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moremaybank · 19 days

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in between 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ 𐦍

pairing best friend!jj maybank x fem!reader

summary best friends since the first grade, it was only inevitable that you and jj would fall for each other. however, when a single night suddenly changes things between you, you’re both left wondering if you ever should’ve tried to cross the line at all. [11.8k]

warnings 18+, unprotected sex (sorry, but what else is new?), dry humping, oral (m. receiving), daddy kink, pet names (pretty girl, princess, etc.), dirty talk, body-shaming (not by jj), reader's parents being shitty, drunk jj causing a scene at a party, childhood best friends to lovers, a love confession, i think that's it???

author's note i really hope you guys like this one! kinda nervous bc i haven't posted a full fic in awhile, but i think i'm happy with it. ik it's long, but i think it's worth it! also, enjoy the logan huntzberger (gilmore girls) cameo LOL

in between universe | jj masterlist | playlist | kofi

Amid the raging storm outside, a series of frantic knocks on your front door echoed through your house. You rushed to the door, swinging it open to reveal a drenched and dishevelled JJ Maybank.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed in panic, yanking him inside. Your hands quickly found his face, and then his shoulders as your eyes scanned his body for any signs of injury. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Hello to you, too,” he greeted, smiling down at you. He couldn’t deny the stroke his ego got, nor the fluttering in his stomach he felt when you worried for him. “I’m fine, by the way. Jus’ a tad cold.”

JJ hoped you’d take the hint and pull him into your arms — the place he always longed to be — but was caught off guard when your hand slapped his chest. “Hey!”

“What if you catch pneumonia?!”

“I’m fine, Y/N/N.”

“Fine? You could’ve gotten killed!”

“By what? The gentle breeze outside?” That earns him another slap. “Ow!”

“Don’t smart-mouth me, Maybank.”

“You love my smart mouth,” he teases, pinching your cheek playfully.

Once again, his hopes were wrong, because while he was praying for a glimpse of that smile that made his knees weak, your hand came flying at him for a third time. Luckily for him, he was quick, catching your wrist and pulling you to stand right in front of him.

“You’re gonna wanna be real careful about what you do next, princess.” Powerful blue eyes locked with yours and you knew that he’d won. “Gotta say, this is not the welcome I was expecting. Kinda hoped I’d get a kiss or somethin’.”

Your heart sang at his comment, but you remained focused on the outside, keeping your face straight.

“For what? Being an idiot?”

Then, he gave you the face.

Pouty, and adorable, and JJ, and just like he had planned, you started to fold.

You couldn’t stay mad at him if you tried.

Even if he helped.

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried. You aren’t invincible, you know.”

He visibly softened at your words, as if he wasn’t soft on you before, and he released your wrist. But he didn’t give your hand back to you. Instead, he kept it with him, mindlessly playing with your fingers so he wouldn’t have to give up the physical contact.

“C’mon. You really think I’m gonna let anythin’ stop me from annoying you for the rest of your life? Not a chance, baby.”

Baby. Uh oh. Your resolve was beginning to waver.

“‘N the reason I came is ‘cause I didn’t want my pretty girl alone in this mess,” he murmured, and you detected some shyness in his voice. “Besides, when have we ever spent a storm night apart?”

Aaand it was gone.

Vanished.

He always knew how to get you. Then again, you always let him.

You tilted your head, fighting a smile and losing miserably when it broke free. “Alright. I guess you’re sweet. Even if you’re an idiot.”

“There’s my girl,” he grinned. “Now gimme a hug. I’m cold.” He tried to reach out for you, but you backed away, putting more distance between you two.

“No way, you’re soaked,” you laughed, now extremely grateful for the cozy pjs you were sporting.

“Oh, c’mon. You’re really not gonna hug me?” He picked up an old-timey accent when he spoke next, “I ventured through the brave storm to see you, m’lady. The least you could do is offer me a warm embrace.”

He was so animated with it that it was damn near impossible not to giggle. “My sincerest apologies, sir. You seem to be out of luck.”

“Alright, that’s it.”

Before you knew it, JJ lunged at you. You let out a squeal, running as fast as you could with your socks slipping against the marble tiles.

It took a little bit of time, and you’d covered a lot of area in the house by the time he finally captured you. Strong, brawny arms wrapped around your frame and picked you up right off the ground. He spun you around in the air a few times, relishing in the sun-soaked laughter that escaped you before putting you down.

You turned around in his grip, looking incredibly earnest when your hands came to rest on his arms. “Thanks for coming to save me. Not that I needed it.”

He smiled warmly at your statement. “I’ll always come ‘n save you,” he said, capturing your chin between his fingers. His thumb stroked over your chin softly. “You’re my Y/N/N. Nothin’s more important than you.”

You found yourself stuck in an intense stare with him yet again, your heart thumping loudly at his sincerity and gooey sweetness.

“Come on. You need to shower before you get sick.”

You grabbed his hand, but he came willingly with a lovestruck look you couldn’t see.

