#like.. I keep talking about this work because it's so confusing

[akalimbratic]

Short story below the cut! I wrote for a little while here 💀 this has been sitting in my drafts for ages too so I figured I'd finish it.

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Day 1.

Hey so, I'm writing this journal because I really, really hope this ends soon. Also if I die it might be cool to have something that proves I lived-- I guess?? I'm not sure I'm just--

This is fucking crazy. So, here's to day one and here's what happened.

We all thought it was a joke at first, maybe one of the newbies in the radio station decided to play a little prank-- but there's always those doomsday folks that prepare for just this situation. Those with the bunkers, the cans of food, who prepare for the unprepared when they inevitably buy up all the supplies in stock. It's what my Uncle Rich did; first to heed the warning, first in the bunker, first to insist we all join him, and the first man to die. I think. I don't really know. It's all so confusing and I'm writing this at 4 something in the morning so give me a break.

Anyway, about... I want to say a week later after Uncle Rich went into hiding. But when we got there he was gone, and I don't mean we discovered his corpse draped over the couch like a sack of potatoes I mean he was GONE. Everything was GONE. the furniture the carpet HIM was GONE as if it never existed to begin with! All that remained was this weird- smelly- slimy substance no one could really figure out what. It was smeared on the walls dripping from the ceiling seeping into the concrete floor.

We didn't JUST lose Rich either. Neighbors that routinely locked the door at night (I did not, for I worked overnight shifts and always forgot out of sheer exhaustion. At first I used to kick myself in the head about it being dangerous but thank God for brainfog or something right?) came about the same fate. Old Miss Peterson was gone, Little Todd and his mom was gone, even the hermit who I never bothered to check on before was-- just. Gone.

So I began staying with my mom in her little town. Though it was unbearable being around the damn cat who cant seem to stop screaming at corners scratching up furniture, it was worth it just to be together.

Day 14.

Nearly all the doors in the neighborhood have been replaced with screens or removed entirely. I think the only good thing that came out of this was the fact that people were going outside and talking to each other again, checking in and just-- acknowledging someone else. Mom says shes never seen so many faces, Critter (the cat) agrees by slapping her hand away from its stomach. He made her bleed and mom didn't seem to bothered by it which was... weird. I really don't understand cat people but okay. Is that just something you guys accept?

I mean maybe it's just me being queasy around blood. I never did too well with it to be truthful.

Day 30.

After nothing on the radio for weeks and nothing happening we all met in the middle of town for a meeting. The mayor said something about possibly returning doors back onto people's houses and deciding to trust that whatever did happen was over, but obviously he didn't want to declare it so until the government said it was okay. The only reason why this was even brought up was because it's becoming tourist season and getting increasingly hotter, so a lot of townspeople didn't feel comfortable keeping their doors off for much longer. You know with the risk of thieves and higher electricity bills and all. I think it's a bit fucked that we still have to pay bills but, hey, money makes the world go round right?

It came down to asking somebody to volunteer themselves to take the risk. Obviously, nobody volunteered because why the hell would you.

Except mom did. I looked at her like she was crazy but she was always a giving sort of person and said "it's just one night. We can stay awake and be close to the door just in case okay?" Sooo I guess we're doing this then?? You know what really doesn't help is everyone was suddenly very interested in being our friends after, so not only were we sacrificing ourselves to the slime people were treating us like we were already dead! Fuck-ing whoopie!

But you know I refuse to leave my mom. She's all I have left. Her and Critter. I'm just hoping her bravery isn't because she's tired of the mosquitos.

So, anyway. If this is my last journal entry then I got digested. Good luck!

Day 31.

Last night mom and I set up shop next to the door that the Mayor helped us put back in (the neighbors didn't. Many said they didnt want the blood on their hands should something have happened). We locked it and just kind of stayed in the living room together after binging our favorite show as a source of comfort. For once, Critter was actually really chill. Chill enough to the point where he didn't let out a peep and just stayed close by.

There was something weird though? Like yeah Critter was chill but he wasn't calm. The little guy was fluffed up and only really cuddled up against me, not mom. In fact he didnt seem to like mom at ALL he just didnt vocalize it like he used to with me. Mom didnt seem to notice, just fixated on the TV and saying "I've never seen so many faces" again.

... so yeah, don't tell her this, but I didn't sleep inside. I opted to sleep in the chair hammock thing on the porch with Critter. Either way, we survived, and mom didn't disappear like the rest of them.

Day 32

Some people took our survival as a sign that things were over. Some people were still skeptical. Doors are returning to their houses. Critter still avoids mom.

Day 35

No one's Gone yet, thankfully. In fact nothing really seems to be happening anymore. Im starting to think it really is over but Critter avoiding mom and being as quiet as he is is starting to freak me out. No matter how many people offer me a place to sleep I just tell them I'm outdoorsy, I like the fresh air, and they leave me alone.

Some people do pull me aside and ask if I'm okay though. I tried telling people that Critter doesn't trust mom and they wind up brushing it off because he's "just a dumb animal", and "I wouldn't give it much thought." Which normally, I wouldn't! But these people locked their doors the night before so how do I know that whatever's going on with mom isn't going on with them? Anyway, until something starts happening I think I'm going to stop writing in here. Im getting weird looks now sooo... I may leave town tomorrow. I just have to make sure mom's okay first.

But I don't think she is.

Entry 7.

They tried taking Critter.

Entry 8.

The page is covered in scribbles and chicken scratch, indicating anxiety and rushed. Its ripped in some places where the author had pressed too hard. There's wet spots on the page thats long since dried.

Fuck fuck fuck I fucking knew it. I KNEW it. Except I didnt. But i did? I don't know! I just-

I had to run-- drive-- ANYTHING. They tried takogn critter rrom me yesterday. I was sleeping with him on the pourch like normal and they tried ripping yim rromcmy hands like he wasnr a living breathing thkng! For the firdt time in days crotter acramed and I wound up puncuing a kid to get him out if their grasp. Im so fucking scared I almost lost Critter they tried to TAKEA HKM FROM ME LIKE WHAT THE FUCK.

Thie fucking town is insane. Theyr eGINE THEYRE ALL GONE MOMS GONR THEYRE (dried tear stains cause the writing to bleed together and greatly disturb the legibility of the entry. There appears to be cat fur stuck to the age, Critter must've brushed himself against the author of the journal.)

Entry 9

I lost track of how many days it's been. I've been sleeping in my car and constantly on the move, just Critter and I. I don't stay in towns with doors anymore, and even without doors I only stay long enough to warn people and get gas, maybe something to eat. I lock my doors but keep the windows cracked enough to make it count.

I... am really lonely, honestly. If it weren't for Critter keeping me company I don't know how long I would've lasted out here. I don't even want to go home. Whatever became of Mom might find me there.

... I miss her. I miss Uncle Rich. I miss my friends, my lame job, my lame life.

I just hope I find somebody else, someone who isnt Gone.

Entry 10

It's weird how much use I'm getting out of this thing. I kind of wish I invested in one of those cool journals that usually collects dust on a shelf because you never know what to use it for. This composition notebook is good sure, but if a historian discovers my body with it I won't look nearly as cool. I kind of hope to die in like, some cool epic battle though, become a sick environmental skeleton. Or epic clothes! That'll make up for it.

Day 213

Apparently it's been seven months already. I found out because I ran into somebody on the road who's keeping track. She seemed cool, not Gone. Apparently she went through something similar and also jumped ship when her brother went Gone-- she has a dog too! His name is Rex and hes a cute German Sheppard... Critter doesn't seem to think so haha, but that's to be expected.

He likes her though! Kinda. He hisses when she moves too quick but he at least meows around her. Her names Rosy and we're going to start traveling together. Shes got a sick truck. I wish I had a truck.

Day 230

We found another survivor.

His name is Finnegan Oswell, old army vet i think in hiiiis 60s? He has a kid with him. A 14 year old named Ezekiel thats taller than Rosy (she's not happy about it). It's about the same story as ours, his daughter (zeke's mom) went Gone. Heartbreaking stuff but, you know. Im just glad to know that there's people out here.

We added them to our merry band of survivors.

Day 231

Ezekiel survived the event that took his family, and... holy fucking shit.

He described it as the shadows turning to tar and it getting harder to breathe. He was on the second floor at the time, his mom slept on the first floor. He watched the house get brighter as the darkness lept from the walls and swallowed everything whole. The only reason he wound up surviving was because he broke a window and jumped. (Which explains why his nose is crooked and his missing a tooth, yeesh).

When he returned with Finn they found nothing but a sticky slimy substance coating the walls, ceilings, and floors... except in Zeke's room.

If this ever ends I think we all need some major therapy.

Final Entry. Day 477.

Wow, does time fly?

I think you, future historian, will be sad to know that I'm not sure this ever ends. Every town or city we passed through people were gone or Gone. All of them with lockable doors.

But! You'll be happy (I hope) to know that I'm doing... okay.

Along the way our group grew from the 4 of us, to 6, to 10, to probably like 50 people. We found refuge in a nice comfortable state where it didn't get unbearably hot and it didn't get unbearably cold either (don't ask me the name of the state I completely forgot) in a forest too for that extra shade and stuff. I think this used to be an old campground? It's next to a river and the campground owner was happy to see people.

We built walls around the campground the way beavers build their dams, and built stuff that always had a gap large enough to count. Everyone pitches in, checks in on each other it's... nice. It's really good.

Ezekiel turned 15 last week, actually. He's made new friends and seems to really be thriving here, Rosy began teasing about him and Roxanne together because of course she would. A couple of Finn's old army buddies managed to find this place, and I think thats the first time I've ever seen 3 old men weep in each other's arms. Might be my last too! Finn told me he'll whip me if he finds out I wrote this event down but how can I NOT?

Speaking of Rosy, we've become close, so has Rex and Critter (I mean seriously, those two are inseperable now). She's my best friend and if it weren't for her, I think I'd be Gone too.

Anyway, we aren't sure if the world outside is Gone for good or if it's ever going to recover. But what's important is that we are Here. Or we were Here by the time you read this, future historian.

This may be my last Journal entry as I'm really ready to move on from this and start a new chapter in my life. So...

Audrey, out!

“Attention all citizens - This is not a drill - Do not shelter in place - Avoid enclosed spaces - Leave doors and windows open”

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🧃 How to Develop a Vibe AND a Plot (aesthetic doesn’t cancel arcs. let’s balance them.)

hey you. yes, you. the one with the moody playlists, the 73-tab Pinterest board, and a half-written draft that just keeps…vibing in circles.

if you’ve ever written 10k of immaculate vibes but couldn’t tell anyone what your story is about, this post is for you. because here’s the thing: ✨ aesthetic is not a substitute for stakes. ✨

let’s talk about how to keep your ✨vibes✨ and actually have a plot that moves. no ✧ fluff ✧ just structure, character arcs, and some lovingly blunt advice from your local writeblr gremlin (me).

🌊 1. aesthetic is a result, not a premise

the most common mistake i see is starting with a vibe as the story. like:

“sad girls on the beach in 1996”

“a cursed forest full of dead gods”

“a pastel academic rivalry with secrets and sexual tension”

cool. great. love that for you. but… what’s the story? what’s happening?

✨vibes = setting + mood + tone. ✨plot = choices + consequences + change.

your aesthetic can inspire the story (please keep making playlists. i love them). but don’t confuse the feel of your world with the function of your plot. start with tension. stakes. character flaws. emotional damage. that’s the engine. the aesthetic is the paint job.

🎯 2. define your “emotional throughline”

okay, so you’ve got an aesthetic. what’s the emotional core of it? your plot should orbit a single emotional question, like:

will this character ever let themselves be known?

what does it take to unlearn loyalty?

is love worth destroying something sacred?

start with that. then attach aesthetic scenes to it.

🧩 pro tip: aesthetic scenes are more powerful when they contradict or complicate your emotional throughline.

ex: your story’s about loneliness? show them at the loudest, busiest party. story’s about grief? show them smiling in photos while everything breaks behind the lens.

aesthetic is stronger with irony. contrast. juxtapositions. don’t just bathe the reader in vibes. weaponize them.

💥 3. let your aesthetic hurt your characters

whatever your aesthetic is--soft academia, vaporwave horror, regency witchcore, don’t make it just a backdrop. make it an obstacle.

your setting should create problems. friction. conflict.

if it’s a sleepy coastal town: what’s festering beneath the quiet?

if it’s a hauntingly beautiful forest: what does it take from people?

if it’s a cursed mansion: what happens to the girls who stay too long?

every time you design a pretty place or moody visual, ask: ❓ how does this setting test my characters’ beliefs or desires?

because then your aesthetic drives the story forward instead of just decorating it.

