#i was a bit unsure about this piece at first but i’ve definitely come around to it

[golden--doodler]

Geneuary Day Four: Sunshine/Rainbow

Oh my goshhh, when did we get to Day Four of Geneuary already?? I don’t think I’ll be able to recover once it’s over, I’ll be so sad 😭 But at least I’ve still got my birthday in February to look forward to, and then See More Seymour’s Bay week in early March.

Anyway, have Gene in a super huge, complicated, and colorful dress that I like to think Alexis designed for him. I really wanted to go for an almost abstract, painterly style for this piece.

[ID]: Digital fanart of Gene from Bob's Burgers. His eye is closed in a contemplative expression and he has a couple of visible eyelashes. He is wearing a complex, colorful dress with a lot of layers, with the main colors being purple, blue, and red. It's very poofy and sticks out a bit on the right. One of his hands is visible and held up, but curled into a bit of a fist. His hair is swooped around his face and is colored to look like a rainbow. A butterfly and several flower petals surround him.

[thelastofharrington]

the hard with the soft

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/N: hello! this is my first joel fic that i've ever written! i'm really excited about it and made this whole blog just to post it lol. there is plenty of smut in this so mdni! let me know what you think :)

summary: Falling in love with Joel Miller was something that happened to you little by little, and then all at once. To say the chemistry was immediate would be a complete lie. At first, you couldn’t even tell if he wanted you around, let alone wanted you in his bed. No, when he rescued you that day from one of Bill’s well-laid traps, you were certain he would never see you as anything other than a nuisance. A pest he had to take care of. 

Oh how wrong you were.

tags: praise, porn with context, slow burn, mutual pining, joel is soft on the inside, reader is down bad fr, non-canonical, rip bill and frank, takes place a year/two years after the show starts, love in the midst of an apocalypse is beautiful y'all

word count: 7k

i hope you enjoy!!!

Part 1: The Stumble, 1 Year Ago

You were hungry. Starving, even. You had been left behind from your group of outcasts three days ago (or had it been four? You were too exhausted to keep track of the time) when you twisted your ankle and couldn’t keep up the pace. You weren’t overly friendly with your most recent pack of ragtag survivors, mostly seeing them and each other as a mere means of survival rather than company. You hadn’t known friendliness or love from your packs since your parents got bit five years ago. Your parents couldn’t have known that three years after they brought you into the world it would fall apart, nor did they know they would both die protecting you from that same world they blindly brought you into. It’s been hard, but you’ve made it through and it actually was your birthday this week, the big 24. What a way to celebrate – being abandoned by the only thing keeping you safe and becoming walking bait for any clickers nearby. But still, you had fairly good spirits all things considered. Until you fell into an eight foot hole. 

It was in this hole that you realized a couple of things:

You’ve stumbled upon a domesticated piece of land. Someone somewhere near had the time, safety, and resources to dig an eight foot hole. 

If your ankle wasn’t sprained before, it was definitely sprained now considering how you landed on it.

You might have just fallen into your grave.

It was a series of progressively worse realizations, to say the least. 

Time had already felt like a concept out of your grasp for the last 20 years, but now there was truly no way of knowing if you had been down there 20 minutes or two hours when a shadow was cast on you. A man-shaped shadow. A man-shaped shadow with a gun. 

The gun was pointed right at you, the sun casting a halo around this giant man’s head. He towered over you as he held his stance firm and still. No one said anything as you both stood, unwavering. 

“I come in peace?” You finally choke out, unsure of what you could possibly say to save your own life right now. 

He doesn’t move, just croaks “How’d you find this place?” You notice the fragments of a Southern accent, nearly lost to the wear and tear of an apocalypse. 

You clear your throat and try to muster up the courage to speak with conviction. “My group abandoned me when I twisted my ankle early this week. I’ve just been aimlessly wandering.” You pause, unsure of if the next sentence will be your last, “This ankle of mine really hurts by the way. Your hole here isn’t really helping, considering I landed on it.”

You see him move his head out from behind the gun and look down at you slightly, then he moves back to position. “Are you armed?”

“No, I’m barely legged.”

He does not laugh.

“That’s something we call a joke, you know, since I can barely walk and all.”

His weight shifts again and he finally puts down the gun. “I’m going to help you out, but after that you better see yourself out of here. I don’t want any more of this and I don’t want any of your friends wandering this way either.”

“I don’t have any friends. I don’t have any family. I’m just me.”

He scoffs, “Sure, kid.”

“I’m also not a kid. I’m 24 years old and I’m hungry and my ankle hurts and why do you even have this hole anyway?!” You notice yourself turning hysterical but you don’t even care. You’re unarmed and you’re hungry and you’re all alone for the first time in a very, very long time. This man holds all of the power to help you and you’re not going to give up until he does. 

He doesn’t respond immediately, but when he does it’s in the form of him reaching down into his utility belt and pulling out a rope, and throwing you the other end. “You get one meal.”

You didn’t even know a meal was on the table, so you hobbled your way behind him as fast as you could. You ended up at a white, well-kept house behind an industrial strength gate. “How the hell did you find this place?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making you worried that you said the wrong thing somehow. Finally, when you’ve reached the front door, he huffs “It belonged to a friend.”

================================================

Part 2: The Fall, 6 Months Ago

That one meal turned into two days which turned into a week which turned a month which turned into six. You owe most of your thanks to Joel’s 14-year-old companion (contraband?), Ellie. She was instrumental in convincing Joel to allow for you to stay. If it weren’t for her, the first dinner would have easily been your last. But she was so taken with you and excited to have another girl let alone someone under 30 hanging out with them. Not that she didn’t adore Joel, or him her in his own little ways. But you were just such a breath of fresh air to her that Joel couldn’t help but allow for you to stay. 

Your role in their little group wasn’t quite clear. Joel did all of the hunting and patrolling necessary to keep this little slice of paradise exactly that, paradise. Ellie’s only job was to stay safe, and you decided to pick up the slack wherever you could. Dishes, clothing repairs, cooking dinner. Ellie didn’t need a nanny by any means, but you basically became a live-in housewife. With none of the perks, despite your daydreaming.

The last six months had been tumultuous for you to say the least. The presence of Joel constantly by your side made a lot of things very difficult. Like focusing, or keeping the weakness out of your knees, or the heat out of your dreams. He was hot, there was no denying it. If he hadn’t been waving a gun in your face the moment you met, it probably wouldn’t have taken you until the end of your first dinner to realize this. But not only was he hot, he was stoic. He was still and firm, a guiding light in this uncertain world you and Ellie both came of age in. He had a cold exterior, but judging by the way he treated Ellie, and eventually you, you knew there was some warmth bubbling beneath the surface. You knew he carried immeasurable hurt on his back, Ellie had told you about his daughter, Tess, Bill and Frank, and that was only the things Ellie knew. Who knew what was in the even further past of this sturdy man. The big, beautiful, brooding man who took care of you and Ellie despite his best instincts. 

You had only very recently gotten over your sprained ankle, taking a full 12 weeks to heal from the severe sprain. This was another saving grace for you in the beginning. Joel liked to pretend that he was heartless, but he still didn’t have the heart to send you on your merry way with only ¼ of your appendages working to their full capacity. He tried to kick you out after your first dinner despite Ellie’s whining, only to be able to only stomach three of your hobbling paces out the door. 

“Oh for God’s sake get back in here why don’t ‘ya,” You remember him sighing.

He took such good care of your ankle, at night when you’re all alone you can still feel the way his calloused fingertips massing you so gently. The hard with the soft; the essence of Joel Miller. 

“Does this hurt?” He asked four weeks in, as you sat for your nightly ankle exam. Starting your very first night, after dinner he would take your foot into his lap and exam it and massage it carefully for upwards of 15 minutes. You weren’t a doctor, but you knew enough to know that a nightly exam was excessive and unnecessary. But even at the very beginning you knew this was his way of showing you that he cared, that he wanted you safe. It was around this time that you realized that Joel had a soft spot for stragglers, for the outcasts who just needed somebody. Between you and Ellie, that much was clear, and it just made you fall faster for him than you thought possible. 

This realization and the true weight of it didn’t come to a head until one day where you decided to go out and try and collect some berries from the woods on the other side of the gate for a pie you wanted to make Joel for his birthday. You had seen him do it a million times, you thought you could get away with it. Until you heard that sound. 

Everything was fine, you had collected your blueberries and you were on your way, and then you heard it. You hear it before you see it, but soon enough you see it all the same. You had your gun with you, but your reaction time was nowhere near as fast as Joel’s was. The clicker starts stalking your way when you lose yourself to your impulses and just start running. You know better than to scream, but you get close. You run and you run and you’re looking back to make sure you’re not going to get caught when you smack into something six foot and massive. Joel’s chest. After you make eye contact you look up and make eye contact with him. He’s silently fuming, fists white knuckling around his gun. 

You go to speak when he stops you, “Don’t.” He whispers right before he shoots the clicker dead with no hesitation or struggle. The walk back to the house is silent, and not because he’s afraid of being found by the clickers. 

The slam of the front door is the first sound you’ve heard in minutes. He whips around and you swear you can see smoke coming out of his ears. “What the hell was that?!”

“I-” You start.

“You know what? I don’t want to know. I can’t hear from you right now.”

You say nothing.

“That was so completely careless! Do you not understand how we do things around here? You stay, I go. It’s as simple as that.” He’s pacing at this point, waving his hands wildly as he works through his anger with you. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

You pause, “I thought you didn’t want to hear from me.”

He stops pacing and looks at you, “Ha ha ha very funny. You’re a real smartass, you know that? If I hadn’t been there God knows what would have happened. You could have gotten killed!”

You look down at your feet, trying to hold back tears before you look back up. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

He sighs, physically decompressing. “Well you went about it all the wrong way. I don’t need anything nice from you, you do enough around the house and with Ellie anyway,” He pauses, “I don’t know what I would have done with myself if you had gotten hurt.” He says this last part in a whisper under his breath, barely able to look at you.

“But it’s your birthday!” You choke out a sob. You’re so mad at yourself for putting yourself in danger and upsetting the man who saved your life six months ago. 

“What? No it’s not.” He says, confused.

Then, a lightbulb goes off for both of you as your jaws drop and you yell in unison, “ELLIE!”

Turns out, Ellie just wanted some pie.

================================================

Part 3: The Catch, Present Day

A lot can change in six months. But also, a lot can stay the same. You’ve grown very accustomed to the life you live here, in this big beautiful house, with your small makeshift family. Ellie is 17 now and makes Joel take her on test drives in Bill’s old truck around town. Joel has definitely gotten used to having you around, and even converted Frank’s old studio into a bedroom for you a couple of months ago. A real upgrade from living on the couch for the first eight months. 

Life is pretty standard, all things considered. You’ve heard more stories about the men who ran the house before you and you think they’d be happy to have people like you living a life like this in the home they built together. It’s a beautiful thing, to have some normalcy in a world fallen apart. 

You spend a lot of time with Ellie, who has developed a crush on one of the QZ traders. She’s tall and lean and tougher than all hell, you can see what Ellie sees in her even if you’re personally afraid of her. This realization on Ellie’s part has prompted a lot of impromptu sleepovers in your art studio turned bedroom, almost all of which are ended by Joel standing in the doorway going on about keeping quiet out of respect for your elders. You have to remind him every time that you too are an elder.

It’s also the summer time which means there’s lots to do outside. You never really learned how to tend to a garden so Joel’s been teaching you how to take care of the one Frank started all those years ago. You two keep it up with the seeds you get from trading with those select few still at the QZ, and it’s been a really special time between the two of you. It also doesn’t hurt that he prefers to work in the garden shirtless. 

“Hello? Hello? Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” 

You snap out of the trance you were in from watching him hoe or row or whatever it is he’s doing with that gardening tool that makes his arms and back look like that. “What? Sorry, I zoned out.”

“You’re never going to learn if you keep daydreamin’ like that.” He gruffs before starting his spiel on strawberries all over again. 

You really can’t get a read on him. Sometimes he treats you as an equal, someone who has a shared interest in their work and in the safety of Ellie, but other times he treats you like you’re a toddler that can’t help but knock their head on the corner of a coffee table. He claims it’s because he doesn’t want you hurt, which you admit gives you butterflies, but if anything between you is ever going to transpire (like you desperately need it to), he can’t see you as just some kid. You’re turning 25 next week, dammit. You deserve some respect. But you’re just not sure how to get it, how to make him see you as a true equal. Someone he can rely on, put his faith into, and even care about on a deeper level. 

The opportunity of a lifetime presents itself one day in the form of something actually rather unfortunate. Joel finally gets hurt.

It’s a pretty normal day until then. You and Ellie practice driving, you journal, listen to some old records. It’s too hot to spend too much time outside, but you definitely make sure to check on the strawberries considering the lecture you got from Joel last week. It’s midafternoon when he comes straggling in, clutching his left arm in his hand and seething through the pain.

You immediately jump up from the couch, “Oh my God, what happened?”

He sinks down on the chair next to the piano, not looking at you. “Nothing, just go get the first aid kit.”

That answer is nowhere near good enough, but you go and get it anyway. Ellie is out in the backyard and doesn’t hear the commotion. When you return with the first aid kit you press on, “You have to tell me what happened so I can know how to treat you.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat as you kneel in front of him, opening the kit. “It’s nothing, just gonna need a couple stitches.”

You pry his right hand off his arm and see a deep gash on the bottom of his forearm. It’s not too long, but it sure is deep. “Jesus Joel, what the hell happened?”

He shifts and sighs once more, whispering something under his breath that you can barely hear.

“What was that?” You ask earnestly.

He whispers again, slightly louder this time, but he’s talking too fast to make out what he said. 

“Joel, come on. What happened?” You’re tending to his wound now anyway, but you really do need to know. 

He sighs, bringing his free hand up to pinch between his eyes. Avoiding eye contact with you he finally says, “I was walking back from trading when I saw a flower. I wanted to get that flower for you for your birthday. With my shears in one hand, I leaned down to get it, and I lost my balance and I tripped and I fell on top of the shears and they stabbed me.” He pauses, “There,  you happy? Now that I’ve humiliated myself…” He trails off. 

You’re too stunned to speak. You just keep staring at him, unmoving.

“If you’re not going to fix this up, give me the kit so I can do it myself,” He huffs at you.

You swallow and smile at him, trying to find the words. “Joel Miller, you secret softie. You maimed yourself in the pursuit of trying to do something nice for me, the girl you claim not to want around.”

He locks eyes with you for the first time during this conversation, “I never claimed that.”

Silence hangs in the air for a moment until you clear your throat and turn your attention to the wound at hand (or should you say, at arm?). “Let’s get this stitched up, ok?”

“If Ellie asks, tell her I did something super manly and tough to get these stitches, ok?”

You let out a laugh and nod, “Sir, yes sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been three days since Joel hurt himself trying to do something nice for you and it has not left your mind even for a moment. You’re laying in bed wide awake, tossing and turning wondering what this could mean. I never claimed that he said so earnestly to you. I never claimed that. The four words echo in your brain like a megaphone. It’s been torture being around him as if nothing has changed. As if you haven’t changed on a molecular level after those four words rearranged every fiber of your being. It may be nothing, but it also could be something. It could be the that takes what you’ve been craving for almost a year to leave your daydreams and become a reality. Maybe he meant it in a friendly way, maybe even in reference to your working relationship of raising Ellie and keeping her safe. But if that were the case, why did it feel like all of the air in the room stood still? Why did he look to you like he was a puzzle that only you could solve? 

Cordiality be damned, you had to know the answer. 

You sneak out of bed and up the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie in her room on the first floor. Joel may be modest, but he still took the primary bedroom upstairs when they moved in. You avoid the creaking steps up the stairs artfully and end up at his door. It is only at this point you realize how crazy this is. You’re standing outside his door in the middle of the night with no plan and, frankly, no pants on. This is a recipe for disaster that you’ve quickly talked yourself out of. You go to turn around when the door swings open, Joel looking alert. His body visibly relaxes when he sees that it’s just you, and then tenses once more as his eyes trail down our body to the long length of your bare legs. 

“What are you-” “Sorry I was just-” You say at the same time.

You laugh, trying to break the tension. “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

“What are you doing up here, Y/N?” His body was pressed up against the side of the doorway, blocking it almost entirely with his broad stature. Shoulders resting on the side of the doorway, arms and feet crossed, he looked in no hurry to get you out of there. 

“It doesn’t really matter, I answered my own question. I’ll just head back downstairs,” You go to walk away when he grabs your arm lightly, turning you back to face him.

“Must’ve been some curiosity if it’s keeping you up at night.” You’ve never heard him talk like this. Not just the words he was saying but how he was saying them, they were smooth and slow and rich like molasses. It instantly made your mouth dry up and your knees weaker.

“I um, I was just wondering-”

“Yes?” He prompted, his hand still on your arm. Had he ever touched you before this? Surely you would have remembered the heat. 

You look him in the eyes and see a glint, even in the darkness. This spark of something gives you the courage to move along. “I was just wondering what you meant by saying you never claimed you didn’t want me around.”

His hand drops from your arm and the heat is replaced by an instant rush of cold in his absence. He looks away from you and doesn’t speak. 

Fearing you said the wrong thing you cower and turn to walk away once more. How could you have been so stupid? This isn’t just a matter of personal politics, this is a matter of survival. You have no one besides Joel and Ellie and if you get kicked out for bringing feelings into what is a basic need for shelter, food, and water, you will never forgive yourself.

You’re almost to the stairs when you hear him rumble, “I just meant that I have always wanted you around.” You whip around and see him looking at you, his gaze trailing down your body and then all the way back up again. “I want you here. Always have.”

Not moving towards him you speak, “Then why do you act like I’m some sort of helpless child? Why do I not have any real responsibilities? I could be out there, with you, trading and gathering intel. But instead I get, what, strawberries?”

“You don’t get it.” He looks down and shakes his head.

You walk back over to him, softly, so as not to spook him again. “Then help me understand.”

He looks at you with a softer gaze this time, “I keep you here, away from all of that, because I can’t risk you getting hurt,” He pauses for a moment before continuing, “It would kill me.”

You’re stunned. “Joel,” You start before he lifts a hand and cuts you off. 

“And I give you things like strawberries because I want you to have a chance at a good life, a simple life. One I can’t promise you forever but can promise you for right now. One I know you don’t even remember having.”

Your heart is beating immeasurably fast inside your chest. You never considered that these menial tasks were actually normal, and good. Cleaning up after dinner, growing strawberries, talking about crushes with Ellie. In the midst of wanting to prove yourself, you completely forgot to take stock of all that Joel had given you already. All the things people dream about in this day and age. 

You reach a hand up to touch his face, “Thank you. Thank you for giving me something good,” You pause, “I wish I could give you something good in return.”

He leans his head into your hand and closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. He turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand, “You are my something good,” he says so low you almost miss it. 

But you don’t miss it. You hear it loud and clear. You hear him loud and clear for probably the first time since you’ve met him. He is stoic and strong and brooding and brave, but he is also caring and thoughtful and safe. He is the hard with the soft, and he’s been giving you both all this time right under your nose. 

You decide to do something risky. You lean in for a kiss. You put your hopes for survival at the back of your mind and for the first time in forever you prioritize living.

It doesn’t take more than two seconds for Joel to pick up on what you’re doing and reciprocate. His arms immediately move from crossed over his chest to around your waist, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He pulls you so deep you cross the threshold of his bedroom, kicking the door shut on your way in. 

“Be quiet or you’ll wake Ellie!” You half scold, half giggle as you make your way towards the bed. 

“Sorry!” He giggles back. Joel Miller. The Joel Miller giggled into your lips. You could hardly believe your ears. 

If his words were like molasses, his kiss was just as sweet. Not too pushy, but with enough force to let you know that he was in charge. He guides you to the mattress with his body and his mouth, making you feel like you’re flying. You’re sprawled out with your legs over the edge of the bed when he finally pulls away and stands before you. 

You look up at him with hooded eyes and heavy breaths, “Why’d you stop?”

He runs his hands through his hair, “I just never want to forget this.” And he dives back down to you, not giving you a moment to respond. 

When he comes back his kiss is still sweet, but with a heat you’ve never experienced before. Granted, all of your past experiences were minimal, probably in the back of an abandoned, decaying car, and in the midst of an apocalypse, but you knew enough to know that it didn’t normally feel like this. 

You part your legs so he can insert his body between them, propping his arms on either side of your head as he kisses you deeply. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you, needing as much of him on you as possible. 

“Somebody’s eager, huh?” He asks you between kisses.

Your resolve is officially broken, you’re laying it all out on the table. “You just have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

He pulls back to look at you, “Oh, I think I have an idea. You tend to have a staring problem, darlin’”

Your face flushes instantly. He lowers his lips to your ears and whispers, “I do too, I’m just a little more subtle with it.” He places kisses on your neck and then trails back up to your ear, “Your body drives me crazy, baby.”

Suddenly his hands are everywhere. One is up by your head so he keeps his balance while the other is trailing up and down your chest, your stomach, your neck. He’s everywhere all at once and it still isn’t enough. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist so you buck up to create even more friction than there already was. 