“Yes, ma'am.”

—

After shoving JJ into the shower and practically pouring a hot cup of tea down his throat to ensure he was warm from the inside out, the two of you found solace in your cozy and — in JJ’s words — kooky bed with your backs against the pillows and headboard.

“Make fun all you want but you and I both know I have to drag you out of here kicking ‘n screaming every time you sleepover.”

“…Shut up.”

Despite his words, JJ huddled closer to you under the plush covers. The wind howled outside, alongside the occasional rumble of thunder. If it weren’t for the light casting around the room from your TV, and the entirely hilarious sitcom How I Met Your Mother playing in the background, the ambience would’ve made the room feel eerie.

“So,” JJ began, breaking the silence, “you heard from your parents lately? Thought they were supposed to come back this week?”

Ah, yes. Your parents.

From a young age, you’d learned not to expect much from the people who had brought you into the world.

The minute they realized they could, they’d handed you off to a nanny and threw themselves back into the lives they’d lived before you had arrived. Your mom went heavy on the scotch and retail therapy, and your dad had re-immersed himself in his work. When he wasn’t doing that, he was squandering his free time away at the country club, playing golf and consuming copious amounts of alcohol alongside your mother.

Anything to get out of the house, and, evidently, away from you.

The older you grew, the less you saw of them as they travelled the world for business. By the time you were fifteen, you’d pretty much been living in that enormous mansion all by yourself for ten months out of the year.

Sometimes, even more.

Not that you’d ever voice your complaints to them. You knew they wouldn’t hear you. They’d simply spew out something along the lines of ‘Sweetheart, you’ve never had to work for anything in your life. if you had, you’d understand that we can’t be there for every silly little dance recital or graduation.’

And yes, that included your high school graduation.

When they did spend time with you, that time would be filled with snarky comments about your appearance and about your sympathy for the pogues. Nothing about you ever seemed to satisfy them.

But somehow, amid the loneliness and abandonment you’d been able to comprehend from far too young of an age, you’d found and held onto the one person who made it all melt away.

JJ.

It was the first day of second grade, and all the children in your class were colouring. All of them except for the little blonde boy who sat across the room, by himself, with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, but nothing to colour with. You were only six at the time, but you could sense that he was alone too. And your heart hurt for him because it hurt the same way for you.

So, you got up from your seat, grabbed your paper and your sixty-four pack of crayons (the pack that every child dreamt of having) and trotted off to his table. You perched yourself in the chair beside his and offered to share your crayons with him.

At first, he just stared at you. You thought that maybe he didn’t want you there, but then, you saw the tiniest glimpse of his dimple when he gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Thanks.”

And now, a decade and a half later, you were just as inseparable as you had been since that very first day.

Your house was now considered a home, had been since the moment JJ first stepped onto the marble flooring with his boyishly muddy shoes. He filled the aching silence with laughter and excitement and finally, finally, some cherishable memories.

Like how he’d helped you climb your first tree, and carried you on his back into your house after you’d scraped your knee while doing so. Camping in your backyard and sprinting inside once non-forecasted rain came pouring down on your flimsy little kiddy tent. He’d accidentally stolen your first kiss (and he’d never admit it, but he was and still is overjoyed to have done so). Movie nights where he’d let you pick the film and sit happily while you pushed his hair back and applied a face mask to his tanned skin.

Anything you wished for, JJ would give it to you without a second thought. Any time you needed him, he’d drop everything to run over to you. He was loyal, sweet, hilarious, thoughtful, and though he was good at hiding it from the light, his heart was pure gold.

But what had mattered most to you was that in a world where everyone close to you had chosen to leave, he was the one who had stayed.

Without him, there was noise.

With him? Quiet.

Peaceful, and calm, and quiet.

No one turned your world like him. And that made it that much more inevitable to fall for him.

The feeling of JJ’s finger tapping against your temple broke you out of your daze. “Hey. You in there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied. “My mom called me a couple days ago to tell me they cancelled their flight. They’re coming back on Monday instead.”

“So, basically, what I’m hearin’ is that they just didn’t wanna be stuck in the house with you all weekend.”

“Precisely.”

You mocked your mother’s voice when you spoke next. “You know I can only take that sorry little island in small doses. Besides, if we come home now, we’ll be holed up in the house during that storm. Why on earth would I trade my penthouse view for that?”

JJ gave you a sad look, obviously upset for you. It wasn’t like he expected much from them either, but he knew that deep down, even if you refused to admit it, it stung.

They really couldn’t spend one weekend with you? Being with their daughter is that much of a hardship for them?

“Stop. It’s fine.” And you meant it. These kinds of stunts were nothing new to you. You didn’t think they were gonna race home to you to make sure you were okay. A quick text would suit them just as well.

“Don’t do that,” he stopped you. “You’re allowed to be upset. Your parents are assholes.”

Assholes that were so far past unaware of the remarkable person they’d given life to. It shook him to his core, the realization that someone so beautiful both inside and out had come from two cold and selfish people.