📚 4. develop plot like a playlist: structure the escalation

your aesthetic playlist has structure, right? (don’t lie. i know you’ve got a specific song for act 3 heartbreak.)

plot works the same way. it’s not a mystery. it’s escalation.

you want a structure? here’s a dead-simple one:

give your main character a desire (internal & external)

give them a reason they can’t have it (flaw, fear, lie)

make them try anyway (rising stakes)

make it cost them something (midpoint shift)

force them to change or break (climax)

let that change play out (falling action / resolution)

that’s it. apply that structure to your vibey little story and suddenly it’s a book.

👁‍🗨 5. plot is what they do - vibe is how it feels

don’t choose one. you can have both.

you can have a soft lighting scene on a rooftop and the secret betrayal reveal. you can have dreamy prose and broken character dynamics. you can give me worldbuilding so lush it smells like petrichor and rot and still give me a plot twist that leaves me feral.

you just need to be intentional.

every scene = a purpose. every aesthetic = an angle. every image = tied to stakes, desire, or change.

✨ that’s the difference between “ooh pretty” and “oh my god i can’t stop thinking about this story.” ✨

💌 so in conclusion:

start with an emotional arc

let your aesthetic scenes earn their place

make your world fight your characters

escalate, escalate, escalate

and stop hiding a lack of plot under “vibe” like a glittery throw blanket over a broken chair

you’ve got this. now go write the beautifully messy, aesthetic and emotionally devastating story you were meant to.

i believe in you.

🧃rin t.

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

[neeeooon]

shut me up ;

32 | y/n the virus

ft. fem!reader & kaiser, ness (mentioned)

cw. cussing, nudity (partial), angst, heavy angst, kaiser struggling with his feelings

you twiddled your thumbs as you waited anxiously for kaiser to answer his door. you came straight from work, still dressed in your uniform, to talk to him. in the elevator, you read over your messages and cringed at how your tone had come across. it was vague, avoidant, a little nasty, and you hoped it didn’t freak him out too much.

a twinge of relief sparked in your chest when the door opened, revealing kaiser with nothing but a towel around his waist. your eyes bulged, hands immediately flying to your face. your skin felt hot beneath your palms. “what are you doing?!” you screeched.

kaiser’s door opened wider, at least you assumed so based on the creaking sounds. “i was about to dry my hair,” he replied casually, as if his entire chest, still decorated in droplets of water, wasn’t on display.

keeping your eyes covered, you stepped blindly into his apartment and closed the door behind you. “you’re so infuriating!” you scolded, turning your back to him so that you could remove your hands from over your eyes.

kaiser chuckled behind you. “that’s what you walked to talk to me about? i’m infuriating?”

“yes!” closing your eyes, you turned until you guessed you were facing the singer, and propped both hands on your hips. “the way you were looking at me during the show was inappropriate.”

even as you said it, you felt yourself blushing. the sound of bare feet against wooden floors echoed close, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off of kaiser.

“inappropriate?”

“mhm. yes, and now your fans think we’re married.”

kaiser tsked. “let them think whatever they want. who cares?”

not me, you wanted to say, but that wasn’t the point. resisting the urge to groan, you felt your shoulders sag slightly and peeked at the man. where he grabbed a robe, you weren’t sure, but at least you weren’t distracted by his nakedness any longer.

you tried to keep the awkwardness from your voice as you said, “you confuse me… the last time i was here, i told myself i wouldn’t be back until you made an effort to change. you hurt my feelings. but then you do and say these things that make my insides feel all twisted, and i don’t know what to do.” you took a breath, struggling to meet his eyes. “i just… why did you do that? sing that song? what am i supposed to be to you?”

when you did look up, you weren’t expecting what you saw. a mix of emotions you weren’t used to seeing appeared on kaiser’s face, the most prevalent being exhaustion and distress. like he didn’t know the answer, either, and it was wearing on him just as much, if not more, than it was on you.

after a moment, you feared he wouldn’t have an answer for you and shifted as if about to take a step back. kaiser’s eyes took on a desperate look as he hurried forward, reaching out for you before freezing and immediately snapping his hands back to his sides. he opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again. you stayed quiet as he collected his thoughts. finally, kaiser’s expression turned pinched, and his hands curled into fists.

“you’re a virus.”

you raised a brow, insulted and about to ask what that was supposed to mean, when kaiser hurried to explain. “you infected me. invaded my thoughts, my dreams, everything. you live in my head. i think about you so much, i feel like i’m going insane.” he paused, sighing. for a moment, you thought you saw him trembling. “when i have a problem, you’re the person i want to seek out for help. when the lyrics i write get approved or i get compliments from the guys, you’re the one i want to tell. and it’s bad, because i don’t know how to handle any of it. you’re like a cough i can’t shake, and at this point, i don’t think i want to.”

patiently, you waited for him to calm down enough to know he was done. being compared to a disease, an infection, a cough, all things associated with the bad, made your eyes sting a little. but he was trying; that much was obvious.

you didn’t know much about kaiser the person… other than that he liked bread crust rusks and preferred to paint his nails blue over black. that you were around him long enough to find his smell familiar. that he had your schedule memorized and tapped on your wall to get your attention. that he was a good listener when he wanted to be. that when he smiled, genuinely smiled, you felt weak to your knees. and finally, that his way of confessing his feelings for you was by getting up on a stage in front of hundreds of people and singing your favorite song.

you didn’t realize you were smiling until kaiser asked, “what’s that look on your face for?”

humming softly, you looked up at him and let your smile grow. “you’re not ready for that, yet.”

kaiser looked confused but didn’t argue. his eye twitched slightly, lip flinching, and ran the tip of his tongue along his inner bottom lip. “i’m sorry i confuse you. there are things about myself i don’t want you to know.”

“that’s fine,” you nodded. despite the short distance between you and the flutter his warmth was sending through you, you didn’t take a step back. “i’ll still be one door over when you do.”

kaiser’s gaze wavered as it slid across your face. blue as bright as a summer sky darted over your features—your eyes, your lips. you felt your breathing still. he was too close. not close enough. you stepped forward, he took one back.

“wait,” kaiser choked, and you disappeared from his space. pressing yourself against the opposing wall, you kept your hands behind your back as you waited. “i…”

he faltered, murmured a curse beneath his breath, and suddenly, his hands were in your hair. kaiser’s thumbs trailed the length of your jaw, angling your face toward his. his brilliant gaze flicked between your irises, holding you captive as you stood in his grasp.

he dipped down, so close you felt his nose graze the flushed skin of your cheek. his fingers idly tapped and dragged along the sides of your throat, applying just enough pressure to keep himself grounded, but not enough to hurt.

“i can’t kiss you,” he rushed, warm breath hitting your ear and forcing a shiver down your spine, but you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself. “i can’t. you’re too good.” he paused and pulled away, swallowing so hard the apple in his throat bobbed. “there’s too much… i’m too much.”

kaiser flinched violently when your fingers grazed the skin beneath his eye, but he pulled a hand from your chin to grab your wrist before you could retreat. his eyes were shattered as he looked at you.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized quickly, but kaiser shook his head and slowly brought your hand back to his face.

“no, ‘t’s nice.”

he looked so vulnerable like this, cheek resting gingerly against your fingertips. you wanted to press your palm to his flushed skin, but figured that wasn’t the best idea. all thoughts of your previous interactions, the fighting and calling each other annoying, vanished from your mind.

kaiser’s eyelids fluttered as he sank deeper into your touch. your lips parted, dozens of questions fighting to be the first, but you shut them instead and watched him lie against your hand.

vulnerable had been your first thought, but he looked peaceful. he looked content with just this, with the feel of your hand against his face. something deep in your soul told you he needed it. you didn’t pull away, and you weren’t going to until kaiser moved first.

the ding of a phone forced him to straighten and step out of your grasp. he didn’t say anything to you before reaching for his phone, and your brows creased at the immediate way his back tensed beneath the robe. “is everything o—“

“you should go,” kaiser cut you off curtly, his words clipped with irritation. it was such a change from how he’d just been with you that you weren’t entirely sure how to react.

“kaiser,” you stepped forward, but his head hung low. “go, y/n. please.”

freezing, blinking the moisture from your eyes, you stared at the back of his head a little longer before sulking from the room, silently wondering, guiltily, if this was how ness felt that night, too.

masterlist // previous (ch 31) // next (ch 33)

notes -> next ch is going to be intense. please read the cws beforehand. i will be adding a chapter summary at the end for those who choose to skip over it, and will make another note for those who miss this one :)

tags -> @x3nafix @n0tbelle @nensi @ohagiyoo @tired-child00 @melinana @chaoslibra @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @miss-aesthetic-13 @ihsoti @arwawawa2 @lonigiri @realrintaro @mivqko @sorasushik1 @pookalicious-hq @higuchislut @tofumiarchives @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @rainychi2 @ch4rstxr @sapph1r3x @sagging-saging @5-laska @tuna-toes @seinuis @sindulgent666 @evilari111 @newinhalerpls @kisses2kanao @sugacor3 @meizumi @90s-belladonna @meowstertruck420 @kyutiipie @ranzess @cookiesandcreammy @nevvynev @stwberri @mikeymyfav @dontmindtheevie @kaikaidenkai @mizukiblogs @ravenbc @yvanllie @cyberasterrr @lily-isalittlegirl @yourlocaleffy @hanamatopoeia

© neeeooon, 2025

[halfadiamond]

Poly TF141 Angst

Poly TF141 where you and the guys have been together for quite a while. First it was them then you came along and you became the final piece to their puzzle.

Poly TF141 where you’re too nervous about being in a poly relationship because you know there’s a case where someone might feel left behind, but the men reassure you and say that has never happened to them and it won’t happen to you.

Poly TF141 where you feel on top of the world with the men. They treat you good and you do too. There’s always laughter, smiles, and kisses. You guys always end the day with a I love you. You think that you must’ve found your soulmates and you assume it’s the same for them.

Poly TF141 where they slowly begin distancing themselves from you. You first assume it’s the job that’s keeping them being busy so you try to be patient and understanding. You try to give them distance but it hurts when you see them acting all lovey dovey towards each other but won’t include you.

Poly TF141 where you’re left there confused as you see the men get ready to go out on a date without you. You ask them if you can come too but they say that this is more for them rather than for you. You merely nod as you watch them leave. Maybe it’s their anniversary of when the four men got together and they want to celebrate it amongst themselves. But you know that’s a lie.

Poly TF141 where now you feel like a roommate instead of their girlfriend. They don’t give you good morning kisses or do anything that couples do. You have to watch from the sidelines as you see Johnny sitting Ghost’s lap or Gaz cuddling up to Price. You just watch as they head upstairs to have their own time for intimate moments. You just wallow on the couch as you hear the moans and groans.

Poly TF141 where you talk with your friends about it and realize the men are slowly kicking you out of their lives. Not once have they asked for your location or when you’ll be back. Your biggest fear of one of you guys being left behind was true and it’s happening to you.

Poly TF141 where you stop sleeping in your shared bedroom. At first the men don’t notice but it’s until Johnny doesn’t want to cuddle with any of men at night and wants to cuddle with you that they realize you haven’t come to bed yet. They find you at the guest bedroom, fast asleep, Johnny shakes you awake and tells you to come to bed, I wanna cuddle with ya, he tells you. He walks like a kicked puppy out of the guest bedroom when you reject him softly, I want to sleep alone tonight, was your only response.

Poly TF141 where Gaz remembers he hasn’t had a self care day with you in a while so he buys everything that you guys need. He has everything laid out in the table, ready for you guys, but you tell him that you’re too busy with work and rush back into the guest bedroom.

Poly TF141 where Simon normally takes a walk before heading to bed and decides to see if you’re up for a walk. He likes walking with you because you get to chat his ear off and he loves it. He loves hearing about the most randomness of things but you tell him that you’re too tired to walk.

Poly TF141 where John books a reservation at a nice restaurant for you and him but you don’t want to go. You tell him to take one of the other guys but he insists of wanting to go with you. You reluctantly go with him, and he’s doing most of the talking during the date. You mainly respond with nods or small comments and any attempt of a conversation by John is always met with quick talks.

Poly TF141 where the men are confused as to why you’re acting this way. They don’t understand that their actions led you to this point. And they all left stunned when during dinner, you tell them that you’re leaving them. It’s meant with protests from Johnny, pleading from Gaz, silent glaring from Simon, and questions from John. It’s there that they realize that they pushed you away and now they were facing the consequences of their actions.

Poly TF141 where you do leave them and move into your friends place until you can find your own. You’re constantly bombarded with gifts, messages, and voicemails. They all contain the same message; We’re sorry, please take us back.

Poly TF141 where they finally get you to agree to meet up with them and they apologize sincerely and beg for you to come back. And now you’re stuck with the decision.

I kinda want to write this out but I suck at dialogue and also I could through different routes for poly 141 angst

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

Bickering (John Walker x Reader)

word count: 1k

masterlist

Okay, so in my opinion, y’all wouldn’t be friends at first. You hop on the bandwagon of kind of making fun of him, which is fair. He’s a rather easy target. Plus, it’s not like he’s nice.