“Easy there, baby, I’ve been waiting an awful long time for this, I want to take it slow with you. Gotta treat you right.” He pins your waist down to the mattress with one hand. “Let me take care of you, baby.” His look is so sincere all you can do is nod. “Good girl.” 

With that, he takes his hand pinning you down and runs the tips of his fingertips along the waistline of your underwear, teasing you. You whine.

“Patience baby,” A kiss on the cheek, “It will be worth it, I promise,” A kiss on the other cheek. Then his fingers are tugging them down inch by inch until you’re completely bare to him from the waist down. “So pretty,” He says, almost to himself. 

Before you have time to acknowledge what he’s said, the same gentle fingertips that were teasing you a moment ago land on your most sensitive spot, creating a feeling of pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever known. Your body somehow tenses and melts into the mattress at once as he works you slowly but surely. 

“How does that feel, baby?” His voice is rough around the edges but soft at its center, he genuinely wants to gauge your reaction, as if your whines and body language weren’t enough. 

“Itfeelssogood” You slur out, hands gripping the sheets on either side of you. 

He kisses your neck, “Good. Now,” He moves his finger to your center and thrusts it in, moving his thumb back to your clit. “How does that feel?”

He’s working you up so good, you feel like you’re floating. His pace is the perfect mix between rough and conscious, never taking his eyes off you for even a second. You can tell he’s loving this as much as you are, and not just because you can feel his erection through his boxers. 

You moan as he works you before answering, “Joel it feels so good.”

“Such a good girl for me, so wet and ready. Is this what you were thinking about when you couldn’t sleep?” He whispers in your ear as he picks up the pace. 

You can feel something building deep inside of you, something you haven’t felt in a long time, and never at this magnitude. It’s coming on strong and fast, you can almost reach it. “Yes, this is what I was thinking about. I was thinking about your hands on me.”

“Mmmm that’s what I like to hear baby, what else were you thinking about?” He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his boxers, “Were you thinking about this?”

You moan and nod your head, he’s continuing to pick up his pace and you’re getting closer and closer. 

“I want you to cum for me, gorgeous. Please cum for me.”

You throw your head back and moan again, “I want to cum for you.”

“Just focus on how good it feels baby, you’re so close I can feel it. Be a good girl for me.”

And just like magic, you’re there. It hits you like a freight train and your whole body is consumed. You’re tensing and writhing and it definitely isn’t normally like this, but you’re just so overcome with emotions for this man and pleasure and all of the things that drive a girl crazy. 

He coaxes you through it with lots of reassurances and hair pets, and then finally you’ve come down. “Thank you,” You say as he brushes some hair out of your face.

“Don’t thank me yet darlin’, I’m not done with you yet.” And with that, he hauls your body up to the head of the bed, making sure your head is all settled on the pillows. He sits back on his knees and takes off his shirt, nodding at you to do  the same. You’re left completely bare and he in his boxers alone. You’re mesmerized by his body. Age normally should have broken him down, but for him he seems to have only been built up. You had seen him in the garden but this, this was something entirely different. He was raw here, with you. 

“This is what I meant by you needing to be more subtle. You don’t need to undress me with your eyes, baby, you just gotta ask.” He stands up and drops his boxers, revealing himself to you fully for the first time. He’s big. Like, real big. And thick. You don’t let yourself dwell on the mechanics for more than a moment, but you do wonder how it’s going to fit.

He gets back in bed and hovers over you once more, “Are you sure about this? We can stop at any time.”

You nod your head, “I’m sure. Never been more sure about anything, actually.”

He gives you one more kiss, a firm one with the promise of a good time. You run your fingers through his hair and tug slightly. He moans into your mouth. “You sure are an eager one, aren’tcha?”

He grabs his member and lines it up with your center, teasing you slightly. You wince at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm. “You ok?” He asks gently.

“Yeah, just a little sensitive. But I’m ready. Please fuck me, Joel.” The words even surprise yourself as you say them. You’re not the best at being direct about what you want, but right now all you can do is rely on pure instinct. 

He chuckles darkly before lining himself up once again, “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he’s fucking you. Long, hard strokes that never feel like too much too fast. Just right. You feel the fullness of him immediately and it’s so divine you can’t help but arch into him and moan. Your fingers fly back into his hair as he thrusts into you with such precision, he hits your G-spot every time.

“Is that good for you, baby? Tell me how it feels.” He grunts as he pounds into you expertly.

“I love it, baby. I love it,” You’re breathless as you try to find the words to describe the way he’s making you feel.

He takes one of your legs and rests your ankle on his shoulder, opening you up even more than you thought possible and deepening the angle of his already deep thrusts. You try not to scream, so you grab a pillow and put it over your face.

He rips it off almost immediately, “Oh no, sweetheart. No hiding from me. I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.” 

You’re so incoherent you can’t even respond to his filthy words. You just moan in response and grab the sheets on either side of you.

He changes his pace a couple of times, switching from slow and long to fast and shallow, but it never feels out of place or off rhythm. He is just somehow so in tune with your body that he knows exactly what you need when you need it. 

You’re whining and moaning when he lowers your leg and gets his face up next to yours. His hand moves down to  your clit and he starts massaging it while he continues to thrust into you. “You’ve been such a good girl tonight baby,” He says through his own labored breathing. “Coming up here in your little panties practically begging to get fucked. Such a good girl.” You moan so loud he covers your mouth with his other hand, “I love hearing those moans baby but you gotta keep it quiet if you want me to keep going. And I know you want me to keep going.” 

You nod and he removes his hand from your mouth and sits back again, watching you from above. “Play with your tits while I make you cum.” You do as you're told, loving the feeling of his eyes fixed on you while you do exactly what he says. 

Once again, you feel something building inside of you. The combination of him inside you, his fingers working their magic, and his eyes on you makes it nearly impossible to resist the feelings as they come on strong. 

“I’m gonna cum,” You whine. 

“Do it baby, cum for me” He picks up his pace and you can tell he’s getting close himself, can tell he’s chasing something. 

It only takes a couple more seconds before you finish in an explosion of pleasure. You’re so out of it as you come down you barely register him pulling out and grabbing a tissue from the side table. What a gentleman. 

You’re both laying there in silence when the gravity of what just happened finally hits you. You just had sex with the one person that stands between you and certain death. This could ruin everything. You move to get up and go back to your room when you feel an arm on you, pulling you back down. 

“Stay,” He pauses, “Please stay with me.”

You smile softly at him and lay back down, but this time he wraps you up in his arms and spoons you. You can feel his breathing on the back of your neck and his calluses on your arms as he holds you. He starts tracing little circles on your skin with his thumb while he hums. 

“That was amazing,” You say, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah, um, sorry if I came on too strong,” He pauses, “Haven’t done that in awhile.”

You turn around to face him and you rest a palm on his cheek, “It was perfect. You were perfect. I um, I just hope this doesn’t change anything?” You nervously finish.

He looks startled. He quits rubbing circles on your skin and moves back. “Yeah, no. No, it doesn't have to change anything.”

Clearly, you’ve struck a chord and you don’t know why or how. But you do know that you need to fix it. 

“I just, I know we’re in a precarious situation and I don’t want you to feel like our relationship has changed at all.” You begin.

He sits up fully with his back against the headboard, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Joel?” You join him up against the headboard, covering yourself with the blanket.

He sighs but doesn’t look at you, “If I had thought everything would stay the same I wouldn’t have done what I just did. I wouldn’t have opened the door and I certainly wouldn’t have let you in.”

You’re stunned and you’re scared, having no idea what he’s talking about. “What are you saying?”

Finally, he looks at you. “Dammit Y/N what if I want things to change?” He doesn’t raise his voice at all, but his tone is stern enough to send you aback. 

“What?”

Another sigh, “What if I want things to change? What if I want somebody who is going to be there for me at the end of the day in my bed? This world isn’t permanent and I can’t promise you forever but I can promise you for now. For now, I want this. For now, I want you. And I’m gonna keep wanting you until the thing that stands in the way of me and death itself disappears.” He pauses, “So yeah, maybe you don’t want things to change but I do. Sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear.” He looks away from you again. 

“Joel, I-”

“I don’t want your pity. I get it, I’m just some old man with a 17 year old basket case trailing behind me and you’re young and beautiful and just had an itch to scratch. We’ll continue with business as usual in the morning. Good night.” He flips over onto his side away from you. 

You huff. This is ridiculous, you think to yourself. You tap him on the shoulder.

“You should probably go back to your room, Y/N.”

You tap him on the shoulder again. 

He flips around to look at you, “What more could you possibly want from me?”

You cross your arms over your blanket covered chest, “What makes you think I wanted things to stay the same?”

“Gee, I don’t know, probably the part where you said ‘things don’t have to change’?” He says sarcastically as he sits back up to face you. “Wonder where I got that crazy idea.”

“I was just saying that in case you didn’t want anything to change! I’m totally at your mercy with everything, including my survival here, so sorry for being cautious.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his mouth does fall open in shock a little bit. 

“Joel, trust me when I say I’m not taking pity on you when I say I want this too. I can’t promise you forever but I can promise you for now, and for tomorrow, and for the next day and the day after that. I choose you and I choose Ellie and I want this. I want you. I want to be the one that is there for you at the end of the day.” You smile at him and grab his hand, “You’re my good thing too.”

His face softens and he grabs your joined hands with his other one and leans over to kiss you on the cheek. You lean into it and giggle as he begins peppering a bunch of kisses all over your face. The hard with the soft, that’s Joel Miller.

“Let’s go to bed, shall we?” You ask him as he leans over you, caressing your face.

“Yeah, let’s go to bed.” He gives you one last kiss on the cheek and spoons you once more.

That night you dream of strawberries. Just fields and fields of strawberries. 

[dappledpaintbrush]

OKAY ERM mini game rant bc I promise I am taking my pills (not). It’s not like revolutionary shit I just enjoy analyzing this game to pieces

Okay we all know that scene where Dimentio is like ERM AKSUALLY THE COUNT BETRAYED ME🤓☝️which is implied to be a straight up lie. but I’ve replayed the game and skimmed the game’s script and there’s some evidence that he was actually telling the truth- so anyways I’m chapter three we have this cutscene:

—————

Count: Does something trouble you, Nastasia?

Nastasia: Yeah, Count... You know, there's still time... You can still change your mind.

Count: That is enough, Nastasia. We've already come this far, so we shall forge on! But you needn't stay by Count Bleck's side. You can depart with my blessing.

Nastasia: Um, no, my count. I won't be doing that. My life is already sworn to you. Yeah, it's belonged to you since the day you saved me... I'll be sticking out with you until my game ends, 'K?

Bleck: If that pleases you...

—————

So this pretty clearly seems like Nastasia is simply talking about not wanting Bleck to destroy all worlds (and recreate them). BUT THEN we have Dimentio who fucking ruins the clarity by saying this shit

Am I reading too deep into a Mario game?? Probably. But what does this loser mean by, “Just what is our dear count playing at…?” WHAT does that mean. Like actually. Before this, Bleck was just giving orders to his minions so I’m not excluding any dialogue that could be referring to what Dimentio is so intrigued about. There is NOTHING in that scene that implies Bleck is “playing at” anything. If anything, Dimentio should direct that sentence at Nastasia, but he doesn’t.

While it’s pretty much basic common sense (and probably correct- I’m just insane) to assume that she is talking about the destruction of all worlds, what’s important is that she does not explicitly say what she is talking about. I know that’s a huge reach but given everything else, it is weird.

The fact that Nastasia does not specifically refer to what she is talking about + Dimentio’s reaction means that Nastasia is probably not talking about the destruction of all worlds- but the lack of new ones, something only Bleck and Nastasia are aware of. And unbeknownst to them, Dimentio is aware, too.

Something else that’s pretty damning is that we hear all about these new perfect worlds from every Team Bleck member. EXCEPT BLECK AND NASTASIA.

Here are just a few examples-

O’Chunks:

Mimi:

Dimentio:

Okay well everyone except Mr. L. But he was around for 3 seconds so he doesn’t really count. Point is- All Bleck talks about in the game is destruction. If I am correct (cause there is a shit ton of dialogue in this game), the ONLY time he confirms anything is when Mimi is talking about her idea of a perfect world is hanging out with Bleck, all he says is, “Well, different strokes for different minions.” Sir that is vague as FUCK

Anyways this shit doesn’t end here. Look at this dialogue from him in chapter eight:

This is. Definitely a sentence! :D

Count Bleck could have stopped at, “Better that I destroy them.” Hell, even if he said, “I shall make it as if they never existed at all!” that’s not that weird.

But he doesn’t. He says, “Better yet.” That implies there is something to be expanded upon PAST COMPLETE DESTRUCTION. AKA!! NOT REINVENTING THEM LIKE HE PROMISED

That’s not all. If you revisit Nastasia after you complete the game, you get this line of dialogue:

To me, this is dialogue, while tragic and beautifully written for a Mario game, is strangely worded. Specifically that last line.

“Then maybe there never was any point to that other world,” could and probably does mean that she’s essentially agreeing with the heroes (and everyone in all worlds) that destroying all worlds to create perfect new ones is NOT the answer to your problems.

But what makes me a bit unsure is the interaction in Chapter 3. It was the first scene I discussed in this post. As I said before- We can use that scene’s vagueness and Dimentio’s very unusual response to conclude that it is not impossible to rule out Nastasia was referring to Bleck’s lack of world recreation and not just Bleck’s destruction of all worlds. And here, in this post-game visit, “Then maybe there was never any point to that other world,” could refer to that very scene.

It may sound confusing, but think about it. Let’s revisit those lines again:

“… Now I understand what it was like when Blumiere turned into Count Bleck. If I have to live on with this feeling always burning inside me… Yeah, then maybe there was never any point to that other world.”

Based on evidence from Chapter 3, it is not impossible that, in this scene, she is accepting Bleck was “right” about not recreating new worlds. After all, his reasoning would be that he would not want to live on in a new world because of “that feeling always burning inside” Nastasia refers to. Now that SHE feels it, she finally understands and agrees with him that “there was never any point to that other world.”

Could this all be translation issues? Of course. But nevertheless, it is still the dialogue we were canonically given.

Also, you might be wondering why he would lie in the first place. First, the Dark Prognosticus (as shown in Carson’s story about Dimentio) talks about each Team Bleck member. If Bleck wanted to fulfill the prophecy of destruction, he would have to recruit them all just like Merlon recruited the heroes. In my opinion, “Hey guys, bleh heh heh, want to destroy all worlds and ourselves in the process?” is not a great marketing slogan.

On top of all of that, why would Dimentio plan to betray him? It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, AKA Dimentio seeing Bleck was surrendering to Mario and taking matters into his own hands. He had been PLANNING this. He WANTED the heroes to defeat Bleck. Again, why? After all, Bleck was supposed to be doing exactly what Dimentio wanted: destroying and recreating perfect new worlds in the minion’s visions. Unless…

Of course, is it possible Bleck was telling the truth. It is possible Dimentio betrayed him because he wanted all the power and worlds to himself and only himself. That is more than likely true and, like I said many times, I am just reading too deep into it. But still, there is some interesting evidence in the game that suggests otherwise. At least to me.

but yeah tbh Dimentio was probably lying LMAO

[bloomingdead]

What do you comprehensively about focus of the heart? It’s definitely a project that’s certainly *there* with some talented folks on it.

This ask has been sitting in my box for a while, and I’ve resisted responding to it because I really don’t want beef with anyone on the project. My personal experience with those I have engaged with has been unpleasant, but that doesn’t fault their product nor everyone working on it. Also, I may jump around quite a bit because a lot of my feelings on FOTH have nothing to do with the game itself (it’s still in development) and everything to do with the “discourse” and reasons surrounding its creation.

Let me preface by saying, I’m incredibly impressed that the artists involved were able to come together to create a project inspired by the fandom they all love so much. Artist groups are a really great way to gain visibility as an artist. You could be making art that never reaches the people who would want to see it, but if you group together with other similar artists and support each other, your audiences begin to overlap and grow. That seems to be working really well for the people behind FOTH.

I should also warn that I am not the biggest fan of “fanon” content. I haven’t read a fanfic in its entirety in at least 10 years and I don’t make much content other than the occasional doodle and think-piece ramblings. I have nothing against shipping, headcanons, and AU’s. I partake in all of these myself, I have no issue with it. What I do have an issue with is people who say a creator intended for fanon that doesn’t exist in canon. Or people twisting dev’s words to their benefit, pulling things out of context to bolster their opinions. This has created conflict in the past between me and an artist or few on this project.

Shipping is very popular in the Horizon fandom, and has been since the first game was released. Zero Dawn provided us with many potential new friends for Aloy, some of which many fans were left confused as to how Aloy truly felt about them. After all, Ashly Burch who portrays Aloy is pansexual, and she claimed that over half the characters she’s played are queer. And Aloy, although inexperienced and unsure of herself in Zero Dawn, was definitely left flustered at some point by many of the popular shipping characters.

So why did it take the release of Burning Shores, a DLC that finishes with Aloy declaring her romantic attraction to a new companion, for the fandom to put together a dating sim? The Burning Shores DLC was released on April 19th 2023. The first post on the Official FOTH Tumblr was made on June 7th 2023. Their “About Us” post from the same day, says in the second sentence that they decided to create the game, “in the wake of negative internet discourse about fandom shipping.”

Negative discourse? What does that even mean in this context? Are they referring to devout fanon members harassing the game devs and Kylie Liya Page for the creation of Seyka as Aloy’s love interest? Who the fuck, other than people mad about Seyka, were creating fandom discourse around shipping Horizon characters at that time? Kylie Liya Page has literally been cyberbullied from the day the game came out. Yes, it’s died down considerably, but the only negativity surrounding shipping in the fandom was created by the very people who love shipping the most. Kylie was still experiencing the thick of this “negative internet discourse” six months ago.

So many of the very same people who desperately wanted Aloy to get her first romance, are the ones who were most off-put by Seyka’s story. It wasn’t good enough, it was forced, rushed, chosen “for me.” No, Seyka was chosen for Aloy, not you. A lot of people seem to forget that the role-playing element in Horizon is more of a tone-check. Heart, Brain, Fist. You’re not choosing Aloy's response, but how she responds. Is she going to address this compassionately, pragmatically, or stoically? Your attitude will be remembered in future conversations, but your choices have no effect on the quests or ending of the game. Your options in quests are to complete them as intended, or don’t do the quest. 

We were never going to get multiple options for Aloy’s romantic partner in this game. She could still have another! Seyka doesn’t have to be the endgame, most people don’t end up with their first love. But how shitty would it be for us to lose Seyka completely as a character in the third game, because Kylie doesn’t want to come back and face that abuse again, or because the devs don’t want to subject her to that or lose more fans over it? What if they get rid of Seyka with a shitty write-off, and then Aloy ends up alone? We’ve now seen that she’s capable of opening her heart and experiencing that kind of character development. It would suck to have that taken away.

When you’re allowed to do whatever you want in fanon space, why go out of your way to harass the creators of the canon? Why bully fellow fans for having different opinions than you? You were already imagining these made up relationships that don’t exist, why does Aloy having a canon love interest ruin that? Why is Aloy having a canon love interest a disruption to fanon? It isn’t a disruption to fanon, clearly, as the creation of and support for FOTH has proved. Not only just by simply existing, but by their inclusion of Seyka in the game.

I was accused of being a bigot because I posted on my own blog that Aloy reads as a lesbian to me. I was harassed after Burning Shores came out for joking that we now have more proof of Aloy being a lesbian than bisexual. I’m a silly little lesbian, I see gay bitch, I want a lesbian. But that’s an opinion that exists in my mind, and on tumblr. It’s definitely not something I’m going to bring to the devs and accuse them of dancing around. Because still, as it stands, Aloy is most likely coded as pan/bi. It doesn’t warrant me or the thousands of other lesbian fans being harassed over a headcanon, though.

To me, and probably most people who genuinely feel normally about this game, there are way bigger issues in this fandom than anti-ship. There have been way bigger concerns surrounding how the developers and actors have been treated by the fans. There are way worse attacks conducted by fans who love shipping content than those who hate it. There have been worse attacks on people in this fandom by people "defending" their favorite ships than by outsiders in the gaming community that invade our spaces to tell us how mannish and ugly Aloy is. The people who think shipping is the biggest point of discourse in this fandom are most likely the same ones perpetrating it.

FOTH portrays their product as bravely pushing the boundaries on something that is going to receive backlash because it is shipping content. It represents itself as an amalgamation of all the shipping content in the fandom, dedicated to it. The language applied is intended to attract anyone who is cool with shipping, which I’m pretty sure is over 95% of this website. Definitely over 95% of the Horizon fandom. A genius move, from a marketing standpoint.

“What? That’s ridiculous, why are they facing negative discourse for a silly little dating sim? I’m cool with shipping, they get my support.” 

It is ridiculous, isn’t it? Tumblr is full of shipping, how is a tumblr account for a dating sim finding itself in a position where it has to preemptively address negative discourse on the first day of the official blog existing? It’s because the negative discourse they’re warning against isn’t aimed at shipping, it’s aimed at the aggression seen from the creators on their personal blogs in regards to their favorite ship. But they opened with the discourse statement so that if they ended up receiving criticism from the people they bullied, there’d be a potential for fans of their project to blindly defend them because FOTH prefaced that all their haters just hate shipping. 