But if they would never appreciate you, who cared, because JJ knew he always would.

He’d never let a single moment pass without telling you how special you were. How much you’d helped him, given him a safe haven and shoulder to cry on when he needed it.

Given him peace.

And, if he ever worked up the damn courage…he’d spend every minute of the rest of his life telling you how much he loved you.

You just shrugged in response. “It is what it is. I’m luckier than most.”

He frowned at that. It’d always hurt him to watch you belittle your problems just because you were better off financially. It was almost as if you were numb.

“Well, at least they’ll be here for your birthday. That’s somethin’.”

“Nah, they’re flying back to New York on Friday.”

“Are you serious?” He asked, sitting up straight now. “They couldn’t wait one day?”

“You know how they feel about birthdays, J.”

That was true. JJ had heard them give you the ‘Why should you be rewarded for being born? That isn’t an achievement,’ talk countless times over the years. They’d just stick a wad of cash into your nanny’s hand and tell her to take you out to the mall as if their missing your birthday would be fixed with a shopping spree.

As if it would erase the resentment you knew they felt toward you.

“That doesn’t make it right,” he said, growing frustrated. “Y/N/N, it, like, sickens me to keep watchin’ ‘em treat you like this. You gotta say something.”

“Like what, J? They’d never listen. Just drop it.”

He deflated a bit, leaning back into his original position. “Look, ‘m sorry, okay? I just…I don’t get it. You’re amazin’, you’re— you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know how they don’t feel the same.”

Damn it. There he went again, making it impossible for you to be in a sour mood.

Gingerly, you turned to him, sitting with your legs criss-crossed. “You’re the only one keeping me going, y’know that? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He sat up once more and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing against the apple of it as he looked deep into your eyes. It felt like he was staring into your soul.

“I promise you’ll never have to find out.” He looked down then, biting his lip slightly before meeting your gaze again. “I put that on my life.”

The rest of the world faded away while the two of you stayed in that moment, frozen in time as if you were a scene captured in a snow globe.

It was times like these when you felt yourself start to believe the things Kie was always telling you.

“I’m just saying, like, how do you not see it?”

She’d been up your ass ever since the boys had split up from you two and left The Wreck. Kie was working at the counter, filling up drinks and cashing out takeout orders.

Oh, and pestering you about JJ’s so-called affections for you.

“Maybe because I’ve known him since we were six and I know what it looks like when he flirts with other girls,” you remarked.

“Okay, but, like, you’re not just some random girl to him. You’re you.”

You made a face. “I don’t even know what that means.”

The groan that emitted from her lips was loud enough to catch the attention of countless customers, but she didn’t seem to care.

“You’re impossible,” she said, placing the lids on three soft drinks. “I’ve known JJ almost as long as you have, and in that time, one thing about him has always been crystal-fucking-clear. He’s in love with you. Always has been, always will be.”

“Whatever you say,” you hummed in response, taking a sip of your Coke and pushing away the warm, fuzzy feeling floating through you at the thought of her words being true.

Meanwhile, JJ was struggling not to act on his desires.

It was the perfect moment.

You were quite literally in his hands — or hand, rather — looking as beautiful as ever. He could kiss you. Right now. Plant one on you, a real kiss, unlike that accidental peck he shared with you at the age of twelve. He’d truly get to taste you this time around and silently convey all his love for you.

And then, fate helped him out.

The lights flickered and cut out in time with a rumble of thunder, leaving the two of you in complete darkness.

JJ took it as a sign.

He leaned forward, and his lips connected with yours. It was soft, tentative at first to see if you’d back off or push him away. To his surprise, your hand snaked up his front, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer. He took that as permission and kissed you deeper, his tongue stroking against yours in a dizzying fashion. The action made you moan into his mouth, and he pocketed the sound in his mind, saving it for later when he was alone and was thinking about you.

And not in an innocent way.

JJ’s hands found your waist, sliding down to your hips before tugging you closer. You took his invitation and clambered your way onto his lap, your lips never leaving his.

God, kissing him felt good. Too good. It was nothing like you’d ever imagined. No, it was better. He kissed you like he’d stop breathing if he didn’t. Like the world would burst into flames and end right then and there if he let go of you.

You didn’t know what was happening, and frankly, in fear of the truth, you had no plans of asking him. If this was the only way you could ever have him, you’d take it without a second thought, consequences be damned.

You were sure that your decision was nowhere near wise, but there was simply no time for wisdom.

JJ, your JJ, was kissing you. Kissing you and touching you and giving himself over to you, even if it was only for one night.

And if doing this was wrong, for once in your life, you didn’t want to be right.

JJ’s hands pulled at the hem of your shirt, and you broke the kiss to let him strip you of it. He tossed it carelessly while his eyes landed on your bare tits.

“Christ,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cup them both. “These are fuckin’ perfect.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples and you shivered. “J.”

“Shh. I gotchu, baby. Relax for me, yeah? Let me take my time?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “But can you take your shirt off? Wanna see you too.”

