by scrolling and I’d rewatch the full episode to find it but Tumblr is lagging like hell and burning through my battery so I can’t

At one point Knuth mentioned something about fusing with Smith, this might mean that Knuth’s body ends up being the base for Bravern, but im still not 100% sure about that, just thought I’d add that. If she is the base and Bravern did in fact go back in time, this would make sense as Knuth had mentioned that she had gone back in time a few times

Now we get to focus on the important part of the episode, Smith’s death. Let’s just start listing off things to pay attention to.

(I reached the photo limit oops)

- Smith is humming his own theme song as he charges Knuth, Bravern sings his own theme song and blasts it whenever he fights

- He straight up says “Brave Slash” as he strikes Knuth

-Smith talks DIRECTLY INTO ISAMI’S MIND and says the following quote: “Isami. Isami. Brave. Brave… Bang.” And we all know why that’s important, the title of the show is literally “Bang Brave Bang Bravern”

There are still some questions, like “how was Smith able to use telepathy?” “How exactly is Bravern created?” “Is Bravern truly a fusion between Smith and Knuth?”

I know this probably makes zero sense but I need to get this out somewhere

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk (holy shit it’s so laggy)

Edit: I forgot to mention it but the foreshadowing for Smith’s death was so obvious, legit in his introduction Isami legit goes “You’re dead, the dead don’t talk” so uhh called it lmao

[supermaks]

I think this a good time as any to share what I think H0rners big brain been cooking for some time, especially after the Spa fiasco wid Danny ric and allegedly big sponsors having to step in to save Checos seat ((Im skeptical of those reports but they not really the point, Checo bringing Liberty, and rbr, a lot of money from very intense LATAM pockets never been a secret, and it does matter in the cost cap era, its just how things are. Plus replacing Checo not something that keeps Horner up at night believe it or not, and that's where my word vomit comes in)).

I been sitting wid this 1 for some time, but mind u its all speculation on my part and mostly incoherent because my brain is completely fried these days. But stay wid me 😭😭. Adrian Newey leaving-- not just because of how it was announced, the way it was dealt wid internally, the shit he's been saying to press now ((he's tired and needs a break but been shopping around for teams like he's bored on hinge)) -- was , imo, more of a statement of distrust. In the rbr project, but mainly in Horner. He no longer believes Horners ability to succeed, he prolly already knew the rb20 as an evolution of the rb19 had its set of obvious limitations when it came to suspension once the field closed up, he knew they were headed down a difficult type of season, he took a step back, he saw the cracks begin to delve deeper and deeper into nastiness between the Verstappen camp and Horner, he saw Horner refuse to take accountability while Max very pointedly and UNLIKE all the other red bull drivers refused to express his unconditional support for Horner. Quite the opposite, Verstappen began making threats. Centering the importance of the car ((!!!)) and a stable environment, not Horners innocence or lack thereof. He doesn't care about that, as long as hes got the people and the car to work wid. Keep that in mind.

But back to the Newey divorce . Adrians one of the most important figures in motorsport period, he knew he had better options, perhaps some financial motivations, why not, he said thank you, I don't trust you anymore, goodbye. So here falls a core, original pillar of Milton Keynes, arguably one of the most successful aerodynamicists of all time. 1 of Red Bulls bishop, gone. Still, they rallied behind Wache, they said Adrian hadn't been part of development for some time, their factory remains strong, they can fill in the gaps, rbr is STABLE, sure sure sure.

Imola, Canada, Spain. We all hold hands wid Max and play pretend for a lil bit. Verstappen factor and all that bullshit. But for some reason, Max delivers the same conclusion every post race presser. This car is falling behind. We are starting to struggle. The sim data and the on track data don't correlate. This car is not gonna win constructors. Idk how the fuck its even the WDC. CHECO of course appears to be driving for my cousin's bumper cars themed birthday party so we can all point and laugh and marvel at how a driver known for his experience and who's won races and gotten poles to suddenly drop to fucking p6 in the standings. Surely this is the worst driver of all time. Surely.

Austria. Rbr pit stops, already looking kinda iffy since the beginning of the season, hit a new low. Lando, wid a single good overtake, wins the race, effectively beating Max on track. Max didn't let him. And he came out of it with a points advantage too, because he made a choice regarding his driving and how he wud defend his position. In a better car, that's never a choice he has to make. But the car isn't on par wid Mclaren. Rbr factory development has, quite clearly, stalled. Upgrade packages go backwards.

Hungary. Yeah. Everything is stable and the car was good and Max was beyond delighted of course.

So, that's stable environment gone, competitive car gone, and now off goes Wheatley to fulfill his tp destiny. Somebody , who, once upon a time, was rightly identified as the guy who wud replace Christian Horner due to the severity of the allegations made against him. Yeah, remember when Horner shud have fucking been fired? But Horner stayed, Newey left, and Wheatley left. To disconnect these events is, imo, a lil bit insane. Wid Wheatley gone, that's red bulls bishop n2 fallen. I think its fairly reasonable to assume somebody wid 2 cats in Monaco is straight up not having a good time anymore.

So, where do Checo and Danny ric and that fucking seat come in. They're all part of this dance, but I think in a way that's been fairly misinterpreted. See for a long time now, prolly since he signed Danny ric to do tiktoks, even before Vcarb became a thing, Horner has not been looking for a replacement for Checo. He's been looking for a replacement for Max. Ik, again, this is me letting the voices take over. Lemme say some unhinged shit before u call the cops. Max is an impossible teammate. U cant match Max on pace over an entire season, u cant prioritize a driver over Max when it comes to development, u cant tailor a car to somebody like Checo ((which , because Im so fucking money on this, is what Horner has just claimed he's gonna start doing post Spa)) and not Max, because, simply put, the car will be slower. Max can drive faster cars, he can deliver the poles, he can give rbr a fighting chance, he's been doing that shit, wid more or less success, all season, most of his fucking career actually. Now, who do y'all know who also qualifies very well, likes a pointy car wid a shit ton of oversteer and recently been caught discussing rb20 failings wid Verstappen himself. Danny ric. And Danny ric, like Checo, is very much in the Horner camp side of things. Danny ric, rn, comes wid bonuses of loyalty and trust and maybe a lil chip on his shoulder that Verstappen quite simply does not have, or cares to have because that brother is trying to get his fourth championship, not survive f1. Danny ric comes as a success story for red Bull amidst very trying times for the brand, the silver son who bent the knee and came home to warm hugs and big smiles after nearly getting fucking taken out back in a farm by Zak brown. U put that brother next to Checo or Lawson or whoever u also have the bonus of not having one of the best drivers of all time absolutely refuse to finish behind them, which can be a lil bit annoying if the car is shit too.

Horner is a stingy, extremely egocentric asshole, who prolly shudve been fired a long time ago, and he's not the team principal I thought he was. Horner's strength as a tp came from standing on business for his WDC once the going gets hard. He's doing none of that this season, at least not for Max. He's just a man, and at the end of the day, he's got the pride and insecurity of one, too. If he thought Newey was expendable, well sure u already have a bald man in the team who gives a fuck ((????)), if he thinks Wheatley is expendable, that's pointing towards a more personal type of dutch centric trend, because if he thinks MAX is expendable ... if this 2023 Merc stinking ass fucking season is headed the way I think its headed baby. I wish him good luck .

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #4: Lominsan Girls

Prompt: reticent || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

---

Nhaama bless every hair on their ridiculous heads, but sometimes Alakhai’s fellow Upright Thieves could not shut up.

She wouldn’t have minded the sound bouncing around the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss—the hum and chatter of daily activity was a soothing sound all the way back to her childhood on the Steppe, where silence was only acceptable when out alone in the grasslands—but Jacke’s ego had swelled up after leading his first successful mission without supervision from the guildmaster. Three years her junior, Jacke was already being groomed to eventually take over the leadership of the Upright Thieves, and normally he had a fairly good head on his shoulders.

But teenage boys were teenage boys no matter how well-behaved they could be, and V’kebbe had decided his pride needed deflating.

T’vanoh had shaken his head as the pair devolved into name-calling in both standard Eorzean and thieves’ cant, but had merely waved Alakhai on as she had stomped out of the convent. The surest way to rein Jacke in was to have one of his peers yank him down to ground level with the rest of them, and trying to step in between Jacke and V’kebbe when they were a hair away from outright brawling was never wise, so she knew why the guildmaster didn’t try to pull them apart. Didn’t mean Alakhai was willing to tolerate the noise, on top of everyone else chattering in an attempt to drown the two out.

Not for the first time in her life, Alakhai thought the Qestir had the right idea about words and talking and just not bothering.

So instead of curling up for a nap in her hammock, Alakhai was out in Fisherman’s Bottom, feet dangling in the water of the harbor as she sat on the edge of one of the currently-empty piers with a little wooden tray overflowing with fish and chips in her lap. The boat she’d bought her lunch from was one pier over, and she’d return the tray once she’d finished. Much as she had wanted that nap, food was a decent secondary option.

She sniffed appreciatively; there was something about fried food that always made her happy. Maybe it was because it was the one of the few constants between the Steppe and Yanxia and Kugane and Eorzea: everyone had at least one dish they put something in dough or a batter and then dunked in hot oil to cook.

Alakhai took out her pocket knife, about to cut into the thick filet of fried cod to make easier pieces to pick up, when a tromp of boots along the wood caught her attention. The footsteps were coming towards her, and then stopped a handful of fulms away. She lifted her head to see who had come to bother her.