So while y’all don’t say anything rude about each other behind the other one’s back, you’re mean as hell while you’re talking to each other. 

Unfortunately, it’s funny. 

Yelena has an absolute ball listening to the two of you. She’s even started writing down her favorite quotes that she’s heard from you two.

From you: “Shut up, easy bake oven.” “You’re like an expired coupon: useless.” “If you ran like you run your mouth, maybe you’d be in better shape.”

From John: “I’ve heard enough from you, unnecessary movie sequel. You’re like the third Matrix.” “The trash gets picked up tomorrow. Might wanna get ready.” “I will pour yogurt into your ears if you interrupt me again.”  

It’s better entertainment than reality TV, and even Bob, who is often bothered by bickering, is amused. Because no one’s really getting hurt.

Bucky kind of loves it. He’ll intentionally get you two going and then just kick back and watch it. 

Yelena occasionally slips you lists of ideas for insults and then cheers when you use them. 

Ava tries her best to ignore it but she gets wound up in it, too. It’s sort of like when your mother watches something you have to pretend you have no interest in, even though you wanna know what happens. 

Alexei believes that it’s a weird form of flirting. And ever since he found out what shipping is, he definitely ships you two together. 

You catch a flu, and Alexei has you on the couch, compress on your forehead, and the TV on. Until you fall asleep, and the TV shuts off. When you wake up, sweaty and exhausted, you can’t get it back on. Miserable, you shove your face into your pillow.

“Oh, God, what now?” John asks you. “You need medicine or some shit?”

“Probably,” you groan. “I don’t know what time I had any, though.”

“Why is the TV off?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want it on?”

“...yeah.”

“Fine,” John picks up the remote and tries for a minute or two to get the TV on and working. “It’s not working.”

“I can see that,” you reply, sounding congested. 

John hits the same button he’s been hitting five times rapidly. 

“Well, there’s no cure for stupid,” you say. 

John groans. He tosses the remote to you on the couch. “Here you go. You want the TV on, you can get it on yourself like a normal person.” 

You toss a pillow at his head.

You eventually give up on the TV, take your medicine an hour later, and fall asleep again on the couch. John sees you there, face flushed from the warm blankets piled on top of you and from being sick, late that night. So he gently pulls the blankets off of you and brings you to your bed, turns the fan on to keep you cool, and pulls a light quilt over you, making sure your head rests on a comfortable pillow so that you won’t get a neck cramp. 

It is unbearably nice, and Alexei sees it. And Alexei cannot keep secrets, so he runs and tells Yelena and Bob immediately, and the story quickly ends up at the feet of Bucky and Ava. Soon, everyone but you knows. 

You are asleep, as comfortable as you can be while you’re sick, in your room. 

Once you’re better, you get right back to arguing with John over iced coffee, figuring that it had been Alexei, who had been taking care of you while you were sick, that had brought you upstairs. John never brought it up. 

Eventually, Ava kind of corners him and says, “I think you should flirt with her.”

John looks confused. “Who? What are you talking about?”

Ava rolls her eyes. “C’mon. Y/N. I think you should flirt with her.”

“Wha-what the hell? Why?” John stutters out. 

“Because you like her!! C’mon, John, you’re an idiot!”

John sees you that night, sitting on the couch on your computer. “Hey, broken toaster,” you greet, not looking up. 

“Spam email,” he replies casually, sitting down next to you with his book. The two of you sit in silence, doing your separate things side by side. 

“That does not count as flirting,” Ava tells John later. 

“Well, what am I supposed to say?” John asks. “I don’t want her thinking I’m a complete weirdo.”

“You called her spam email.”

“And apparently I’m a broken toaster. What do you want from me?”

“Some romance. Flirty energy. See if she plays into it! You like her, and I think she might like you,” Ava argues.

“Fine, how about we end this song and dance and I just ask her out?” John argues back.

“Fine! Great!” Ava yells.

“Great!” John yells in return.

John power walks into the kitchen, Ava hot on his heels. You look up from your phone confused. 

“Do you wanna go out?” John asks, almost sounding frustrated. 

“Uh, sure?” you reply. 

John throws his hands up in the air like he won something. “Excellent. Seven. We’ll do dinner. You like Italian?”

“Sure,” you shrug.

“Great,” John gives you a thumbs up and turns to Ava. “Voila, I’m done. We’re gonna go out. Next time you want me to try to flirt, maybe start by giving me some actual pointers.” And with that, he points at you and says, “Seven, I’ll see you,” and leaves. 

Ava turns to you, trying to hold back a laugh. The smile on your face indicates you’re trying to hold one back too. Then the two of you burst into happy laughter. “Oh my God, what did you even do to the poor man?” you ask.

“Just gave him a push in the right direction.” 

taglist

@spaceycat @vidanand @xo-cench @raikan624 @yeehawgiddyup13 @wpdarlingpan @puer-aurea

just thunderbolts

@papitas-con-sal

[uss-butterscotch]

Part 6! If you haven’t seen already i’m working on naming this fic so if you want to vote for your favorite option it should be just a few posts down on my blog :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

(cw for vague reference to child abuse. It’s literally like one throwaway sentence but just in case!)

~

“I keep having nightmares,” she started quietly, “I’m too late to stop Billy from hurting Steve, or the syringe is empty and it doesn’t work, and he kills Steve and then he kills Lucas, then Dustin, then Mike, and I’m yelling at him to stop, but he doesn’t. Because screaming didn’t stop him in real life.”

Eddie was reeling slightly from that alone, he didn’t have time to think of anything reassuring to say before she was talking again.

“Or, it’s the mall. And Billy doesn’t- he lets Jane die. And he laughs at me like I’m stupid for believing he could be better.” She looked back to Eddie then, “And that’s the worst part. Because that’s not what happened. He did do the right thing for once and it got him killed.

“And it all makes me hate him even more, because even after he’s dead, he won’t stop fucking with me!” And there. Finally something Eddie could work with.

Her hands were clenched hard, knuckles turning white. She finally seemed done with her train of thought, breathing slightly heavy, and glaring a hole through the windshield. Eddie nodded, but kept his eyes on the road ahead of him.

“That sucks, Red, I’m sorry.” He rapped his knuckles against the steering wheel lightly, “My dad was in and out of jail most of my life. On the occasion that he was out he was a mean drunk, to me and my mom, the supposed love of his life.”

He rolled his eyes at that. “If he had really cared about her, he would have tried harder to clean up his act when she got sick. But he didn’t, and we couldn’t afford her treatments, and she died. And I hated him so much.

“And then about a year later, he dropped me off with Wayne, said he had some business to take care of in Indy, but he’d see me soon.”

Eddie scoffed sarcastically, shaking his head. “Not too long after that, Wayne gets a lovely visit from the sheriff’s department with news that his brother’s dead, killed in some sort of deal gone wrong. They said from witness statements it sounded like he was trying to to get money back from someone who owed him or something, and to top it all off, his nephew, one Eddison Munson, seemed to be missing-“

“Your name is Eddison?” Max interrupted, a mocking smirk peeking through the panic from before.

“Yes,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes, “what’s yours? Maximillian?”

“Sure.” She said, crossing her arms and settling into her seat. “I would have guessed Edward. Or maybe Edwin.”

Eddie shrugged. “Eddison was like, my mom’s grandpa’s name or something. I never met the guy, but I guess he sort of raised my mom.”

Eddie waved a hand around wildly, needing to steer the subject away from that topic quickly. “Anyway! If I may continue,” he paused to give Max an opportunity to tell him to shut up. When she didn’t, he went on, “after the situation was sorted out, and it was declared I needed a new legal guardian because I was fresh out of parents, I started living with Wayne full time.”

The school was rapidly approaching, so Eddie tried to summarize his points as quickly as possible. “Point is, I was so confused and angry for years. I wondered if he knew how dangerous what he was doing would be, and he kept me away from it to keep me safe for once in his stupid life. I wondered what life might have been like if he had gotten whatever money he went there to get and used it to make things better for us. I had a million questions and a million theories. But none of those ideas fit with the asshole I knew he was, and then I was mad at myself for even thinking that highly of him. For thinking he could change. And worst of all, I would never know the truth.”

He parked the van and shut the engine off. “It took me a long time, and a lot of serious conversations with my uncle that he had to practically drag me kicking and screaming into having, to know what to do with that anger. To work on accepting life’s unknowns.”

Max looked at him, chewing on her cheek. He hoped he wasn’t imagining it, but something in her gaze looked a little softer.

As he opened his own door, he said, “You don’t have to talk about it now, and you don’t have to talk about it to me, but you should talk someone. Eventually.”

He got out, closed the door behind him. When he noticed she was still in her seat he walked around the van and opened her door. “Ideally, you do it before it makes you do something really stupid just to feel something else besides the anger and the grief.”

He stepped aside to give her space to exit the vehicle and she slid out of the seat. He made a show of taking his time to lock up the van to give her a head-start into the school. He watched as she made her way to the doors, and was surprised when, for the first time since they had been driving together, she veered off her path to meet someone. When he realized who it was, Eddie chuckled to himself. He made his own way to the school and gave a two fingered salute to Sinclair and Henderson, who were joined by Max (and smiling so wide their cheeks had to be burning).

He made his way into the school and to his first period class, pleased to be able to check this side quest off.

[sightseertrespasser]

Oh my gosh, your reply to the ask about Blue has such a genius idea! This is something that struck me and I wanted to share it (hopefully my ramblings here make some sense). The fact that Prowl and Bluestreak are twins already implies they’d have similarities, and while it’d probably be easier for other humans to tell the difference, of course the Cybertronians would have a harder time telling the two apart. Prowl and Blue have similar (if not identical) genetics; add to that experiencing similar side effects to being mecha pilots and any Cybertronian would be hard-pressed to tell the two apart at first glance. This does add more potential for after the Cybertronians find their human and they all officially meet each other. Because the Cybertronians would see similarities between the brothers, sure, but they’d also see how each of them is also very different. In hindsight they’d probably question how they’d ever mistake one brother for the other, especially given all the time they’ve no doubt shared on their respective journeys. Oh, and the parallels between the two of them…one can’t leave his mecha without dying, and the other is driving himself into an early grave trying to stay in his mecha. Once Prowl and Blue see each other, they’d probably hone in on just how bad things have gotten for the other. Twin telepathy aside, there’s things only siblings would notice.

Now going back to the Cybertronians rescuing their human...if they find the wrong one that’d just get all kinds of confusion and stress:

Sunny and Sides finding Prowl and panicking because "what do you mean you’re out of your mecha? Get back to your life support before you literally fry your brain! You can’t survive long enough outside, you know that! Why are you just staring?"

Then there’s Jazz trying to coax Bluestreak out of whatever machinery the Quintessons are using to keep him stable while they try to extract the super computer. He’s promising Blue that "we’ll be okay, the Quints are nowhere near us and I’ll make sure we get out. It’ll be faster if we just escape now though, and—wait. What do you mean you need to find Prowl? That’s your literal name. Did you get another concussion?"

Now, Bluestreak’s kind of out of it when Jazz finds him. However, the moment Jazz mentions Prowl he’s entirely focused on what Jazz is saying. Maybe he was super loopy from whatever the Quints did to stabilize him so they could remove him from his mecha, but just hearing Prowl mentioned brings more alertness. (Maybe the super computer in his brain picks up on that one mention of his brother and deduces that someone who’d mention Prowl in a place like this would only do so if they expected him to be there.) So now Blue is wondering if Prowl really is there, if his brother might actually be connected to this strange Cybertronian right in front of him. He starts talking about Prowl and how Jazz is right and that "we should leave now because I have to let my brother know everything’s alright since the last time we were together things didn’t end too well, and if I know my brother, Prowl’s probably been trying to bury things in work even though he knows that never helps—it never did before—and he’s probably going to need someone to pull him out of that spiral and you’re sure Prowl is here?"

And Prowl. He’d have been seen as the more stable of the two super computers, meaning the Quints were probably going to use him as a backup if whatever they’re doing to Blue failed. So maybe he started making his escape (he’d probably have learned more than a few tricks from Jazz’s repertoire), and because he knows he can’t get far without Jazz or his mecha, he’s currently trying to find one or the other. When he does stumble upon the room with his mecha, he’s ready to find Jazz and get out of there. Except when he gets closer to the shape he thought was his mecha, he freezes. Because no amount of blurry vision or vague shapes could ever make him forget Bluestreak’s mecha. Too many things play through his mind and he can’t make sense of it all. He knows the shape looming before him was destroyed and he doesn’t understand. So when he hears two complete strangers calling out his brother’s name…can he really dare to hope his brother’s alive?