He smiled. You were so damn sweet, it would nearly give him a toothache. “Yeah, pretty girl. I can do that.”

JJ shrugged off his beat-up Heyward’s tee, discarding it on the floor. You ogled at him, at least ninety percent sure that huge red cartoon hearts were projecting from your eyes.

“You’re droolin’ a bit, there,” JJ teased, thumbing at your lip.

Heat crept up into your face at his comment. “Shut up.”

On the inside, he loved the way you were looking at him. You handled him delicately, hands cradling his face as if he were an intricate piece of artwork that you wanted to study and commit to memory.

Every line, every slope, every curve.

Every last stunning piece of him.

“You’re so beautiful, J.”

JJ had been loved by you since elementary school. Sure, it was in a best friend's way, but being loved by you had changed his world. Now, with the way you were looking at him, the way you were speaking to him, the way you were touching him…he couldn’t help but imagine that this was what it’d be like to really be with you.

He turned bashful, his heart still fluttering at your words. “‘M supposed to be sayin’ that to you. Look at you.”

“Stop that,” you said, looking him right in the eyes. “You deserve to be loved on. Let yourself have this. Let yourself feel loved, J.”

Those words echoed in his mind. JJ never felt like he deserved anything good, so he always pushed those opportunities away. Ruined them and made them inaccessible. But with you in his arms, pleading with him to let you show him that he was worthy, he started to believe that maybe he did deserve something positive.

And if it were coming from you? Well, he’d take it without question.

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He wanted to kiss you until his lips were sore, and even then, he wouldn’t stop.

With greedy hands, the both of you touched every sliver of skin you could find, your lips never leaving the others for a second. Your hands found their way to JJ’s unruly golden locks, fingers carding through them so you could tug on them a little. A deep rumble of satisfaction came from JJ’s throat, and the noise had been so heavenly that your hips started to roll against his on their own accord.

The friction was toe-curling, so addicting that you couldn’t stop rutting against him even if you wanted to. He was hard as a rock, and big. So big. You didn’t even need him to get naked to know you were right.

“F-Fuck,” JJ stammered against your lips, though his hands didn’t stop helping your hips move. “Keep goin’ ‘n I’ll cum before I’m even inside you.”

“But you feel so good,” you whined. Your brows were pulled together and your jaw was slack, the stimulation already getting you close. “Oh my god.”

“Baby—”

“Please, J. I need it. Don’t make me stop. P-Please don’t make me stop.”

You were right on the edge, and all JJ could focus on were your pretty pleas and the desperation written all over your face. He wanted to watch you explode, wanted to watch you go slack as the pleasure rolled through you. Wanted to hear what you sounded like when you came for him.

So he encouraged you.

“Go ‘head, pretty girl. Make a mess. Get yourself nice ‘n wet for me.” His lips found your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin to leave his mark. He felt you cling to him as your actions sped up, his cock throbbing as he tried to fight off his high. It almost took everything in him not to give in. “Good girl. You got it.”

You came loudly, chest heaving up and down as your body twitched and went through the motions of your release. You felt JJ leave more wet kisses across your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing, your hand playing with his hair carelessly.

“That might’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, baby,” he spoke, his hands rubbing up and down your sides. Goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips, and he couldn’t help himself from realizing how responsive your body was for him.

It’d never been like this with anyone else. No one could compare to you. He didn’t even have to sink into you for confirmation.

He was fucking done for.

JJ never thought his complete and utter devotion to you could ever run deeper in his veins, but here you were, proving him wrong.

He was more than fine with that.

“Fuck me, J. Need you inside me,” you said, hands running over the planes of his chest. Your lip was caught between your teeth, and JJ could tell that you were feeling shy.

“How could I ever deny you when you’re askin’ me so nicely, huh?” He thumbed at your bottom lip, trying to break it free so he could kiss you again. He did, giving you a deep kiss bubbling over the top with affection. “How do you want it?”

“Wanna ride you. Can I?”

Fuck.

“You can have whatever you want, princess.”

You grinned, your hands running down the path of his front before finding the button of his pants with ease. You popped it open, unzipping them and tugging his boxers down. His cock sprang out, beautiful and pink and curved. The bead of pre-cum caught your eye, and your mouth watered instantly, dying to know what he tasted like. You dipped your head down, your tongue sticking out and swirling around his tip gently as you coated your tastebuds with him. You were about to dive in for seconds when JJ stopped you.

“Please don’t, baby. I won’t last.”

You pouted. “But I wanna suck you off. Don’t you wanna fuck my throat?”

Christ. Those sinful words sounded nothing but heavenly, and it was hard to resist you.

“Promise you can later. But right now,” he paused, hands grabbing you and pulling you to straddle his lap again, “I need to feel that pretty pussy.”

“Yes, daddy.”

JJ threw his head back with a groan. “You’re really tryna kill me, aren’t you?”