The lean, gangly Highlander girl in arcanist greys, nerves dancing in her green eyes behind a mask of steely determination, brown hair sporting fresh grass-green dye and pulled back into a braid that hit the back of her knees, was not the person Alakhai had been expecting. She was not even in the top ten.

But Alakhai did recognize her. She was in only the second, maybe third, official class of baby arcanists of the newly-formed Arcanists’ Guild, and Alakhai had seen her and her classmates throughout Limsa Lominsa over the past two moons, usually in Hawker’s Alley and the food stalls. This one stood out especially; there was a small Highlander population in the city, expat mercenaries who had been stranded when Ala Mhigo had fallen to the Garleans, but there were very few of this one’s age that were local.

Good sense for trouble on her. The first time Alakhai had seen her, the baby arcanist had clocked one of the shadier pirates eyeing one of her classmates as they had waited for their orders at Mama Fyrwyb’s fish stall, and put herself between the creep and her friend. Alakhai had been on duty in the Alley that day, and she had chucked said shady pirate into the harbor and a slipped word to one of the Yellowjackets before skulking back into the crowd.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” the student arcanist said.

Alakhai glanced down quickly, noting the bucket she had in hand. Probably full of oysters purchased from the Fishers’ Guild; her own lunch then.

Eh, why not?

“Go ahead,” Alakhai said.

The girl stepped closer, crouching down to set her bucket aside and then quickly work her boots off. She sat properly on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the cool water up to her skins, and pulled her bucket closer as she pulled a pocket knife from the pouch on her belt.

A flash of turquoise caught Alakhai’s eye, and she turned to see an emerald carbuncle toddle up and loaf itself next to its person. The carbuncle turned to look at her, and Alakhai blinked as it—she?—gave her a narrow-eyed once over. After a minute of feeling as if she was being assessed by something that wasn’t just a mere magical construct, the carbuncle turned away and cuddled her hyur.

Alakhai blinked again. Huh.

Lunch passed quietly. The Highlander shucked oysters, slurping contently and ensuring her empty shells went back into the bucket so the fishers could reseed the local oyster beds. Alakhai neatly dunked strips of fried cod into fresh tartar sauce, enjoying the mix of crisp breading, tender fish, and tangy sauce, interspersing them with unceremoniously shoving the thick-cut popoto chips into her mouth, wonderfully crunchy on the outside and soft and still hot on the inside.

Neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, Alakhai would call it pleasant. Sitting with this baby arcanist felt like when Alakhai had spent time with her auntie on foal watch; just enjoying one another’s company and the simple joy of sharing a beautiful day with another person.

Eventually, Alakhai’s tray was empty. She sighed contently, stomach pleasantly full, and pushed herself to standing, shoving her still-wet feet into the loose sandals she had. She tucked the tray under her arm, ready to return it to the lunch boat, but took a step towards the arcanist and stuck out her hand.

“Alakhai,” she said simply.

The arcanist looked up at, still chewing one of her last oysters, surprise on her face. But she swallowed, and smiled, a little shy. She took Alakhai’s hand. “Synnove,” she said in turn as they shook. “And this is Galette.”

The carbuncle sneezed.

“Nice to meet you both,” Alakhai said. “I’ll see you around.”

Synnove waved, her smile a little less shy, and Alakhai wandered back down the pier, a sense of satisfaction curling in her chest.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-08-15

(Previous post - current page 605)

I'm a bit bleary but I had an early-morning appointment cancelled and I literally HAVE NOT been able to get Homestuck out of my head, so I'm gonna do YET MORE liveblogging and keep up my storm-rush to catch up-- or at least get back to the Candy timeline I already care about so much more than this one!

But first (as evidence of my obsession), before we hit that next link, I have some THOUGHTS I typed up in the middle of the night on my phone after recovering my wits from that huge binge of liveblogging yesterday that I'd like to go ahead and paste, then I'll hit the link and continue as usual after that under the cut. Ahem:

I belatedly realized that AL is glowing rainbow because of the power she stole by devouring Lord English, and we don’t know what that power entails beyond “she’s immortal and massively powerful and could perhaps even curse others” (and/or has some extra command over the narrative perhaps, gone into below).  Dirk is still confident that he can destroy her or stop her from stopping him in time to thwart his ambitions, somehow, which is arrogant of him but also interesting and probably right because there’s no way thematically she’s going to win all on her own… the last two times she was knocked out of commission, Alt Calliope was a victim of **TIME** delaying her by knocking Jade out or knocking her out of Jade, Time serving as SPACE’s vulnerability.  All Dirk needs to do is use ploy after ploy to STALL her and dilute her power until his work is done, and once he’s responsible in sort for the creation of all that will ever exist in Paradox Space, securing his spot in a piece of the puzzle as part of the canon story writer of “FOREVER” and its Paradox-Space-spanning loop, he will have won in his eyes.  But if Sburb and its world-devouring sacrifice system of reproduction are CREATED here inside Canon, that also means that OUTSIDE OF CANON, the system of creating universes can be WRITTEN DIFFERENTLY, more kindly and without Dirk’s judgmental and character-traumatizing nature, a new game that births non-doomed timelines and universes of promise WITHOUT destroying what it came from just for “fairness’s” sake, a new game without Dirk’s need for such draconian challenge that teaches its players to become Heroes but doesn’t have to follow such punishing, destructive planet-wrecking and eliminationist rules as the original or give Gods too much control over the universes they create… a system of Orchids instead of Mistletoe, which uses the freedom of being outside Canon for possibility to bloom INDEFINITELY.

Calliope and Roxy were about to describe or debate a plan of their own to fix the broader problem, but any plans the two of them had went interrupted and unsaid… which means they possibly HAVE plans in play already which they wanted to help discuss with Kanaya and Jade but were interrupted before they could describe.  The Plot Point is happening over in Candy’s timeline… and if it’s a story that Callie is writing, that could mean that Original Calliope’s plan to save the Meat timeline, a plan appropriately assisted and thought up in part by Roxy the Rogue of Void from BOTH TIMELINES, is the way Calliope is WRITING INTO EXISTENCE an action that will influence Canon from within (Candy) of crucial importance that both Dirk and alt!Calliope are discounting!!!!

Roxy's comment on how he thought new overgrown house wasn't as ugly as alt!Calliope saw it— as a Void player, just how he thinks the and finds Calliope cute where those not infatuated with the unusual and absurd and impossible might write the cherub off as monstrous— was a thematically appropriate expression of the idea that ROXY DOESN’T HATE THESE NEW STORIES WE'RE READING.  The Epilogues and Homestuck^2 seem grotesque and sprawling to many readers and characters from a perspective on the outside, which perhaps ISN’T STRANGE or unjustified for them to think!  But as an appreciator of the Void, Roxy still finds beauty in it just as he finds beauty in what everyone else thinks of as shitty or silly or disturbing.  For both gender-fluid parts of Roxy on the inside and outside of Canon to work with the original, oft-discounted Callie to make all external fanfiction essential to the nature of reality’s existence as the final tie needed to close the loop and allow for both freedom from the competing authors inside Canon and even TRUER freedom and survival for the timelines OUTSIDE CANON, is the truest plan to this story’s meaning and themes beyond even what alt!Calliope has planned and beyond what Dirk Strider can stop, giving life to the timelines outside the Breach in ways both aspiring narrative-hijacking authors deemed unimportant and useless, and helping prove that they don’t have to be Canon to matter, once and for all.  To grow the sprawling, splitting house into a beautiful tree with two branches of promise, the canon resolution versus the unbound infinity of possibility.  Lord English’s flashing colors that AL inherited also represent her flexing her LORDSHIP OVER THE CANON TIMELINE, that intoxicating and toxic control that trapped the characters before and is trapping them back in the story now, and Roxy and Callie’s plan to bridge Canon with Non-Canon is like the ultimate refutation of that power.

(Does Terezi’s role as contest judge have an important role in the rules of the game of Sburb’s creation that will have the characters balanced at the fulcrum of disparate wills, and/or even the criteria determining the Heroic and Just death of god-tier players encoded into the very game itself?  Does her caliginous fling with Rose represent some clue as to the game’s relationship with the Horrorterrors in allegory?  Hmm…)

I've also thought about how due to his writing style and nature and the havoc he's already proved more than willing to wreak in the Epilogues, Dirk is going to try to cause the characters serious pain.  The Candy side of things has shown that even in their own before the timeline split, what the characters have gone through hasn’t been without a great deal of emotional pain themselves, though Jade seems to have suffered more than we thought in (Candy) proving that the extracanon storyline knows how to be serious when it needs to be, and did so masterfully.  Jade feeling so trapped by her Godhood that Yiffy’s birth was literally her only escape was rendered chillingly in that panel with the shadowy hands reaching out for her, enough to haunt me with her hopelessness after the fact once I was through the high of active liveblogging for the day, and I hope that after all she’s just divulged that Candy Jade can find a new way and learn to BE HAPPY FOR HERSELF too… although on top of everything, on a plot note instead of a character note, I forgot to acknowledge that the way she says Yiffy is the future (Time stuff aside) is very much in line with Yiffy and the others being the heroes of their own universe-creating session soon enough, perhaps even only at the very end of the story to demonstrate the path to the unknown multitude of futures outside of canon unfolding wherever the fans might take them.  Beautiful.