There’s already so much you can do with either side of this, like the question of who will find who first. Will Jazz manage to get Bluestreak out in time to get him to his mecha? Would they run into Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, and Prowl, or would it be vice versa? Would the Quints find the whole gang right as they’re about to escape? Or would that just lead into an epic fight? It’s been so long since Prowl and Bluestreak had been on the battlefield together. What if they just as easily fell back into their roles, into how it used to be. Though of course, both might have picked up some tricks and skills from their respective Cybertronians. Imagine the surprise each of them have when they see the other pull moves they definitely did not have before. And in the background, the Cybertronians in question being very proud of how it was them that taught their human to move or fight like that.

This is definitely a fun idea!

Incidentally, I’ve found I really like stories with good uses of communication barriers and understandable misunderstandings so I propose this concept to add to it:

Jazz has been learning English and Bluestreak has learned cybertronian, but Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Prowl haven’t learned each others languages.

Even with Bluestreak being kinda out of it, Jazz could put two and two together of “long lost twin” and “person who looks exactly like Prowl but act’s nothing like him.”

But the Twins on the other hand.

They find Prowl and no one can communicate with each other. Everyone is having a breakdown.

“Why isn’t Blue talking to us anymore? Why can’t he recognize us? Did the quintessons erase all his memories of our time together? Did they somehow turn Blue evil? Because even when we first met he wasn’t anywhere near this hostile. Even if he’s kicking and screaming we have to help him. He hates us he hates us why does he hate us?!”

Meanwhile, Prowl is getting manhandled by a couple of mechs he doesn’t know and can barely see and he’s absolutely fucking furious about it

Just, imagine Bluestreak and Jazz meeting and it’s this whole emotional moment of “You’re alive! Your brothers alive! You might both be dying but please just hold out a little longer he’s got to be nearby. You miss each other so damn much and I’ll do anything to reunite you two.”

And then Sunny and Sides round the corner holding Prowl at arm’s length like some kind of Satan possessed ferret.

[lovejongseob]

How the other P1H members find out your relationship

Jongseob probably wouldn't be able to hide it for long, for a number of reasons. First of all, P1Harmony is his family. They live together, work together, have spent many years together, and so much more. Very rarely were they unaware of what everyone is up to. And, of course, you just made him so happy, it manifested in new habits the group would obviously pick up on.

Rather than staring intensely at his phone, like he's about to burn through it with his eyes, he's been smiling fondly and giggling louder. He takes pictures of just about everything and seems to be taking way more selfies than they need to post. It's like a new interest has taken over his mind, and his friends just keep noticing more.

Soul would get suspicious when he notices Jongseob playing more multiplayer games, but isn't inviting him as much. He keeps speaking to him, talking in multiple languages, including alien, but his headphones are too loud. Usually he gets a little startled at sudden noises, but maybe he was just too focused on his game ?

Intak is confused, "Jongseob, didn't you leave with a jacket ?" Thankfully, none of the others were there to keep connecting the dots, but Jongseob was definitely frozen for a second. He did leave with a hoodie, but if he explained why he didn't come back with it, he'd definitely get teased. It wasn't hard to convince Intak that he'd confused his attire with last night's, since he's been going out more often.

There's been a recent trend with one of the members, and Jiung is the first to pick up on it. In his personal time, Jongseob has been wearing less and less baggy clothes, opting for tighter shirts. He's more comfortable wearing crop tops, and skirts if he likes. He still adores his comfier and bigger clothes, but Jiung sees him putting extra effort into his appearance when it's not necessarily needed.

Jongseob knows he's on thin ice, and that it's risky to ask such things, but he really needs to know. He trusts Theo a lot, so he confides in him about personal questions and worries. He doesn't say anything about having a romantic partner, but Theo assumes at the very least he's interested in someone because hes nervously asking things like, "How do you be romantic while being so shy ?", "Did you have any relationships while you weren't an Idol ?", and, "How do you make them feel as hopeless as you ?"

So when Keeho slips into Jongseob's room to retrieve something he forgot way earlier, he isn't surprised to see his youngest friend has fallen asleep with his phone next to him, still in his hand. However, when he sees one of the prettiest people he thinks ever on the other side of a FaceTime call, his jaw doesn't even drop.

The moral of the story, is, Jongseob is never wrong. Maybe he could've avoided some of the teasing by just being upfront about it, but he's sure there still would've been a few jokes to be made. He wakes up to the P1H group chat's profile picture as both of your sleeping faces. There are 46+ messages, half of them from Theo, none of which he is responding to.

considered doing one or two paragraphs for each member, but decided to just make it multiple for jongseob. i have a lot of ideas for full group fics already so ill write those when i write those. "he'd" to "he's" cannot be right but in my head it sounds acceptable. always spell and grammar checking but what about checking the switch between present tense and past tense ? (im genuinely HORRIBLE with this) god i hate writing. i finished proof reading but i actually feel like i just fucked it up more

[brotherwtf]

Aphrodisiac/sex pollen clegan, like what if the krauts tried this truth serum drug on Bucky which has an aphrodisiac side effect and just returned him to Gale like that to deal with.

oh wait absolutely love this anon because what if the effects of the truth serum are working with the aphrodisiac as well and of course that means John's airing out all of his feelings while also insatiably horny

they're not quite to the Stalag maybe, maybe Gale was kept at an interim prison longer than they intended but it ended up working for the Germans because they captured Bucky Egan, the pilot who they know Gale Cleven cares for, and they're going to use him for everything they can

Gale gets thrown into a bigger cell one morning and he's left there for a couple of hours, confused, a little frightened, but he knows whatever it is is still a German tactic so he keeps his mouth shut

that is, until John gets thrown into the cell after a couple of hours of Gale waiting by himself, panting and sweating with half of his face matted in blood but he looks alright for the most part, he looks alive, and that's all Gale can bring himself to care about

"Bucky," Gale finds himself croaking, getting up from his corner to help John from where the Germans have pushed him to the ground, they had oddly left them alone, locking the door with a sure clunk

John feels warm, hot almost, underneath Gale's touch and he's panting like a dog that's too hot and Gale worries, oh he worries, but then he hears the crackle of John's voice

"Buck? oh Buck, Gale, I was so fucking worried about you, doll, I was so worried about you, I hated myself, I hated every second of it and then I thought you were dead, oh my God Gale," John blabs, voice almost unsure as he speaks, his hands getting a tighter grip on Gales shirt

Gale holds onto him tightly and he can see John's pupils dilated, there's almost none of the steel blue left in the iris, and he feels so so hot

"John, don't worry, I'm alright, are you okay?" Gale asks, pressing the back of his hand to John's forehead and grimacing when its desperately warm

John pants, his hands gripping Gale even harder and Gale can tell John's knees are weak so he guides them both to the floor, John's head ducked into Gale's chest

"I can't... it's so hot, I need... please, I need..." John groans, hands reaching, reaching for something and Gale doesn't quite know what

"Bucky, John, come on, talk to me, what did they do to you?" Gale asks, firm

John's breath is still shaky and he's still oh so hot, but he manages to bring his gaze up to Gale's and Gale sees that juvenile look in his eyes, that coyness, that look he only gives girls he's planning to take back to a hotel room later, it's making Gale hot under the collar

"Buck... Buck you're so fucking pretty, fuck, you're the prettiest of em all, can't even fucking compare to any of the girls, nah they don't even compare.... fuck... I can't... Buck, please," John mutters, lip trembling ever so slightly and that's when Gale notices he's hard, so hard, pressed up against the loose material of his flight suit and suddenly Gale feels hot too

Gale finds he's breathing heavily too, almost panting, and he pushes John so he's against the crumbling wall of the cell so he can have something to lean on, so Gale doesn't feel like he's falling through the floor either

"Fuck, John, whatever the krauts did to you is making you delusional, I need you to snap out of it, Bucky," Gale says and flinches when John whimpers, a broken sound as a tear flows down his cheek

"No... no... please, please, Gale, I need you, please, I need you," John begs and it tears something right in Gale's heart that he doesn't understand.

"Okay, okay, it's gonna be okay, let me help, I got you, John," Gale says and he feels his cheeks flutter with heat when John blooms in happiness, that familiar smile of his present on his face

he unzips John's flight suit to his waist and carefully puts his hand under the waistband of John's boxers, thoroughly, methodically, like a doctor would, and grips John's fiercely hard cock in his hands

John gasps, jolting upwards and leaning his face against Gale's, mouth agape against Gale's cheek as Gale does his best to look away, he can't look, but he also doesn't want to cause John any pain

he holds John by the nape of his neck with his other hand, fingers curled into John's sweat drenched hair as he moves his hand slowly, slow pulls up the entire, long, thick length of it, Gale tries not to think about how big John is in his hand, and John responds with low groans right against Gale's face, his mustache tickling the softness of his cheek and his hot breath fanning across Gales lips, Gale can almost taste him and hates himself for wanting to know what John tastes like

John's leaking steadily, his wetness easing the flow of Gale's hand and he bucks his hips upwards every so often, trying to get more of Gale's hand, to get more pleasure from Gale as much as possible, he has an arm pressed up against Gale's side and his hand clenches against Gale's hip, his other hand coming up to Gale's wrist working on his cock, not stopping him or encouraging him, just holding him there

"yes... fuck... don't stop, please don't stop," John whispers and Gale feels himself shakily exhale at the same time as him, he still can't take his hand away from John's cock

Gale doesn't know how he feels, he doesn't know how he should feel, giving his best friend a handjob in a prison cell in enemy's territory. All he knows is that he almost doesn't want it to end, doesn't want John's labored breathing to stop, wants to keep feeling his hot skin against his.

Gale can feel John's hips start to move more, John's pants start to get even faster, and he knows that John's close, can hear it in the way he pinches off his moans ever so slightly, his lip caught in his mouth. John turns his head so that his nose brushes Gale's, his panting breaths now directly fanning over Gale's lips and he closes the distance, lips sloppily slotting with Gale's as he shakes, his spend spilling all over Gale's hand and his stomach. Gale almost doesn't realize John came, his mind reeling from the way John desperately moves his lips against his, consuming almost. Gale almost wants to be consumed.

Gale turns his head with a gasp, pulling his hand away from John's softening cock, eyes squeezed shut as he wipes John's come on the cell floor. His heart is pounding and he's shaking like he's taken a hit of whatever John was given. John doesn't lean away, doesn't pull back, he stays pressed against Gale's side, his pilots uniform still unzipped, his nose still pressed to Gale's cheek.

"Thank you," John mutters and Gale nods once.

"Anytime," Gale whispers, patting John on the shoulder and not moving an inch.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Us Again-Part 3

Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader (nicknamed Tink)

You’re getting closer to being discharged and you’re scared of hurting him by not remembering fast enough while he just wants you to heal

Warnings: mentions of injury

The meeting in the ivory tower took longer than Mouse had expected it to but with Voight and your union rep the city had been more than happy to agree with any terms set forth. You’d been a damn good cop since graduating the academy, you’d put your life on the line numerous times for this city. You were owed their loyalty now that you needed it.

That meant any and all specialists were covered between the insurance he had that blanketed you and the insurance you had from your job. The two of you had spent weeks making sure both branches worked cohesively should a situation arise where they were both needed. 

He thanked Voight for coming as they walked out to the sidewalk. Voight nodded “Of course. She’s one of mine” Mouse smiled slightly “I appreciate it.” “If you need anything Mouse, you know how to find me” Voight told him with a nod before heading to his suv.

Mouse nodded to himself then turned to head to his truck. The last few days he’d been trying to give you a little breathing room even if it was ripping his heart out of his chest. He would come to the hospital during the day, spend time with you and talk to Will and Connor about any tests then when visiting hours were over he’d head home. 

Today however he had a set time to be at the hospital. You were meeting with the physical therapist for the first time because they wanted you to get mobile. That was the first step towards your treatment plan. That was also the first step towards you being discharged and your treatment being on an outpatient basis. He was worried about that part. If you wanted room from him now, what would happen when you were discharged to his care?

He sighed and climbed into his truck. He wanted to get to the hospital before the PT got to your room.

Mouse walked past the nurse’s station headed to your room and April cut her eyes up “Glad you’re here” he raised an eyebrow “Why?” she shook her head “Just go on to her room” he was a little worried then.

When he got almost to your room he heard your voice “I may have a broken arm, broken leg and a broken brain but fuck you” oh god. That did not sound good. He knocked on the door as he was pushing it open. The PT Jonathan Mendez gave him an exasperated smile “Hey Gerwitz” he nodded “Jon, how’s it going?”