You simply giggled in response, before circling your hand around his cock. You slid his tip through your folds, from your creamy slit to your clit — and the whimper you let out when you rubbed it over your bundle of nerves almost sent JJ into shock — then back down to your hole again. You started to sink down on him, letting out a hiss when he stretched you wide. Once his tip was inside, JJ swore he started to drool. He was barely inside you and yet your hot, wet walls felt like ecstasy.

When you sank down all the way, JJ let out a tortured, “Fuckin’ soaked, fuck.” Your walls fluttered subconsciously, and he groaned. “Move for me before I bust. Please.”

“No cumming yet, J,” you tutted, slowly beginning to bounce on him and giving in to his wishes. He was so big, it was a miracle that you could fit him completely. The intrusion had you feeling so full, but he was hitting every square inch of your cunt and you were on cloud nine. You picked up a good rhythm, earning praise from JJ as you did so.

“There ya go, baby. Thaaat’s it,” he rasped, leaning back against the headboard to watch you work. His hands cupped your tits as they bounced, feeling your pert nipples rubbing against his palms. “Fuck. Me. Shit.”

His favourite girl, the star of every single fantasy he’s ever had, was beautifully bare and in his lap, riding the fuck out of his cock. He denied the urge to shut his eyes, no matter how euphoric he felt, ‘cause he didn’t want to miss a single second.

Lost in the pleasure, your hands migrated from his built shoulders to his chest, and you clawed at him. He hissed but ultimately enjoyed the stinging feeling pricking at his skin.

You could tell because, within a millisecond, his broad arms had enveloped your entire frame and started bucking his hips upward and taking control.

You gasped his name in shock, your own arms instinctively wrapping around him to hold on for dear life.

“Shh, baby. Let me do the work. You just keep takin’ this cock like a good girl for me, ‘kay?”

Oh, that mouth. That perfect, filthy mouth. You could’ve died right there if he let you.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah, who? What’s my name in here, angel?”

“D-Daddy.”

And the cheeky fucker smirked. “Damn fuckin’ straight.”

He flipped you onto your back, your bare skin hitting the thick comforter. His hands curled around the backs of your knees as he kept you spread wide open for him. His eyes couldn’t help but drift to where you two were connected, watching you swallow his cock whole.

“Such a good fuckin’ pussy,” he grunted. “Jus’ keeps gettin’ wetter ‘n tighter f’me.”

“Yes. Yes. All for you, Daddy. S’all for you,” you called out when he started to fuck you harder. He was animalistic with it, the lust and need for you going into overdrive. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen.

Your excitement only grew when JJ leaned forward, his deliciously carved frame hovering above yours. Thick arms caged you in, and large palms held your head up. His forehead leaned against yours, blue eyes holding yours captive in a hypnotizing fashion.

“Eyes on me, baby. Want your eyes on me when you cum.”

He knew you were getting there, your cries only increasing in volume as your pussy coated him completely in your slick. Your walls were contracting, tightening around him and threatening to take his breath away.

He also knew that his words would go a long way right now, judging by the way you’d been reacting to them thus far.

“Tired, aren’t you, baby? Tired of carrying all that weight on your shoulders?” He asked, his breath fanning over your lips as he panted. He littered soft pecks across your cheek when you nodded, an intoxicating juxtaposition from the savoury and harsh pounding he was giving you. “Yeah, I know, babygirl. Always workin’ so damn hard tryna take care of all of us. Jus’ need someone to take care a’you for a change, yeah? Need Daddy to do all the work ‘n make y’feel good? That right?”

Don’t get him wrong. JJ was a feminist. You’d raised him right. But he always had the crippling need to do whatever he could to make your days lighter, make your life easier.

And now, apparently, that included fucking the stress out of you until you couldn’t even remember what had caused it in the first place.

He let out a breathy and proud chuckle when your walls started to clamp down harder on him. He had you right where he wanted you; clinging onto him like a koala and keeping his skin pressed to yours, crying from his gifted hip work, and teetering on the peak of your orgasm.

“C-Close, J. So close,” you gasped out, chest heaving drastically.

“Let go, baby. Let it all go for me, yeah?”

One of JJ’s hands snaked down to rub your clit in tight circles, and he watched flames ignite in your eyes at the added stimulation. The wind was knocked out of your lungs when the band deep in your core finally snapped.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he encouraged, continuing to fuck you through your high. His was creeping up on him, and he selfishly started to go harder, faster. “‘M gonna cum. Where d’ya want it, baby? Your tits? Stomach?”

“M-My mouth. Promised you’d fuck it, remember?”

He grinned maniacally. The mere thought of fucking his cum down your throat, hearing your gags and watching more of those pretty tears stain your cheeks…nothing sounded better.

“I never break my promises with you, angel. Y’know that.” He pulled out from you, lifting you into a seated position so he could reach your mouth. You struggled to keep yourself upright, clinging onto JJ’s thighs. You looked up at him, teary-eyed with your tongue out and waiting. “Could fuckin’ cum just from the way you look right now, swear to God.”