But it does make me afraid, too… afraid both on the Meat and Candy sides, Meat especially, of **who is going to DIE.**. Because this isn’t going to end without at least a few god-tier characters dying or getting soul-trapped or some other cruel fate, especially Davebot’s likely choice at self-sacrifice, but others too, possibly even one of our Jades like Candy Jade if we’re really, REALLY unlucky… except there is one more wildcard to be contended with, one last wrench in the works to wrestle a happy ending out of the dark story Dirk Strider is trying to write.

And that is the three copies of the Ring of Life in play.  Two of which are in the hands of versions of Callie… who might be willing, their stories written, to finalize their ultimate roles as the Muses who bring happiness to all of their favorite characters for the rest of their time, by giving up any of their Rings of Life to bring back someone who has passed on from the story… like the taxidermied Dave from Jade’s sylladex in Candy to bring him back to meet Karkat again and rescue that piece of Davebot back when Davebot thinks his sacrifice is finally made and over, or like John’s corpse in Terezi’s wallet still waiting for resurrection, or any other character who might die too in the upcoming struggle who deserves a second chance… although for the most part side from those who deserve it, I think Homestuck^2 is aiming for an even less traumatizing ending than the original Homestuck, and a future of promise where the rest of them don’t have to suffer as much.  Rosebot and her Ultimate Nature are thwarted and/or sacrificed to create the Game, but Rose’s life-support body is saved for Kanaya to finally have her back after they were unjustly torn apart by the Prince of Heart’s manipulation and lies and power.  John is given an opportunity to find happiness living as Nune that he was never able to before.  (Candy) and it’s Earth survive, and become a starting ground for the expansion of new realities no longer trapped in the Cherubs’ (LE and AL) or Dirk’s or Andrew’s stories, and in fact *Callie herself* by giving up her Rings, the author of (Candy), is the symbolic Death of the Author used to finally free them, one last tragic self-sacrifice that she knows she’ll be happy with because of the infinity of unbound stories, fanmade and otherwise, that the characters outside Canon are now fully free to make for themselves from the initial bedrock of her Fanfic brought to life, allowing her to finally step out of the way and infuse it with life via the Plot Point to allow it to bloom ON ITS OWN into whatever futures it may without her intervention.  Tragic and beautiful, but in a way that would allow Callie to die truly happy knowing the wonderful possibilities she created for all of her favorite friends.

I might tear up a bit!  But it’s only a possibility, right?  Yeah… only a possibility.  The rings sitting in Callie’s hands, waiting for her to take off to repay the Life that was so graciously given back to her by Roxy after her death at her brother’s hands, as thanks and out of pure love for everyone she’s ever written a story about.  A better and more honest and just author than either AL or Dirk.  The story’s last martyr.  :’C

Dave's taxidermied corpse being in Jade's sylladex is a serious promise of hope for the happiness of those in the Candy timeline, no matter which way you look at it, even if Jade and Dave's relationship is toast. If Dave is resurrected at the end of Candy from his taxidermied corpse… perhaps it’s to have a potential future with Karkat or June instead, while Jade — long after having confessed her real feelings as we just recently witnessed, and after even more heart to hearts — finally might find love again by dating Rose and Kanaya? What a self-indulgent potential future… but what would (Candy) be without a little self-indulgence?

(Side question I’m pondering, who **IS** Aradia ACTUALLY dating as was implied?  It can’t still be Candy Sollux right, she can’t go back to him through the Black Hole Barrier even by rewinding her personal timeline can she?  So it has to be another “he” we aren’t acquainted with, or don’t realize we’re acquainted with, who she capriciously visits whenever she wants to……)

Okay let’s get back to the story and distract ourselves with the lore and speculation inevitably born by their choices of new alien races.

Oh my gosh it just caught up to me that Homestuck^2 isn’t anywhere near over just yet, and when I catch up it’ll still be in the middle of things and I’ll be waiting on upd8s to liveblog them.  That’s going to be torture after the joys of all this bingeing.  XD  And there is so much author and artist commentary I’ll have to at least skim in the bonus material, especially the author commentary for that AMAZING HEART WRENCHING SCENE of Jade confessing her insecurities and her hatred of her Godhood and how Yiffy is the only thing she feels like she’s done that she can be proud of since coming to Earth C…!!!!  Holy SHIT I NEED CANDY JADE TO FIND MORE HAPPINESS THAN THAT, I’m starting to get some of my old “Jade has been through too much trauma” trauma bubbling back up and I have to fight it back down because I JUST KNOW they have to do right by her this time, I KNOW IT, she was screwed too hard in Homestuck original and put through too much pain, screwed too hard and put through too much pain in the Epilogues, is finally FINALLY VENTING all of her pain to her friends so it can FINALLY BE RESOLVED AND SHE CAN FIND COMPASSION for her insecurities, and… and god I can’t wait for Hade to be happy but the story isn’t finished yet, I hope the path to happiness for EVERY VERSION OF HER becomes clearer than ever to me soon enough!!!!!

But I’m enjoying the story too much, I’m one of the readers who dragged them back into the spotlight with my need to know what would have happened to them, and I will absolutely enjoy the SHIT out of this winding journey they’re in because it keeps getting better and better and mixing comedy and pain in the perfect cathartic blend and giving me theories to chew on and I can’t help myself, this is the exact same narcotic thrill I got from the original Homestuck and I’m finally confident again that it is and will continue to AMAZE and satisfy me.  I’m so excited despite the butterflies in my stomach.  SO EXCITED.  Excited for everything but the alien races this piece of trash is about to show us, in fact...

(MIDNIGHT PHONE TYPING ENDED ABOVE)

To continue with more stuff I thought about since last night, just this morning... (Candy)'s Rose Lalonde last time was clearly dipping into some of the complacent thoughts of her Ultimate Self, of which she is a part, and I'm glad Jade's confession of her feelings is going to serve in part to begin shaking her out of, though it will take more talks and some time. Oh, and also the Red Flickering that Vrissy and Harry saw may have been the battle alert and not Yiffy setting everything on fire, but... I'm pretty sure Yiffy is setting things on fire after what she just witnessed. There is no possible version of the gleefully-malicious-toward-the-proud-and-neglectful Yiffy that we saw sneak into that vent who wouldn't have been EXTREMELY disturbed by her mother's honest confession, more than enough for her to start breaking things. In fact with her black dog-ears and tail giving her a slight resemblance to Bec Noir, perhaps we should view her destructiveness as in part a reflection of Spades Slick's somewhat similar attitudes to her? Although Yiffy's attitudes are MUCH more based focused on the abuse of power of the proud and laying that hypocrisy low, a very political sort of view against the whims of the Gods and Goddesses that has been sorely lacking as anything but an undertone in these stories so far and SORELY NEEDED a voice serving to deliver it as an overtone instead of an undertone, to speak to the inherent JUSTICE of Just deaths and object like Jasprosesprite^2 was doing to canon President Crocker on the way the denizens of the world and universe deserve to determine the direction of its future more than its celebrity creators.

Oh gosh these are still new thoughts I'm writing this morning, not last night like I'm still dreading how the commentary on that AMAZING scene with Jade confessing the feelings she had behind choosing to have Yiffy and the toxic attitude Rose was taking and the attitudes behind it is going to be something I'll need to read and comment on... that moment as amazing as it was is becoming retroactively a little more painful for me to scrutinize but I won't let that control me. I'll charge ahead right back through to Candy if I have to and fill my thoughts on Candy's last left-off goings-on with FRESHER thoughts on the goings-on in that timeline continuing, even if I don't have time to get all the way forward to where commands are in different sorts of brackets yet that I glimpsed at the beginning of the log accidentally from time to time from the most recent updates.

Let's get back to business. I'm not at 100% capacity right now but I need to make some progress forward, I'll do what I can until I start noticing I'm missing things or out of mental energy to think clearly (because of the rocky sleep I had needing to fast despite my stomach condition only for my medical scan to get cancelled by insurance at literally the last minute), and then get some makeup midday sleep and come back to it. I've still got enough in me for a few pages though, and once I've napped I'll doubtless want to do more later today!

==>

Holy fucking shit. That is... I mean I guess that is "A LOOK" for poor Terezi here. The lankiness, adult-style curves and clothes... augh. It doesn't suit her very well, at least maybe because she isn't grinning and she's wearing the AWFUL suspenders outfit Dirk tricked her into Lil-Cal-ing it up in, but... bluh. Maybe it'll look better with one of her wicked grins on soon.

Now all that remains is to- TEREZI: D1RK Ahem. All that remains is to- TEREZI: *D1RK* Sign. DIRK: What. TEREZI: YOU 4R3 DO1NG TH3 TH1NG, *4G41N* TEREZI: 4ND WH4TS WORS3 1S TH4T 1NST34D OF 4T L34ST H4V1NG TH3 D3C3NCY TO SPOUT OFF 4BOUT SOM3TH1NG N3W OR 1NT3R3ST1NG TEREZI: YOU H4V3 1NST34D CHOS3N TO W4T3RBO4RD TH3 R4W N3UR4L T1SSU3 OF MY TH1NKP4N W1TH 4N 4CR1D 4ND SUP3RFLUOUSLY OV3RC4RBON4T3D N4RR4T1V3 R3C4P DUMP DIRK: Well, it's a recap for *you*. DIRK: But for those who haven't checked in on us in a while, it's more of a stage-setting thing. TEREZI: 1TS B4S1C4LLY 4 R3C4P FOR TH3M TOO, 1D1OT TEREZI: YOUR 1N4B1L1TY TO SHUT UP 3V3N 4S YOU 4CT1V3LY CH4MP1ON TH3 N33D TO G3T TH1NGS MOV1NG WOULD B3 4LMOST 4W3-1NSP1R1NG 1F 1T W4SNT SO 4STOUND1NGLY OBNOX1OUS

Yeah all told, it felt a little soon for a recap, but it HAS been a couple years since most of the events he was describing after that HS^2 authorswap megapause!