“Your lovely wife wants to kill me” he looked towards you and god help you were sitting in the bed, with your arms as crossed as you could get them with your left one being casted from right below the elbow down. “Tink, what’s wrong” you glared at the corner of the room “He wants me to use that thing”

Mouse followed your line of sight and saw the wheelchair. “Sweetheart, maybe it’s just to help you to start?” he tried, looking at Jon. “She can’t use crutches with her left arm” Jon reasoned and you scoffed “Like hell I can’t. Give me a pair”

Mouse didn’t want to smile, god he didn’t want to smile but you sounded so much like yourself he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking. “Would it fuck up anything just to let her try? I mean we could both be right there if something goes wrong?” he offered and Jon sighed “Fine, first time she sways though she’s in the chair”

Mouse looked back at you “Does that work?” “Yeah, I guess” you whispered and he nodded “Ok then” Jon left to go retrieve the crutches and Mouse walked over to the bed. You cut your eyes up at him “Thank you” he knew he looked as confused as he felt even before you clarified “For backing me” he smiled “You’re my wife, kind of my job even if you don’t remember”

You smiled slightly “I want to, if that helps any?” he nodded, his hand brushing against your right one “It does and I’m not going anywhere. I promise you”

_______________________

When the PT Jon came back with the crutches he and Greg helped you to turn to the edge of the bed and it was only then that it occurred to you that you had a hospital gown on. You felt your face warm as you whispered “Greg, my ass is hanging out” he grinned “You have underwear on. I’ve seen everything you have and Jon will be respectful”

Jon winked at you “I promise” you nodded and let Jon adjust the crutches to your height then they helped you to get up. You swayed a little but Greg kept his hands on you to keep you steady. “Ok, let's move around the room. With the skull fracture I need to observe her gait”

Greg smiled at you “Nice and easy” you nodded and moved forward with the crutches, being easy on your left arm and keeping weight off your right leg. It was painful, you were slow but you weren’t falling and you weren’t swaying. 

Jon walked you around the room twice before he nodded to Greg that you could make your way back to the bed. When Greg helped you sit down you knew he saw you grimace in pain. 

“I still think she needs the wheelchair as a backup” Jon spoke and you shook your head, half out of breath “No, look I don’t remember what our home looks like but I doubt its set up for a wheelchair is it?” you looked at Greg who shook his head “No but I can make it be” 

You groaned “No! You’re not adjusting anything else in your life. Dammit, I can do it with the crutches” him and Jon shared a look before Jon nodded “Ok. Well she did good. I’ll talk to Rhodes, Halstead and Deangelo. One of them will be in to talk to you two soon” 

He turned to walk out and Greg told him “Thanks man” you watched him go as Greg leaned your crutches against the wall. You grunted as you shifted your body around in the bed, tears forming in your eyes. He moved to help you and you let him. “I’ll get April to get you something for pain” you nodded slowly “Ok but if Connor or Will comes wake me?” he smiled softly “I promise” 

___________________

Mouse walked out into the hallway to find April and spotted Jon also. “Hey man. Wait up” Jon turned and grinned “She’s still got the stubborn streak a mile wide” Mouse nodded “That isn’t going anywhere. Do you think the crutches are gonna hurt anything else?”

Jon shook his head “They shouldn’t. As long as she’s careful. Once she can make a loop to the nurse’s station and back on them, I’d give the rec to discharge” Mouse nodded “Ok, I’m um gonna get her some pain meds” “Ok” he took a few steps before Jon called his name so he looked back and Jon motioned to your room “The stubborn streak? It helps. They don’t give up” 

Mouse nodded “She never does”

You were so relieved to see Hailey and Jay come through your room door you nearly cried. You’d asked Greg earlier if he’d mind bringing you some clothes. Connor had approved you getting regular clothes, said a nurse or cna could help you get cleaned up. They just had to be loose enough to go over your leg cast, not pull at the stitches on your side and the neck hole on the shirt be big enough to not tug your staples.

The thing was Greg of course hadn’t wanted to leave you. Now you could use the excuse of asking him to go and get you some food. He could take Jay with him and leave Hailey with you. Hailey smiled when she saw you were sitting up a little higher “Hey Tink” you smiled “Hey Hailey, I got crutches”

She grinned “I see! You’re getting mobile!” you nodded slowly “Yup, tiny bit anyways” luckily you didn’t even have to ask Greg because he stood and smiled at you “I’m gonna go get your clothes and grab you some actual food” “Thank you” you replied and he nodded “Of course” then looked at Jay “You wanna go with me?” Jay nodded “Sure” then leaned down to press a kiss to Hailey’s lips “I love you” “I love you too” she replied. 

You didn’t miss how Greg’s face fell just slightly at that interaction. He missed that. You felt your own heart twist again. Your heart knew him even if your brain didn’t and seeing him hurting was killing you. You weren’t worth this. “Be careful. See you when you get back” you told him and he smiled, “See you when I get back” 

As soon as Greg and Jay walked out and you were sure they were gone you looked at Hailey “You said we’re close, like I’m your best friend. You’re my best friend right? Our texts read like that. Our photos look like that” she nodded “Yeah”

“So, if I say something you wouldn’t repeat it?” her eyes widened “What’s wrong?” you dropped your gaze to your hands “I’m getting discharged within a couple days and I’m terrified” “Why?” she whispered and you slowly raised your eyes to meet hers “I don’t want to keep hurting him. He keeps looking at me and wanting his wife, mourning his wife. Maybe I should check into a treatment facility until we see if my memory will heal?”

“No you shouldn’t…” she moved closer to gently take your hand in hers “I know you don’t remember but that man loves you. He would do anything for you. If he lost you? I don’t know if he’d keep moving forward” “And if I never remember?” you asked, tears in your eyes. She raised her other hand to wipe the tears off your cheeks “We’ll cross that bridge if and when. Don’t worry about anything but healing. Ok?” you nodded “Ok. Thank you Hailey, I see why we’re best friends” she laughed “We just fit”

________________________

By the time Greg and Jay made it back your stomach was growling. When they walked in you smiled when your eyes landed on Greg. You had somehow landed in a hallmark movie of waking up and you have a hot husband. You didn’t understand how those women weren't ridden with guilt however. 

“I got you clothes and the chinese place you like” he offered so you smiled “Thank you” he nodded as Jay gave Hailey her food and the three of them spread out around the room to eat. 

_______________________

“Greg?” you spoke low, getting his attention. Jay and Hailey had just left and the nurse hadn’t long helped you get cleaned up and in regular clothes. You felt so much more human just being semi clean and having your ass covered. 

He looked up from the chair he was sitting in. “Yeah?” “Where do all these scars come from?” he smiled slightly “When you get home I’ll run em all down for you” you nodded “Ok, are you sure you can handle all this with these doctors and crap? They have inpatient treatment centers?”

His eyes widened in horror, “You’re my wife! I promised you until death do us part. For better or worse. I’m gonna be at your side for every step. I won’t crowd you, I won’t over step but anything you need from me..I’ll be there” you nodded slowly, tears threatening to spill “I just don’t want you regretting this decision if I don’t get my memory back” “You will” he sounded so sure. 

“Connor said three days tops. Then I just have to be careful and come back regularly for CT scans during the healing to ensure there’s no bleeds along with all the specialists” you reminded and he nodded “I know” “I’m so sick of this hospital” you admitted and he laughed “Oh. believe me I know! You and Jay have always competed for who hates hospitals worse” 

“Who knows? Maybe being home will help?” you offered and he smiled “Maybe” 

Part 4

@yousigned-upforthis

@shadotiger9

@forensicgirl99

@elvenpirate51

[that-sudsy]

Caught Between Lines | Positive | PART 2

see part one here

Pairing: John Soap MacTavish x Reader

Summary: you have been in a secret relationship with Johnny now things took a toll.

Warning: Mentions of Pregnancy and Subordinate and Superior case.

What if the test turned out to be Negative click here to read Alternate Ending.

The next morning,

you and Soap approached Price's office. Price was standing at his desk, reviewing papers.

"Sir, we need to talk. About our situation and..." Soap pulled out your wedding certificate, placing it on Price's desk. "We're married, sir. Prior to the promotion, so I wasn't a superior. That's why we didn't file any forms. We were scared of being separated."

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, waiting for Price's reaction.

Price stared at the certificate in silence for what felt like an eternity. His expression remained stoic, though his eyes flicked between the two of you. "I see. That... complicates things even further," he finally spoke, his voice measured. "You both should've come forward immediately. Why keep this secret?"

His gaze fixed on you specifically.

You cleared your throat. "It was because we were afraid you'd transfer one of us to another team... or the enemy getting a hold of our file."

Price leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "I understand your fears. But as your captain, it's my duty to protect my team. Not drive them apart."

He picked up the certificate, studying it carefully. "You've been married... what, almost three years now? And not a single sign of unprofessional behavior until this incident?"

Johnny nodded. "We got married in the middle of the mission back in Alaska. When we made a pit stop in England, we stopped by my hometown in Scotland and got married."

Price's stern expression softened slightly, remembering that mission. "Right... that's when I gave you both permission to take that day off. Didn't think you'd choose that particular use of it."

He set the certificate down, interlacing his fingers. "This changes things. But I still need to follow procedure."

Price continued, his voice becoming more serious as he looked directly at you. "Which means you'll have to step away from active duty immediately, starting today. Eventually, you will be sent home to MacTavish's hometown."

You frowned and nodded. "Yes, sir."

Price noticed your expression. "I know this isn't easy for you. But we have protocols for a reason." He stood up, moving around his desk. "You'll still be assigned to base work for now, and yer medical examinations will be a priority."

Soap reached for your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

You looked at Price. "What happens to Johnny?"

Price sighed heavily. "He'll remain with the team for now. We need him on the next operation, and I can't risk benching both of you." He looked at Soap. "But don't think I won't be watchin' you both carefully. Any hint of favoritism and your both out until She's sent home."

You nodded. "My base work will be until when, sir?"

Price checked his watch. "Until we've concluded the investigation. Could be a few weeks."

He gave you a knowing look. "I suggest you both get ready for separation. Long-distance marriages aren't easy, especially in our line of work."

Price pulled out a form from his desk drawer. "I'll need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement. Standard procedure—no discussin' this with anyone else on base."

He handed you the paper. "And ye should probably start packin' yer things. Yer new quarters will be in the medical wing."

"The medical is for the baby until I get discharged... So I can't see Johnny for the next...?" You asked as you signed the contract.

Price noticed your confusion and shook his head. "No, the medical wing is temporary housing. We have special quarters for pregnant staff members, with more privacy."

He looked at you carefully. "And I expect you to inform our medic team about your... situation. They'll handle your medical needs personally."

Price's tone became slightly gentler. "I know this is hard. But trust me when I say the team needs to focus on the mission right now."

He glanced at Soap. "And Sergeant, your time off request is denied. Get your gear ready for deployment tomorrow."

Soap started to protest, but Price cut him off. "That's an order, Soap. your wife will be fine here under our protection."

You looked at Soap, and he met your gaze with pained eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Sir... I can't just leave her like this. Not now," he muttered.

Price stepped between you and Soap. "You'll both need to learn to manage this. Your personal lives don't come before the team's needs."

The tension in the room was thick as Price watched them struggle with the separation.

You nodded. "Yes, sir."

Price's voice softened just a fraction. "Good. You, I'll have someone escort ye to yer new quarters. Soap— with me. Now."

Soap moved closer to you one last time. "I'll write to ye every day. Promise." He gave you a quick, desperate kiss before Price firmly guided him out of the office.

You wrapped your arms around Soap in a hug. "Promise, I'll give you an update on the wee baby and when I get back home."

Soap held you tightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll hold ye to that. Our wee one better be growin' big and strong." He pulled back slightly, placing his hand on your belly. "And take care of yerself. Both of ye," he said in his thick Scottish accent.

"You too... I love you," you said.

Soap kissed your forehead tenderly. "I love ye too. Always."

He finally forced himself to let go, with Price waiting impatiently by the door. You were escorted to the other wing.

In your new quarters, you noticed the separate rooms—one for living, one for medical checkups, and another for a private nursery.

The next morning, Soap was gone on his mission, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the quiet buzz of medical equipment in the distance.

You knew this was temporary, knowing you would be discharged in a few weeks.

You began arranging your belongings in the smaller space, your pregnancy becoming more obvious with each passing day. Despite the sterile environment, you found small comforts—a picture of Soap on your nightstand and a small corner dedicated to baby supplies that Price discreetly delivered.

Months passed. The medical team became familiar faces as they monitored your pregnancy. You kept detailed records for Soap, documenting every milestone.

Through their letters, Soap shared his missions while you shared the nursery's progress, drawing baby designs and baby name ideas.

You were discharged to Scotland to live back home in Johnny's house, which was quite unfinished. But the house was close; fortunately, all it needed were a few touches like painting and attachments. Luckily, there was an allowance to keep you afloat. You still wrote to Johnny, letting him know your situation.

In the half-finished house, you made do with what was available, living modestly while making sure your pregnancy was comfortable.

Your letters to Soap became increasingly worried about his safety and whether they'd be able to finish the house together before the baby arrived. Soap's mother decided to help you out with the house; the good thing was you knew a little about carpentry.

Mrs. MacTavish's arrival brought warmth and familiar Scottish hospitality into the half-finished home.

She found you painting one room while holding your growing belly.

"Look at ye, love! Workin' hard despite everything. My Johnny always knew how to pick a strong one."

You smiled when you heard her voice. "Mrs. MacTavish! It's a pleasant surprise!" You greeted as you got off the ladder.