He smacked his length against your hot tongue a few times before sliding in all the way. A shiver rippled through him in delight. “Fuckin’ hell. Where’s this mouth been all my life?”

He throbbed wildly, twitching when your tongue slithered against the thick vein of his underside. It didn’t take long for him to start thrusting into your mouth, starting off slow but speeding up as his greed skyrocketed. His hands thread through your hair, holding your head in place. Spit was pooling out around him and down your chin, countless tears were escaping from your eyes. Your hair was a mess. But you’d never looked more gorgeous.

You moaned around him, sending vibrations and little jolts through his entire body when he announced to you that he was close. You released your grip on one of his thighs, cupping and massaging his balls. He fucked deeper and deeper into your throat and soon, you watched him fall over the edge. A string of groans and curses fell from his lips, and he sounded better than anything you’d ever heard.

Your favourite song of all time was now dethroned by the pornographic sounds emitting from the gorgeous and hypnotizing man in front of you.

When he withdrew from your mouth and finally caught his breath, all he could do was beam down at you. His fingers scooped up the string of cum that clung to your lips and stuffed themselves into your mouth. You licked every last drop up and savoured it.

Savoured him.

“‘N just when I thought you couldn’t drive me any crazier.”

—

The world was different when JJ woke up.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and noticed the sun was shining, a nice contrast to the horrible weather from the previous night. He could hear birds chirping and the light breeze of wind flowing against the trees. But what was most different was the fact that you were curled up in his arms, smooth, bare skin pressed against his as you slept. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t cuddled before, but after last night’s escapades, the action just felt so much more intimate. He felt the smile growing on his face as the memories played in his head. He couldn’t believe he’d finally gotten to kiss you, let alone partake in any of the other activities you two did.

JJ looked down at you, his precious girl, watching your chest heave as you tried to regulate your breathing. You were glowing, your hair a little messy, but it made his heart skip a beat when he thought about how it’d gotten to that point. The ghost of a smile played on your lips while you watched him in wonder.

JJ leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead and closing his eyes as he did so. “Stay here. Gonna grab a towel so I can clean you up.”

He started to move, but your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist and tugged. “Don’t go. Can you just…lay with me for a bit?”

The combination of your sulky doe eyes and still kiss-swollen, pouted lips was all too much. He could never say no to you, but at that moment? You’d never looked more vulnerable, and he just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and shield you from anything that would make you look as sad as you did right now.

“Yeah, pretty girl,” he assured you, getting situated under the covers and opening his arms wide for you. “C’mere. Not goin’ anywhere.”

You smiled with a shy nod, instantly slotting yourself into his arms and resting your head on his chest. You nuzzled your cheek against his bare skin, closing your eyes as you let his presence envelope you.

“You promise?” You asked quietly. Your eyelids grew heavy, and you felt yourself slipping out of consciousness when his fingers danced up and down your back.

“I promise,” JJ said. His head came to lean atop yours, his cheek smushed against your hair. “Couldn’t leave you if I tried, princess.”

You started to shift in his hold, a small groan escaping your lips.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he greeted, sweeping some baby hairs away from your face. How you managed to look so effortlessly beautiful all the time was beyond him. Not that he was complaining. “You sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, unable to stop your lips from curling upward. “You?”

“Slept great.”

You peered up at him, and he was already looking down at you. The minute your eyes met, it was just as last night when the rest of the world went quiet. It was just you and your favourite boy, stuck in a bubble where for once, everything felt right. Where you and JJ felt so happy, that nothing could put a damper on things.

Until your bedroom door swung open, revealing your mother. Once her eyes landed on a shirtless JJ beside you, steam was coming out of her ears.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You sat up and held the sheets to your chest, keeping yourself covered up. “Mom, close the door!”

“Get up, get dressed, and get that pogue out of my house.”

“Always a pleasure, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

She glared at him and slammed the door shut. You didn’t dare to look at JJ, completely mortified and ashamed of her behaviour. JJ sat up then, watching your teeth sink into your bottom lip the way they always did when you were deep in thought or stressed out. Without a second thought, he reached over, thumbing at your lip until it broke free from your teeth.

“Stop that. Any harder ‘n you’ll bleed, babe.”

You gave him the tiniest glimpse of a smile. “Sorry.”

You got up before he could respond, wrapping one of your sheets around your body and making your way to your bedroom door so you could lock it. Behind you, JJ also got up, slipping on his clothes before walking over to where you stood.

“Hey,” he spoke, nudging your chin upward with his hooked index finger. “You okay?”

You nodded, slowly looking at him. “I’m just sorry about her.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, alright? I don’t care about her, I just wanna make sure you’re good.”

You nodded again wordlessly. It didn’t put JJ at ease.

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he told you. “Jus’ say the word ‘n I’ll stay.”