That one statement from their account tells me that FOTH seems to be picksy-choosing what issues in this fandom warrant concern. Apparently, calling Aloy a lesbian is a bigger offense than sending death threats to actors and developers. Apparently, the worst discourse to happen in the Horizon fandom is because of those who defended Seyka from unwarranted hate and not the people who were enraged with her addition to the series. Apparently, FOTH wants to ignore all the harassment the devs of Horizon went through, but keep their fans aware that any so-called hate (criticism) that the FOTH creators face is simply unjustified and toxic. They opened their blog with an attempt to alienate anyone who might ever have a reason to criticize the game.

I won’t be playing FOTH, I have little interest in it besides innate curiosity. The closest I get to touching dating sims is fantasy RPG’s though, so I likely wouldn’t be playing it regardless.

As I stated in the opening, my feelings about FOTH have nothing to do with the game itself and rather the people behind it and the circumstances that brought it to fruition. I don’t think every artist behind it has the altruistic goal of simply creating something fun for everyone in the fandom to enjoy, I think some of them are just scratching an itch. If they were looking for something productive to place their frustration into, they found it. I’d be interested to know which pairings end up being the most fleshed out, and which ones are lacking. Especially since every artist got assigned to a character they genuinely enjoy. DM me privately to place your bets. 

So, I guess, TLDR; I’m not going to try and stop anyone from playing Focus On The Heart, but I don't trust all the people working on it nor their intentions. For Reasons™.

[waffleweirdo]

I finished the love live sunshine movie… wow, it was very good, wow, wow

Spoilers for sure. I’m mostly just going to be talking about my overall impressions, but there are definitely going to be some plot points I mention that spoil show.

Thoughts on the movie first:

I absolutely love that they seem to go completely insane with the concept of the movies. Like yeah the first half can involve the cast chasing each other around Italy!! Why not?! It was pretty obvious Mari’s mom was hiding something, and that makes her ridiculous plea to get everyone’s help even funnier. She thought that was believable?? And it worked??? Ridiculous and amazing. I love how much fun they had playing around with a new location too.

The little interactions between Aqours (also I just realized I’ve been spelling Aqours wrong this entire time) are as entertaining as always. They are all so wonderful. But Yoshiko stole the show for me I think, her attempts to hide from You and defaulting to just pretending to be a cat. Her redemption and then literally becoming a fallen angel again- I could go on, but it’s all so good.

Saint Snow’s conclusion and the special Love Live was great. I’ll talk about them more in overall thoughts, but I thought they worked really well in the movie!

Unfortunately the only version of the movie I could find didn’t have English subtitles for the songs, so I need to go back and look at those, but I’d say my favorites might be Saint Snow’s song, their song in Italy, or Mari, Kanan (I also think I’ve been spelling her name wrong!) and Dia’s song in Italy.

As far as the overall story goes it was spectacular. I was a bit unsure at first, but it really nailed it all in the end. Aqours moving forward with just six members was heartbreaking, and yet done so well. The ending scene with Dia, Mari, and Kanan did make me cry… I’ll talk more in general thoughts, but I thought this was a wonderful ending for Aqours.

General Thoughts:

Love alive Sunshine is so good!!!!! I love the characters so much!! I love the story!!! It’s super funny!!!! It- it’s great!!!!!!!!

I have a lot I want to say about the story as the whole, but one of the first things that comes to mind is how I genuinely thought they were going to save the school. At the start of the show I was a bit skeptical because they brought up the school closing and I remember thinking, ‘well in this case it sounds more like a population issue, I’m not sure school idols could fix this’. But as the show went on and I saw all their efforts I truly believed they could do it!! And then they didn’t…, They pulled an Orpheus on me! I was tricked and it was glorious.

But I think there’s a piece of that failure that makes Aqours so wonderful. Going in after just watching the original and Mu’s I kind of thought Aqours would be largely pretty similar, and while many of the core ideas were the same it was a new perspective that was just spectacular. Coming in last place in their first concert. Failing to save the school. Even though they often couldn’t succeed they kept moving forwards and they really did turn a zero into a one. That motto alone just encapsulates how effort toward even a mundane thing will eventually make change, even if it can’t be miraculous. I think that layer of harsh reality made them even more special. That’s a lot of the reason I really like them continuing on with just six. They can’t all stay together, but can still move forwards. I’m not saying it nearly as well as the show / movie does, but yeah.

Overall, season 1 was great, season 2 felt a bit iffy at the start (though this could’ve been personal fatigue), and then the middle and ending of season 2 were some of the best episodes I’ve ever seen and made me cry and cheer and yeah-

As far as characters go I love all of them. Chika is definitely my favorite, but basically the rest of the cast is all tied like one step behind her.

I really like what they did with Saint Snow! Having them serve as another perspective of people trying to be school idols, and their interactions with Aqours were just great! It was cool having side characters that got a lot of focus.

General Love Live thoughts:

I don’t really want to compare the series against each other, but I want to look at how cool the ways that Sunshine uses the fact that it’s a sequel are.

Obviously there’s a lot of narrative similarities in structure, and that contributes a lot to the Orpheus moment (listen it just makes sense in my brain). But what I really think is neat is how it plays into inspiration. Love Live as a whole definitely shares a lot of common themes and one of those is being inspired. And the opportunity to have the characters in your sequel be inspired by the first cast is so cool!! I think that idea of inspiration is really cool because a lot of Love Live feels a bit unreal, there’s nothing wrong with that, but I think just seeing something cool that inspires you, even if by chance like Chika is exactly how things like dreams happen. At least for me personally it just felt so real. And her efforts and struggles to turn it into reality benefited a bunch from that. I’m not sure if that made sense, but the connection is cool to me.

Oooookay, I think I’m probably not going to watch anymore Love Live for a bit. I can tell that I’m starting to get burned out, and oh gosh I need to actually do work for school oops. I definitely want to watch more in the future though!

[erodasfishtacos]

Tying You Down/Orlando HSLOT

prompt: a certain person at the orlando show brings back an onslaught of memories for YN that she wants to leave in the past.

warnings: smut, heavy angst

i write for FREE - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here. ($15 is guaranteed blurb).

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it!

outfit for the tampa show (thanks @vocalharry)! ****

--

YN didn’t expect to see her at this concert, not in Orlando of all places, but there she was - sat near the stage but above the pit with a few friends.

For fucks sake, Harry and her had been married for nearly eight years but it still fucking stung to see that pretty girl.

The girl who she had despised for those four months that she and Harry had broken up - the only other girl Harry had dated was at the show to see him.

Of course, she wasn’t prepared, and god - she didn’t expect that it would make her spiral a bit but it really fucking did.

Harry hadn’t even dated the girl for more than a month before he dumped her but it didn’t make her feel any better.

—

“I-I started dating someone,” Harry whispers into the phone, his voice was unsteady and unsure in a way it has been lately when he talked to her.

“Why are you calling to tell me this?” YN bites back, halfway across the world from him but still hurting as much as if he was sitting next to her.

“Bec-because…” His tone is slower than usual, nervous, “I wanted t’tell you before the media caught on and it was blasted everywhere.”

“I don’t care what you do, Harry. We’re broken up, remember?” The only way she can cover her pain is by being sharp - like she rarely ever was.

In reality, she did care.

She cared so fucking much it felt like Harry had just torn her already broken heart on a thousand more pieces.

“I know tha’s not true,” Harry challenges, he wants to hear that she does fucking care.

He needs her to care about him.

“God, H,” YN groans with fierce irritation, “I’m so glad that you’re moving on so fast. Really, good for you, popstar.”

“Don’t call me that!” Harry hisses, he hated when she said it like it was a curse word, like it was a poisonous thing - popstar, “I’m tryin’ to get over you because y’fuckin’ ended it! Not me. I’m goin’ to go out and enjoy my date then just t’spite you.”

And shit…that fucking stung.

It pierced so deep that YN didn’t even register she hung up on him until he tries to call her back but she feels the hot tears streaming down her face.

All she’s done lately is fucking cry.

After the third call, the phone stops ringing - YN knows he’s due on stage any minute with the band in Madrid, she knows because she was supposed to be there.

And it’s nearly three in the morning when her phone starts blaring in the silence of her bedroom, she already knew who it was.

When she answers, she doesn’t say “hello” or anything - waits for him to speak first.

“Y’know I wasn’t gonna drop it,” Harry murmurs softly, “I’m sorry I said tha’. I just miss you and I don’t want t’date anyone else but I don’t know wha’ to do. I didn’t just lose my girlfriend, I lost m’best friend.”

“It-it wasn’t working,” YN argues weakly, “We…we were fighting and I want you t-to enjoy this time of y-your life. Sleep around, party..”

“I don’t want tha’! I want you! You’re so fuckin’ scared but I don’t know why. I’ve always been loyal t’you, just because we were fighting doesn’t mean we could have worked through it. We always have!”

“I think it’s for the best, H,” YN lies, the way her voice quivers gives it away.

“Y’full of shit,” Harry snaps before he turns the tables and hangs up on her.

-

It wasn’t that the girl he’d casually saw was the definition of evil but she wasn’t the nicest person Harry could have chosen.

It was obvious that she had agreed to knowingly be his rebound because of who he was and he could get her more clout.

She didn’t tend to Harry’s emotional wounds or try to pick up the pieces - even though Harry wouldn’t have let her either.

When Harry had dumped her, she had reached out to YN to tell her all these nasty lies that YN could legitimately confirm weren’t true.

Tara tried to say that Harry and her had met during tour, at an after party in New York, and hooked up despite them being together.

However, YN had been with Harry from the time they woke up in the hotel room to the time they’d went to sleep that day - they were always attached at the hip.

It wasn’t necessary Tara but what she represented - the awful time in her life.

—

“Harry…” YN sighs, despite being broken up and him having a new girlfriend - he called her multiple times a day.

She’s taken aback by his cries, all he says back is “Baby.”

And she doesn’t have the energy to correct him but it feels good to hear these words.

These four months, had they truly broken up?

Yes, maybe…it’s hard to say because neither of them had let go.

“Are you okay?” YN asks softly, concerned as she scribbles away for some merchandise designs as she still works for the team.

“M’oka-okay, I broke up wi-with Tara,” He is near hyperventilating, his breathe catching as his words are stuttered out.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hea-“

“Baby, please stop doin’ this t’me. I fuckin’ need you, m’sorry. I-I can’t enjoy anything without you- the…the fuckin’ tour, time off, anythin’,” He tells her sincerely, he was near whimpers.

Harry keeps talking, then he’s laughing without humor, “I had sex with her the other day. S’not you. I only want you underneath me.”

The ache of the admission of him sleeping with someone else dulls the lick of vindication that it wasn’t as good as her.

“I really don’t want to hear about your sex life,” YN chooses to snap back instead.

How dare he bring that up?

“I want y’to be m’sex life!” Harry growls with frustration, he’d been short and irritated with everyone since the breakup, unbearable on tour.

“Harry…”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Did you sleep with someone else?” He accuses, loud and demanding - like it was his fucking right to know about it.

YN bristles, biting her tongue for a moment before trying to calmly respond, “That’s really none of your business.”

Harry’s voice is childish and stubborn, “No! It is m’business because m’the only one who ever had your and I…You’re mine. God fucking damnit, you’re mine.”

“I haven’t,” She confesses, picking at a thread of her jeans whilst sitting at her kitchen counter, “I…didn’t break up with you because I wanted someone else. I did it because I don’t want you to regret missing out on anything.”

“But I haven’t ever said that I felt that way! Y’putting words in m’mouth. Couples fight! We were going to get through it like we have every fuckin’ time! You’re bein’ so fuckin’ selfish,” Harry spits out, she could imagine his jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

“I’m doing what’s right,” She replies feebly, not even believing her own words anymore.

“No, no you’re fuckin’ not. You’re scared but I don’t know why - I’ve been in love with you for the past five years and ‘aven’t stopped. I’ve never wanted anyone but you,” He huffs, she hears a loud crash - signaling he probably had kicks a trash bin or something.

“But I-“

He interrupts her, “And y’want it too. We’ve been broken up for three and a half months but you answer m’calls everyday. You still talk t’my mum and Gemma. Stop being so stubborn.”

YN feels a fresh stream of tears, “Harry. I - I’m-“ she cuts off unable to gather up her feelings.

“Do you want me t’stop callin’? Stop fighting for you? Because even when I was dating Tara - who was calling five times a day, texting, check in? Me. Now answer me, do you want me to stop?”

And that’s when it really, really clicked for YN.

Harry had entertained this so called break-up but when in reality - he was still doing everything a boyfriend would do.

He called her multiple times a day to check in, sent her funny memes, pretty pictures of whenever he was at, and called her pet names.

Had they really even broken up? Only partially really because Harry hadn’t let go at all but to be fair neither had she.

She couldn’t imagine a life without Harry, without talking to him everyday, she missed seeing him physically to the point it hurt.

YN was in love with Harry, so much that she was so concerned about him being happiness that she instead did the opposite by mistake.

It wasn’t the brightest idea but YN hangs up on him and pulls up flights - she needed to be back on tour, she needed to her back to him.

Harry, when he hears the phone click goes into an absolute rage - trashing his dressing room until Liam comes in to stop him.

-

YN is actually sitting on a plane, management had agreed on her taking a private plane to get there as soon as possible because Harry was being such a fucking nightmare.

YN had turned down his calls and refused to answer - she wanted to surprise him.

She’s about to take off when Niall texts her.

N: What the fuck did you do to this man?

YN: ???

N: Paul literally just had to scream at him and you know Paul never screams. H literally destroyed his dressing room and the lounge area.

YN: What’s he doing now?

N: Crying, his knuckles are bloody and we have to go on stage in fifteen minutes.

YN: I’ll fix it.

N: He only wants you.

YN tucks her phone away, she had to fix this, and she would if Harry would take her back.

It was mistake, not meant to be forever.

And when she arrives, only a short flight from England to Austria - the concert is still going on, about to end.

The crew had already cleaned up his dressing room but there were two broken lamps, a cracked mirror, and thick tension in the air.

YN sits herself on the couch, heart pounding like a race horse for the show to end and to be face-to-face with the boy she missed more than anything.

“I don’t want t’go drinking, fuck off,” Harry gruffs from right outside the door a few minutes later - he normally never talked to anyone like that, “What do you mean why? Why does no one understand the concept of leaving me the fuck alone?”

And with that, the door is being flung open and Harry is stepping in - his messy curls matted to his temple and shirt spotted with sweat. His hair had gotten even longer, nearly kissing his shoulders.

His eyes widen like he’s seen a ghost, lips parted as he spots her on the couch, it’s like he can’t help it when he chokes out, “Baby? Bab-wha-“

“Hi,” YN giggles waterly, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

“Hi darlin’,” Harry whispers, closing and locking the door behind him. His eyes are flitting all over her, mesmerizing, “Y’get more beautiful everyday, I swear it.”

YN stands up, they just stare at each other for a moment before she breathes out - shaking and tearful, “I missed you.”

“God, I fuckin’ missed you,” Harry doesn’t even realize he’s crying, “Are y’ready t’come back to me? I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I hurt you,” She argues, pulse picking up when he cautiously starts walking towards her.

“You did,” He agrees, “But you thought y’were doing the right thing. I can respect tha’ but fuck baby, you were so so wrong.”

“Can…Kiss me, please bunny,” YN begs with a croak, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt - well it was originally his.

Harry then takes three confident strides forward before he’s cupping her jaw and pressing their lips together forcefully.

It felt like someone threw her a life preserver when she was drowning.

It felt like she had found a oasis after dying of thirst.

It felt like all she’s ever wanted in one fucking kiss.

His tongue is making his way into her mouth without anytime to waste, his hands roaming every piece of her.

YN pulls back when she feels him grind his hard length against her hip, she’s breathing heavy but stays firm, “We’re not having sex until you get tested.”

Pure confusion crosses his face, “A test? For wha’?”

“Sexually transmitted diseases. I don’t care if you wore a condom, I sure fucking hope you did but I’m not taking any chances,” She tries to avoid sounding as upset as she truly was with him.

“Then we can definitely have sex tonight,” Harry replies, relief washing over his face when he realizes she wasn’t saying ‘no’ to sex per se.

“You already got tested?” YN asks surprised, she had missed his overwhelming smell of cedarwood and cinnamon.

“No.”

“Harry, what am I missing? You’re not making any sense,” She huffs, eyebrows knit and puffy lip pouted out.

Harry chuckles lowly, “I don’t need a test. I didn’t ‘ave sex with her.”

“But….you…huh?” YN doesn’t know what was going on, really.

“I lied,” He admits sheepishly, a blush rising to his cheeks, “I wanted to make y’jealous, I was hoping it would make y’realize what a mistake this was. She tried to give me a handie once and I couldn’t get it up.”

“You fucking brat,” YN scolds but she’s pleased, so so fucking pleased that he was lying - the only time she’s happy he lied.

“Wha’?” He plays clueless but he knows she understands, won’t hold it over him, “I wasn’t lying when I told y’that you ruined me f’anyone else. Now you’re back where y’belong, w’me.”

-

YN tries to avoid eye contact with the girl during the show, it wasn’t worth her time but she could tell instantly when Harry spotted Tara.

His eyes only scanned her once before finding his wife’s, he looked apologetic and guilty as he sang - he didn’t know she would be here.

Why would he? They hadn’t talked in over eight years.

YN gives him a weak smile, she wasn’t mad or upset, it was just…weird. It gave her unpleasant flashbacks to a really dark time in her life.

Harry pointedly ignores the section of her and her friends for the entirety of the show, he had to make sure to let Jeff know they need to be denied backstage passes.

Tara got her fame from drama and gossip, her and Harry reunited would be a major story for the tabloids, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

—

When they had gotten back to the hotel, Harry had fire under his feet as he tugged off the hoodie and her sports bra.

“Fuckin’ missed my girls,” He growls, ducking down to wrap his mouth around one of her hard nipples while his hand dips into her joggers.

“Oh, by the way. I got tested, I’m clean,” YN says nonchalantly and has to hide the smirk when Harry pops his head up.

“You…” His eyes are wide in surprise, “You slept with someone?”

YN bursts out laughing, “God, you are so gulliable-“

Harry’s shoulders sag in relief but he narrows his gaze, “S’not funny. Now shut up and let me fuck you. Haven’t let me have y’cunt in months, longest time I’ve been without it in years.”

“Romantic,” YN smirks but her face contorts into a moan when his large hand slips into her underwear and glides through her folds.

“Y’all hairy,” Harry hums, pleased at his findings - thumbing at the coarse hair before he moves to her clit.

“Haven’t had anyone to shave for,” She gasps, standing on her tiptoes to try to move away from the intense pleasure as a knee jerk reaction.

“Don’t have to shave f’me either,” He replies softly, plump lips moving back down to suck at her nipple as he gives her that sweet, consistent pressure where she needs it, “Love y’no matter what.”

“Oo-oh,” YN mewls when her orgasm builds faster than it has in a really long time, “M’close already, H.”

“Yeah,” Harry rasps happily, speeding up with his calloused digit before she’s outright moaning and soaking his fingers, “Good girl. Y’gonna let me in, now tha’ I warmed you up?”

“Pl-please,” She nods, allowing him to move her until she’s splayed on her back on the large, plush hotel bed.

All the heightened arousal lessens, the adrenaline from having each other again calms, and it seems like time slows to sluggish halt.

Harry notices too as he tucks a fluffy pillow under her bum to position her pelvis upwards to hit her spot better.

He ducks down to kiss over her belly and thighs, nipping to leave the marks that her skin has been missing.

He gets distracted by smattering love bites and kisses over her mound - can’t resist dipping his tongue in to taste her.

“Please baby, never leave m’again,” Harry murmurs, vulnerable with still a bit of anxiety laced through his words, “I can’t live without you. Don’t want t’sleep around or party. I want y’in m’bed every night, only one on me.”

“I won’t, I promise,” She replies sincerely, smoothing her fingers over the crease between his eyebrows until he relaxes.

And when Harry tucks himself into, she hisses at bit at his length and the girth - it didn’t hurt but she hadn’t had him in month.

“Y’okay, y’know this cock, baby,” He simpers softly, going slow until their pelvises met, she can tell he also had more pubic hair than normal since they haven’t been together - it felt good against her clit.

“Fuck, missed this. Missed you,” YN groans, wriggling her hips until he nudges her spot just so and has her toes curling.

“Want y’like this forever,” Harry huffs, trying to pass himself as he keeps his pace slow enough that he can brush their lips together, “Gonna make y’my wife soon.”

“H, we’re too young. You’re management wil-“

“Fuck wha’ they say, fuck ‘em,” He interrupts seriously, hand coming to hold her jaw and allow him to kiss her as he pleased.

“H.”

They make eye contact, it’s deep - examining each other for the first time in a long time, “Sweetheart, m’keepin’ you. Never gonna let this happen again, I promise you. We’ll work on our issues, do it all f’you.”