Terezi, as you can tell, is still decidedly less enthusiastic about this whole shindig. Maybe she's feeling a bit unheard and insignificant confronted with the reality-shaking splendor of two gods deep in their genesis bags and with little time to entertain her trivial mortal misgivings. Maybe the magnificent gravity of this is lost on her entirely, as she seems to spend all her effort these days avoidantly trudging through a mire of self-pity and principles deadlock, instead of getting into the fucking spirit of the moment a little bit and appreciating not only the opening lines of a stupendously important chapter in the history of Fucking Everything, but her privileged role in it. Maybe she'd prefer we just in-media-res'd this shit and skipped right t-

Dirk is more smug and shitbag and like his part-Doc-Scratch portion of his soul by the passing minute, except less charming.

TEREZI: Y3S, YOU P3TTY V1ND1CT1V3 J3RK, 1 WOULD V4STLY PR3F3R TH4T TEREZI: 3SP3C14LLY G1V3N TH4T 1T 1S SOM3TH1NG YOU 3XPL1C1TLY PROM1S3D M3 TH4T W3 WOULD B3 4BL3 TO DO DIRK: And we will. DIRK: After Rose and I release our progeny into the Deltritus wilds, the three of us are going to timeskip forward ten thousand years or so, so that we don't have to sit around twiddling our thumbs like assholes and waiting for our respective species to become sufficiently advanced. DIRK: Even I'm not so much of a micromanager that I'd be able to keep myself entertained for millennia with only Deltritus to play with. DIRK: Nobody has the patience for that. DIRK: Besides, we have other important shit to get to. DIRK: Also, you'd probably die of old age.

That makes plenty of sense... though it also means that except for perhaps for what Rose's Seer of Light vision shows her without his knowledge, their species might evolve to coharmonize or even interbreed in ways they hadn't expected, even with Dirk's narrative powers trying to control the outcome...? (Again half-predicting their unique traits get smoothed out to turn them into the White and Black Chess People here or something.)

TEREZI: 1M 4BOUT TO D13 OF BOR3DOM *R1GHT NOW* TEREZI: SO 1F YOUR3 F1N1SH3D MONOLOGU1NG 4ND L3CTUR1NG 4ND G3N3R4LLY B31NG 4 S3LF-S4T1SF13D P4PR1K4 PR1CK TEREZI: 1TD B3 GR4ND OF YOU TO DROP YOUR K1DS OFF 4T TH3 D4WN OF TH31R C1V1L1Z4T1ONS, F1R3 UP YOUR BULLSH1T M4CH1N3, 4ND L4UNCH US TO TH3 B3G1NN1NG OF TH3 N3W S3SS1ON L1CK3TY-SP1T DIRK: It's "lickety-split". Yuck.

That'd be pretty nice, please! Get this show on the road!! (So we can get back over to Candy!)

DIRK: Anyway, I'm pretty much done monologuing, but I've got a bit more lecturing and self-satisfied paprika prickery in me, so you're going to have to sit tight for a bit longer. TEREZI: BL3GH DIRK: Don't you BL3GH me. DIRK: You think you can just roll up to my grand commencement speech and interrupt my triumphant expository flex-sesh without taking some of the heat? DIRK: Lest you forget, you've actually got a pretty important role to play in all this.

Oh? How is Terezi actually going to be DOING the judging and such?

DIRK: Taking up the helm at the command terminal, guiding the Deltritan civilizations slowly but surely towards the Game. DIRK: A role Rose tells me you've chosen to automate. TEREZI: Y3P DIRK: ... TEREZI: ... DIRK: ... TEREZI: WH4T >:[

Excuse me, automate? AUTOMATE???!??

Did Terezi create an immortal auto-responder-like AI CLONE of herself like Dirk did in his youth which might subsequently be corrupted or co-opted into serving the judgment/balance role for all future sessions?????

==>

Oh Terezi has learned to fucking HATE this dude even more than before.

DIRK: It's just a little disappointing, is all. DIRK: Rose and I put so much work into whipping up some zany, adorable, kind of fucked up little dudes. DIRK: The least you could do is attempt to give a shit about how they turn out. DIRK: Or was all that hand-wringing about how worried you were that Rose and I were becoming big bad cosmic tyrants with no regard for the poor little mortals buffeted to and fro by the vicious momentum of our designs just virtue signaling? DIRK: Or worse... foreplay? DIRK: Wow. DIRK: Pretty low, Terezi. DIRK: I expected a lot better of you.

Why would Terezi even TRY to control these two, when she knows full well that thanks to Dirk overembracing his role and his ultimate narrative powers and smoothing out any of Rose's moral qualms and objections, he's already proven that he won't let ANY JUDGE control him in any way?

Why not standardize the process of Sburb tempting its players to inevitably play the way it always naturally ended up doing in every subsequent instance?

TEREZI: TH4T JOK3Y-BUT-NOT-R34LLY F4M1L14L GU1LT-TR1P MOOSH1T M4N3UV3R M1GHT WORK ON ROS3 DIRK: It doesn't. TEREZI: BUT 1T DO3SNT M34N SH1T TO M3 DIRK: It does. DIRK: Not that I needed to bust it out for you. DIRK: I know you wouldn't just abandon the Deltritans to the cruel march of time and whatever scant preparation you imagine we gave them. DIRK: You don't trust Rose or I to give enough of a fuck about them, and despite your occasional protestations, you are, for the most part, too good a person to just turn your back on them and let whatever happens happens. DIRK: I trust that the automated suggestions you put in place, and the conditional map that prompts them, were thought through with an honestly touching amount of care, considering your misgivings.

This makes it seem even more as if she's ended up making a core component of the way Sburb/Sgrub works in the first place, intentionally or no.

DIRK: There's no doubt in my mind that even if Rose and I hadn't already basically knocked this creationism shit out of the park, the sons and/or daughters of Deltritus would make it to the Game just fine with even the barest phantom of your counsel.

DIRK: That's why I'm allowing you to do this at all. TEREZI: 1 DONT N33D YOUR P3RM1SS1ON Wrong. TEREZI: OH FUCK YOU DIRK: And for the record, you're also wrong in your assertion that we don't care about them. DIRK: We do. DIRK: I do, at any rate. TEREZI: Y34H YOUR P4T3RN4L G3N3ROS1TY KNOWS NO BOUNDS TEREZI: 4NYON3 WOULD B3 GR4T3FUL TO H4V3 4 B3N3VOL3NT CR34TOR L1K3 YOU TEREZI: ON3 TH4TLL ULT1M4T3LY 3NSUR3 TH31R 3NT1R3 PL4N3T 1S ORB1T4LLY BOMB4RD3D 4ND TH31R SP3C13S 4LL BUT DR1V3N 3XT1NCT S4V3 FOR 4 F3W "LUCKY" JUV3N1L3S DIRK: That's just how this shit goes down for species *lucky* enough to fucking *matter*, Terezi. DIRK: Circle of life. Hakuna Matata. Que sera, sera. DIRK: And you know it.

Terezi is objecting to the very injustice in the STRUCTURE of Sburb here, essentially! To the canon system of universe creation itself and the demands it puts on species and players, the annihilation and threat it poses as payment for the creation of a universe! In ways that reinforce my theory at the beginning of the post and a bit in my previous blogpost that the Orchids versus Mistletoe metaphor is going to be extremely important in differentiating how Universe-Creating Game Sessions work OUTSIDE of Canon as opposed to INSIDE, that there's a better way of doing them that is less traumatic and ruinous than Dirk-- and for that matter, initially, Andrew-- believed the plot demanded, and perhaps DID demand, but is no longer NECESSARY for those who have escaped the brutal confines of "Story" itself and its necessary conflicts, outside the fabric of Paradox Space.

DIRK: Originally, the plan was to pop in every couple hundred years to check on the Deltritan races' progress and to give you a bit of time to guide them manually. DIRK: Which I maintain would have been pretty fun, and would encourage you (probably fruitlessly) to consider giving a go. DIRK: But hey, you say you aren't feeling it? DIRK: Fine. DIRK: I can make concessions. DIRK: I've got other agents in play, and as I've said, I know you aren't going to risk fucking your end of the work up.

Other agents in play? Did he create servants like the Midnight Crew or Felt to do his bidding that those who arrive at Deltritus and its session will need to contend with?