Mrs. MacTavish waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, pish posh, dear. Just call me Ma or Mum, like my son does. No need for formalities here." She set down her suitcase and examined the paint job. "Let's finish this room today, shall we? The crib can't just sit in boxes forever!"

You smiled. "Oh, I appreciate the help. How did ye know I was here?"

Mrs. MacTavish chuckled warmly. "My boy Johnny writes to me every week. Told me ye were needin' some extra hands around here." She pulled out some sandwiches from her bag. "And I figured the wee one needs proper food too, not just yer limited pregnancy cravings."

You were surprised that someone in the world still cared, and you smiled.

Mrs. MacTavish patted your shoulder. "Of course I care, dear. Ye're carryin' my grandchild after all. And family looks after family."

She started unpacking tools. "Now, show me where ye need help first—baby's room or kitchen? Those floors need proper Scottish polish."

"Which room do ye think is easier? We can start with that," you said as you ate the sandwich.

Mrs. MacTavish took a big bite of her own sandwich, considering. "Well, the baby's room is more urgent, but the kitchen will be essential once we're finished."

She pointed to the unfinished floors. "Let's start here—good floors are crucial for growin' families. We'll make it cozy enough for ye both."

You nodded. "I'm tryin' to make it as homey for Johnny when he gets home."

Mrs. MacTavish's eyes softened with understanding. "That's sweet of ye, dear. My Johnny might not show it much, but he'll love what ye've done here."

She started measuring the floorboards. "Just needs some finishin' touches—like those family photos we should hang up. Have ye started that album yet?"

You shook your head. "I... no."

Mrs. MacTavish paused her measuring and looked at you. "Oh love, let's make that our first project then. Every baby needs memories to grow up with."

She took out an old camera from her bag. "I brought this just in case. We can capture the progress of the house and yer pregnancy. Start that album together."

You beamed. "Aww, that's so sweet of ye!" You hugged her.

Mrs. MacTavish hugged you back tightly, gently patting your swollen belly. "That's what grandmothers are for, dear. Now let's get to work on that floor, and then we'll start on yer scrapbook memories."

She pulled out her toolbox with renewed energy. "Just like the old days when I used to help Johnny's father build our house," Mrs. MacTavish said with nostalgia.

"Really? Johnny had mentioned his father before, but he doesn't really talk about his father's death..." you said.

Mrs. MacTavish's expression turned somber for a moment, her hands pausing over her tools. "Aye, he doesn't like to remember those times. Losing his father hit him hard." She continued working but spoke softly. "We built this house together—my late husband and I. Johnny inherited his father's love for fixin' things before he became a soldier. His father always told him bravery and loyalty run in the family; that's why he became a soldier too. His father was a firefighter who wanted to save people who needed help. But Johnny wanted to prove to his father that he could do better than his father. And he did."

She glanced at you. Your heart swelled in adoration, hearing Johnny's story from his mother; it was a different view. You married a man who was loyal and selfless; it had its perks and cons too.

"But now he has ye and the wee one to build something new with. That's what family is for—starting fresh despite the past," Mrs. MacTavish said. "I'm glad he settled down before it was too late. I'm glad he met a woman like ye."

You nodded. "And I thank him for that too, and I promise I will always support him no matter what since he has my back as I got his," you said as you patted your hands together, removing the crumbs from the sandwich and resuming painting. "I fell in love with his selflessness; the whole Johnny and I would fall all over again every time I see him."

Mrs. MacTavish smiled proudly, watching your gentle demeanor. "That's right, love. And I can tell ye're just as caring as my Johnny describes."

She started sanding the floorboards. "He writes about how thoughtful ye are, how ye bring him meals during long missions." Her voice got slightly teasing. "Though he also mentions how yer cookin' could use some work... But he still eats everything ye make, bless him."

You never knew about that, and it made you blush, knowing you weren't really good at cooking but there was still room for improvement. "Yeah, I'm still tryin' to make my cookin' better."

Mrs. MacTavish chuckled warmly. "Practice makes perfect, dear. I can give ye some of my family recipes. The one for bangers and mash is Johnny's favorite." She started measuring again. "Though he'd probably still eat whatever ye make, even if it's burned to a crisp. That's what love does—makes us tolerant of each other's flaws."

You raised your brows as you painted the wall. "Awww, really? I didn't know he liked those. I'll definitely make some for him once he's home."

Mrs. MacTavish's eyes sparkled with joy. "That's the spirit! And make sure to save some for me when ye do—I'll be here helpin' ye through this pregnancy." She started applying stain to the freshly sanded floor. "Ye know, Johnny's always been a good boy, but he's never had someone who truly wants to learn about his Scottish roots like ye do."

You were happy that you were Johnny's and to know you were his one and only; it was pride. You were glad that he let you into his life. He was a private man, and you never thought you could love him this much and start a family with him.

As months passed, your belly got noticeable, and the house was almost finished. The nursery was done, and the garden was the only thing that needed to be finished, including the back door.

Mrs. MacTavish wiped sweat from her brow, admiring the nursery. "This room turned out beautifully, dear. The rocking chair and crib are perfect for when the wee one arrives."

She patted your belly affectionately. "Ye're getting quite big now! Only a few more weeks till Johnny gets his leave. I can't wait to see him meet his little one."

You nodded. "Yeah, it's a lot harder to move and catch my breath," you said.

Mrs. MacTavish helped you sit down gently on the makeshift bench. "That's completely normal, love. Here, let me get ye some water and take a break from gardening." She fetched a cool drink from the kitchen. "Ye've done so much already. Focus on restin' when ye need to. We can finish the back door together tomorrow."

You obeyed and nodded as you sipped on the water. Mrs. MacTavish stayed by your side, humming softly.

"Remember what the doctor said—lots of rest and fluids. And speakin' of fluids, I've got some lovely chamomile tea brewin'."

She pulled out a baby blanket from her bag. "Look what I found in one of the boxes I had back home—Johnny's first blanket. I thought ye might want it for the nursery."

"That's Johnny?" you smiled. "Aww."

Mrs. MacTavish gently handed you the blanket, a sentimental look on her face. "Yes. So small and peaceful then. Now look at him—leading a team and becoming a father." She dabs her eyes slightly. "This house will always have pieces of our family in it. That's what makes it home."

You held it; it was a soft, knitted navy blue blanket. Mrs. MacTavish watched you with tears of joy. "It was my grandmother's pattern. She made it for every MacTavish baby born."

You traced the tiny blue stitches with your finger. "Maybe we could have ye start a blanket for this one too? Tradition, ye know."

You smiled. "Yeah, we should. I'd love to continue the tradition." You said, "I can't wait for Johnny to come home."

Mrs. MacTavish patted your hand reassuringly. "Neither can he, love. He talks about ye and the baby every time he writes. Even Captain Price noticed how much happier he's been lately."

She glanced at the calendar on the wall. "Just two more days until his leave starts. He'll be here before ye know it, excited to see ye both."

That night, you were getting ready for bed. You had the new knitted blanket beside the old one on the bed when you halted, feeling your water break.

Mrs. MacTavish, who had stayed for dinner, immediately noticed the sudden tension in your expression. "Oh dear, is everything alright? Ye look like ye've seen a ghost..." She started moving closer to you with concern.

You were trying to level your breathing, knowing your water broke. "My water broke."

Mrs. MacTavish sprang into action, quickly grabbing the hospital bag she had helped prepare. "Right, let's get ye to the car then! Breathe slowly and deeply—this is perfectly normal."

She helped you up, one hand on your back for support. "Stay calm, love. We'll get ye to the hospital in no time." You breathed, "I don't feel pain yet."

Mrs. MacTavish helped you to the car, keeping a steady pace. "That's good, dear. We'll keep monitorin' ye at the hospital." She started the car and glanced at you worriedly. "Should I call Johnny? Maybe his team can get him an earlier flight home."

"Please?" you whispered.

Mrs. MacTavish pulled out her phone while driving carefully. "Of course, dear. Just stay calm and breathe. I'll make sure he knows what's happening." She dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.

"Johnny? It's your mother. Your wife is in labor, and we're on our way to the hospital now."

Johnny: "Wait, what?"

Mrs. MacTavish maintained her focus on driving while speaking. "Yes, son. Her water broke about fifteen minutes ago. She's bein' very brave about it."

She glanced at you, who was breathing deeply. "We're nearly at the hospital now. Are ye able to come home sooner?" Mrs. MacTavish asked.

Johnny: "I'm on my way! The others will cover for me. Price is helpin' me make arrangements now."

At the hospital, mid-labor, Mrs. MacTavish held your hand as another contraction hit. "Ye're doing beautifully, love. Remember to breathe like we practiced. The doctor says ye're almost fully dilated."

You kept glancing at the door anxiously, knowing Johnny should arrive any moment. You sent your head back, breathing.

Hours later, during labor, Johnny was running in the halls, asking the nurses for the room number. He was still in his mission outfit—dusty and rugged.

Nurses directed him to the room,

Johnny burst through the door, out of breath and disheveled, but with eyes filled with panic and concern. "I'm here, bonnie! I made it." He said breathless until his eyes Landed on the baby in your arms

just in time; the doctor had given you the baby. Johnny's breath caught in his throat as he saw his daughter for the first time. He gently touched the baby's tiny fingers, tears streaming down his face. He never thought he gets to live and see this

"Oh God... she's perfect. Absolutely perfect. Just like her mother." He breathed in awe his head was spinning in shock

Mrs. MacTavish quietly stepped back to give them this special moment.

"Johnny, you made it just in time," you whispered.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand still holding the baby's. "I promised I'd be here for ye both, didn't I? I'd move mountains to be with ye and our wee one." His voice trembled with emotion. "She's everything... everything I ever wanted. Our little miracle," Johnny said in his thick Scottish accent.

The baby was still reddish-pink, her eyes still closed. Johnny felt weak and small. He gently stroked the baby's cheek with his thumb, completely captivated. "Hello, little angel... Daddy's here now. She got my eyes! She got yer nose," he cooed.

He glanced at you, who were exhausted but radiant. "Ye were so strong, love. I'm so proud of ye. Ye did amazing." He said, kissing your cheek. You smiled, nuzzling him. "I'm glad your home."

Johnny kissed your forehead tenderly while supporting the baby with his other arm. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. My two girls—safe and sound in my arms." His voice cracked with emotion. "I love ye both more than anything," Soap said.

When you were ready to come home, Johnny and you had gotten back home. Johnny was surprised by the handiwork of the house. He had the baby in its carrier basket. Johnny looked around the house, admiring the work done while he was away.

"Mum really went all out... this place looks like a proper home now." He carefully set the carrier basket down in the nursery. "She'll be safe here, our little princess. The garden's lookin' good too—maybe we can have some picnics in it."

Johnny took your hand, pulling you close. "We've built a good life here, haven't we? A family, a home... all because of ye." He glanced at the baby sleeping peacefully. "I never thought I could be this happy, but ye two have shown me otherwise," Soap said.

"Yeah, yer mother and I made all we could, based on the existing foundations of the house. I guess I can say we finally do have our own home," you said softly, the yellow light of the lamp brightening the nursery.

Johnny smiled warmly, looking around the home filled with your hard work. "Ye're right—we did. And it's more than just walls and floors... it's love and memories." He pulled you into a gentle embrace. "This is exactly what I wanted—a place to come home to, where we can raise our family."

You nodded, looking at him with such adoration and love. Johnny cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. "I love ye so much. Thank ye for givin' me everything I never knew I needed." He leaned down to kiss you softly. "And thank ye for our beautiful baby girl. Ye've made me the happiest man alive."

You kissed him passionately. "No, thank ye for makin' me a mother and givin' me a chance." Johnny responded to your passionate kiss, pulling you closer while being careful not to wake the baby.

"By the way, how did ye get here so fast?" you asked curiously after all the events of the day.

Johnny grinned sheepishly, remembering his chaotic arrival. "I may have... borrowed one of Price's parachutes without tellin' him. Jumped out of a plane mid-flight to make it here sooner."

He scratched his neck awkwardly. "He's probably gonna be pissed when he finds out... but seein' ye two was worth any consequences."

"Johnny!" you said in a scolding manner.

Johnny raised his hands defensively, trying to hide his grin. "What? I panicked! My wife and daughter needed me, and no bloody airline would let me catch a flight in time."

He pulled you close again, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry, I'll take the blame when Price finds out. Besides, it was totally worth it."