And when he speeds up, unable to hold back the raw energy and desire - it isn’t long until they’re both reaching their releases.

Afterwards, as they lay together on the bed, YN murmurs, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I just…I don’t ever want you to resent me.”

“Never have, I don’t know why y’got that in your head when we were doing good. Yeah, I mean we were bickering a bit more than usual but we’ve gone through that before,” He replies, adjusting her until she’s laying on his chest.

YN pauses, like she wants to say something but bites her lip.

Harry doesn’t miss it, “Did someone put tha’ thought into your head?”

She nuzzles closer into his skin, she wasn’t never planning on telling him the conversation that had lead up to the breakup.

It had been Lou. The band’s hairstylist.

- four months prior  -

Louise was curling YN’s hair before one of the concert when the topic managed to come up.

“Yeah, Liam and Niall were crazy last night at the club. They had like six girls each flanking them. I think they both took one back to the hotel,” Lou laughs, recounting last night.

YN wrinkles her nose, “Thank god, I didn’t have to witness that. Harry and I watched that new movie he’s wanted to see.”

A sour look crosses the stylists face.

“What is it?” YN asked, seeing her reaction through the mirror in front of them.

“It’s just…don’t you ever feel like you’re holding him back from experiencing all these things? You’re tying him down and he’s missing out on parties, random sex, y’know. Seems a bit selfish.”

YN sits up a bit straighter, defensive, “I don’t tell him he can’t party, he turned down that invite - not me. Him and I party all the time. As for random sex…I mean - He has never said anything…”

Lou rolls her eyes, mocking his accent, “What would he say to you? Hey, I wish you weren’t here so I could fuck around and be normal young adult.”

Ouch.

It doesn’t help when Harry steps into the room, crabby from the constant jet lag and rasps, “Where’d you put my charger?”

YN swallows harshly, fighting back tears as anxiety rises through her with things she’s never thought of - was she holding him back?

“I don’t have it, H. I told you to make sure you had it before we left the last hotel,” She shrugs, looking at him through the mirror.

His lips are pouted, unhappy as he shakes his head, “It was in there when we arrived! Did y’lose another one of my chargers?”

YN doesn’t understand why he’s so frustrated, is it because he doesn’t want her there anymore?

“Why would I lie about something like that?” She asks him with a raised brow.

“Just fuckin’ forget it,” Harry grunts, putting his hand out, “Give me yours.”

“I’m using it right now,” YN informs him, nodding towards where her phone is sat.

He saunters over, tapping her screen, “Y’on thirty percent, s’fine,” before snatching her charger without permission and trudging out of the room.

Lou let’s out a mean giggle, “You guys are such a happy couple, huh? Just think about what I said.”

Then a nasty thought starts floating around YN’s brain, has to ask, “Did Harry put you up to talking about that with me?”

Something flashes a crosses Louise face and she purses her lips, shrugging nondescriptly but YN can read between the lines.

He had put her up to it. He must have.

Did he feel too guilty telling her himself? It doesn’t seem like anything Harry would ever do but her heart was quickly slinking down her throat into her stomach.

Her hair isn’t even fully curled when she feels her earlier meals starts to rise up her esophagus, “I think I’m going to be - oh fuck,” YN groans before dashing down the hall to Harry’s dressing room to his private bathroom.

After she flushes, she rests her hot forehead against the cold porcelain lid.

Such a happy couple, huh?

You’re tying him down.

He’s missing out because of you.

Bit selfish.

YN knew what she had to do, she couldn’t let Harry feel trapped by her, like he owed her something and couldn’t voice how he really felt.

Sure they’d been fighting for the past week but they went through phases like that over the past years like any normal couple - getting annoyed at everything.

Maybe he was getting annoyed at her because he didn’t want her anymore.

As she rests there, still feeling nauseous, the door opens and Harry’s annoyed, exasperated voice echos through the room.

“Wha’ are you doin’? They need y’to double check the merch stand setup like always. Stop bein’ difficult, shouldn’t have to chase you down like a -“

And when he sees her, he quickly steps towards her.

He sits next to her, tucking her damp strands of hair behind her ears with a concerned eyes - it’s like someone hit a light switch when he speaks again, soft - worried.

“Darlin’? Wha’s happenin’? Are you sick, baby? Why didn’t you call me?” Harry asks, wiping a droplet of sweat from her temple.

YN takes a deep breath, about to say what she needs to - to set him free to live his best life as a popstar and celebrity but she finds herself hyperventilating and unable to speak between sobs.

She was about to lose the love of her life, right here in this stadium dressing room.

“Baby, c’mon,” Harry’s pitch going high as he cups her face - tears pooling in the lines of his palms as he studies her with wide eyes.

YN shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut before peering up at the man she loves so so so fucking much - her soulmate, twin flame, whatever the word is.

He is end game for her.

He was the boy she feel in love with a fifteen and had never looked back - toured since Up All Night, through every single high and low, she was right there to hold him.

She couldn’t hold him back.

He was a bright shining star in a world of darkness and she wasn’t going to be the one to dull his magnificent radiance.

“We…” YN stutters, trying right regain control of herself, “I’m leaving tour.”

It was the only way she could stomach saying it.

Harry frowns, wiping at her tears once again, “I-No baby, no. M’so sorry I’ve been crabby, I’ve been exhausted and - baby, don’t have t’leave. I’ll be better or I’ll leave y’alone for a while if tha’s what you want.”

“I’m…leaving tour for good,” She tells him, blinking rapidly through watery lenses.

“Wha’? I mean, we can do long distance, if tha’s what you want but you’ve never - why now darling? I said M’sorry,” Harry feels his own throat tighten, he didn’t know what was happening right and he was scared, not just scared…

Terrified.

“I’m breaking up with you,” YN finally lays out clearly before she has to retch again, spilling the contents of the rest of her dinner in the toilet bowl

Harry’s hand is making a makeshift ponytail as his other rubs her back softly, his laughs surprises her.

“Who put y’up to this? It really isn’t funny, don’t joke about somethin’ like tha’,” His voice is desperate, pleading for her to tell him this is a prank.

“Harry…” She murmurs softly, voice ragged.

“No, no no no,” Harry starts whining, almost like an anxious child, “W-why baby? We can fix it, yeah? M’so, I’m so fucking sorry for being a dick lately. But you can’t break up w’me, sweetheart - no baby.”

YN looks at him solemnly, feeling herself dissociate a bit from all the stress as Harry grips her shoulders to make eye contact.

“Y’not leaving me! We’ll fix it. We will, I promise. Darling, don’t leave me. Can’t leave me, I need you like I need air. Been in love for five years, can’t do this,” Harry is nearly to the point of wailing, his eyes swollen and nose running.

“I’m holding you back, H. I know I am, it’s okay. You don’t have to act like I’m not.”

His face contorts- like a wounded animal, “Wha’ are you even going on about? Y’not makin’ sense. I need you, I love you more than this fucking job. I’ll give it up for you, I will baby, please please.”

And when YN leaves that night, it’s after tears, sobs, pleas but all YN can hear is…

“It’s just…don’t you ever feel like you’re holding him back from experiencing all these things? You’re tying him down and he’s missing out on parties, random sex, y’know.”

And that is what YN recounts to Harry now, as they lay together - reunited and back on track with their relationship.

Harry’s chest is heaving with fury by the time YN finishes replaying what Lou had said to her on the night.

“I never ever fucking said anything close to that. God, we should have fired that bitch years ago. Always fucking starting drama,” Harry booms angrily, tugging on his briefs and joggers.

“Where are you going? It’s nearly two in the morning, H?”

“I’m going to get that cunt fired.”

And by the next day, Louise Teasdale is on the night flight home to London - never to work with One Direction ever again.

-

After the concert, YN isn’t sure what to expect when her husband comes running backstage after the final song.

There is tons of staff milling about but Harry doesn’t give a fuck - he snatches his wife from where she’s talking to the band and crowds her against the closest door.

“So baby, eight years of marriage later? Y’think tha’ I’m pretty happy with you tying me down?” He challenges cockily, his hips pressing into hers - it was much too intimate for the situation.

“Mmm, wouldn’t mind you tying me down,” She teases back, hand subtly coming to brush against his crotch and presses a sweet kiss under his chin.

“God, you think after being together for eleven years that’d you’d be able to control yourself, Styles,” Jeff scoffs as he walks past them with a judgmental face.

Harry ignores him, nuzzles his nose into her hair, and whispers, “I saw your face when you realized she was in the crowd. I don’t want you t’be upset, I made sure she wasn’t able to come backstage.”

“I’m not upset with that,” She sighs honestly, “Just…made me think back to that time in our lives and how rough -“

He shushes her with a kiss before responding, “S’all behind us. Y’got a nice ring on your finger, m’last name, and anything y’could ever want. Plus, you have not just m’heart but my fucking whole being.”

YN gasps quietly when his hand thumbs at her nipple through the thin fabric of the dress, they really needed to stop - there were so many people bustling around.

“I didn’t forget about your comment,” He warns her, pinching tightly at her hardening nipple before slipping down to palm at her belly, “M’definetly tying you down tonight.”

-

hiii mini tacos! if you want to be tagged for tag notifications - follow my side blog and message me to be added! 

follow my side blog @erodastacostand​

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 160: How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated? + Megumi the stage-five clinger

Happy JJK-Sunday!

If I had to describe chapter 160 with as few words as possible, I would say: Oh f*ck...

My favorite moment was, of course, Megumi acting like a stage-five clinger. His interaction with Yuji in this chapter is especially ominous in light of Yuji being adamant of protecting Megumi from Sukuna.

A second favorite was Sasaki showing up in this chapter because of the implications moving forward.

Let’s jump right in. 

How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated by Kenjaku?

We start the chapter with Kenjaku talking to none other than Sasaki, one of the members of the Occult Club at the high school in Sendai that Yuji used to attend.

Of course, the bomb that Gege dropped on us in this chapter is when Kenjaku thanks Sasaki “for getting along with my son”. 

Like... excuse you?

Not only does this 100% confirm that Kenjaku used Yuji’s mother’s body to give birth to him, but this specific moment + some foreshadowing from previous chapters also opens an interesting can of worms about Yuji’s life: just how much of Yuji’s life has Kenjaku orchestrated?

For me, the implication is that Sasaki had an assigned role to play in Yuji’s life that would inevitably lead to him eating Sukuna’s finger. 

I am assuming this because although we don’t see Kenjaku’s interactions with the other people in Sendai, we get to see that, in addition for thanking her for getting along with Yuji, Kenjaku is incredibly kind to Sasaki. We also learn that she’s the only one who has received a special message from him (thanking her).

Ready to make this whole interaction more ominous? Someone pointed out that the kanji in Sasaki’s name means assistant. 

All of this brings us right back to Yuji’s free will--or lack thereof?

We already know that Kenjaku claims he made Yuji “ingest” Sukuna’s finger and that Megumi is rightfully concerned with this idea because he witnessed Yuji eat Sukuna’s finger “of his own free will.”

It’s also becoming increasingly obvious that Yuji was "created” solely for the purpose of becoming Sukuna’s vessel. 

What this new reveal about Sasaki does is that it makes everything feel like certain events have been part of Kenjaku’s master plan all along. While this still feels a little farfetched, it will come down to how Gege works this idea into the story moving forward.

Come to think of it, even Yuji’s grandfather’s dying words to Yuji take on a new meaning since we know Wasuke knew something was definitively up with Yuji’s mother.

Another possible bit of foreshadowing all the way in chapter 1: While the intersection in the second panel below could be ANY intersection in Japan, it sure looks like the Shibuya crossing:

A quick note on the importance of kanji meanings in JJK before moving onto the next section: knowing the meaning of Sasaki’s name tells us that names are important in JJK. If you haven’t, I recommend you read my break down on the meaning of Megumi’s FULL NAME. His first name is important, but so is his last name.

The plans moving forward

Going off to Tokyo Colony #2 are Panda and Hakari. 

As the strongest, Hakari feels like he should take on Hajime. As for Panda, it looks like his focus will be on hunting down Angel.

Side note: I love that Hakari is still calling Megumi names. Guess Senpai can’t help himself.

I must admit I was disappointed to find that Kirara will stay behind to report, but it is what it is. I am assuming Gege could see no use for Kirara and decided to leave the character out of the action for the time being. 

As for Megumi and Yuji, they’ll be heading to Tokyo Colony #1 to target Higuruma, everybody’s new favorite Law & Order boss. 

This brings us to Megumi’s current state of mind...

Megumi the stage-five clinger

I had a hard time coming up with the title for this section because what I see happening is that Megumi is starting to feel the pressure of the looming deadline for Tsumiki joining the Culling Game. What his behavior shows, however, is that he needs Yuji with him and is clinging onto him but won’t come out and say it--opting instead for aggression towards Yuji, the very same person he needs most. 

His behavior reminded me of how Megumi could be mean to Tsumiki even though he clearly adores her. Apparently that’s the meaning of being tsundere. I’ve read about the term tsundere before but it never “clicked” until this moment and I just love Gege’s interpretation of the trope through Megumi’s character. 

It goes without saying that it was REALLY interesting to me to see Megumi’s dynamic and interaction with Yuji in this chapter because it looks like Gege is letting us know Megumi’s state of mind continues to be one of desperation--remember that dogeza bow from chapter 157?

The thing about Megumi is that he looks stoic on the outside, but he’s actually an incredibly emotional person who doesn’t often show how he’s feeling. 

I hadn’t caught on, but in chatting with @justafrenchlondoner​ about the chapter, they pointed out Megumi’s behavior in his dynamic with Yuji appears nervous and aggressive.

Upon a second look I have to agree that Megumi is acting out of character and aggressive with Yuji when all that Yuji really wants is to protect Megumi from Sukuna.

And yes, let me go ahead and sound like a broken record as I remind you of Yuji’s rather ominous words from chapter 143 yet again:

And this is the part of the chapter that knocked the air out of me: Megumi telling Yuji to stfu about Sukuna but Yuji thinking to himself “as long as I’m around you will suffer” back in ch143 is so damn ominous.

Oh f*ck...

But this is what REALLY gets me about this whole interaction and why I’m calling Megumi a stage-five clinger...

Even though Megumi is calling Yuji selfish, in reality, the one being selfish is Megumi.

This is, of course, my own interpretation of the situation, but to me it feels as though Megumi is clinging onto Yuji’s strength for dear life. 

It’s almost like Megumi needs not just Yuji’s physical strength, but also his unwavering conviction or mental strength.

If you think about it, Megumi has only recently started fighting to win. Remember how unsure he was of himself when fighting Sukuna for the first time? It wasn’t until he went up against the Cursed Spirit from the Yasohachi bridge that he let go of his inhibitions.

Megumi’s battles during Shibuya were the pinnacle of his growth as a character in that moment. If I remember correctly, according to the timeline of events, the Shibuya incident happened around two weeks prior to the current chapter. You could say that although he is more comfortable in his strength than before, Megumi is still growing into his strength at this point.

The thing about Megumi is that everybody and their Divine Dog believes in him and sees his potential except for him. As Gojo tells him “you undervalue yourself.”

Looking back, the way Megumi asks begs Yuji for help in chapter 143 is very enlightening of how Megumi needs Yuji’s strength: 

I initially had read this to mean Megumi needed Yuji’s physical strength. Upon second look, however, Megumi has always seemed to have admiration for Yuji’s conviction.

With the looming deadline for Tsumiki’s vow to join the Culling Game, as Megumi starts to feel the pressure to make his plan work, who better to keep around than the person who will always go for the home run and whose strength he admires?

In other words, like hell he’s going to let Yuji leave his side. Which, again, only makes it more heartbreaking to think Sukuna is up to no good regarding Megumi and Yuji wants to protect him from that.

Oh f*ck.......

The panel below feels like a bit of a lighthearted and comical moment, but it’s also interesting to note that this is the second time they “fight”.

The first “fight” having taken place during the Cursed Womb Arc.

If you will remember, Gege used the Cursed Womb Arc and the Origin of Obedience Arc to show us how much our favorite trio had grown. 

Not sure Gege is going to parallel something here again, but just interesting to note.

Oh f*ck...

Ya, please excuse the French.

Despite the many words I’ve shared here, this chapter left me mostly speechless. 

I feel like I’ve been trapped in Gojo’s limitless domain expansion and all I can think is “oh f*ck” or “halloween” (if you catch my drift).

Chapter 160 was incredible because it looks like Gege has finally finished putting all his pieces into place and is ready to go for the kill by: 

Starting to unravel the story bit by bit, giving us all of the twists we both saw and did not see coming, and

Ramping up the stakes. Taking into consideration the estimates that JJK is somewhere around 60-70% done at this point, It’s not a matter of whether some of our beloved characters will die, but about who, when and how they will die

One last detail

I love the last four panels of the chapter showing Panda, Hakari, Yuji and Megumi all wearing their uniforms (barring Panda) and getting ready to become official participants of the Culling Game by entering their respective barriers.

Knowing that Gege is a very talented artist capable of showing and expressing emotions through his art, I feel like these panels tell us a lot about what the characters might be thinking and I thought I’d expand on that. 

Bear in mind this is my personal interpretation as an artist:

Panda looks excited and ready to fight, perhaps even confident. Panda is saying “bring it!” with his body language

There’s a hint of something I can’t describe in Hakari’s face. It’s almost like he’s coming face to face against how big of a challenge this is going to be and yet he’s resolved to walk straight into “the depths of hell itself”

Yuji looks focused, determined to go in and give it his best no matter what comes his way--that’s just who he is

And then there’s Megumi. I’ve been drawing Megumi recently, and one thing I noticed is that he has very specific micro-expressions. In his panel, he’s warming up his wrists as though he’s getting ready to fight, he has a focused look on his face, but the shadows around his eyes say he might be feeling like he is carrying the heavy burden of the uncertainty surrounding the situation he’s going through

With all that being said... the Culling Game is officially starting and we’re in for a one-way ride straight to hell.

Thank you for reading and happy JJK-Sunday!

What about you? What did you enjoy most about chapter 160?

[sleepingdeath-light]

reading the crossover headcanons for TOH was amazing!

i wanted to request a crossover with TOH and Steven Universe if possible! (also with Hunter x Reader) You can decide between reader being half-gem, like Steven, or fully gem! If you can't or don't want to, that's okay! Aand I really love your headcanons! You make them long and detailed! It's truly amazing.

Crossover Headcanons | SU x TOH [Hunter x Gem//Hybrid!Reader]

thank you for requesting, anon

These are written with a gender neutral reader in mind and have a general chronology from the reader’s last moments in little homeworld until they end up with Hunter, so apologies if this gets long!

Note : this is the first time I’ve written for the SU canon, so I’m not as experienced with that universe. Also my portrayal of these characters is still pretty rocky, so I may rework this in the future.

The first few months you spent in Little Homeworld had felt almost like a dream come to life; freedom to be yourself and explore a world full of organic life without the restrictions placed on you by the diamonds? It was fantastic! However, that feeling of unrestricted feeling soon started to grow stale as you realise that the growth of the small colony had already started to stagnate—and that not all humans were welcoming of intergalactic immigrants like your kind.

So to ease your mind you opted to take the warp to the next star system over—craving that same sense of excitement that you had during the gem war

Simply standing on the warp again was enough to get your blood pumping with a reignited vigour for exploration

A feeling so palpable that you failed to notice the array of spindly cracks that spanned the surface of the device, and the way that a sickly dull light pulsated beneath your feet (the sight accompanied by a warning hum far too low for you to notice)

Though you couldn’t ignore the way the warp didn’t immediately go off like usual, nor could you neglect the searing pain that spread through your veins and constricted your throat; leaving you in so much pain that you couldn’t even move or scream before your vision was engulfed in a glitching, sickeningly bright light

It must have been several hours later when you woke up, based on how high the sun was in the sky… was the sky that red before?

Your head was pounding and although your vision was blurry, yet you couldn’t ignore how different your surroundings were from the earth you were used to

The sky was a faint red and the ground beneath your feet was dusted with deep maroon grass—it was soft and warm under your fingertips but with how much organic matter there was you knew that this wasn’t a colony

Hell, you didn’t even arrive on a warp on this end, so either you had been transported to somewhere else because a malfunction (unusual, but likely) or someone had taken you from the receiving warp and dropped you off in the middle of a clearing (far less likely)

Suddenly struck with worry, you sat up and moved your clothes to get a good look at your gem, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw it undamaged (clearly you’d landed where you woke up as most organics would have tried to remove it from your body before dumping you)

Realising that you were mostly safe you slowly rose to your feet and decided to explore your new environment, hand hovering near your gem in case you needed to defend yourself from whatever creatures had made their home here—trying to make yourself appear as small, quiet and unnoticeable as possible as you went

However, your efforts seemed to be in vein as you were quickly greeted by an excitable and loud human girl who practically screamed her welcome to you

You were torn between fleeing and fighting her when she offered her hand and introduced herself as “Luz the human”, her demeanour quite closely mirroring what you’d heard about Steven when he was younger from his mothers—it was almost endearing how much she tried to hold in her joy at seeing another “human”. You almost didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth as she walked you back to her home.