TEREZI: HOW C4N YOU B3 SUR3 TEREZI: M4YB3 3XT3ND3D PROX1M1TY TO STR1LOND3 D3LUS1ONS OF GR4ND3UR H4S DR1V3N M3 TO TH3 BR34K1NG PO1NT TEREZI: M4YB3 1M JUST L4Y1NG LOW TEREZI: 34RN1NG YOUR TRUST SO 1 C4N COMPL3T3LY RU1N YOUR PL4NS FOR 4NOTH3R S3SS1ON TEREZI: DO1NG 4LL 1 C4N TO TURN SK414S 4TT3NT1ON 3LS3WH3R3 4ND D1SQU4L1FY TH1S PL4N3T 4S 4 C4ND1D4T3 TEREZI: NOT ONLY TO PROT3CT TH3 UNTOLD M1LL1ONS OF FUTUR3 D3LTR1T4NS YOU PL4N TO PULV3R1Z3 TEREZI: BUT 4LSO FOR TH3 S4T1SF4CT1ON OF SH4TT3R1NG TH4T STO1C D34DP4N OF YOURS TEREZI: 1F JUST FOR ON3 D3L1C1OUS MOM3NT

Sburb code already exists on the planet; they confirmed it before they landed, at the end of the Epilogues. It's already too late for the denizens of Deltritus unless they have only one dead session, and that seems unlikely. Plus, that isn't Terezi's plan, either. Whatever she plans for John's corpse, or for making this right, it's likely after getting into or involved with the active session with these beings somehow. And she knows that if she WANTED to try and stop Dirk from murdering the civilizations they're creating for the sake of a session, she couldn't. She's just voicing her frustrations, really, about what she knows she can't do-- an Injustice that for the moment she has no ability to stop.

Her views on Justice have evolved, to the point where she'll likely be able to pontificate at least a little bit on the way Sburb ITSELF views Justice as they create the first ever reproductive session and the way it works.

==>

Ugh, this framing showing him throwing his power and influence around is so unsettling and disgusting, it's perfect.

DIRK: Must feel pretty good to imagine, huh? DIRK: But you won't. DIRK: I'm sure, Terezi, because if you did, I'd just have to take you out of the picture and start again. DIRK: Not that you value your own life that much right now, though you really should, but you and I both know you aren't here because I need you. DIRK: You're here because you need me. DIRK: You need this session to happen. DIRK: You need a chance to fix the mistake you've got in that wallet, burning a hole through your pocket.

Ah yep, it's not just how I said, but he KNOWS it's just how I said.

DIRK: You've made a lot of those, Terezi, but you know that besides being important, what we're doing here is a chance to rectify one of them. DIRK: And you aren't going to let that chance slip. TEREZI: ... DIRK: I know what it's like to make hard choices for the people you care about. DIRK: To run your brain raw thinking about how to make things right. DIRK: I've been doing it my whole damn life. DIRK: The choice you're presented with here is pretty fucking easy, and you're a very smart person, so I trust you to make the right decision. DIRK: That's all. I don't really feel like pontificating at you any more. TEREZI: ... TEREZI: GR34T

"Trust" is a loaded word here. Dirk knows Terezi's Heart well enough to "trust" that Terezi will be Terezi. That's not the same as trusting her as a person.

DIRK: We're getting ready to kick this thing off, so all I have left to ask you is DIRK: Do you think you've done everything you need to do to prepare the terminal? DIRK: We're counting on you. DIRK: He's counting on you. TEREZI: Y34H Y34H >:[ TEREZI: 3V3RYTH1NGS S3T UP TEREZI: 1 DONT F33L L1K3 B31NG PONT1F1C4T3D 4T 4NYMOR3 31TH3R SO 1M L34V1NG TEREZI: ONC3 YOU 4ND ROS3 G3T DON3 PH1LOSOPH1Z1NG 34CH OTH3R L3T M3 KNOW SO W3 C4N G3T TH1S BULLSH1T T1M3SK1P OV3R 4ND DON3 W1TH TEREZI: 1LL B3 1N MY FUCK1NG CH4MB3RS DIRK: These are shared chambers, but whatever.

Alright, looks like all we need is a talk with Rose Lalonde bot and we'll probably get this show on the road. Plus we'll get to view her "adult" bot art too likely enough.

==>

*angry brush past bunp*

Strilondes: Banter.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT we are approaching Supergiant's Hades games levels of godhood art here.

ROSEBOT: Looks like you're getting pretty good at motivational speaking. DIRK: Well someone needed to shake the rust off of her. DIRK: She's getting nerves. DIRK: Right before the big game. DIRK: We're never gonna make it to nationals at this rate. ROSEBOT: Ah, fuck. The sports. ROSEBOT: How quickly I forgot them.

And in so many ways they still haven't frickin' changed. XD

DIRK: There's gotta be some kind of sports penalty, for forgetting the sports. ROSEBOT: Oh, definitely. ROSEBOT: I've been very bad and I need to be punished, to preserve the integrity of the sports. DIRK: Let me just slip into my jackass sports judge mime outfit and get to laying down the fucking sports law. ROSEBOT and DIRK: Let's stop saying sports. DIRK and ROSEBOT: Agreed.

Okay the way that appeared on the page to emphasize that DIRK WAS PROBABLY CONTROLLING HER and/or they were just so similar that they jinxed each other and said the same things at the same time was super creepy and I like it.

DIRK: Speaking of outfits, though, look at you. ROSEBOT: You like it? DIRK: It's chic. DIRK: I dig the return of the hood. DIRK: You could deliver a whole hell of a lot of cryptic prophecies out from under that sucker. ROSEBOT: Yes, well, I figured that if I'm to appear before our chosen peoples as a harbinger of their simultaneous doom and salvation, I may as well look the part.

Damned good looking and very appropriately dramatic, yes.

Okay I know this was short, but you at least have my midnight pontifications and post-pontifications up top, so I'm going to pause here to nap and recover some mental energy before I get back to the reveal of these final civilizations we're presumably getting in-medias-res as promised or what have you. So I'm posting this very short liveblog post now but you can likely expect MUCH more in the afternoon/evening unless I indicate otherwise.

[messy-crisantemo]

Since we’ve entered a Gentan renaissance, I figured I should make a

🍉 GenTan fic recommendation list 🎴

(Edit: Now we have a Part 2!)

Note that this is a list of personal favorites based on my likes and the many (yet not all existent) fics I’ve read. They’re not put in any particular order and they’re all completed fics. I’m adding some of the tags, but not all of them since I don’t want to make this post extra long, so please read them again once you go to the Ao3 link. And finally, if anyone is anime-only, even if a fic is spoiler free, it’s likely that it’ll have some reference to Genya’s abilities or family relationships, so be careful.

That being said, we proceed!

Don’t Talk to Me by 125389, 9k

(Red Light District Arc, Canon-Typical Violence, Meet-Cute, Strangers to friends to enemies to ???, Humor, Crushes)

A second impression, a star-crossed meeting, a misunderstanding. Each was there to do his job, to keep matters strictly business, but when have things ever been that simple?

Beautifully written, fantastic humor, and just GenTan inevitably falling for each other (both romantically and literally).

To Be The Piece You Need by Gilberrts, 11k

(Alternate Universe - High School, Dialogue Heavy, Friends to Lovers)

Shinazugawa Genya's life is in a downward spiral. He has no friends, his grades are on thin ice, and he can't seem to stop outgrowing his clothes. Then, when his relationship with his brother finally hits rock bottom, Genya has a strange encounter with the sole member of the school's cooking club.

Hurt-Comfort scenario where, of course, Tanjirou is the comfort.

Rest + Recovery by aizetsus, 2k

(genya is stressed, post Swordsmith Village Arc)

Genya gets overwhelmed pretty easily. Especially when faced with a cute boy.

It wouldn’t be a GenTan rec list without our traditional, fluffy scenario of Genya pining for Tanjirou.

Cardinals by bluejelly245, 8k

(Modern AU, Wakes & Funerals, Hurt/Comfort, Conversations, Friendship/Love, Past Abuse)

Genya and his family attend the funeral wake for Tanjiro’s father, much to the younger Shinazugawa boy’s dismay. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his evening surrounded by tears and grief, but what he least expected, was to end up on Tanijro’s bedroom floor, comforting the strange boy after his loss.

Genya discovers he is a good person, so sweet despite the gloomy scenario.

loveholic by mimimimi (reiiiiii), 81k

(Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CEO Genya, Slow Burn, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s), Strangers to Lovers, No Spoilers, Relationship Study)

Tanjirou lives a normal life as a university student on his last year, struggling financially to maintain a life that's not affordable anymore. On the other side, Genya is back to Japan after 17 years living overseas, ready to ruin his father's attempts to save face after several mistakes.

Both are on the edge, about to fall apart.

What will happen once their different worlds collide?

One of those fics that make you squirm under the blankets at 2am because you just can’t stop reading.

A tale of young love and starry nights by kenmagoesblep, 3k

(Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Fix-it, Fluff and Humor, Getting together, Love Confessions, Festivals, Minor Spoilers)

The sun is already down by the time they arrive and the colorful paper lanterns bathe the streets with a faint whimsical warm glow, highlighting the easy smiles of the festival attendees and the natural glisten of the fresh food in the stalls. Their eyes immediately go to the makeshift gate made with bent bamboo, all adorned with people’s written wishes, to be sent to the heavens by the end of the night.

Genya’s handwriting is shaky but hopefully the crooked words will carry his wish just fine.

Sweet, sweet, sweet.

diet soda society by beecalm, 6k

(Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Humor, Genya makes bad life choices, Brunch, No Spoilers)

Genya knows he should just tell the truth. He got frustrated, and thought that strong words of persuasion would revive his bike from the dead. Non-judgemental as he is, Tanjiro would probably just laugh it off and walk home with a smile on his face.

“I got into a fight,” Genya lies, instead.