You wanted to grab him and hold onto him for dear life. He was so sweet, too sweet for his own good. He always thought of you first, put you above everything else. It was nice, having someone do that for you for a change, but you couldn’t be selfish with him. So, you shook your head, looking downward and grabbing both of his hands. Your thumbs swiped over his knuckles as you mustered up the courage to let him go, knowing it was for the better.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

It was clear JJ didn’t believe you, but he knew better than to push you when it came to your parents. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He stayed right where he was for a moment. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to leave you to deal with the wrath of your mother alone. But he remembered the promise he’d made to himself; that he’d always do what you wished of him.

He looked down at your joined hands, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. His gaze flitted back up to yours, and he nodded hesitantly. Breaking free from your grasp, he gathered his belongings. He walked over to you again, his hand cradling your face. Tilting your head down slightly, he kissed your forehead in goodbye.

“I’ll come by ‘n see you later, alright?”

“Okay,” you said.

He nodded, letting go of you slowly and walking the few footsteps to your door. But then, he turned around, his hand pausing on the doorknob. “Y/N/N?” His chest fluttered nervously, and he took a deep breath. “There’s, uh, somethin’ I wanna tell you. Somethin’ I needa tell you.”

You watched him intently, and a sense of anticipation bubbled in your stomach. “What is it, J?”

You grasped his hand gently, and his mouth went dry. You were in such a vulnerable place with your parents showing up out of the blue, and that was not how he wanted things to be when he told you he loved you for the first time.

“Y’know what? It’s nothin’. Forget it. I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, he exited your bedroom, leaving both you and himself with heavy hearts.

—

“Well, well. Look who’s finally decent,” your mother commented when you entered the kitchen fully dressed.

You chose to ignore her comment. “What are you doing here, Mom? I thought the ferry wasn’t running.”

“We took the jet and flew to the airstrip. Honestly, Y/N, it’s a miracle you can brush your teeth in the morning.”

You held back your impending eye-roll.

“Is your little friend gone?”

“Yes, Mom. JJ’s gone.”

And you’d never needed him more.

“Good. I knew that boy made you act like a child but I never thought that you’d throw everything we’ve given you away for someone with no potential and a criminal record.”

And there it was.

Any time your parents even thought they caught a glimpse of your blonde best friend, they were quick to pick out all his ‘flaws.’ Right off the bat, even as a child, they’d never respected him due to his pogue status. As if it were his fault, like he’d chosen his life himself. As if he’d chosen to be stuck with a father who’d never shown him love a day in his life.

As if they had room to talk.

Because the truth of the matter was, everything parents were supposed to do for their children — support them, comfort them, make them believe that they could be any and everything they wanted to be — wasn’t done by your parents.

They were done by JJ.

If you hadn’t had JJ, you wouldn’t have known what unconditional love was.

He was the one who reminded you that you could conquer the world. He’d held you through lonely nights, patched up your cuts and bruises when you were clumsy, helped you study (though he didn’t even study himself), and never failed to remind you that you were adored by him.

So, when your mother dared to speak on JJ as if she had ever really tried to know him, it boiled your blood. “Where do you get off talking about him like that? He’s done more for me than you and Dad ever have.”

The fire in your tone made your mother get up from her seat at the table immediately. She downed the contents of her glass — presumably scotch — and nearly slammed the glass on the table.

“Is that so?” She scoffed. Steam practically shot out of your ears when she looked at you. “So he put you up in this house? He paid for all your foolish little dance lessons and bought you that Benz sitting in the driveway?”

“That’s not what I—”

“I don’t care what you meant. You paint us out to be the villains in your life when we’ve done nothing but support you and give you everything you’ve ever dared to wish for.”

“Support me?!Areyou delusional? When have you two ever supported me?”

Financially? Yes. Emotionally? Mentally? Likely story.

“Don’t start. I’m simply speaking the truth. Now, tomorrow night, I expect you to stop acting like a spoiled brat and drop the attitude.”

Your brows furrowed. “What’s tomorrow?”

“Last night, your father and I were at dinner with some colleagues, discussing the horrible storm and what it’s done to the southside of the island. They said they’d love to help support the people down there, and so your father came up with the brilliant idea to throw a benefit for The Cut.”

Your parents wanted to help the pogues of the island? Were you dreaming?

“It’s wonderful publicity for our company. We’ve been looking for an opportunity like this for weeks.”

Nevermind. You were wide awake.

“That being said, your father and I have informed the Huntzbergers that their son would be your date. You remember Logan, don’t you? He asked for you. I can’t fathom why, but what does it matter?”

You’d met Logan many times over the years, the two of you being dragged by your parents to banquets, dinners, golf games, and so on. He was sweet, with a good sense of humour and a very handsome face if you were being honest. You’d always had the suspicion that he liked you, but obviously, those feelings had never been reciprocated. Not when a certain blonde troublemaker had plucked your heart right out of your chest and never given it back.

A true kleptomaniac.

“Mom, I can’t be Logan’s date.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me this is because of the Maybank boy.” Your silence and shifty look were enough to answer her. “Oh, honey. You don’t think that the two of you are together now, do you? He got what he wanted from you. You’ll never be anything more than an easy lay to him.”