John Soap MacTavish Masterlist | SUPPORT MY WORK HERE

[reo-bylerwagon]

something super interesting to me is how a lot of viewers still struggle seeing mike reciprocating will's feelings, when the same thing could've been said for joyce in season 3.

i'd argue she's even harder to read than mike (mainly in s4) in most moments she has with hopper in season 3.

let's start off with their first interaction in season 3! and to really get into the grime, joyce's first time seeing hopper in the season.

is she just happy she has a visitor on a super slow day at work ("you're our first customer")? could be. she did immediately drop what she was doing the moment hop walked in, though.

when she does pick up on her tasks, she does incorporate a little flirting with hop... followed by the winona doe eyes look-up

then her gaze keeps getting softer

doesn't pull her eyes away from him...

and here it is. our first ever look at joyce byers yearning. (she hasn't processed what hop is saying yet give her a break lol)

she gets lost in the moment, and actually acts on wanting to feel closer to him, and comfort him.

these lyrics from "she's got you" by patsy cline are echoing her confusion right now. the lyrics in the caption are actually wrong, it should be "i really don't know, but i know it won't let me be" (i know that bc i'm a big fan of this song but that's beside the point lol). she doesn't know what her feelings for hopper could mean, but she's starting to realize they're there, and they might even be freaking her out a bit. understandably so! she lost bob a little under 8 months ago at this point, she hasn't even had a year to process her grief and trauma that came with witnessing it all.

then, hopper makes it real and asks her out. it is all about the microexpressions. her expression might've dropped, but her eyes are still saying the same thing, they're still holding that sense of longing. but that doesn't mean she isn't afraid, and taken aback, so it makes sense why joyce retreats.

on the subject of joyce retreating, standing hopper up isn't the only example. in my opinion, this scene is a very underrated, yet summation of how joyce handles romantic confrontation.

as hopper continues to call her out, we don't see her again. because once he says this, she basically dips.

sure, hopper wasn't fully digesting the problem at hand. but, all i'm saying is, isn't it convenient for joyce to use that fact to redirect the whole "you like me, but you're scare to move on" conversation by stealing his pliers (i think?) and making this lab mission happen?

and also, something something "like mother like son".

mix that with jonathan evacuating the second steve shows up at nancy's locker

this is the part of the post where i flip the bird to anyone who says byler analysts only talk about other relationships to prove byler (which, i gotta say, is annoying in general because bro i love these characters with my whole soul, and identifying dialogue and visual parallels that I DIDN'T PUT THERE is apparently disrespectful and shallow or something? touch grass, idk what to tell you if this post is somehow offensive.) anyway! i am actually using byler to shed light on joyce's perspective on her relationship with hopper during season 3, and how similar the relationships are in stranger things collectively, so let's go!

let's rewind about 24 hours! i'm gonna lay out this interaction, because there's something familiar about it.

the second the romantic implication is said out loud, and taken as such, joyce gets deflective and uptight. this leaves hopper to emphasize their "friendship" in his defense.

this sounds a lot like mike and will's fight at rink o mania. (both in episode 2 btw)

will even clarifies that this is about friendship more than once, even if some things he said were his attempt in seeing how mike would take them. the importance of this is that joyce and mike get defensive in their own way, and it is because, regardless of how hopper/will delivered it (or intended the delivery to be), they took these conversations romantically, and reacted similarly. of course, joyce is a woman in her late 40s, and mike is a 14 year old boy, so one reaction is more extreme than the other, but that doesn't diminish the essence these reactions share. they [mike and joyce] even leave in one last stinger (again, one is more extreme than the other.)

while we're on the subject of byler and jopper uniquely paralleling each other, here's another one that spells it out better!

joyce and will feeling like they're losing their mind/going crazy because of the mindflayer vs hopper and mike feeling like they're losing their minds/going crazy because they think they're seeing things (you could go further saying its an association with el, since hop was fighting off the demodogs to keep them off of el, and mike literally thinks he's still seeing el herself).

i want to include one more scene comparison, and i've talked about it vaguely before.

the upside down couch.

before it was upside down, joyce and hop had their first moment on screen where they both openly and mutually pined for each other on this couch. and not only that, but it is all while being basked under a very similar morning sunlight.

leaving this here to prove it's the same couch just 'cause

as i said before "like mother like son"

there's another byers who carries his unconscious crush home, and tucks them into bed.

extending the web even further, in the same night, mike takes will "home" to a similar couch, where he also comforts him.

and even though we don't see it, mike (and lucas lol) also bikes with will back to the wheelers in the same rain storm joyce takes hopper home in! (and this time, it's obvious that will sleeps over.)

[patheticpoems]

unconscious manifestation vs conscious manifestation .

I'm writing this in light of the whole wizardliz thing because I feel like we have zero nuance in conversations. im not gonna debate if it was conscious or not because its not my business, idgaf, and hopefully she manages fine through this tough time but i think w how this topic really got a lot of attention its worth talking about bad things that we experience. this can and will also serve as an answer to anyone who wonders why people may say that anything bad that happened to you wasn't/isn't your fault if you were confused on that.

this twt post is a good tldr if you have trouble reading long winded things.

I feel like people need a reminder that we exist in societies, that we are socialised to have certain standards, expectations, etc. That eventually we may find people who share opinions differently from what is standardised and we will align on it, like how many opinions and groups come to be on the Internet.

Now stay with me, this is gonna sound so crazy, we... are byproducts of what we grew up with/the spaces we are surrounded by 🫢 (oh my god we actually internalise things what!!!) We can unlearn certain opinions and take to new ones, you are not tied to whatever you were fed when you couldn't think for yourself, particularly when you didn't know about loass.

That is unconscious manifesting, doing it without knowing it. because shocker, that's how a law works, it doesn't wait for you to acknowledge it to keep functioning.

"But, Poem, does this mean everything I experienced was my fault?"

No, it wasn't your fault. Just because you held an assumption based on your circumstances that you had to learn to navigate to survive as much as you could doesn't mean it is your fault it just means you were trying to make it out alive. You didn't know, it is that simple.

That's different from assuming bad things for yourself whilst knowing that your assumptions create.

"That's a limiting belief, you can't manifest bad things!"

If you assume you can't then you wont, but do you think that when we first came to be the idea of good or bad existed? No, it didn't, because those are societal concepts. You are born neutral. Your imagination, at its core, is neutral. Being rich is no different than being poor because they're both based upon concepts, the only thing that influences our perception on that is us because we have been socialised to see certain things a certain way, as more beneficial for our comfort and security.

"If we are neutral how will my imagination know what I mean by good things?"

We adapt. Imagination is neutral, but if I say "I never experience anything bad" bad isn't just a word, I have things I tie to that word, we all do and that goes for 'good' as well. It's a lot like when you assume you have everything you want, you have things tied to that.

I hope that at least clarifies more why you may see people say that bad things that have happened aren't your fault. I know this wasn't the most comprehensive but it is what it is.

Sometimes we wanna pick and choose when we are responsible for what happens, sometimes it makes sense, other times not, but if you're someone who says you're the sole operant power and that your assumptions create then idk what to tell you. We perceive people to behave a certain way, we assume it, maybe we don't know it, but we do, that doesn't mean it is our fault, it's just a lack of awareness.

also I'm stating this bcs I've seen some takes but saying that your assumptions manifest is not victim blaming, it is literally just pointing out the cause. we manifest consciously and unconsciously, just because we do the latter doesn't mean we are to blame idk how many times I have to repeat that but you can have the nuance to realise the difference and also feel empathy for other people.

[sillygoofyqueer]

MAD. SCIENTIST. WEI. WUXIAN. AU. I CAN DO THIS, COME ON, WHOOP WHOOP!!! I CAN FUCKEN DO THIS. This may seem like it's jumping ahead a littol in the timeline of things but honestly you wouldn't really notice unless you were me and you had planned out the entire timeline in your head. One day I will write the fanfiction for this, I do promise that, I just want to get at least *checks notes* at LEAST halfway through Losing Hope before I take on something else so big. Wei Ying knows that he cannot raise A-Yuan on his own, not without some form of help. He of course allows his family to help but honestly, they're all reeling from the loss of the rest of their family and they have other responsibilities (and, in Xue Yang's case, is a child). People don't trust Wei Ying to do things around camp because, although he is fighting on their side, he is still an Unnatural Being that is working with forces far beyond most people's comprehension. So, all he can really focus on is looking after A-Yuan. It's nothing if not one of the best things for him, honestly, because he truly would die to keep the little guy alive and he has started mentally labelling him as his son before correcting himself because A-Yuan deserves better than that. Plus, it has helped him steer clear of just constantly messing around with resentful energy because a baby simply cannot be around such things without being negatively affected in some way.

He does still need to mess around with resentful energy though, as it is basically the only reason he and his family are not already dead in the eyes of some people in the camp. He needs to do this, and he also does - according to Qing-jie - 'need to sleep' instead of spending all of his time watching over A-Yuan as he sleeps to make sure nothing bad happens to him if he looks away. There is also the big factor of the resentful energy is starting to withdraw in increments from his body so that his golden core can start properly healing it, causing impossible agony to seep into his daily life to the point where he sometimes cannot leave his tent despite his best efforts. That is where possibly the greatest boy alive, someone so great and good that it is a shock he still chooses to be around Wei Ying willingly, comes in. Lan Zhan is always there to help look after A-Yuan; playing songs to help him fall asleep, helping calm him down when he cries, looking after him when Wei Ying is stuck in his bed, curled up to ward off indescribable pain.

No matter what the rest of his family says, Wei Ying knows that Lan Zhan is far too good for him. He knows that the boy could never even think of looking at him the way Wei Ying dreams of him almost every night. So, he contents himself with watching as Lan Zhan sits beside A-Yuan on the floor and quietly distracts him from reaching out to Wei Ying with confused little babbles when he cannot reach back, wrapped tightly in his blanket. Every time he hurts Sometimes, Lan Zhan will also drape his outer robe over him, not saying anything (he's pretty sure that the boy overheard him talking to A-Yuan about how Lan Zhan smells nice, which is. Embarrassing). A-Yuan likes Lan Zhan, babbling to him about anything that goes on in his baby brain while he pats at the boy's face, and Lan Zhan replies seriously as though they are having a proper conversation. It's so cute. They're so cute. It makes everything worth it.

Of course, even with all of the warmth and cosiness inside his tent, there is still a war going on outside of the fabric walls. He slaves over work even when he cannot move, staring at all of the scrolls he has filled with notes and ideas, talisman designs scattered all over the floor and crows flitting about with messages from the whole Jianghu and the Burial Mounds (strange little childish doodles with messy stick figures and strange smiles). When he cannot focus properly with all the pressure to work even if he cannot work, he takes a crack at Jin Zixuan's request for a talisman that can identify blood relatives. It's a casual, relaxing thing to work on, something difficult but not too hard compared to everything else he's expected to create quickly and efficiently. It's not even a waste of his time, because otherwise it would be used doing absolutely nothing in his bedroll, and it's fulfilling a zongzhu's wishes at the same time!

When he finally works out the perfect talisman for it, using a very willing Lan Zhan and Lan-Zongzhu as test subjects, he doesn't even care about the pain he's in as he bounds on over to the Jin side of the camp (with Lan Zhan). Jin Zixuan is surprised it's been done so quickly, certain that it would be put off until after the more important things were completed, but Wei Wuxian says that family is most important in times like these, and he is extremely thankful for what Wei Wuxian has done for him. He's shown how to use the talisman, and then he's given it to try himself. He's got no reason to believe that there would be anyone he's related to in the war camp, but who even knows with his father? So, he imbues the talisman with qi, then adds a drop of his blood. He doesn't expect there to be a golden string of light shooting out almost instantly, offset by a few, much fainter lights.

Wei Wuxian tells him that the brighter it is, the closer they are, so he's basically off and running through the camp, clutching this talisman and following the brightest string of light. Meanwhile, Meng Yao is trying out sword forms with an unsurprisingly eager Xue Yang at the edge of the forest, Nie Huaisang painting the scenery nearby, and is rather surprised when a sudden golden strand appears out of nowhere and attaches to his wrist. They panic over it a little bit, Xue Yang offers to cut off his hand and honestly, he's willing to let the twelve year old slice it off when a very familiar face comes darting into view near one of the tents. Jin Zixuan stares at him, holding the talisman, and he stares back, not really sure what to do with himself. Then, all of a sudden, Jin Zixuan smiles awkwardly but sincerely (Jiang Yanli has been teaching him what she calls 'social skills') "hi. I'm Jin Zixuan," as if this isn't well known, you dumbass, "you're Meng Yao, right? According to this talisman, you're...likely a half-brother of mine."

[batsandbirdbrains]

Ooooh very fascinating points that I didn’t even think abt!!!

I actually love the idea of Jason feeling guilty when he realizes Dick does in fact now have hallucinations of him as an adult, he feels like he maybe should’ve realized what was happening sooner and told Dick what was really happening. That if he hadn’t dragged out their first few interactions by being oblivious and confused and annoyed at how his brother was acting, that maybe Dick wouldn’t be having these problems now. That maybe he would’ve gotten better sooner.

I kind of like the idea of the other Batkids maybe suspecting something might be wrong, but never having total concrete evidence or having a solid theory on what might be going on with Dick. That Jason would be the only one to figure it out, but he kept it on the down low because it wasn’t his issue to tell everyone about. But he didn’t know how to approach Dick about it, so instead keeps an eye on him and tries to help out as best he can when he realizes his brother is seeing a version of himself that isn’t really there.