(or; Genya yells at his bike, lies about his ability to kick ass, and gets indoctrinated into Kamado Tanjiro’s Saturday morning brunch club.)

GenTan + friends in a super silly and funny scenario.

July by 125389, 45k

(Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Canon Compliant, Modern Setting, Reincarnation, Manga Finale Spoilers)

It could've been just another weekend, just another month, just another season passing by, but instead they made that summer theirs.

Two teens discovering love naturally and intensely. Tears were shed and hearts were healed. It might or might not be a Fix-it.

Tonight’s sky by Wild_Quetzal, 6k

(Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Hashira Training Arc, Introspection, Pining, Arguing, Light Angst, Fluff, First Dates, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending)

Tanjirou didn’t recall having watched so many people gathered before, not even when his sister and him went to Asakusa. Everything was so appealing and, at the same time, disorienting for him.

He would’ve been feeling lost if it wasn’t because Genya was beside him.

(Or, sharing a night at a festival with Genya should’ve been easy, if it wasn’t for an unexpected event and Tanjirou himself getting in the way)

Yes, we got to the self-promotion part. I’m especially proud of this one <3

And last but not least!

Todo empezó con (un beso) una despedida by Dogchasingcars, 20k

(Manga Spoilers, Post-Canon, First Kiss, Love Letters, Long-Distance Relationship, Reunited and it feels so good, Family Bonding, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Lo que inicia como una breve despedida y la promesa de reunirse pronto (sellada con un beso), termina volviéndose una larga espera para volver a verse.

Because we’re not gonna leave the Spanish-speaking side of the fandom empty handed and it’s one of my favorite GenTan fics of all time. Melancólico y dulce, todo el dolor vale la pena.

[elliotts-personal-property]

I Think I Love You (Joe Elliott x Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all, as promised here's the Joe one shot. Feeling super nervous rn, considering this is the first time I’ve posted my writing on here. I'd love to hear your feedback so I can improve on my writing. I'm open to any and all constructive criticism and encourage it! Anyways… I won't keep stalling for any longer. I hope y’all enjoy this one!!

Warnings: Mentions/references to making out/smut but nothing actually explicit happens.

Ps, if you really want to feel the vibe of this one shot I'd suggest listening to "I Think I Love You" by The Partridge Family while reading this💗

With love, Kris<3

-

Sheffield, 1982

I'm sleeping

And right in the middle of a good dream

Like all at once I wake up

The poor guy had been tossing and turning all night.

Joe couldn't get his mind off of you.

Just the thought of you disrupted his sleep.

From something that keeps knocking at my brain

In his eyes you were perfect. You were the only girl in the world he wanted. Of course that also meant you were the one girl, who in his eyes, had got away. The one he could never have. Why? Because you were his best friend.

For months upon months he was stuck in this endless cycle.

It went a little something like this:

He'd think about you so much so that he'd convince himself that he had to go tell you.

Then he'd work up the courage to say it.

He'd find the perfect time to confess but then start to reconsider his choice. He always would hold it back when he decided it wasn't a good idea after all.

He'd then go back to thinking about how perfect of a moment it would've been and mentally kick himself for not saying a thing.

And the cycle would repeat.

It went on and on and on.

Before I go insane

As a result of this, he hadn't had a good nights sleep in a while.

That night was different though.

I hold my pillow to my head

Something had finally snapped.

And spring up in my bed

He had known how he felt for a long time. But he had never actually come to terms with the gravity of it.

Screaming out the words I dread

I think I love you

All at once it hit him like a brick wall. He realized he truly loved you.

-

On the rare occasion that your best friend felt brave he'd indirectly hint at something more. After a while of not getting any knowing looks from you he just assumed that you were oblivious to all of his side comments. You in fact were not.

After a while you started to get impatient with him.

You wanted to shout it out loud, right in his face, "Dear God Joe just ask me out already!"

Recently those side comments from Joe had stopped. You would've said something to him if he hadn't stopped. But now you weren't even sure if he still cared, or if he had just given up and moved on. It would be stupid to lose your friendship over this. So you stayed quiet just to be safe.

It was a shocker to both you and everyone else how you two hadn't gotten together already.

There were so many signs. It was only a matter of time.

-

This morning

I woke up with this feeling

I didn't know how to deal with

Another night of restless sleep had gone by. It was worse than usual, so much so that by dawn he had already come up with a plan.

He knew what he had to do. He was going to tell you the only way he could. In the only unique love language he knew, through music.

If he was gonna do it, it had to be big and flashy. Joe wouldn't have it any other way.

He couldn't let his feelings lie dormant anymore. No, he thought, this time will be different. This time I won't back out.

And so I just decided to myself

I'd hide it to myself

And never talk about it

He had kept his feelings to himself for the past few years. Joe wanted to tell you, he really did. But in the back of his mind he worried about ruining the relationship you guys already had.

Joe loved you so much that he was willing to hide his feelings just so you wouldn't walk out on his life. He didn't want to lose you over some feelings he had. Ones that he couldn't guarantee you'd reciprocate. So, he believed it was best to keep it to himself.

And did not go and shout it

When you walked into the room

I think I love you

Joe didn't just think, he knew.

Joe was dead set on what he had to do. He just needed to get a few things sorted. First off was getting the guys on board with it.

-

Joe gathered his closest friends together. They were less like bandmates and more like brothers to him. He knew they would help him out. All it would take was a bit of convincing.

"Can you please help me out?" Joe pleaded.

He assured them about his plan.

"It's just one, and it'll be real quick."

"Alright, fine," the bassist answered for them all, "What song is it anyways?"

Joe told them his song of choice and they all gave him odd looks.

Sav cocked an eyebrow at the song choice.

"The Partridge Family? Are you serious?"

Phil chimed in, "You really think a band like us should be playing a song like that?"

Steve rested his hand on his head, "Everyone's going to make fun of us."

Joe tried to defend his choice, "You know it can't be that bad. We're playing in a pub for god's sake. It's not like the whole world's gonna be there."

The rest of the guys seemed unconvinced.

"Come on guys, you said you'd help me. Please?"

He kept on.

"Just help a bloke out, alright?"

And on.

"Please I promise I'll never ask for anything ever again."

Rick half-whispered to Sav.

"You know he's never gonna let it up. Not until we say yes at least."

Sav knew he was right. Joe wouldn't stop bugging them until they agreed.

"Okay fine, but it's only one song."

Joe nodded enthusiastically, "Mhm yeah, just one."

It was settled, they would help. Now all that was left was to get you there.

-

I think I love you

So what am I so afraid of?

The thought of telling you was exciting to him, yet terrifying.

I'm afraid that I'm not sure of

A love there is no cure for

His heart raced as he drove over to your place.

I think I love you

Joe was already cheery about just the thought of you going.

Isn't that what life is made of?

He hadn't felt this excited over something in a long time.

As he pulled onto your street he tapped on the steering wheel. It was due to the mix of both the pure joy of excitement and an ever growing anxious feeling that was building up inside.

Though it worries me to say

That I've never felt this way

-

Believe me

You really don't have to worry

"You'll be there tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," you answered with a wide smile, "You guys go on at eight, right?"

God he loved your smile. It could light up any room.

He melted just looking at you. Anytime you spoke to him he lost all train of thought.

You snapped your fingers to get his attention.

"Joe?"

"Oh- um, yeah. Eight, we'll be on then."

I only wanna make you happy

After you said yes he began going through that same cycle again. He started doubting his whole plan. Wondering if it would work or not.

There was no way he could back out now though. For the past few days they'd been practicing that song, not stopping until Joe felt satisfied with the final product.

He wondered if you would stick around after all of this.

Would you tell him to "beat it" and move on with your life without him? Or would you stay there by his side?

And if you say, "Hey, go away"

I will

Joe crossed his fingers, hoping for the best outcome possible.

But I think better still

I'd better stay around and love you

He was determined to make sure you stayed.

Do you think I have a case?

Let me ask you to your face

Do you think you love me?

Tomorrow night he'd get the long awaited answer to that question.

I think I love you

-

You arrived early, wanting to make sure you were right up front. This is what you always did. It was your way of showing Joe you cared. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the small stage, waiting for them to come out.

Meanwhile Joe was there fixing himself up in their tiny dressing room, (if you could even call it one). It was fairly small. The owner had "renovated" one of their small back rooms into a "dressing room".

He stood in front of the vanity mirror fluffing out the rest of his hair. Joe was doing any and everything in his power to keep his mind off of the plan. He looked at his reflection as he told himself to just smile and hope for the best. Whatever happens happens, it was no longer in his control anymore.

After waiting for what felt like forever the guys finally came out on stage. As Joe got on he stopped in front of you and sent you a quick smile before turning his attention to the other patrons of the bar.

You cheered along the whole time as they went through their usual set list. It didn't matter how many times you'd seen them, you were always captivated by their showmanship.

Time always seemed to fly by whenever you watched them play.

By now you had memorized their set list and were almost sure they were closing out now, having just played Wasted. They always saved it for last and were just about ready to leave.

That was before Joe had something to say.

The cheering in the room died down as Joe placed the mic back in its stand. He adjusted it right to his level, getting ready to speak.

"We have one last song for you all tonight. We're gonna take a little change of pace if that's alright with you."

He took a glance around at his bandmates, giving them all a quick nod before adding on.

"This one goes out to a very special someone. Someone who means the world to me."

His eyes drifted down to the people in the front row, moving one by one until eventually landing onto you.