You were accosted at the door by an organic tube with an owl’s face that quickly and gleefully introduced itself as Hooty—the creepy, but rather friendly, house demon

Luz made an effort to hastily brush him off and hurry you both inside where you met with the other two inhabitants of the home as well as Luz’s “awesome girlfriend”, Amity.

Eda, an older witch with grey hair that hardly suited her age, greeted you with muted suspicion, not even taking her eyes off of you as she addressed the human at your side—seemingly unsure of your motives but trusting herself to be stronger than you (if her grip on her staff was anything to go by)

King, however, was much more brazen and blatant in his distrust of you, stomping over and pointing an accusing claw up at you as he threatened you in every way he could muster (even if all that got him was a halfhearted coo from you that left the creature more frustrated and downtrodden than before)

The guest, Amity, meanwhile, looked over at you with disinterest before she caught a glimpse of your (colour) gem peeking out from your clothing—immediately pointing it out and questioning you about it, much to your chagrin

This inevitably led to a very long and semi-complicated conversation discussing the intricacies of your species and how, no, you’re technically not a human

No you weren’t trying to deceive Luz, either, you just felt too awkward to correct her

But when all was said and done (and you were all out of steam after a several hour session of intense questioning and frustration at miscommunications) they seemed much more relaxed around you—even willing to let you stay with them, at Luz’s request, so long as you pulled your weight around the house and helped to keep them safe

And, really, how hard could that be? You fought in an intergalactic war so taking out a few organics should be a piece of cake (as Steven would say)

After spending a few weeks in this strange new world you had come to realise one specific thing; it wasn’t easy. It was, in fact, the exact opposite.

If you had to bubble one more guard you were going to scream

What had they done to make this Emperor hate them so much?

It felt as though half of your time was spent bubbling, blocking or disabling people that had made their way to the Owl House—and the rest was spent painstakingly explaining your abilities and species to Amity, Lilith and Luz

Granted, that wasn’t the most stressful part of your stay

No

That was hands down the stresses that came with visits from Luz’s friends from Hexside: the endlessly kind and protective Willow and the ever-curious and annoyingly quick witted Gus

That being said, you did appreciate their enthusiasm to learn about and accommodate you—even if the look Willow gave you when you spoke about the empire’s treatment of organic life did leave you rather shaken

So what little free time you had was spent learning about the local culture and sharing your experiences with them

Training with Amity and Eda

Helping Willow with her plants in whatever way you can based on your gem

Creating gem clones to help Gus perfect his illusions even further

Teaching Lilith and Luz about your abilities as well as those of your fellow gems, even helping the latter learn to write using gem glyphs

It was heartwarming to see others so passionate about your home, even if their insistence on pushing you to your limits could be rather frustrating (especially early in the mornings when your patience ran thin)

However, the longer you spent there the more members of the Emperor’s Coven (amongst others) you ended up coming across. One particularly memorable instance occurred when you were escorting a fretting Amity through Bonesborough with the twins (who’s presence you had grown rather fond of as their visits became more frequent).

Ed had dragged Em back to the library a good few minutes ago, leaving you and Amity to your own decides as you weaved in and out of the foot traffic—only to stop completely when the youngest Blight suddenly froze before grabbing your hand and darting off to an adjacent alleyway

As you went to protest, she promptly clamped one hand over your mouth and gestured rather violently for you to stay quiet before nodding towards a figure just a bit away from you

From the golden mask and white cloak you knew they were a member of the Emperor’s Coven—but you’d seen them before, on the posters littered around the city, each exploring passersby to join their coven

Golden Guard

That was a definite threat

So you passed the girl a spare cloak and did what you could to mask your own appearance before carefully making your way back home, shopping be damned—one hand over your gem just in case he happened to notice you

Though thankfully he didn’t

Not that it stopped you from filing him away as someone to be wary of anyway; he was the emperor’s right hand man, after all, so there was no such thing as being “too cautious”

And for a while that’s exactly what it was, not that you saw much of him that is, but from what you’d been told about Luz and Amity’s run ins with him you were glad to have never seen him face-to-face. If you had, you were almost certain he wouldn’t come out unscathed—teenage protege or not.

So with all that in mind, the last that you were expecting to see on a relatively peaceful Saturday evening was the unmasked Golden Guard practically unconscious and leaning on Luz and Eda for support as they burst through the door

Completely ignoring Hooty as usual as they carefully laid him down on the seat beside you (after you’d hurriedly gotten up, that is)

He looked to be in an awful state, with his visible skin bloodied, bruised and scarred whilst his usually pristine uniform was tattered and caked in dirt and what seemed to be even more of his blood

Seeming to notice your distress, Eda briefly addressed you and her sister before sending you all off to gather supplies (or heal if your gem allowed it)

“The kid’s been through a lot, but he’s with us now. Trust me, I wouldn’t have carried him all this way if I had any doubts about it.”

And that was that

It took Hunter (as he introduced himself) over a week to even be able to get out of bed and walk around unassisted—and whilst he actively avoided speaking about what had happened to him, you had a feeling that Belos was somehow involved

Though things were still rather tense for a month or so after he arrived, no matter how hard Luz tried to integrate him (and no matter how polite and welcoming Willow and Gus tried to be)

And you didn’t even want to recall the shouting match that occurred when Amity saw him in the living room with Luz….

It seemed as though he was just more content to shut himself away with L’il Rascal and only interact with Luz and Eda; the former to learn from her and the latter because she wouldn’t let him get away with anything but

That wasn’t even mentioning the palpable tension between him and Lilith (she would only say that it was from their time in the coven—and Luz suspected he’d annoyed her a bit too much—but nothing else would come of it)

But the others were worried about him, so you were sent in as a neutral party to talk with him about… things. You weren’t really told what and you didn’t have the time to ask.

Initially he was incredibly closed off and would only address you briefly, barely even acknowledging your presence as he gave his full attention to the scattered papers on his desk, each depicting a different spell and each ever so slightly off

So, as gently as you could you took the quill from him and drew a simple glyph on a spare scalp of paper, carefully leading him through the motions before leaning back and activating the spell (and smiling at his much more openly interested expression)

That then sparked a deep conversation about different types of magic—specifically wild magic and glyphs—as you shared what you knew about the topic with one another, every so often breaking off into laughter or patient silence as he’d run across the room to show you his notes or books he’d found

Naturally this would lead to him asking you about where you came from and you discussing your origins with him

Homeworld

The Diamond Authority

The gem war

Colonies

Soldiers

Shattering

The Crystal Gems

Everything

He was incredibly easy to talk to as he listened with a genuine intensity to what you said, nodding along and even asking well thought out questions about your world where appropriate

Depending on how close you were, he may even ask to see your gem and ask about its purpose

If you let him touch it, he’d be so very gentle, almost treating you as though you were made of glass—maybe even sketching it down and noting down your abilities and weaknesses in his personal notebook and apologising if it was weird

This mutual interest in magic and your shared experiences of either having to conform to a specific role your whole life [full gem reader] or feeling out of place and weaker because of your shortcomings [half gem reader] would be the basis of your friendship turned relationship. The transition between the two would be so incredibly seamless and slow that you wouldn’t even notice it happening—one moment you two were best friends sparring and the next you were hiding your blushing face in his neck as he hugs you and apologises for hitting you a bit too hard with his magic.

Your relationship would be sweet and slow and genuine

Hunter is new to receiving any kind of affection, so you’d probably have to teach him a thing or two—but he’d learn quite quickly so don’t worry

He’d spend hours studying your culture and language just to write you notes or offer you affirmations in ways unique to your culture, even calling you “my (Y/n)” after a while

Likewise, the first time you called him “my Hunter” he was left red in the face for the rest of the day (he loved it, though, so don’t stop)

But the moment someone makes a teasing remark about how soft he’s gotten (usually one of the Blight siblings or his own younger sister figure, Luz), Hunter will partially revert to being cold in public (whilst still being affectionate and openly touch starved in private)

In short, your relationship with him would be built on a foundation of mutual trust, affection and understanding that sprouted from friendship and honest conversations about your passions and pasts

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist. 

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely. 

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...” 

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you. 

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him. 

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him. 

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

[eddiemunsonssoulmate]

Harder than the liquor I pour

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: After losing his best friend, JJ has trouble coping with the loss.

Warnings: Mention of alcohol abuse, mentions of panic attacks

Available on: AO3

A/N: Just a short piece because I couldn’t get it out of my head how JJ was gripping his chest during the first episode. Poor boy :(

You hadn’t been able to find him for the last three days.

Three days too many, you were worried about him and had looked all over the island for him.

You checked all of his usual places and he was nowhere to be found. Not even a single sign of him. Hell, you even asked Luke about him but of course that douchebag of a father didn’t know where his own son was at. Something you had expected but the worry in your bones made you do stupid decisions.

The wind was blowing through your hair as you rode your bike through the last bit of light the sun would give you.

The first day that he didn’t answer your text or came to visit you, you thought he maybe needed some space. 

The second day he had been missing you had asked Pope and Kie if they knew anything but they also came up empty handed. Kiara had been grounded by her parents and Pope had been busy helping out his father, both of them trying to deal with the grief in their own way, so they couldn’t help you look. It was unusual but you would just do it on your own then.

Today, on the third day, you grew really worried. JJ was normally obsessed with you, in a good way of course. He kept coming over, wanting to talk to you and even after the loss of his best friend he had been at your house for multiple nights so you could give each other comfort.

And suddenly, no JJ to be found anymore.

You called his name out multiple times, looking left and right of the road, almost hoping you would just find him passed out in some ditch as long as he was alive and you could finally have him in your arms again.

He had been struggling ever since the accident. They hadn’t declared John B and Sarah as dead long after that. It had ripped him apart. You were hurting too but you only joined the Pogues later so you didn’t know them for too long, didn’t grow up with them. You did grow up with Sarah though but didn’t see her often, you had only gotten close when she joined the Pogues too.

You got off your bike, backside starting to hurt from using it all day long. A frustrated sigh left your throat as you pulled around to the Chateau, not in the mood to go home where no one would be waiting for you. Your parents were out on some business trip, thinking you would be okay and they would be back when school started. That’s at least what they had said, who knew when they would really be back.

A frown was forming on your forehead when you saw light at the old house. You threw your bike to the ground and walked over to the entrance, hope swelling in your breast.

“JJ? Is that you?” You asked carefully, not wanting to get stabbed by a robber. Not that there was anything to rob in here. 

“y/n?” The voice came from the bathroom and you walked over there with fast steps. JJ’s voice sounded hoarse and when you saw him, he was kneeling over the toilet, pale as a white wall.

“What happened?” You asked him when you kneeled down beside him. He was just hanging over the toilet, one arm on the top, his face sweaty, hair wet.

“Don’t know, you tell me,” he replied with a stupid grin, eyes half hooded as if he wasn’t really present. A whiff of alcohol came rushing towards you as soon as he had opened his mouth and you coughed.

“I think you had too much, buddy.” You ran a hand through his hair, holding the strands between your fingers for a moment. He was really just covered in sweat. “Come here.”

You reached under his arms and tried to lift him up but he had trouble standing.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled and pushed you away with more force than you expected. You almost stumbled over but were able to keep it together.

“JJ, I was looking for three days for you. Where have you been?” You asked him as you followed his weak figure to the bedroom he used to stay in where he sat down on the bed. Around the room were empty cans of different kinds of alcohol.

“Here, there, everywhere,” he said with a grin and started to giggle. He did act stupid when he had been drinking but you’ve never seen him drinking this much. Normally it was just beer but there was some pretty hard stuff around here and he seemed to have mixed them together in his body.

“You really need to rest.” You chose to ignore his stupid answer, he didn’t seem able to have a normal conversation with you about his whereabouts right now anyway.

“Why?” He asked as if he didn’t know what was going on. As if he wasn’t drunk out of his ass.

“Because you’re drunk as hell, your whole body is covered in sweat, you’ve been missing for three days and you just clogged the toilet with your puke.” You listed these things while trying not to sound mad or worried. He shouldn’t focus on your emotions right now but on his own.

“Oh so that means I need rest? Maybe I just needed to get away for a while,” he said with a shrug and grabbed a full can of beer which you quickly snatched out of his hand.

Within a moment he was standing right in front of you, invading your personal space and looking quite angry. He wasn’t standing straight by any means, swaying a bit.

You clenched your jaw and shook your head. “No more alcohol.”

He growled at you and shook his head, trying to take the can from you.

“y/n, come on. I need it,” he said through gritted teeth and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why? Is that what you’ve been doing the last few days? Just drinking wherever you were? It’s not a solution,” you told him with a stern voice, shaking his head slightly to underline your point.

“If you had paid attention in chemistry, you would know that alcohol is definitely a solution.” He grinned smugly at you and this time you were raising both eyebrows in disbelief.

“I can’t even remember the last time you have attended chemistry class,” you huffed out, trying not to laugh out of frustration.

“Maybe I’m just smart.” He leaned down close to your lips but you knew he was just trying to reach around your body so he could get the can from behind your back, so you took a step backwards and heard him growl in frustration.

“You for sure are, I wish you’d acknowledge that more often.” Pope had probably told him that whole solution thing at some point. It at least sounded like something that would come from him. Which didn’t mean that JJ wasn’t smart of course, he really was but often his instinct kicked in before his brain did and he ended up making stupid choices.

“Please, rest,” you pleaded with him and he pouted at you before letting himself fall back on the bed behind him.

His eyes were full of sadness and his face was tired. You felt so bad for him, especially because he would have the worst hangover tomorrow.

“If you don’t, I’ll have to tie you down, you know?” You added the words quickly, not wanting to see the sadness in his eyes anymore. You couldn’t handle it when he was so sad that it was tearing you apart too but sadly, this had been the case too often.

“Fine,” he groaned and lay down, turning his back towards you. 

For a long moment you just stood there before placing the can on the shelf behind you. You then took a few steps forward to him and grabbed the nearby blanket, throwing it over him and putting it up to his neck. 

Suddenly his hand grabbed yours and his warm hand wrapped around yours, cold rings pressing against your skin.

“You gonna stay?” His voice sounded almost unsure but you just let out a little happy snort before giving him a nod which he wasn’t able to see.

“Sure will. Now sleep.” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

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

He had been strangely quiet this morning. You weren’t sure if it was because he felt bad for last night or because he had a massive hangover. Maybe both.

You really wanted to talk to him about last night though. There was no way to avoid it but first, breakfast.

Both of you were sitting on the porch of the Chateau, not saying a word, just eating the food you had prepared.

“Listen,” he suddenly started and put his milk roll down, only half eaten. 

You tilted your head to the side and stopped eating too, waiting for him to say what he wanted.

JJ closed his eyes and took a deep breath before shaking his head and getting up, walking down to the yard. You followed him quietly, not wanting to push him because you knew how he would get if provoked.

Your gaze followed his, looking toward the water.

“I just can’t...I can’t handle it.” He didn’t need to put any context around his words, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

The blonde boy was missing his best friend, his brother and had troubles coping with his alleged death.

You put your hand on his left shoulder and he took his right hand and placed it on yours, enjoying the comfort in silence for a moment.

“Ever since...the accident. I’ve been drinking more than I should. Alone, when the three of you weren’t there. I just tried to kill these feelings inside of me. All this pain.” His words were dripping in pain and if you’d be looking at his face right now, you were sure you could see tears starting to build.

You slightly moved so you stood in front of him, indeed seeing his glassy eyes but he knew he didn’t need to hold back with you. You loved him and he loved you.

“You don’t have to do this alone, I’m right here,” you said and gave him a crooked smile, trying to comfort him somehow even though you knew it would be hard.

“My chest...it’s been aching. Like sometimes when I’m alone and I think about the whole thing.” He put a hand over his chest, right above his heart, gripping his shirt as if he tried to grip his beating heart. “I start to sweat, I shiver, my heart is racing and I feel sick, I can’t breathe.”

You knew that feeling too well even though you’ve never told him before.

“Those are signs of a panic attack, JJ,” you told him and moved closer, pulling him into an embrace. “Drinking makes it worse.”

“Hm.” He only replied with this sound and was silent for a moment before he wrapped his arms around you too, taking a deep breath.

Your brother used to have a drinking problem in his teenage years and soon after, he had one panic attack after another. You had experienced them oneself a couple of times, the feeling of a tight chest, of not being able to breathe.

It wasn’t something you wanted your boyfriend to experience but yet here you were.

“How do I stop them?” he asked you and leaned back a little to look at your face, not letting go of you in the process.

“Breathing, mostly. Don’t fight it. Call me, I’ll be there for you,” you said calmly, hoping your calmness would somehow go over to him.

“I just wish he was here with me. Us. Both of them,” he sighed and you nodded, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his nose.

“We’ll get through this, okay? Together. Kie and Pope too. When school starts we can’t hide anymore and have to face those looks on their faces. That’s why you’ve been hiding so much, isn’t it?” You knew him well enough to know this.

His jaw clenched and you knew you were right. It terrified you too. Those looks of classmates and teachers. Looks that would say ‘They were friends with dead criminals’ and ‘I wonder if they knew that John B was going to kill Peterkin’ even though none of it was true. Some would even feel pity for them. ‘They lost their friends’ and ‘It must be so hard on them’ but to be honest, none of their opinions mattered. Most of them were shallow people anyway.

You rested your forehead against his chest, trying to get rid of those thoughts of the future. Just like him, you didn’t want to think about it but it was important for him to know that you’d be there with every step you took.

“y/n?” He said your name with such tenderness in his voice that it made you smile.

You looked up at him again and found him smiling slightly.

“I’m so glad to have you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said and leaned down to place a kiss on your lips, a kiss that you immediately responded to.

It always gave you butterflies when he kissed you. Normally he was kissing you roughly, sometimes he bit your bottom lip but this time, it was soft and sweet and almost pleading you not to leave him. 

You wouldn’t.

“I love you,” you said as you pulled back to take a breath.

“I love you too.” He put a hand on your head, patting it slightly. It was a sweet gesture, one he didn’t do too often.

“So no more drinking? At least not alone and especially not hiding somewhere for three days so I get worried sick, okay?” you asked him, it had terrified you too much, thinking he would do something stupid.

“I promise. I’ll always call you before I want to get shitfaced.” He couldn’t keep himself from grinning a little and you rolled your eyes at him with a grin yourself.

“Alright, let’s get the place cleaned up. No need to leave evidence of your one-man-party.”

[bluejayblueskies]

an ill-fitting definition

rating: M words: 4.3k relationships: jongeorgie, jontim, jonmartin, background wtgfs additional tags: canon compliant, pre-canon, scottish safehouse period, canon asexual character, fluff, kissing, implied sexual content, rumors and misconceptions

written for weeks two/three of @archivalpride for the prompts identity and doubt!

cw for misconceptions about asexuality, assumptions made about somebody’s sexuality, rumors and outing somebody without their knowledge, non-explicit/implied sexual content, mention of canonical character death, mention of canonical stalking and paranoia, gossip (including of the sexual nature), food, very mild blood, mild internalized acephobia

ao3 link in source

.

It’s three weeks and two days after they began dating, when Georgie picks up Jon’s hand where it’s clasped in hers and asks with plain curiosity in her voice, so does the ring, y’know, mean anything?, that Georgie hears the word asexual cross Jon’s lips for the first time.

It’s not a word she’s unfamiliar with; she’s run in enough LGBTQ spaces in her time in uni that she has a good idea of the breadth of identities that are out there. She rubs her thumb across Jon’s ring and thinks, in the voice of the gender and equality training instructor with sharp red heels and a “fun” black dress who’d stood in front of the seminar she’d been mandated to take for one of her courses:

Asexuality. A lack of sexual attraction. An aversion or repulsion to sexual activities.

It had been a small word on a large black-and-white slide, crammed in next to aromanticism and overcrowded by a myriad of other sexual identities discussed at length. It had been… quite a comprehensive training, Georgie thinks as she quits fidgeting with Jon’s ring and instead threads their fingers together. For a moment, she considers asking what he means anyway, but she quickly dismisses the thought. She wants to be supportive, and as Jon looks at her with open, trusting eyes and a faint smile, she decides that she knows enough. She doesn’t want to make it awkward, and with things like these, she’s found that asking Jon to explain his feelings in plain terms can be… well, awkward is certainly a word for it. Best just not to bring it up, she decides.

Still, she feels the need to ask, “Can I kiss you?” because the red no sex sign blinking on and off in her head is frustratingly vague on what, exactly, is contained within that stipulation. When Jon voices his assent, she tips her head up and presses a quick kiss to his chin before kissing him on the lips, wiping the disgruntled look off them.

So yes to kissing, she thinks, tucking that away next to no sex. Yes kissing, no sex. Yes holding hands, she adds as she squeezes Jon’s hand in hers and he smiles at her, warm and soft, that special side of Jon that she only sees on occasion. No pet names, she adds a week later when she tries out sweetheart and Jon’s nose wrinkles with displeasure. No foot rubs, when Jon swats at her and says, between giggles, that he’s awfully ticklish. Yes back rubs. Yes cuddling. No PDA. No touching with wet or sticky hands. Yes brushing hair.