And once they all find out because of Dick’s little outburst in the batcave? Dick would just deny deny deny. He has no idea what they’re talking about. He clearly was talking to Jason. The very real Jason who totally exists and everyone can see.

He does his best to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss his way out of it. It only slightly works. Jason gets much more concerned after that, and does his best to get Dick some actual help.

God I love the hallucijason trope it really is so fun

The one where Dick hallucinates Jason after his death

I know there’s plenty of fics like this but I’ve only found a few so pls send me links if u know any good ones<3 anyway here’s my little take on it

So after Jason’s death, Dick just starts seeing him everywhere. When he’s doing normal everyday things like grocery shopping, when he’s at school/work, when he’s brushing his teeth. There will just be a hallucination of Jason from when he was younger following him around, sometimes being nice to him, and other times blaming him for everything. Telling him everything wrong is Dick’s fault. Sometimes he’s sweet and nice looking, other times he looks like something out of a horror movie, with black voids for eyes and sharp teeth. Most of the time though, he just looks normal.

When he’s Nightwing, he does sometimes see normal Jason, but often he’ll see a version of Robin following after him. Chatting his ear off sometimes, shouting at him other times.

Dick never tells anyone. He’s fine. It’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with this at all.

The problem is, he continues hallucinating him even when Jason is back.

And Jason is the only one who knows, because when he first came back as Red Hood and tried to confront Dick, Dick just assumed he was a new hallucination.

“Huh, that’s weird,” Dick had muttered at him. “I’ve never seen Jay all grown up.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, dickhead?”

But Dick just smiles at him. Chats with him occasionally. Stares at him a lot.

Jason follows him the entire night, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

“You don’t normally stick around this long, Jay,” Dick muses as he climbs through his apartment window. “Are you staying all night?”

“Dick, what is going on?”

“I dunno, you tell me, grown-up-Jason. God, this one is weird. I wonder if that’s what Jay would actually look like.”

Jason stares at him, watching him move around his apartment for another ten minutes, before he turns and leaves. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Dick, but he doesn’t want to stick around any longer to find out.

He’s back two days later, the question of what the hell was happening with Dick eating at him.

“Oh, grown up Jason again?” Dick asks when Jason climbs through his window. He’s sitting on his couch, looking through case files. “Little Jay was just here. Are you going to continue his tirade?”

“What are you talking about, Dickie?” Jason is actually concerned now.

“You know, the usual,” Dick waves a hand. “It’s my fault you died. It’s my fault Joker’s still alive. It’s my fault Tim became Robin. It’s my fault Bruce kicked me out again. It’s my fault the last Titans mission went to shit. Bruce should’ve left me to rot in juvie and the world would be a better place without me in it. Ringing any bells?”

Jason blinks at him.

“What the fuck?”

“Huh, you’re not usually this quiet. Weird.”

“Are you on crack?”

“I wish. But Wally did get me some gummies last time I saw him. He said it would help with all the stress, but I dunno, it just made me kinda paranoid. Like, more than usual.”

“Are you alright?” Jason’s words are slow, soft, and he inches towards the couch where Dick is sitting.

Dick laughs.

“I haven’t been alright in a long time,” Dick says with a shrug. “But I guess that’s nice you asked.”

The conversation continues for another twenty minutes before Jason gets fed up and leaves. Dick doesn’t really answer any questions, just skirts around everything.

This happens three more times before Jason returns to the bats. He thinks Dick is fucking with him. It isn’t until a couple years later that he finds out the truth.

Because they’d all been in the batcave, discussing intel on a new gang in Gotham, when Dick snaps at thin air. He’d been taking about info he got from one of his contacts when he turned his head to where no one was standing and said in the most frustrated tone, “Fuck off, Jason, he’s one of my best contacts! His intel is good!”

Jason is standing on the other side of the room, and after a tense moment of silence, he tells Dick, “I didn’t say anything, Dickie. Are you feeling okay?”

And Dick’s face just loses all color, and his brow is sweating, and he has the edge of the table gripped so hard they’re all sure he’s going to snap the table in half.

And that’s how everyone finds out Dick has been hallucinating Jason since he died :)

[mweoi]

ㅤ𖹭 #𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡 ::ㅤ𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝖄𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘⠀⠀【...】

ㅤㅤ𝑛. ⠀﴾⠀cw. 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁. manipulation, toxic relationship, dubcon elements, rough handling, emotional coercion, implied stalking.⠀━╋⠀﴿⠀ 𝖾𝗑!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇 ⎯⎯ 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

you told yourself it was just closure. that it would be quick — that you’d say what you needed to say, then go. that if you didn’t let sungchan see you cry, it would mean he didn’t win.

you kept repeating that in your head as you walked the familiar path to his apartment, each step getting heavier, as if your body knew better than your heart what this really was.

you shouldn’t have come here. the hallway felt too quiet. the air too still. the second you raised your fist to knock, your pulse jumped like prey caught in headlights. it didn’t matter how hard you tried to steel yourself — your hand still trembled.

your fingers still clenched around your keys, digging into your skin, like the sharp metal might somehow protect you.

and when the door opened, when you saw him standing there in a black tee and grey sweats, damp hair falling over his forehead like he’d just stepped out of the shower, barefoot and quiet and so fucking calm — you forgot how to speak.

sungchan didn’t look surprised. didn’t even blink.

“…you came,” he said simply, there was no smile, no warmth. just that steady gaze, sharp and unreadable.

your voice barely scraped past your throat. “i won’t stay long.”

he stepped aside without a word. no resistance, no sarcasm — and somehow that made it worse. you crossed the threshold, keeping close to the edge of the room like some guest instead of someone who used to fall asleep in his bed.

you didn’t let your eyes drift to the couch. you didn’t sit. you didn’t breathe too deep because everything in here still smelled like him. behind you, the soft click of the door closing sealed you in.

you turned slowly, kept your back straight like it might stop your heart from caving in. “i just came to talk.”

he nodded once, like he was listening, like this was casual. he leaned a shoulder against the wall across from you, arms crossed, head tilted slightly — too at ease, too knowing.

you didn’t let that distract you.

“sungchan…” your throat felt dry. “this isn’t working.”

his brows lifted the faintest bit. “what isn’t?”

“this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “us.”

still no reaction. not the anger you’d braced for. not even confusion. just silence — practiced and calm, as if he’d already had this conversation alone, over and over, and now he was just waiting for you to catch up.

you tightened your grip on the keys again. “you’re controlling. you keep tabs on me. i don’t tell you where i’m going but you still show up. and…” your breath caught. “i found the photos, sungchan. the ones in your deleted folder. of me walking home. laughing. eating lunch with friends.”

he didn’t flinch. didn’t pretend not to know what you were talking about.

“you think that’s normal?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “you think that’s love?”

his expression didn’t change. “i think that’s protection.”

you stared at him, hollow and stunned. “you followed me.”

“i made sure you were safe,” he said simply. “you forget to lock your door sometimes. you walk alone after dark. that guy on the subway never got your number because i was sitting five seats behind him.”

your stomach turned, icy and hot all at once. he pushed off the wall slowly and took a step toward you — deliberate, unrushed.

“you say it’s control,” he murmured, “but i’m the only one who’s ever paid enough attention to know you needed it.”

you stepped back instinctively. he followed, measured and calm. “this isn’t some kind of twisted care,” you whispered. he was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“isn’t it?” he said, tilting his head. “you said this isn’t working. but you didn’t say you stopped wanting me.”

his hand lifted — slow, telegraphed — and brushed the edge of your jaw. you told yourself not to react. not to lean into it. but your body always betrayed you with him.

“did you?” he asked quietly. “did you stop wanting me?”

you opened your mouth, but the words never came. he stepped closer again, hand settling on your hip, his voice sinking lower. “you’re not leaving.”

“don’t,” you whispered. “don’t do this—”

but he was already kissing you. it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t tender. it was possessive — hungry, desperate in the way only obsession can be.

he kissed you like he was reclaiming you — like he never believed you were gone in the first place. his mouth pushed hard against yours, tongue slipping in before you even had a chance to pull away, and your whole body arched in response.

you hated that it felt good. his hands found your waist like they never forgot the shape of it, and the next thing you knew, your back was against the wall.

his hips pressed flush to yours, and you felt him — already hard, already thick and heavy against your thigh, and your body gave itself away all over again.

“you missed this,” he breathed into your skin, lips trailing down your neck. he found that spot under your jaw, the one that always made your breath stutter, and sucked just hard enough to make your thighs press together.

“don’t—” your voice cracked. “don’t make this into something it’s not.”

he grinned against your throat. “i’m not making anything,” he said. “i’m reminding you.”

and then he lifted you, arms locked under your thighs, like carrying you was second nature. you clung to his shoulders out of instinct, legs wrapping around his waist like they’d never forgotten where they belonged.

you knew you should push him away, but you didn’t. he carried you straight to the bedroom — not rushed, not fumbling, just moving like he knew you wouldn’t stop him. the room was exactly the same.

the sheets you used to sleep on. the pillows that smelled like his shampoo. the faint chill of the ac humming like white noise around the silence between you.

he laid you down like something precious and broken, and you hated how easily you sank into it.

your clothes came off piece by piece. he wasn’t careless — he was reverent. his hands slid under your shirt, over your ribs, taking his time as if relearning every inch of you.

his fingers were warm, calloused in the right places, brushing just under the swell of your breast, then dragging lower, making you twitch and ache before they even got between your thighs.

his mouth followed his hands — slow, open kisses pressed to your stomach, the inside of your thigh, then up, up, until he kissed your lips again like he meant to ruin you with it.

he knelt between your legs, breath shaky now, cock flushed and hard as it rested against your inner thigh. he held himself there for a moment, looking down at you with a gaze that almost looked soft — but there was hunger in it, a dark possessiveness that had never gone away.

“still so fucking soft,” he murmured. his lips brushed your ankle, then your calf, kissing his way up again. “still mine.”

he dragged the head of his cock slowly through your slick folds, teasing your clit with lazy circles until you whimpered. he pushed in just the tip, then pulled out again — once, twice — until your hips lifted on their own, chasing the stretch.

“you’re already dripping for me,” he whispered. “i haven’t even started.”

and then he sank in all the way. the stretch was deep, unbearable and perfect. you gasped at the pressure — it felt like too much, but your body opened up for him like it had never closed off.

his cock filled you entirely, thick and hard and aching with every twitch inside you. he didn’t move, not yet, his hand came to rest at your throat, gentle, grounding.

“say it,” he murmured. “say you’re mine.” but you didn’t. so he started to move. he fucked you slow. deep. long thrusts that dragged every inch of him along your walls.

your back arched. your breath caught. your eyes fluttered and he didn’t stop — didn’t speed up, didn’t get sloppy — he just kept going, kept pressing inside you like it was where he belonged.

his fingers tightened on your waist, his other hand sliding under your thigh to hold you open. the sound of it — your slick, the wet slap of skin — echoed through the room, filthy and loud. he groaned low in his throat when your cunt clenched around him.

“fuck, baby..” he leaned down, kissed the corner of your mouth, your cheekbone, your temple. “no one else gets you like this. no one ever will.”

you turned your head away. he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“say it,” he growled again. “or i’ll fuck you until you do.”

you didn’t speak. you only moaned. your hips moved against his, matching his rhythm, chasing your high.

he shifted suddenly — one hand hooked under your leg, folding it up to his shoulder. the new angle made you cry out. he fucked into you harder now, deeper, every thrust hitting that spot inside you that made your stomach clench.

your orgasm hit fast. your back bowed off the mattress, nails dragging down his arms as your cunt tightened around him, pulsing hard. your voice broke on a sob as your body trembled under him, overwhelmed and full.

he fucked you through it. didn’t stop, didn’t even slow.

“god, you’re still perfect,” he whispered against your neck. “you can lie all you want — your body never will.”

he kept going, chasing his own release now. his thrusts grew sharper, breath ragged as he slammed into you with growing urgency. his hand came back to your throat, holding, not choking — just keeping you right there beneath him, right where you belonged.

“gonna fill you up,” he panted. “gonna fuck it into you so deep, you’ll feel me for days.” you didn’t say a word. your body begged for him.

he groaned loud, low, as he came — buried deep, hips flush, cock twitching inside you as he spilled everything he had into you. it was hot, thick, warm, and you felt it all.

your body clenched again at the sensation, your mouth parted in silent shock. he didn’t pull out, of course he didn’t.

he collapsed over you, still sheathed deep, both arms wrapped around your waist like he was anchoring himself to your skin. you lay there with him inside you, still stretched, still full, as his breath slowed against your cheek.

and in the quiet, as your pulse steadied, as the fog in your brain started to clear, he kissed your jaw and whispered it again — soft, certain, final.

“see? you don’t need to leave. you were already home.”