"This is for you, Y/N."

Taking one last deep breath in he calmed himself before counting the guys in.

All of them started in, "Ba, ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba, ba."

You giggled at the ridiculousness of it before fully realizing the gravity of this song.

You knew what it was the second they sung the first line.

You hadn't heard it in such a long time and had practically forgotten about it, forgotten how much you loved it. It was always one of your favorites, and Joe had known that for a while now.

All thoughts completely left your mind when Joe began to sing.

"I'm sleeping,

And right in the middle of a good dream,

Like all at once I wake up,

From something that keeps knocking at my brain,

Before I go insane,

I hold a pillow to my head,

And spring up in my bed,

Screaming out the words I dread."

The rest of the guys joined in on the next line.

"I think I love you!”

This was his confession.

His eyes couldn't help but drift towards you.

"I think I love you."

While preforming Joe tried to keep his attention with the rest of the audience equal, but he kept on letting his eyes go back to you, like some sort of magnet that couldn't be pulled apart.

If him dedicating this song to you wasn't the most obvious thing, you'd say his looks alone were enough to tell you that this was for you.

You couldn't help but feel a smile tugging at your lips. Your cheeks started to feel sore from the excessive smiling.

"So what am I so afraid of?"

Every time his eyes caught yours you felt your heart skip a beat.

"I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for."

Joe really did care about you, deep down inside he did, he always did.

Soon the song came to a close with their repeated "I think I love you's" becoming more and more quiet as they faded off.

They all came front and center, taking a short bow together as the crowd in the bar cheered them on.

The girl next to you had to have already been out of it.

"You're a lucky girl, huh?" she practically yelled into your ear. You couldn't blame her though, she was standing directly in front of an amplifier the whole time.

It snapped you out of the trance you seemed to have slipped into.

"Oh-uh yeah," you smiled.

"Look," she said, swinging her arm to point at the guys in front of you.

The rest of them were making their way off, leaving through the stage left.

Joe was the last one still up there.

You stayed staring at him in disbelief, not even knowing what to do. He had finally said it... or well sung it, same difference. What was there you could do?

He tilted his head to your right gesturing off to the side of the stage, to what you only could assume led to their dressing room.

He flashed you a quick smile before sending a subtle wink your way.

If it was anybody else, you'd say you were surprised by their actions, but for Joe? Well that's a different story.

With both of her hands the girl next to you latched onto your arm.

"Ooh looks like someone's gettin' some action tonight!"

Your cheeks flushed red and you prayed to god no one else heard.

Immediately you turned to Joe, hoping he hadn't heard the girl's remark.

His eyes darted away from you. Before Joe left you saw him trying to suppress his chuckling, but ultimately failing. His smug smile was the last thing you saw as he walked off the stage.

Of course he had to have heard it, why wouldn’t he?

The girl let go of you when you told her you had to leave. She told you something along the lines of, "Have fun tonight!" before you left.

You went around the corner finding the door that you guessed led backstage. The door was locked from the inside and there was no way of getting in. You didn't worry though, knowing that the guys would come out soon enough.

After a couple minutes of waiting by the door an ecstatic Rick swung it open. The rest of the guys shuffled their way out, but with their lead nowhere in sight.

You turned your attention towards the last member to come out.

"Is he?"

"Third door to the right," Sav answered before you could even finish asking your question.

"Thanks."

He gave you a warm smile, still holding the door open for you, letting you slip through to the back hallway.

"See you in a bit," he said, letting the door shut behind you.

Even though there was no reason to, you counted to yourself as you passed by each of the doors.

One...

Two...

You felt your heart race as you got closer to the last one.

...Three

You stood there for a moment trying to see if you could hear anything on the other side. You didn't and knew it was time to stop stalling.

After taking a deep breath to compose yourself you rested your hand on the cool doorknob.

Here goes nothing.

You slowly opened the door as quietly as you could and after shutting it watched the scene play out before you.

He stood there in front of a vanity mirror facing away from you. He hadn't noticed you but you could see his face clear as day through the reflection.

Joe was humming a tune while brushing his hair. You immediately recognized what song it was.

He was humming the one he had just played. His tone was full of pure joy.

Once he was done he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shape it some more.

The man in front of you looked fine already but seemed to be getting ready for something more.

He adjusted the collar of his shirt before picking up a small bottle of cologne. Adding just a spray to his neck and one to his wrist before turning around.

Joe's humming abruptly stopped and his eyes widened.

"Oh… you're here?"

You'd been caught staring.

At this point any embarrassment that you could have had got washed away whenever he decided to dedicate that song to you.

"Sorry, I-"

"Don't be," he cut you off.

He set the bottle down and slowly approached you, seeming to take his time with it.

You watched carefully as he took every painfully slow step.

You didn't know where to start, but knew you had to say something.

"You guys were great."

"Thank you."

You had to bring it up, you couldn't bare to wait any longer.

"That song you played. Did you?"

You stopped, taking a quick glance around, noting that it was just the two of you in the room, before finishing.

"Did you really mean that?"

His gaze softened at the question.

"Yes."

He paused before stepping closer, leaving barely any room between the two of you.

"I meant every word of it."

Your heart sped up with every word he spoke.

"Y/N I mean it."

His hand moved up to tuck the loose hair behind your ear.

"I think I love you."

You had been longing to hear those words for such a long time. Never in your lifetime did you think it would happen, but it finally did.

He said that to you, and you only.

After all this time, you heard those three words you loved the most.

"I love you."

His hand moved down to cup the side of your face. You lightly nudged your face against his warm palm. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath in, wanting to smell more of the cologne that rested on his wrist.

When you opened your eyes his hand moved down to carefully tilt your chin up.

Your eyes faced him now.

"I love you too."

This was the moment. The moment you waited forever for.

Heart racing and eyes wide you both slowly drew in closer. It felt like the longest seconds of your life, waiting for him to connect with you.

You looked into his emerald green eyes before letting yours flutter closed.

Soon enough you felt the feather light touch on your lips. It felt like heaven to you.

You brought one hand up, letting you fingers run through his light brown hair.

You felt Joe's other hand reach down to the small of your back, gently pulling you closer into him.

All you could do now was relax your body and take in the overwhelming smell of his cologne.

After what felt like an eternity, the two of you finally pulled away from one another. You already missed the feeling of his soft lips on yours.

You refused to back up from him, leaving hardly any gap between you two.

His warm breath fell on your lips as he mumbled, "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"Me too."

Joe's hands dropped down and his fingers latched onto the belt loops of your jeans before lightly tugging at them, pulling you closer.

Your hips were pulled forward and you lightly bumped against him before falling back and resting mere inches from him.

Joe's eyes quickly scanned over your face as if he was looking for a cue of some sort.

Though you had never seen this look on him before, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Please Y/N."

That short plea was more than enough to get you going.

Your arms almost instinctively wrapped around his neck, letting him know you were okay with it.

"Come on," he said, slightly lowering himself to reach the back of your legs. He lifted you up and stepped back to sit in the armchair placed in front of the mirror

Your legs were pinned close on either side of him, resting between his outer thighs and the arms of the chair.

Without warning the two of you crashed into each other once more, desperate for each other's touch.

He hummed into the kiss, making you relish in the feeling he gave you.

-

You didn't know exactly how much time had gone by, but you knew a decent amount had passed.

Slowly, you drew away from his neck and let out a shaky breath, still wanting more. It had now been a little while since you first got in there and you knew it would only be a matter of seconds until someone barged in looking for two of you.

Your eye contact with him continued as you calmed your breathing.

Lightly pushing yourself away, resting your hands on his stomach, you finally spoke up.

"We should go. They're pry wondering what's taking so long."

Joe thought about it for a second. Seemingly weighing the pros and cons of both staying and going.

"Who cares? Let 'em wonder."

You planted one last quick kiss before making an offer.

"How about later, yeah?"

A wicked smile spread across his face, already thinking of what was to come, "Yeah."

You pulled yourself off of him and tried to fix the newfound wrinkles in your clothes. After getting up he did the same and you stayed there fixing yourselves up.

Just as the two of you were about to walk out you stopped him.

"Wait."

He turned to you.

"You’ve got a little…," you trailed off as you brought your thumb up to the corner of his mouth.

"Something," you finished as you wiped the last bit of red lipstick off of him.

Feeling content with how the two of you looked, you set off out of the dressing room and back down the hallway.

He held the door open for you and led you out into the main room.

You both scanned your eyes around the bar floor trying to find the guys.

Joe grabbed onto your hand and held on as he guided you through the crowd. He led you over to the round booth where they were all seated. As you approached the booth he gave your hand a light squeeze before letting go.

It took only one glance at the you two for the teasing to start.

"Woah!" Phil exclaimed, "What happened in there?"

"Nothing," Joe replied making his best attempt at a deadpan tone.

"You sure about that?"

The rest joined in on by adding "ooohs," sounding exactly like a group of kids in elementary who just found out one of their classmates was called into the principals office.

This was only the beginning of the never ending teasing that was to come.

Phil raised his eyebrows, "Just couldn't wait until you got home, huh?"

Joe rolled his eyes at his bandmates teasing.

Sure you had been gone for a bit, but you knew there had to have been something else causing their reactions.

You looked between yourself and Joe quickly noticing the culprit.

Though you had made sure to get all your lipstick off his face you forgot to check the collar of his shirt. The sloppy kisses had caused you to completely miss his neck in some spots and just get his shirt. The shirt in question being a white one didn't help your case.