That’s as far as she gets before, one year and two months after she begins dating Jonathan Sims, she stops. After which point she stops keeping track, because, well. There’s really no point anymore, is there?

.

.

.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, burying his head in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tim says quickly, holding his hands in the air in a placating gesture. He scoots a few inches away from Jon on the couch for good measure, unsure just how much space Jon needs right now. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize—I should apologize. I should have asked first.”

“It’s just—” Jon makes a frustrated noise, and when he takes his hands away his cheeks are dark and he won’t meet Tim’s eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s okay,” Tim repeats, watching with a twisting feeling in his stomach as Jon apparently notices that the button of his trousers is still undone and quickly goes to redo it. His eyes follow the movements of Jon’s hands automatically, and just as automatically, he notes the distinct lack of a tent in the front of Jon’s trousers. The same… cannot be said for his own. Particularly after nearly twenty minutes of kissing, which Tim had very much enjoyed.

Christ, had Jon been uncomfortable with that as well? All in a rush, Tim says, “Was the kissing bad too?” Then, he winces—fuck, that sounded accusatory—and adds, “It- it’s okay if it was, I just- I didn’t know, and I don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable, Jon.”

“No, the- the kissing was fine, it’s just...” Jon makes an aborted motion with his hands, like he’s trying and failing to find the words.

“... complicated?” Tim supplies.

Jon nods mutely.

“That’s okay,” Tim says, and he finds that he means it. “We don’t have to do anything more than kissing if you don’t want to.”

“I- I don’t…” Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s searching for the right words, the crease in his forehead deepening every moment he fails to find them. Finally, he lets out a long, labored breath, pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, and says, “Yes, that… that might be best.”

Tim studies Jon’s face. It’s pinched and a bit stiff, like Jon would very much like to crawl out of his skin or melt into a puddle and disappear. “You sure?” he feels compelled to ask, placing a hand carefully on Jon’s knee. “You, uh. You seem a bit unsure.”

Jon sits there a moment more, spine straight and rigid, before melting slightly against Tim’s hand, his face slipping into something more relaxed but no less unhappy. “Yes.” He hesitates a moment, then says, a bit stiltedly, “I’m, um. I’m asexual. Since we’re already talking about this, I… I may as well get that out in the open as well.”

Oh. A few pieces slot into place, and Tim says with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than necessary, “Oh. Why didn’t you tell—?” He cuts himself off and offers Jon a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you for telling me.”

“We’re dating,” Jon says bluntly. “It was going to come up eventually.”

“Still.” Tim shrugs, then reaches for Jon’s hand and holds it tightly in his. “Thanks.” He hesitates only a moment before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to Jon’s nose. Jon makes a disgruntled noise, which Tim thinks is adorable. Then, because it feels appropriate, he says, “Y’know, Danny… Danny was asexual. Aromantic too, actually. We had a big talk about it a few years ago where he sort of… laid it all out for me.” No sex, no romance, no thank you, had been the overall gist of it. Tim makes a new box for Jon and fills it in with the words no sex, yes romance, it’s complicated.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly, with that same sort of sadness in his eyes that he gets every time Tim mentions Danny, something much gentler than pity and significantly less cloying. If Tim notices the faint discomfort that accompanies it, something that whispers that isn’t my definition of asexuality, we’re not the same, you don’t understand if one were to listen closely enough, he doesn’t let on.

Tim does, however, notice the discomfort in Jon’s eyes—now mixed with anger—when two years, six months, and seven days later, he accuses Tim of murder. But by then, their days of hand-holding and nose-kissing are far, far behind them.

.

.

.

“Maybe he just needs to get laid,” Melanie says with a groan, lying on Georgie’s couch and staring at the ceiling. The Admiral is curled up on her lap, purring contentedly. She scratches absentmindedly under his chin.

“What, Jon?” Georgie appears in Melanie’s field of vision, wielding a damp wooden spoon and frowning.

“No. No.” Melanie shakes her head emphatically. “Martin. He’s been all… sulky lately. I think he’s still upset that Jon came to me instead of him for help, but I don’t know why he has to be all… touchy about it.”

“Ah. Well, you know, he is a bit hung up on Jon. At least, according to you.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” Melanie says grumpily. “Besides, didn’t you say that Jon went on about Martin, like, all the time? Sounds like he’s got it bad as well. Maybe they could just… y’know.”

“Melanie.”

“What?” Melanie tries to shoot Georgie a glare, but it’s obstructed by the back of the couch. “I’m on my last nerve, Georgie!”

“I know, honey. But Jon’s really not… well, he’s not very open about these sorts of things. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth when we were together.”

“It still baffles me that you used to date.”

“He’s very sweet when you get to know him!” There’s a pause, a few clatters from the kitchen. “Besides, even if he and Martin got around to talking, Jon… well, he doesn’t.”

Melanie frowns. “Doesn’t what?”

“Have sex.”

“Really?” Melanie sits up, disturbing the Admiral, who lets out an irritated mrpp before adjusting himself accordingly and curling back up on her lap. “So when you were together…?”

Georgie shakes her head. “Nope. Never.”

“Huh.” Melanie thinks for a moment. “Is he like… religious or something?”

Georgie chuckles. “Jon? No, not at all. He’s asexual.”

“Isn’t that like… that thing that sponges are? Where they self-reproduce?”

“Seriously?”

Melanie scowls at the incredulous look Georgie’s giving her. “What? I’m not being a- a dick, I’ve just never heard of it before.”

“You were a YouTuber. Your job was to be internet famous.”

“Okay, now you’re just making fun of me.”

Georgie shoots Melanie a grin. “Sorry. Basically, it means that Jon doesn’t do sex. Like… at all. He just… doesn’t.”

“Huh,” Melanie says again.

“Yeah.” Georgie turns back to the stove. “Now, come here. Tell me if there’s too much salt?”

“Sorry Admiral,” Melanie whispers as she deposits him onto the floor and crosses the room to wrap her arms around Georgie’s waist from behind and take the bite of sauce on the spoon Georgie holds out for her. “Mm, tastes great. As always.”

And in the back of her mind, Melanie adds another line to the section labeled Jonathan Sims and writes, with careful handwriting, he doesn’t.

.

.

.

Although… according to Georgie, Jon doesn’t.

Martin pauses the tape and rubs his hands over his eyes. His cheeks are burning red, and he takes a few minutes to just breathe.

Doesn’t what? Doesn’t date? Doesn’t kiss? Doesn’t—

Martin stops that train of thought before it goes any further, the flush on his face growing in intensity. It’s none of my business, he tells himself as he ejects the tape and turns it over in his hands a few times before sliding it back into the small box it had come from.

He still can’t help but think about it. He thinks about it before the Unknowing, when Jon hesitates just a moment before wrapping him in a tight hug and whispering, I… I’ll be back, Martin. Then we can talk. He thinks about it when Jon’s in his coma, when Martin sits at his bedside and loses himself in daydreams and what-ifs. He thinks about it when Jon’s hand is clasped in his and he’s leading Martin out of cloying white fog and sea-salt air, his shirt speckled with bits of dark liquid that Martin tries to pretend isn’t blood. He thinks about it on the way to the safehouse, Jon leaning against his side, Martin’s hand clasped firmly in his.

He thinks about it a lot, in the confines of the wooden walls that let in the growing chill of the Scottish countryside.

Jon doesn’t.

He knows what Jon does. Jon makes him breakfast most days, eggs and toast and sometimes waffles, which Martin’s always considered a guilty pleasure but that he’s had more times in the past week and a half than he’s had for the past ten years. Jon puts his head on Martin’s shoulder when they sit on the couch and read, flipping through the dusty novels they’d found tucked in cardboard boxes underneath the bed that Jon had wrinkled his nose at but has been slowly making his way through nevertheless. Jon clings to Martin like his life depends on it when they sleep, and Martin will wake in the morning with one arm slung across his chest, a leg between his, and a sizeable portion of hair tickling at his nose.

And, nine days into their stay, Jon smiles at Martin as he shuffles into the kitchen in the morning, stands on his toes, and presses a soft kiss to Martin’s lips.

“Um,” Martin says eloquently, still half-asleep and trying to process what he’s 98% sure is their first kiss. He’d be 100% sure except for the fact that Jon kissed him like it was nothing, like it was easy, like it was something they do every morning.

The smile slips from Jon’s face, and he looks nervous. “I- I’m sorry, I should have asked first—”

“No, no, it’s- it’s okay,” Martin hastens to say, taking one of Jon’s hands in his and squeezing gently. “Just- just surprised, that’s all. I, um. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to kiss me, given that we haven’t…” He gestures absently, his face heating up. Stop talking, Martin. “Yeah,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh,” Jon says with a frown. “I… apologize for giving you that impression. I- I love you, Martin—I have no problems with kissing you.”

Warmth courses through Martin, as it always does when Jon tells him that he loves him. It all feels so unreal sometimes that he’s here, with Jon, away from it all and living in quiet domesticity. “Oh,” he says, face flushed. “A- all right, then. Great!”

“Great,” Jon echoes.

“Just- just thought maybe you didn’t—”

Martin clamps his mouth shut, face heating up more, this time in embarrassment. Shut up, Martin.

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t… what?”

“Um.” Martin rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Kiss?”

Jon looks at Martin blankly. “Oh. Well, I- I do.”

“Right, yeah, I- I put that together. When we, um. You know.”

Jon looks amused. “Kissed?”

“Yep, that,” Martin squeaks out.

They look at each other for a moment before dissolving into giggles. Jon presses another kiss to Martin’s lips and finishes making the waffles and kisses Martin again when he hands Jon his tea, and it’s really quite lovely indeed.

So Martin adds Jon kisses to his mental list of Jon does and finds a sole remainder on the list of Jon doesn’t. And it’s fine with him, he decides, if Jon doesn’t want to have sex. He just wants Jon, in whatever way Jon will have him.

Jon doesn’t do sex, he thinks as he kisses Jon goodnight.

So, three days later, when they’re on the couch and they’ve kissed until Martin is red-faced and breathless and Jon pulls back with a pinched expression on his face, Martin assumes—with hot embarrassment coursing through him—that he’s somehow gone too far and strayed into sex territory and made Jon uncomfortable.

Then, Jon says with cheeks dark and eyes focused resolutely on Martin’s chest, “Martin, would… would you like to move to the bedroom?” and Martin’s thoughts grind to a halt.

“Sorry, what?” is all he can think to say.

Jon’s cheeks grow incrementally darker. “I am asking,” he says slowly, like the words are clunky and unwieldy in his mouth, “if you would like to have sexual intercourse. With me, of course, I- I hope that was implied.”

Martin’s aware that his mouth is quite literally hanging open in shock. He closes it quickly before swallowing and saying, “I… yeah, Jon, I- I’d love that, but I thought you—”

He clamps his mouth shut again, a touch too late. Jon’s forehead creases in confusion and he says, “I what?”

Martin hems and haws for a moment before biting the bullet and saying, all in a rush, “I thought you didn’t like sex.”

Jon’s frown deepens. “What? Why?”

And god, Martin doesn’t want to admit that he’s been thinking about office gossip for nearly a year, but he’s dug his grave—he may as well lie in it. He sighs, worries his hands on his lap, and says, “I… may have listened to a tape where Melanie said that Georgie said that you… didn’t.”

Jon looks at Martin blankly for a moment before his expression flattens into something that’s equal parts irritated and resigned. “Ah. Right. That… that makes sense, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Martin says emphatically, placing his hand atop Jon’s and squeezing. “I- I didn’t mean to hear it; I was listening to the statements and it was just there.”

“No, it’s… it’s not your fault.” Jon sighs and rubs a hand across his eyes. “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

“What?”

Jon makes an aborted, dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’ve… never been good at explaining my own preferences. I never did with Georgie, just… told her I was asexual and left it at that. I suppose she took that to mean that I, er. Didn’t.”

Asexual. Martin has a vague notion of what that means—he’s been in enough online LGBTQ spaces to have encountered the word before, but he’s never really looked into it much himself. If pressed, he thinks he’d also assume it meant that Jon didn’t. Something a bit guilty twists within him at that thought, amplified by his next thought that Georgie shouldn’t have assumed, because, well, that’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it? Still, he feels the need to voice it; he squeezes Jon’s hand again and says, “It’s not your fault that she just- just made assumptions about what you wanted, Jon.”

“Yes, but it’s my fault that I never corrected her.” Jon makes a face. “Or Tim, now that I think about it. I… I suppose I’m just not very good at talking about these things. Particularly because my own preferences are…” Jon’s pained expression deepens. “Christ, I don’t want to say complicated again, but there really is no other word for it.”

That’s not your fault either, Martin wants to say, but he knows Jon will just contradict him again, and he’ll repeat himself, and then they’ll just be talking in circles, and that won’t help anything. It’s frustrating, but it’s the truth. Still, Martin finds the words waiting on his lips when he opens his mouth, so he shuts it again and thinks for a moment, promising himself later. I’ll tell him later. Finally, he says carefully, “Do you… do you want to talk about it? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I don’t want to assume.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, I don’t want to keep assuming, I suppose, given that I’ve already assumed quite a lot.” Quieter: “Sorry, again.”

“It’s fi—” Jon cuts off, takes a breath. “Th… thank you, Martin.” He hesitates a moment, then says haltingly, “I- I do want to talk about it, but I don’t—” He makes a frustrated noise. “—I don’t know how.”

“Okay,” Martin says after a moment. “You said it’s complicated, yeah?” When Jon nods mutely, he continues, “Would it help if you described how you feel right now? That’s- that’s less complicated, right?”

Jon’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “I… suppose.”

“All right, then.” Martin makes a go-on gesture, then rests his hand atop Jon’s and applies a gentle pressure.

Jon takes a few deep breaths, squints at nothing, makes a few wordless noises, then says bluntly, “I want to have sex with you.”

Martin tries really, really hard not to blush, but he doesn’t think he quite succeeds given how hot his face feels when he says, “Right, okay.” His voice is a bit higher-pitched than normal; he hopes that Jon doesn’t notice. “And, um. Do you always… want to have sex with me? Or just right now.”

Jon grimaces. “That’s where it gets complicated.” He makes an I-don’t-know gesture with his free hand and says, “No? Yes? I don’t know, Martin. I’m told that not wanting sex all the time is- is normal, that- that you have to be in the mood, but apparently I’m just supposed to know when I’ll be in the mood and when I won’t be, and that- that doesn’t really work for me.”

“Are you—” Martin cringes internally, but forces the words out. “—in the mood right now?”

“Well,” Jon grumbles, “not anymore, but I was. And it’s complicated, because even if I am, I- I don’t always want to be touched, but how do you explain that to someone, how- how do you tell someone that it’s mostly no but sometimes yes and there’s a very good chance that I might change my mind halfway through and decide that it’s no after all?”

“I think,” Martin says patiently, “that you just say that.”

Jon gives Martin a look. “Martin.”

“What? It’s true!” Martin gives Jon as reassuring a smile as he can muster. “It made sense to me, at least.”

“Yes, but that’s not—” Jon makes a frustrated noise. “It’s not whether or not it makes sense, it’s whether or not somebody is willing to put up with a sexual partner who doesn’t know whether or not they’re going to want to have sex on any given day, whether they- they’ll be repulsed or interested or want to give but not receive or the other way around or- or something else that I haven’t thought of but that will likely happen because consistency is, apparently, off the cards for me entirely.”

“Hey, hey,” Martin says gently, placing a hand on Jon’s shoulder and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. “Jon, look at me.” When Jon looks, albeit reluctantly, Martin continues, “I can’t speak for other people, and I- I can’t tell you how to feel, but I can tell you how I feel, and I… I’m willing. No, more than willing—I love you, Jon, all of you, and if this is how you feel, then I love that about you too. Whatever you’re willing to give me, it… it’ll be enough. You’re enough.”

Jon’s cheeks darken and he looks away. After a long moment, he says in a stiff voice, “Well. Thank you, Martin.” Then, a bit softer: “I… I love you too.” He looks at Martin then and offers him a small, weak smile. “It’s… well, it’s still awkward, but it’s not quite as bad—talking about all of this—as I thought it would be.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. Talk to me about it, that is.”

Jon’s smile turns a bit hesitant. “So you would really be okay if I… if I never asked again? To, er. To have sex.”

“Yes,” Martin says, without hesitation.

“Oh,” Jon says quietly. “And- and if I said that I did? Want to? That… that would be okay too? Even if I’d already said that I didn’t?”

“Yep.”

Jon looks down at his hands where they’re twisted tightly in the hem of his jumper, then back up at Martin. “All right.” He hesitates a moment, then says, “And if… if I said that I wanted to have sex… now?”

Ah. It looks like Martin’s not done blushing quite yet. “Yep, that- that’s fine with me,” he squeaks out, then cringes internally. Fine? Really?

Thankfully, Jon doesn’t seem offended; if anything, he seems amused, his mouth quirking up into a small smirk. “All right, then.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Martin’s lips, soft and chaste and ever-so-slightly lingering before he pulls away. “I, er. I think I’d like to just kiss for a bit, though.” His smile turns teasing. “Foreplay is very important, after all.”

Martin groans and gives Jon a look, his face likely fully tomato-red by now. “Jon.”

“Need to make sure we’re fully in the mood before beginning proceedings—”

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” Martin says, a giggle slipping out around the words. Then, because he’s nothing if not a little mischievous himself, he leans forward and captures Jon’s lips in a kiss, significantly less chaste and a touch more insistent, pressing until Jon is leaned back against the arm of the couch and Martin is hovering over him. Martin disengages from the kiss so he can marvel at the flushed, wide-eyed expression on Jon’s face. “Like that?” he says innocently.

Jon blinks up at him for a few seconds, like he’s not entirely sure how to process everything in front of him, before he smiles, a warm, happy thing that captures Martin’s heart entirely and steals it away. “I do believe that was adequate, yes. Perhaps you should do it again though, just to make sure.”

So Martin does. I love him, he thinks as he kisses Jon on the couch and kisses him again on the bed, kisses him in the spot between his shoulder blades where he always carries tension and in the dip of his clavicle and on the inside of his thigh. And when he’s curled up next to Jon after, he presses another kiss to the crown of Jon’s head and wraps his arms around him and quietly discards his mental lists of does and doesn’t. He’ll start from scratch, he decides, and after a moment’s thought, he comes up with two more lists, upon which it’s surprisingly easy to add item after item after item.

Jon likes to be kissed. Jon likes eggs and toast, but not jam, and likes his tea black and slightly oversteeped. Jon doesn’t like wool because he finds it itchy. Jon doesn’t like white wine, but he likes red, the kinds that are too dry for Martin’s tastes.

Jon likes Martin, and Martin likes him too. So, so much. And even when things change, when Jon finds a white wine he likes at a restaurant they visit and he takes his tea once with honey and enjoys it and he goes through a period where he doesn’t enjoy open-mouthed kisses and Martin adjusts his lists accordingly, that remains.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Biggest regret (part 3)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: So many of you guys love this story and I love it. Thank you guys 😊

So this one really went off on a tangent and it's longer than I thought. But I didn't wanna rush this and I'm enjoying this story. So he doesn't meet his kid yet, that's in the next part that I'm writing right now. Then there will be another part that I've got in mind too.

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness, fluff kinda, emotional Billy.

-----------

Delilah cooed happily where she was perched in a little rocker seat. It was vibrant pinks and yellows with a bar along the top and little stuffed animal shapes dangling off it that she swatted with her chubby hands. 

You were cleaning. Stress cleaning to be precise. Ever since you got that letter from Billy you'd felt out of sorts. You really hadn't expected it. You'd spent the better half of the start of your pregnancy thinking he'd come to his senses. That he'd turn up and say sorry or even call or text. But by the end of the pregnancy you realised you'd asked too much of him. That maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought. 

It had been a bitter pill to swallow having him just walk out of your lives like that. Your pregnancy hadn't been easy by any means and that only made it harder. You had no family, no real friends. You'd been completely alone. Every time you ended up at hospital the nurses took pity on you. Seeing you so sick with no visitors or help. It had been hard. 

Since Delilah could return home, one of your neighbours in your complex had taken to helping you. Louise was a woman in her 60s and before now you'd only ever seen her in passing with a murmured hello. But seeing you struggle as a single mother, she'd taken you under her wing and helped you immensely. 

You had to work from home since you had the baby. The time off with unpaid maternity leave when she was born and was sick had set you back quite a bit and now you were struggling. You'd had to leave your job since there was no way you could do it from home and you didn't have child care or the money to do it. And honestly, after having Delilah, the overwhelming urge to keep her safe was shocking. You didn't really want to leave her with someone you didn't know. It had been hard for you to agree to it with Louise who would occasionally have her for an hour or two so you could catch a break. And she was literally only next door which eased your mind a little. 

Now you were doing proofreading and transcription work from home and it didn't exactly pay great. You got by though and you made do with what you had. You just didn't expect things to go this way. You still remember when you found out you were pregnant and told Billy. It had been a huge shock to you and despite the nagging feeling that this was how it would end, you stupidly hoped it would be different. 

~

You sat on the bed, the test in your hands as the two pink lines glared at you. You were pregnant. You had a baby in your belly. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You and Billy weren't even super serious. There were feelings involved but neither of you mentioned it. Opting instead to pretend they weren't there. You were scared if you told him you loved him that he'd run for the hills and he was scared of feeling anything at all. 

You'd been 'together' for nearly two years. You weren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend, there were no labels slapped on you both. But everyone knew you were his and he was yours and it worked just fine. But now there was a baby. Now things got serious way quicker than you expected and you were terrified. 

You weren't ready to be a mom. You'd never put much thought into having kids and you didn't know how to be a mother. You'd have a tiny human that depended on you to keep them safe and loved. How the fuck would you manage that? And then there was Billy. You'd have to tell him and you felt sick with worry about how he would react. 

You knew about his childhood, you knew pretty much everything about each other. He'd never known love as a child and you hoped that would mean it would force him to want to be there and be a good dad. But you knew him well enough to have the worry that it would have the opposite effect and he'd freak out. 

He'd been at work and you'd been at his place. You didn't live with him, you still had your own place. But you stayed there most nights or he would be at yours. You never spent a night away from each other. 

You heard the front door open and close and you felt a wave of dread settle over you. Like an ice cold blanket snaking around your entire body as it squeezed. You had to tell him. You had to hope he would be okay with this. You knew you'd keep the baby regardless. Despite only knowing for literal minutes, you cared about this baby. This baby was a piece of you and a piece of Billy. There was no way you couldn't keep them.

"Hey, sweetheart! I'm home!" You heard him call from the living room. You swallowed thickly as you stood on shaky legs, stuffing the test in the pocket of your hoodie. You made your way to the living room as he shucked off his jacket. He looked handsome as always and he flashed you a warm smile when he saw you. But it fell when he took in your anxiety induced state.

"What's wrong?" He asked carefully, black eyes scanning over you like he was checking if you were hurt. Your throat tightened as you felt your eyes prickle and you willed the tears away. 

"Uh… you should sit down. We need to talk," you murmured softly. He frowned, tilting his head as he regarded you.

"Sounds ominous," he replied dryly. He complied though and moved to sit on the sofa. You opted to stay standing near the coffee table.

Your whole body felt like it was shaking and you felt in your bones that this was the moment where everything would change. Either for better or worse, but change was coming and it hurt your heart. You needed to just tell him, get it over with. You inhaled a shaky breath as you looked at him. His face was etched in concern and he was patient with you, watching all the emotions pass over your face.

"I'm pregnant," you blurted, grabbing the test from your pocket and handing it to him. His eyes almost popped out of his head and he grabbed the test, staring at it. You couldn't get a good read on his face other than the surprise and you didn't like that. He was staring at it hard and you knew he was deep in thought. That cold dread came back and sunk its claws into you. 

Suddenly, he tossed the test on the coffee table, springing out of his seat and moving around to the back of the couch like he wanted to get far away from you.

"No," he frowned. You blinked dumbly at him for a moment as your eyes burned.

"No?" You asked softly. His dark eyes pinned you in place then. For a brief moment you saw utter pain and complete panic, eyes glassy with unshed tears. But then all emotion left his face, left his eyes, and it felt like a punch to the gut. You'd seen that look on his face before but never directed at you. 

"I'm not… I can't do this. I don't want a kid," he said coldly. The lump in your throat got bigger as you nodded. What else could you say? You could cry and scream and fight but what was the use? Part of you expected this although you hoped for something else. You couldn't force him to stick around. If he wanted out then you had no choice but to let him. 

You felt tears slip down your face as you glared at the floor, lower lip quivering. You couldn't look at him. The pain you felt was unbearable. Pain for yourself for losing him, pain at how cold he was being, and pain for your baby for having a dad that didn't want them. Did Billy even realise he was continuing the cycle of his own upbringing? 

You felt his eyes burning into you but you couldn't look. You had so many things you wanted to say but they all caught on the lump in your throat. Without a word, he grabbed his jacket and left, slamming his door behind him so loud you jumped. You sobbed then, moving to curl up on the sofa as you let it all out. He was gone. You'd have to do this all alone and you missed him already despite him leaving you like this. 

You were unsure of how long you lay on his sofa sobbing your heart out until your phone chimed with a message. Stupidly you thought it was Billy saying sorry. It was Billy, but he definitely wasn't apologising.

'I'll be back in two hours. Pack all your shit and be gone before I get home. Don't contact me again.' 

You felt a surge of anger and bitterness seep into you then. You thought he'd cared. Never had he told you how he felt about you but he acted like he cared. Introduced you to the Castle's, his family. But clearly you were wrong. His message was loud and clear. You didn't respond, there was no need. He wanted to never hear from you again and that was fine. You packed anything of yours and left within an hour, your heart heavy with pain, hurt and anger. 

~

When you got his letter, at first you were angry. You wanted to be petty. Wanted to ignore it or send him one back telling him to go fuck himself. But you'd looked at your daughter then with her sweet smile and her dad's eyes and you couldn't. Because despite what he'd done, she deserved her dad. 

You hadn't responded to the letter right away. Two weeks you kept reading it and coming to terms with all the emotions it brought you. You knew you still cared about him even after what he'd done. You couldn't help it. But his letter sounded so sincere and the self loathing in his words tugged at your heart. He'd fucked up big time, but he was trying to fix it. Billy was a proud man and you knew it took him a lot to reach out to you. You wanted Delilah to get to know her dad and wanted her to have a relationship with him. 

You had a lot to work through and you and Billy would need some serious talks to be able to co-parent properly, but you'd do it for Delilah. There wasn't a thing in the world you wouldn't do for that girl. 

So you'd replied and now you've been waiting for his call. You were full of nerves and you could taste the emotions lingering from the day he left in the back of your throat. You felt like you were in some kind of limbo. 

After stress cleaning for a bit and looking after Delilah, you sat on the sofa with the TV on low as she snoozed in her little seat. You felt lucky she was such a chill baby. The pregnancy and birth had been harder to deal with and you thought having her would be difficult but it hadn't been that hard for you. Louise kept telling you that you had natural maternal instincts and that you'd picked it up easily. 

You tried to pay attention to the screen when your phone buzzed from your pocket. Your heart skipped a beat as you got it out. It was a number you didn't recognise and your breath started coming in shorter because you knew just who it would be.

"Hello?" Your voice shook a little as you answered and you heard a soft sigh on the other end. 

"Hey, Y/N, it's Billy," his voice was smooth like always but it sounded off. A little raw. 

"You got my letter then," you murmured. You rolled your eyes at yourself for stating the obvious but you didn't know what else to say. Never had it been so stilted and awkward to talk to Billy. 

"Yeah… and I know you asked me to really think about it, so I did. And I wanna be there. I'd like to… I'd like to meet her if I can," he sounded apprehensive and you wondered if he thought that you'd reject him even after telling him in the letter you wanted them to meet. 

"Okay… I'd like to meet up with you first. We have a lot to talk about that needs dealing with before you meet her," you said firmly. This you wouldn't budge on. There was a lot of unresolved tension and feelings around you both and one quick meeting with him wouldn't fix that, but you wanted to clear some air before he came to meet Delilah so it wasn't completely tense. You also wanted to make sure he really was 100% with this or you wouldn't allow it to happen. You wouldn't let her get hurt. 

"Yeah, I'll do… anything you need. Whatever you want," he answered quickly. You nodded even though he couldn't see it, happy that he wasn't fighting you on it. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to take this seriously which was good.

"Right… uh… I can… I can meet you today. The diner down the street from my place? About 6pm?" You asked softly. You heard him sniffle a bit down the phone and you started to wonder if he'd come up with an excuse about work. You knew he worked late a lot. 

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll be there," he said resolutely. This was a good start already.

"I'll see you then, bye Billy," you murmured. 

"Bye, Y/N," he replied softly. You hung up and blew out a breath, your shaking hands gripping your phone. You hadn't heard his voice in over a year and it had your heart hammering away against your ribcage. You still loved him but the love was tainted with pain and betrayal. You'd have to stuff it down for the sake of your daughter. 

You didn't bother to change out of your jeans, boots, tee and hoodie and after asking Louise if she could look after Delilah for a bit, you set off out. You'd told Louise everything. She already knew what happened with Billy and you'd even let her read his letter. While she wasn't happy he'd walked away in the first place, she was happy he was trying to step up now. You were glad she was supporting you with this. 

You got to the diner five minutes early and fully expected to have to wait. But when you got inside, Billy was already sitting in a booth. He looked shit scared and his fingers drummed on the table restlessly. As you approached, his head snapped up. So many emotions crossed his face as he looked at you that you couldn't keep up with them. But when it settled on heartbreak you felt your own squeeze painfully in your chest. 

He stood up as you got to the table and there was an awkward moment where you both looked at each other. He looked tired. He had dark rings around his eyes and his usually perfect hair was a little dishevelled. He had on casual clothes and his leather jacket. He took a step closer like he was going to hug you and you stepped back without thinking. His face fell a little and he nodded, the movement stiff but he seemed to understand you weren't ready for it. 

He moved to sit down and you sat opposite him. It was so tense you could cut the air with a knife and you didn't even know where to start. The waitress came over then and gave you both a bright smile and you both ordered coffee. Once she was gone the tense atmosphere was back.

"I'm sorry," Billy muttered brokenly. Your eyes looked up at him then and he was staring at you with shiny eyes. Your throat constricted and you cleared it.

"Billy-" you started with a frown. He cut you off though.

"I know… I know I'm the biggest asshole out there. I don't deserve you sittin' here or givin' me a chance. But I want you to know that… I thought about you and the baby… Delilah… every damn day. And I-I hated myself for walkin' away. And I can't take back what did, but I can be better. I want to be better. And I'm sorry I hurt you and I'm sorry I left. But I'm serious when I say I wanna be here. You said I'm in or out and I want in. And I swear, I fuckin' swear that I'll prove to you I'm a better man," he said imploringly, leaning his forearms on the table as he watched you. 

You blinked at him, collecting your emotions as the waitress came over with the coffees. She didn't linger, sensing the heaviness of whatever was happening in your booth. 

"I'm glad you're here, Billy. And it's gonna take work for us to… to be okay around each other. But Delilah is the focus here and you deserve to have a relationship with her. You're her dad," you said softly. He sneered, not at you but himself, as he shook his head.

"No… no I'm not. I haven't been there. Sure she's mine, my DNA, my blood, but… I walked out. I left you, I left her and you both needed me. I'm not a dad, not yet. But I'll do whatever it takes to show you I'm worthy of bein' her dad," his voice shook yet was also firm and you knew in your heart he meant his words. It settled you a bit to know he really was serious about this. 

"I'll be honest… part of me expected to come here and you wouldn't be ready. That you were talking shit for whatever reason. But I believe you. I wish it hadn't taken this long but I'm glad you're here now, Billy. It's been… so fucking hard doing this alone," your hands were around your cup and you stared at them as you spoke, your voice quiet among the light buzz in the diner. 

You heard his breathing hitch and looked at him again. His fists were clenched and his head was lowered which made it hard to read his face. His whole body was tense and you were about to open your mouth to ask if he was okay when you noticed his shoulders shaking slightly. Oh. 

He sucked in a breath as a broken sob left his lips and it ripped a hole right through your chest. Now matter what he'd done, seeing him this way was jarring. You'd seen many sides to Mr Billy Russo and you'd even seen him cry before. But he looked so worn down and broken and it hurt you even if it was his own fault. 

His elbows resting on the table, he brought his hands up and rested his head on them as he openly sobbed. You never thought you'd see the day that Lieutenant Russo cried in a public space but he seemed beyond caring. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stood and moved to his side. You slid into the booth next to him as your own eyes welled up and you reached out a shaky hand to stroke the back of his neck. He tensed at first like he hadn't even noticed you'd moved which was startling given how perceptive he was about everything around him. But then he relaxed and moved his face from his hands and turned to look at you. Tears were streaming down his face and he looked younger and vulnerable. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he didn't hesitate to bury his face in your neck as his own arms held you tightly. You stroked his hair softly, trying to soothe him a little. You couldn't help it. Maybe it was that maternal instinct that always hated when someone was upset around you or maybe it was just the fact that no matter what happened, you did still care.

"It's okay, Billy," you whispered through your own tears. He shook his head where it was still pressed against your now damp neck.

"No it's not. I fucked up. I shoulda been there," his voice was muffled and broken with his soft sobs that were slowly easing and you held him a little tighter. 

"You did fuck up but you're here now and that's what matters," you murmured. You pulled away and he let you go reluctantly as he sniffled and looked down. You reached up and wiped his cheeks with your hoodie sleeves and then he looked at you. 

"We can't change the past, Billy. Yeah, you messed up, and yeah it hurt me. But you already missed out on so much and that's a punishment in itself. Things aren't gonna be easy and it'll take time for us to heal, but you're here now and Delilah needs you. That's what matters," you uttered, hands falling from his face. 

He sniffled again as he nodded, his obsidian gaze searching your face like he was looking for something. 

"I don't… I don't have the words because thank you doesn't even come close. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you helpin' me out and I don't deserve Delilah. I didn't really think I'd hear from you and now here you are, fuckin' comforting me in a diner when it should be the other way around," he lamented with a frown. 

"I don't like seeing you cry," you shrugged with a weak smile as your hands toyed with the sleeves of your hoodie. He gave you a small smile back as he nodded. A silence settled over you both then and it was slightly awkward. You knew he was probably embarrassed and also still beating himself up. Once upon a time you'd be glad to know how hard he was being on himself over this. But seeing him like this was painful. 

There were still a lot of things to sort through with the pair of you but they weren't the priority. The first and most important thing was him establishing a relationship with his daughter. You figured in time things would get easier with him and he seemed dead set on being here now. And you could see the genuine remorse for walking away so you knew he was serious. 

"I should go. But uh…" you murmured as you stood from the booth, Billy following suit. 

"You can… you can meet her tomorrow if you'd like? I could… I don't know, make dinner for us all? You could come by my place and meet her before dinner?" You suggested, voice laced with uncertainty. His face lit up then even with his slightly damp cheeks and shiny eyes. His smile was bright even if it was hesitant. 

"I'd really like that," he nodded as he gazed down at you. 

"Okay… good. Uh… come by around 5?" It still felt awkward between you and you hated it. It used to be so easy between the two of you. 

 "I will… thank you, Y/N," he murmured sincerely. You nodded and gave him a little smile. He stepped forward and this time you didn't step back. The hug didn't last long but it took you back to a time when things were good with the pair of you. Where you felt safe in his strong arms surrounded by his calming scent. It sent a pang through your chest. You hugged him back before he moved away and you gave him another nod before you left. 

By the time you were walking in your complex you had tears down your cheeks. It had been hard to see him after everything. Hard to see him such a mess too. You had that feeling, the same one you did the day you found out you were pregnant. That things were changing, this was a turning point. Only this time it was a good one. 

It was hard to wrap your head around after all this time that he'd be there. Of course there would be a period of adjustment where he got to know his daughter, but eventually he'd be parenting just like you. It was a strange feeling to comprehend that you wouldn't be alone in this anymore. 

Seeing him and speaking to him, it had eased some of the bitterness that you'd held for him. Not completely but quite a bit. You couldn't hold onto the anger and pain of the past, not when Delilah needed this. You'd never be able to go back and redo how things happened but you could close that chapter and start a new one. One where Billy was actually around and your daughter had a dad. Despite the nerves for the dinner the next day, you were also a little excited and hopeful. 

[blu-joons]

When You’re Very Strong ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

You were fed up with listening to Jin moan throughout your entire walk home that the soles of his feet were hurting at the end of your long night together. Eventually, you caved, standing in front of him to encourage him to jump on your back only for him to look at you like you were insane.

“I can carry you,” you assured him, encouraging him yet again to jump onto your back.

“If you say so,” he hummed, reluctantly stepping forwards and jumping up, squealing as you pushed him further up your back. “You’re so strong jagi.”

“I told you that I could carry you, you’re an easy weight.”

“How?” He chuckled, struggling to believe that you were carrying him so easily. “Even Jungkook moans when he has to carry me.”

You chuckled loudly, “he must not be as strong as me then.”

“It must take someone special to be stronger than you,” he complimented, “I could get used to being carried around by you.”

“Any time, it’s no bother for me at all.”

Yoongi:

The first couple of times you watched Yoongi try to open the packet, you could only smile, but as he continued to struggle, your laughter couldn’t help but get louder and louder. You tried not to pity him but seeing how hard he was working to open just one packet was hilariously funny to you.

“Throw it over to me,” you told him, holding your hands out to catch the packet from him.

“If I can’t open it, then you can’t,” he stated, but just as he finished speaking, you tore the packet open in one go. “You must know a trick or something.”

“How did you struggle to open that? It’s not even tough.”

“It is,” he tried to argue, walking across to take the packet from you. “I reckon I must have just loosened it off, so it was easy for you.”

Your head shook, “are you finished making yourself feel better?”

“But how,” he continued to cry out, failing to make much sense of it all. “I swear I live with Hulk or something for you to do that.”

“I’m just stronger than you, that’s all.”

Hoseok:

You listened closely to Hobi as he began to tell you the things he wanted to do in his studio, changing most of the furniture around. When you walked over to lift up his decks, his heart stopped, but as he tried to walk around to help you lift, you’d already moved them to their new home.”

“What else do you want me to move?” You asked, as if it was the easiest job in the world.

“Do you know how long it took me to find the strength to move that when I first bought it?” He chuckled, looking between you and his decks.

“It’s not that heavy, you’ve just got to grip it easily.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he sniggered, looking around his studio. “Seeing as you are so strong, there’s a few bits of furniture too.”

Your head nodded, moving to the first piece. “It’s a walk in the park.”

“It’s a sprint for me,” he sniggered, standing back out of your way. “I’m glad at least one of us is strong in this relationship.”

“See, what would you do without me?”

Namjoon:

As soon as you heard Namjoon yell as he rolled on his ankle, walking down the stairs, you raced over to check on him. When you noticed how hard it was for him to walk, you lifted him up into your arms and carried him over to the sofa as if he weighed nothing more than a feather in your hands.

“Stay still and I’ll get some ice,” you instructed, leaving and coming back to see him frozen.

“No one can ever lift me,” he laughed, almost forgetting about the throbbing in his ankle. “Not one of the boys can lift me without someone else helping.”

“I bet that none of the boys are as strong as me though.”

“Definitely not,” he laughed, watching on as you began to ice his ankle. “I always knew you were strong, but that was insane.”

You smiled widely, “it was no big deal, I’ve lifted heavier before.”

“Most others would break their backs carrying me,” he continued to laugh, “no one’s scooped me up like that before Y/N.”

“I only did it because you’re injured.”

Jimin:

When he watched you walk to the heavier section of the weights bench at the gym, he thought you were crazy. When your hands wrapped around weights that were heavier than the ones he held, his body froze. But when you picked them up with ease, he couldn’t help but let go of a shrill.

“What are you making that noise for?” You asked him, carrying the weights as if they were nothing.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he panicked, placing his weights onto the floor. “At least let me spot you if you’re going to carry weights that heavy.”

“These weights are light for me, I don’t need spotting.”

“It’s more than I lift,” he chuckled, unsure of whether to be proud or ashamed. “Why has it taken me this long to go to the gym with you?”

You shrugged as you continued to lift, “because you’re weak.”

“Hey,” he yelled, but as he watched you lift the weights, he couldn’t help but agree. “Alright, maybe I’m weak compared to you.”

“You’re definitely weak compared to me.”

Taehyung:

He watched on with wide eyes as you easily began to destroy all the packaging that your deliveries had arrived in, with his hand still gripping onto the first of the many boxes that he was trying to tear through, shocked by how many you’d gotten through in comparison to him.

“What?” You chuckled once you were done, finally noticing his eyes looking at you.

“How are you so strong?” He laughed, giving up and handing the box that he held onto for you to break down with ease as well. “You make it look easy.”

“That’s because it is easy, it’s just a bit of cardboard.”

“Thick cardboard,” he quickly clarified, trying to make himself feel better. “That doesn’t make it any easier to break down though.”

You smiled back at him, “would you prefer to breakdown the paper?”

“I’d prefer to just sit back and watch you do it,” he sniggered, “plus, you can get it done in half the amount of time that I can too.”

“Sit, I’m happy to sort it all out Tae.”

Jungkook:

His eyes widened as you brought the axe down and chopped yet another log in half, without even the slightest hint of a struggle. As Jungkook stepped up again, he brought the axe down only for it to get stuck jut a few centimetres off the bottom of the log, much to your amusement.

“When are you going to admit that I’m strong?” You questioned with a wide smile.

“You cheated,” he announced, refusing to accept that you were second best. “Let me pick a log for you and see if you can cut it then without you choosing.”

“It’ll still be the same outcome, I haven’t cheated.”

“Do this one,” he asked, placing another log down, only for you to cut straight through it again. “Alright, so maybe you’re not cheating.”

You sighed back at him, “are you really going to be this competitive?”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one,” he cried out, flexing his biceps. “How am I supposed to admit to people that you’re stronger than me?”

“That’s something for you to figure out Kook.”