There was no sense in trying to rub it off now, and not like you could anyways.

Rick and Sav scooted around to make room for you and Joe.

As you sat down you both noticed all the other guys were already starting their night off with their drinks in hand.

Joe looked around at each and every one of them, "You started without us, aye?”

"We waited for a little while, but you guys took too long," Sav replied.

Joe turned to face you, "How 'bout a round?"

You smiled, "Sure."

-

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you liked it💗

[ack3rlady]

A Happy Disaster

Summary: Sometimes, failed surprises are perfect.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Notes: Fluffy fluffy fluff, Established relationship. Levi & Reader are married. Post war; Canon divergent. The world is perfect. And all our precious babies are alive and well.

WC: ~1.7K

A/N: Climbing out of my retirement grave for a day to wish my beloved, grumpy, brother-in-law a happy happy birthday! This is a short little something I came up with for my baby @levi-supreme 's Happy Birthday Levi Event

“We’re ready!” Miche’s voice, a mere whisper, startles you when his head peeks into the kitchen through the doorway.

You gasp, almost losing your grip on the piping bag. Both you and your shaggy blonde friend stare at the strawberry-vanilla cake sitting on the counter in slight panic. Fortunately, the delicate lace of buttercream remains unscathed, making you breathe a collective sigh of relief. Miche pinches his tongue between his teeth and mouths a silent apology.

“All done?” you ask, carefully placing the last strawberry on the pristine white swirl.

“Yep!” he reports. “The table is set, streamers are up. Balloons are blown. Well, as blown as they can be, since Hange kept getting breathless with how much they’ve been giggling.”

“Shut up!” the bespectacled specimen yells from outside, earning them a couple of shushes and one loud smack. That had to have been Nanaba.

Your dear husband, whose birthday it happens to be, has no idea that all his friends are currently in his home. He thinks you’re down in the kitchen preparing an elaborate Christmas dinner for two. And Hange isn’t helping in keeping his surprise birthday dinner a surprise, at all.

“I would be incredibly amazed if Levi hasn’t already figured out what is happening down here, you know?” Erwin’s head appears next to Miche’s.

You’re wondering the same. All your attempts at getting him out of the house while you worked on dinner preparations were quashed. The crowd-hating man declared that his birthday present to himself would be zero interaction with people and that he wouldn’t be stepping foot outside the home.

So, instead you planned a evening full of pampering for him to keep him occupied. A cup of tea with a mystery novel, a long massage, and a long bath. You did leave the gramophone on when Levi went into the bathroom after the soothing head massage you gave him.

And since it is his special day today, you ran him a extravagant one with the expensive lavender Epsom salt, a variety of fragrant candles and his favorite music, asking him to relax and take his time while you got the “Christmas dinner” ready.

“I’m sure he hasn’t. The music should block out any noise,” you say to your former commander, partially trying to convince yourself.

Just then, the sound of symphony stops. A muffled squeak of hinges travels to your ears and the floorboards above begin to creak with footsteps. The three of you exchange a knowing glance.

“It’s time!” Hange squeals again, getting smacked by Nanaba and shushed by everybody else… again!

You quickly take off your apron and start for the stairs, cussing under your breath and hoping that he didn’t hear anything.

“The kids should be here any moment, now. Miche and I will be ready with the party poppers. Nana and Hange will hold the banner. And Moblit will bring the cake!” Erwin reiterates behind you as you bolt up the stairs.

“He’s gonna hate it!” Miche grins. They all grin.

He IS going to hate it! What were you thinking?!

The group watches as you turn the corner, getting back to their respective duties while you make an attempt to stall Levi for just a little longer till the rest of the guests get here. You slowly approach the room, a warm yellow light emitting from the gap under the door. You knock softly and head inside.

A whiff of fresh lavender hits you. Warmth emanates from the bathroom. You stop and take a deep breath. A man, the birthday boy himself, stands before you, facing the dresser. A towel wrapped around him as he uses another one to dry his jet-black hair. Glittery drops of water adorn his back, some trickling down its curve. You can’t help but stare.

“Oi! You’re going to drool if you stare any harder,” His reflection scolds you from the mirror.

“Can’t help it when you look so delicious, baby,” you jest, making your way towards him.

You wrap your arms around Levi's waist and rest your chin on his shoulder. Smiling at him in the mirror. You breathe in the aroma of his warm, fresh skin and hum in delight. The sharpness in his sterling eyes softens and he places an adoring kiss on your temple. He turns in your arms to face you and pecks your forehead softly, wrapping his arms around you.

“Delicious, huh?” he smirks. “Care for a bite?”

You’re tempted. Almost forgetting about the crowd waiting downstairs. His dreamy gaze isn’t helping either. Neither is the firm grasp he currently has on your hind. Levi moves one of his hands to cup the back of your neck, inching his face closer and closer. Your eyes are shut, lips tingling in anticipation of the ones they’re about to meet.

A loud thud disturbs the steamy ambience.

“What the hell was that?” Levi probes.

You are still dazed, the heat from his hot, freshly showered body permeating your skin. You blink harshly to snap out of the trance he always puts you in. Suddenly, you are reminded that if you want this surprise to work, those hooligans shouldn’t be left on their own for too long.

“Uhh.. The house is old and noisy. I’m sure it’s nothing.” you smile awkwardly, trying to divert his attention. “Besides, dinner is ready. Let’s head downstairs.”

He lets you go, reaching into the closet and pulling out a crisp white shirt to put on. He matches it with a pair of graphite grey pants and walks with you to the bedroom door. You wrap your fingers around the knob and slowly open it. Levi presses his hand against the oak and promptly closes it back shut, making you jump.

“What?” you ask.

“All things aside... I hope you didn’t let Eyebrows cook any of the food. He will somehow manage to poison us all.”

“Huh?” you lose your breath, trying hard to keep your composure. “How did he know that Erwin is here?” you wonder.

Levi chuckles at the look of absolute stupefaction on your face. He leans in, “Next time you want to surprise me, make sure to keep Four Eyes out of the preparations.”

Your old commander was right. As always. No amount of loud music holds a candle to Hange’s mighty vocal cords. You mutter under your breath, fists closed tightly in annoyance. "Damn it, Hange!"

“Don’t worry,” his calm voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I’ll act surprised. I could hear.. quite clearly, actually… how hard you all worked this evening.”

“So, you’re not mad at me?” You ask.

“A little. But you can make it up to me when they leave,” he smirks.

You stare at him in disbelief, and then break into a smile, mouthing a quiet thank you and giving a quick kiss to his lips. With your hand in his, you both make your way down the stairs, ignoring the muffled sounds and the shushing coming from the dark living room.

Seasoned soldiers who have been through literal hell and back can’t keep a simple surprise birthday party under wraps. You finally make it into the living room and flip the light switch on.

“SURPRISE!" they cheer in unison, party poppers going off on either side of you. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

The look on Levi’s face is unchanged for the most part, leaving aside the faintest smile of amusement. The guests know quite well that this is all the "Surprise" they can wring out of their stoic friend.

"You two better clean this mess off my floor before you leave," he says to the smiling Erwin and Miche.

There are more people in the room this time, the others just having arrived. Turns out, the noise from earlier was from Jean, Connie and Eren racing through the front door to see who got in first.

Armin and Mikasa brought flowers and a small present. Gabi and Falco are anxious to run in to the dining room and see what is on the menu. Reiner, Peick, Porco and Zeke stand to the back, making sure the two teens don’t cook up a disaster.  Nanaba and Hange hold the birthday banner up high and Moblit comes forward with the cake, embellished with brightly lit candles.

“Make a wish, Levi Heichou!” Sasha urges, too used to calling him by his title despite the multiple scolds. "They say that if you make a wish before blowing out the candles, it comes true."

"Really? If this crap worked, why didn't we celebrate birthdays this whole time?" Levi chuckles, then closes his eyes.

He thinks hard but finds himself in a dilemma. For the first ever time in his existence, he can’t think of a wish to make. During every stage of his life, he always had a wish, a prayer. At first, it was to see the sky, then it was revenge and then just to survive.

And now, after everything he has been through, Levi finally has everything he ever wanted. Much more than what he ever imagined having.

The love of his life is by his side, his dearest friends beaming at him, his proteges living happy and successful lives, old nemeses have become new friends. What more could he possibly wish for? All he can think of is to hope that the sun never ceases to shine on any of them. And so, he makes his wish.

He opens his eyes and blows the candles, still holding your hand firmly. Everybody moves to the dining table and takes their seats. Levi cuts the cake, and you pass the slices to your guests. Sasha, Gabi and Falco are finally relieved.

Dinner goes by in a breeze. Time always flies when they're here. The plates have been licked clean and bottles of wine, emptied. You reach for Levi's hand underneath the table and lace your fingers with his. He looks at you and smiles tenderly.

"I'm sorry, love. I know you wanted it to be just us," you lean in. "But they were all so excited to celebrate your birthday for the first ever time!"

He looks over at every face at the table. So many faces, that you had to join two long tables to accommodate them all. They are smiling, laughing, eating, chatting and making memories.

Happy memories. Ones he will reminisce when he is old, grey and wrinkly, sitting on the porch swing with you and watching the sun set behind the hills.

"It's alright.", he whispers, giving your hand a light squeeze. "This isn't too bad either."

Masterlist | Levi Ackerman Masterlist