---

Masterlist

[carelessannie]

Thunderspider anon here: omegaverse, maybe Thor and Peter meet and have a sort of flirtation happening, but Thor holds back because he thinks Peter is with Tony. He finds out they are not together then... Idk

Sorry this took a minute, sweet Anon! I’ve been in love with Thunderspider the past few weeks and... alright, I hope you like this.

There also might be some more sweet Peter and Thor coming up soon...

Warnings: mmm only for Omegaverse and misunderstandings

---

“So, uh... where did you say you were from again?"

“New Asgard, off the Southern shore of Norway."

Peter hums in interest, “And how did you meet my Alpha?"

“Did he not tell you?"

“... mm, no. I don’t think so."

“We are work partners, and I owe Tony a great debt for assisting in the resettlement of our people."

They’re relatively close on the couch, knees touching, and Thor feels a bit uncomfortable. The boy in front of him is charming, stunning, but sadly, completely unavailable. It apparently doesn’t stop the younger man from leaning closer and resting a hand on Thor’s knee.

Peter's eyes brighten in recognition, “Oh! I didn’t realize that was your country, I’ve heard a bit about it, but I usually don’t get all the details, you know?"

Thor does know. His mother would often complain about being left out of important delegating decisions. So he just reaches down a pats the pretty Omega's hand comfortingly, holding it lightly and enjoying the slight warmth.

Peter blinks up at him and shuffles closer, squeezing Thor’s hand, “You can tell me more about it, if you’d like,” his delicate fingers rub slowly across Thor’s skin, “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Thor agrees. He already feels lost in those soulful eyes— a silent plea to give this man the world. His scent is alarmingly sweet, addictive. If Thor didn’t know better, he would think that the young Omega was in heat.

But Tony Stark would never let his Omega socialize with other Alphas if that were the case.

“So what do you think, Alpha,” Peter purrs, batting his eyelashes, “wanna take me up on it?"

This feels... wildly inappropriate and suggestive. Thor tries to slide away and avoid the Omega’s advances, but he’s quickly cornered against the arm of the couch with a lap full of Peter.

“Oh... oh, I don’t...”

“Didn’t my Alpha tell you why you’re here, Thor?"

His name sounds like sin coming from those sweet lips, and Peter shifts in a way that has Thor making a very dignified, manly squeak.

“T-to meet his Omega, while he’s away...”

Peter is still squeezing his hand, and uses his other to card a few fingers through Thor’s beard, tilting his head in admiration. “And I thought you agreed? Didn’t my dad fill you in on the details?”

“Your... no,” Thor shakes his head, trying to move the squirmy Omega off his lap, and sighing in frustration when he holds on tight, “No, I haven’t spoken to your father yet.”

“Oh.” Peter pouts, finally letting himself be moved. His perfect skin, porcelain and soft, warps into a frown, and Thor finds himself pulling the Omega closer to pet his hair. He hates seeing such a pretty Omega so sad, and rumbles comfortingly when Peter starts to sniffle. “I’m sorry then. I didn’t know that you didn’t want me.”

Thor feels so confused, but he places a light kiss on the boy’s hair anyways, “I’m sure there’s no one in the world who wouldn’t want you, darling Omega.”

“Then... does that mean you want me, Alpha?"

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Peter looks determined, and grabs Thor’s shoulders. “Okay. Let me get my dad, and we can iron things out.”

Oh, gods no. “I don’t think...” Thor tries to protest, but the Omega is up and off the couch in a flash, sprinting out of the room and leaving Thor in a heap of confusion.

He has no idea what Peter’s father will say, but it’s almost certain he’ll refer to the Alpha’s judgment— the judgment of Peter’s mate— before just letting Peter drape himself over another man.

Actually, on second thought, it might be best for Peter’s father to step in.

Standing to his feet, Thor’s surprised when Peter bursts back into the room, smiling timidly, with an annoyed Tony following behind him.

“Okay,” Peter chirps, coming to a stop next to Thor and motioning to Tony, “I brought my daddy. Can you two just talk it out?”

Thor stutters, “D-daddy? I... okay,” he’s definitely heard that term for a partner, but it’s still a surprise, so he turns to Tony, “I don’t... I don’t mean to overstep, Mr. Stark.”

Tony waves him off and turns to look at Peter, “Do you like him, Pete?"

“Yeah, Alpha,” Peter gives him a wink, “I like him a lot. He’s big.”

With a chuckle, Tony loops an arm around Peter, pulling him close. Are they really... are they considering...

“I didn’t think you would be apt to share, Anthony.”

“Share?” Tony and Peter exchange a look, “No, Thor. I don’t share. Was it not clear? Peter would be yours.”

“I think I need a drink.”

Thor sits back down on the couch, rubbing his head where he feels the beginning of a migraine setting in. His? Over all his years, he has never heard of an Alpha just giving away their Omega like this.

As he thinks about it, a spark of rage ignites inside his chest, “What type of Alpha are you, Stark?”

“Excuse me?” Tony’s eyes are wide, and Peter looks offended.

With an amused laugh, Thor gestures between them, “You would just give up your Omega to a random Alpha?”

“... well, not random...”

“I need to talk to his father about this. He should be aware of how careless you’re being with his son.”

There’s a pause. Tony crosses his arms, “Alright, wise ass. Tell me exactly what I should be doing with my son.”

“Dad, I don’t think...” Peter steps in, and it suddenly clicks.

Oh.

By Odin’s fucking beard.

“Peter Stark.”

Peter looks to him, “Yes?”

Oh.

“And your father is...”

“Me.” Tony says, frown deepening, “Who did you think he was?”

Thor sighs, scrubbing his face. “All I knew was that you wanted me to meet your Omega. I had assumed you meant your Omega mate.”

Another pause. And suddenly Peter is exhaling sharply, smiling, and then breaking down into heaving laughter, holding his stomach. Both Thor and Tony smile, enjoying the sweet Omega’s amusement.

“Oh god,” Peter wheezes, wiping tears out of his eyes, “I’m so sorry Thor, you must be so confused, poor Alpha.”

He sinks down onto the couch next to Thor, settling a hand on his shoulder and wiggling closer. Peter still scents so sweet— joyous laughter just adding to his already gentle Omega scent. Thor looks up to Tony for help, and the other Alpha just shakes his head.

“I thought you knew about Western mating procedures, but I shouldn’t have assumed that, so it’s my bad. My invitation— our invitation— was for you to court Peter and, if he chooses you, join him for his first heat.”

Peter ducks his face, hiding it in Thor’s shoulder, while his scent blooms with embarrassment. The young Omega murmurs, “Daddy says you’re the best Alpha for me, and I wanted to see for myself.” His eyes are wide as they peer, beseechingly, up into Thor’s face, “and I like you a ton, Thor. Offer’s still on the table.”

He feels confused still, but Thor’s focus is set dead ahead. He knows what his answer will be before he gives it— this Omega, with all his beauty and complications, has to be his.

“Tell me what I need to do, and it’s yours, Omega.”

At his words, Peter sways a bit, leaning on him fully as his scent shifts, this time more aroused and interested than embarrassed. It’s alluring and Thor can’t look away.

Tony clears his throat, “We were both prepared for you to take him back to New Asgard at the end of the week, if you end up choosing each other as mates. Let’s talk more later— I need to get back to the call Peter yanked me from, and I’ll leave you to... mingle.”

“Dad,” Peter whines, hiding his face again as Tony heads for the exit, leaving the two of them alone in the living room. Thor, at a loss for words, just pets the Omega’s hair, enjoying the soft weight of his body, how easily they fit together.

Peter is easily only a fraction of his size, yet their compatibility is almost flawless. Two pieces of a puzzle, stars circling in the night.

“Are you gonna mate me, Alpha?” Peter whispers. His voice is timid and unsure, and Thor gives him a soft smile, hoping his scent is reassuring as well.

He turns them both so that the Omega can lounge across his chest, making sure his hands are above the generous swell of his ass. Thor takes a deep breath and begins to rumble, coaxing Peter to join him in a steady purr.

It’s been a long time since he’s had an Omega purr for him.

“If you’d like, Peter. It would be my honor to mate you, to be your Alpha.”

“My Alpha,” Peter hums, closing his eyes and snuggling further into Thor’s arms, “I’d like that a lot.”

Thor can’t help but agree.

[bluesakurablossom]

Okay, I’ve gotta have your take on the guys’ first times with their s/o. Head cannons for who was most nervous, what position they tried first, location, you name it. Please and thank you, my dear!

Damn this one was a big one for me for sure! I loved doing these! Took me two days to do! Loved this request girl keep them coming! <3 <3 <3 @turtle-babe83

Leo

· He may look calm on the outside but he was pretty nervous on the inside

· He knows how big he is and just didn’t want to hurt you, he only wanted to show you much he loves you so much

· You adored him for caring so much and you expressed your nervousness too making him feel a little more relaxed

· It would be long talks with you and him of what parts of the body you both wanted to be explored, limitations, and safe words

· He was wanting to be prepared, like any other thing being the leader he is

· You both decided for privacy for your first time till you both got more comfortable, so you decided to do it at your place

· Takes it very slow with you since he wants to savor every second of this moment with you

· During the heavy making out, you would get asking looks from him, whether it be touching somewhere on your body or taking off a piece of clothing

· You would give him a loving smile and a nod of approval, which make him more confident than before

· Soon as clothes started coming off slowly, he would just be in pure awe of your beauty

· Never did he think he would have the opportunity to see a beautiful woman such as yourself nude before him, let alone be given the chance to make love to

· But the fact he was here now with you, it was heaven on earth

· Now on the bed, bare bodies pressed together, he took his sweet time exploring every inch of you treating you like a precious treasure

· You could barely hear your thoughts you were moaning that loud, he touched and pleased all the right spots like a professional

· When you got your turn on pleasing and exploring him, he was just a mess, he never felt this much bliss in his life before

· So, this is what sex was all about!

· He was churring like a motorboat, you could keep him going all night long if you wanted to

· When you both could no longer wait, he asks permission to enter you and slowly does, giving you all the time, you need to adjust to him

· Count on lots of lube

· It was a bit painful at first but quickly it was dissolved and it was everything you imagined it to be

· His arms were wrapped securely around you to keep you close to him as possible

· Position: Missionary

· Whispers sweet words in your ear of how good you feel and how you make him complete

· The passionate session goes on for at least a good half and an hour

· Only the sounds of uncontrollably moaning and the heavy scent of lust fill the room

· Leo managed to make you release at least twice; he didn’t want to overdo it for the first time

· Count on a good hour of after care and soft cuddling, talking about how amazing you were and how he couldn’t wait to make you feel this way again

· You made him feel like a real man and he couldn’t of been more blessed and happier that you allowed him to take your virginity

· Your love for each other has now grown 100x times stronger and he would make sure that each time you became one body and one heart, that he would show his never ending love for you

Raph

· Oh boy you thought Leo was nervous, this boy here was a nervous wreck!

· Definitely was unsure if you two were able to do since given his size and strength, he could definitely hurt you with one wrong move

· But with you being who you are, you were able to calm him down with resting your forehead against his taking his cheeks into your hands

· Works every time and he becomes putty in your hands

· You explain that its okay to feel nervous and that even with you not being as nervous as him, you know in your heart that you both could make this a great experience

· Had to assure him a few times just to help his confidence out

· But he slowly agrees and you both decide to avoid any prying eyes from his brothers that you both would do it at your place

· You never seen him more nervous in your life and asks you again if you really wanted this

· You tell him you always wanted this with him and just tell him to let it come to him naturally, he will know to do

· Getting into kissing, he was starting to calm down and over time he starts to take control

· You didn’t say anything about his confidence improving as his hands explored you and took off your clothes, why ruin it?

· For being a giant turtle, he was very gentle

· As clothes scattered all over the floor, you and him were tangled in sheets and in limbs

· You looked so small compared to him, he completed covered you over his large frame, like a fragile little doll

· His warm lips explored every inch of skin marking your skin with his scent, you always know that his lips could leave you breathless but now that they are kissing you everywhere

· It made your body melt like sugar! He was good!

· Always had his hand on your ass giving it a hard squeeze, come on you know he can’t get enough of that booty!

· When you got your turn to explore him, he was a churring mess especially when it came to finding his sweet spots that he never knew he had

· His hands were gripped on your headboard and he was on the verge of breaking it from how tight he was holding on to it

· When it came down to it finally for him to be inside of you, he was starting to look nervous again but you gave him sweet words of reassurance and encouraged him

· Used the entire bottle of lube

· He ever so slowly pushed inside of you and it took you some time to adjust to his size but with his kisses to your forehead and face, you managed to relax and the feeling of pleasure came

· Position: Missionary with leg over his shoulder

· Count on his hands on your ass and hips to get in a good rhythm

· Loud moans and growls were the only things that could be heard, you are sure that you disturbed your neighbors, the session lasted for a good hour

· He made you release at least once, but it was so worth it, it was long and pleasuring

· Count on a good long session of aftercare with affectionate nuzzling and massaging from the marks he left

· That was the best experience he had ever had in his whole life and didn’t think he could ever have what all humans could have, to experience sex

· But now that you made that possible with him, he couldn’t wait till he could make the next encounter even better than the last

Donnie

· Calmer than Leo and Raph, but still a little bashful and shy

· Even for being a virgin himself, he has a lot of knowledge about sexual encounters from looking it up online studying about everything that there is to know about sex and watching videos online

· When you bring up the subject of taking your relationship to the next level, he was at first a bit of a stuttering mess that you would consider doing this with him

· After all he didn’t anyone would want to give something that important such as virginity to him, never did he think he would have the privilege of even being with you

· He would explain the risks, how exactly “big” he is and how a mutant and human could even do an experience such as this

· But you didn’t care and that you loved him with every fiber of your being as much as he did with you, that you wanted this with him more than anything in the world

· Hearing that was the biggest confidence boost he could have ever received

· After regaining his composure, he pretty much led the conversation of telling you how much he knew, and he was able to answer a few questions that you asked

· After all he was a genius!

· Since no one ever goes into his lab, where he had another secret room to himself that you both made into a special little hideout in to have privacy

· It was more comfortable than his bed in the wall

· Once sealed away in the hideout, it starts off first with soft nuzzles to the face and quickly lead into a heavy make out session that lead to you both collapsing on your huge comfy nest of blankets and pillows

· Donnie talked throughout the whole thing, complimenting you as he kissed you, taking off your clothes, and exploring your body with great curiosity

· Saying words such as “Gosh you are so beautiful” and “Your skin tastes amazing, its addicting”

· He became a blushing mess seeing your beautiful nude body underneath him, he had captured the image of you in his mind forever, who could forget someone this gorgeous in front of him?

· He was being such a natural, doing all the right moves and touches, it left you in a puddle of uncontrollable moaning and giggling

· Speaking of giggling, when it came down to you taking your turn pleasuring him, you could count on a few nerdy giggles from him, along with his famous snort

· This was more exciting and pleasuring than he thought it would be from his readings and observations

· You both were heavy with sweat covered both of your bodies from the amount of passion and lust in the air made the room very steamy, enough to even fog his glasses

· When it was time for it to finally happen, he asked you a few times if this is for sure what you wanted

· When you give him the nod and smile, he felt like his heart would just burst with happiness, this is what he always wanted with you

· Coated himself with a good amount of lube

· When he slid inside of you, a wonderful feeling of completion filled you up as you managed to take every single inch of him into your body

· Position: Side by Side

· Limbs became tangled tightly as his long body pressed you up against his chest

· You both talked to each other softly throughout the whole thing, examples of how amazing you both felt and thanking each other for this opportunity along with groaning and light screams of delight, you both made passionate love for a good half hour

· Luckily the hideout was bricked thick and no one could even hear the amount of noise being made even with an ear being right up next to the door

· He made you release twice, both times were which long, pleasuring, and hard

· Count on a sweet cuddling session for aftercare so you both could catch your breathes while still tangled in each other’s limbs in a tight sweaty embrace

· He never felt more alive than he did before and he couldn’t wait to explore more of his and your fantasies, of course when you both got more comfortable

· The impossibilities he thought of what couldn’t happen with you, were now just in the back of his mind, he could do anything he could put his heart and love to it for you

Mikey

· Would be the least nervous of all the boys

· Actually, be pretty excited, ever since you both became a couple, he always wanted to do it with his angelcakes

· Of course, along with the excitement he did feel a slight pinch of nervousness, of course he wanted this to be the best experience ever with you

· You assured him that it may not be what the first time might actually be, but he was sure going to damn try for you, since he loves you so much

· You loved his enthusiasm and being so cute about it

· Compared to the other brothers, you both were pretty comfortable with each other talking about anything and everything so you guys got into what you both wanted to try and talking about what you are not really comfortable with

· For location since you both have had your first video game marathon, first sleepover, and first make out session you both decided his bedroom

· Since it was yours and his comfort zone

· He actually did clean it up well before you came over, he wanted it to be special and of course from the video game match you both had the day before there was some left over Cheetos and gummy worms in the sheets

· When he had carried you in his room while still in a heated make out session in his arms, it was just a frenzy of excitement and of love

· You both wanted to wait in the right moment of your relationship to take it to new heights and now the flood gates were open

· He had a remote hidden in his gym sweats and clicked on it and romantic music began to play to set the mood even more

· Crashing on the bed, nearly falling of it, clothes would be coming off and each piece was taken off the skin exposed underneath was explored was tasted like eating a slice of pizza, savoring every part of it

· Constant compliments and hungry moaning from him, such as “Damn girl, you look so gorgeous, I should see you like this more often” and “Mmmmmm I thought pizza was delicious but you are now at the top of the list”

· He was a master using his mouth and hands, you would think he had done something like this with someone else before, but he saved this all just for a special someone like you

· You were a moaning, giggling, and blushing mess and everything he did made it feel like your body was lit on fire

· When his turn came around, you could say he was close to being as loud as the music being played from what you did to him

· He always imagined and even dreamed that sex would be great, but didn’t imagine that it would feel this amazing, it was sending him over the edge

· The atmosphere is thick with heavy love and the smell of sex, pizza, Cheetos, and jelly beans fills the air, even with those smells neither one of you cared, it would just make it more special

· Before you two become one, there was a sudden hit in the stomach of nervousness, cause he realizes that he is big but would you be able to handle him?

· Giving him a deep kiss of reassurance, you were able to give him back his confidence

· Soaks two coats of lube on

· Once he is finally inside of you, it took you by surprise on how full you felt and took you a few moments to get over the overwhelming feeling

· Position: Yab-Yum

· When a new song came on over his mini speaker, you both followed the rhythm of the beat

· You both wrapped each other tightly where you able to feel each other’s heartbeats that began to beat like one, just like how you both are becoming one

· Encouraging words throughout of how good it felt and even to pick up the pace

· You both are lucky that the music was playing and that Mikey had locked the door otherwise with the amount of noise you two were making, it could drown out a busy city street

· You both drew this out as long as your bodies could hold out which was about a good two hours

· He made you release three times, and each one was better than the last one more harder and erotic

· After care will be cuddling and enjoying a few snacks and sodas to regain strength and composure

· This was the best moment of his existence and he wouldn’t have had it any other way than with the person snuggled up to him eating gummy bears off his chest

[unwrittenlibrary]

Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man 

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story. 

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation. 

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy! 

-

You’ve got my devotion. 

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

-

April. 

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all. 

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May. 

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord. 

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head. 

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.” 

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.” 

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation. 

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?” 

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.” 

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.” 

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?” 

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.” 

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away. 

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway. 

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front. 

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.” 

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?” 

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?” 

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.” 

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile. 

“Lawyer.” 

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face. 

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page. 

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back. 

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry. 

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.” 

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.” 

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?”  You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely. 

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.” 

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands. 

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.”  Harry answers for the both of you. 

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.” 

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two. 

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly. 

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.” 

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this. 

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.” 

-

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you. 

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s. 

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?” 

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.” 

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.” 

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.” 

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car. 

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.” 

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.” 

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch. 

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back. 

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.” 

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door. 

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms. 

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone. 

You take a deep breath before following them. 

-

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared. 

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep. 

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.” 

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching. 

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room. 

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.” 

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.” 

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision. 

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction. 

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing. 

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods. 

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?” 

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?” 

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.” 

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom. 

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly. 

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious. 

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you. 

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.” 

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip. 

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.” 

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?” 

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.” 

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes. 

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?” 

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby. 

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door. 

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking. 

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall. 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.” 

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.” 

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness. 

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.” 

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.” 

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes. 

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it. 

-

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.” 

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.” 

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.” 

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.” 

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.” 

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh. 

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.” 

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?” 

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully. 

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly. 

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?” 

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.” 

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack. 

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six. 

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.” 

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked. 

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door. 

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross. 

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.” 

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.” 

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.” 

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about. 

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.” 

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut. 

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But. 

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words. 

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.” 

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes. 

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body. 

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.” 

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands. 

It’s a start. You guess. 

-

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence. 

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms. 

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.” 

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles. 

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?” 

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam. 

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.” 

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.” 

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches. 

-

We’ll be a fine line.

-

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)