Though the morning had been tumultuous at best, your mind hadn’t even gone there. Not once. In fact, it’d been the opposite. You weren’t foolish enough to believe that JJ would profess his undying love for you, but you certainly didn’t think he’d up and leave now that he’d been with you.

Would he?

As the thoughts consumed you, you were once again reminded that every time you’d found an ounce of happiness, your parents were always quick to rip it from your grasp and stomp on it for good measure.

“So, back to what I was saying. Please do not embarrass us. Wear something slimming.” She moved closer to you, tapping your hip. “You’re looking a little wide. Let’s hope you aren’t pregnant with the poor pogue’s child.”

Without looking back, she exited the room, leaving you alone to chew on her words in the oh-so-familiar silence.

—

JJ spent his entire shift at the auto shop convincing himself that tonight would be the night he finally fessed up. It’d always been so difficult for him; pushing his feelings for you so deep inside and ensuring that they’d never escape, but something had changed. Maybe it had been the events that had taken place the night before, or maybe it was the utter disappointment he’d felt in himself all day long after not confessing earlier on.

He hopped in his truck, swinging down to the pier so he could grab a bouquet from your favourite flower cart. He might not have been a renowned romantic, but his girl was special, and she deserved to be treated as such. Though he stayed there for a while, scratching the back of his neck with a stressed look on his face, he eventually settled on a carefully wrapped set that he thought you’d like.

A mixture of anticipation, nerves and excitement bubbled in his system. He hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for failure. But with the way you looked at him yesterday, shimmering stars in your eyes and the most gorgeous yet shy smile playing on your lips, it was hard not to let himself begin to trust the impossible.

Maybe his dreams were within his reach after all.

He let himself inside your house, skillfully sneaking past your parents (who were busy in planning mode) and making his way up to your empty room. He could hear shuffling coming from the bathroom and could see dozens of dresses littered across the floor accompanied by a few pairs of shoes. Half of him wondered if there’d been a tornado that only hit your closet.

He was aching to get a glimpse of the girl who had spent the day taking up every one of his thoughts. Seeing you and being with you felt like home. A home someone would have to pry from his cold, dead hands because he’d rather die than ever let you go.

“Y/N/N? You here?”

When you emerged from the bathroom, JJ swore the wind was knocked out of him. His eyes trailed down your elegant frame, your curves clad in a dress he hadn’t seen you in before. Your hair was natural, and you were bare-faced, but JJ believed you could walk a damn red carpet looking the way you did and capture the eyes and hearts of everyone in that room.

“Woah…” he breathed, awestruck.

“Hi.”

Your eyes were sad, and your lips were in a pout, but your tone would’ve been enough on its own to tell him that something had upset you. Reaching out for you, his warm hands found your hips and pulled you to him.

“You make sad look beautiful, princess.”

You smiled a little at his words before wrapping your arms around his torso and melting into him. “Thanks.”

He hugged you back, completely void of hesitation. He took the time to drown in your scent. It was incredibly fitting; sweet and hypnotic, just like you.

“What’s the matter?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, it’s not a big deal. I’m just being sensitive.”

“Hey,” he said, pulling away from you a little so he could look you in the eye. “It’s a big deal to me if it’s bothering you.”

God, how did he do that? He could convince you to unload everything on him with a few words and that look in his eye that made you feel as if he wanted to know every single detail running around in your mind. Pair that with the warm loving touch he was smoothing over you, calloused palms rubbing your sides up and down a few times, and your words came leaking out of you like a faucet.

“Does this dress look right on me? It’s okay, you can be honest. I just need an opinion I can trust.”

JJ felt a crack in his heart when those words left your lips. You wouldn’t even look at him, you just stared at the floor beneath your feet and smoothed out the fabric around your hips over and over as if you viewed yourself as anything less than perfection.

You were the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. There wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t crazy about.

That he didn’t dream about.

Tipping your face up by your chin and forcing your eyes on him so you could really hear what he was about to tell you, he spoke.

“Pretty girl, y’almost killed me when you walked through that door.”

“Really?”

JJ couldn’t tell if he wanted to hug you so tight that you’d end up stuck to him, or kiss the daylights out of you when he saw that spark of hope light your face up. “Really. You look perfect.”

You smiled that adorable, bashful smile, the one you always gave him when he calmed your mind and silenced your doubts.

Little did you know that he’d sell everything he owned to keep that smile there for eternity. If only you would’ve seen the lovestruck look JJ was giving you. There might as well’ve been hearts floating around his head.

However, your eyes were too busy looking at the splash of springtime colours against the white backsplash of your bedding. You felt your smile grow into a grin at the gorgeous bouquet lying there, and your eyes finally moved back onto the tall blonde in front of you.

“You got me flowers?”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

It was JJ’s turn to be bashful. He scratched his brow, trying to hide his now rosy cheeks as he turned around to grab the bouquet. He handed them to you carefully, and he could hear his heart thumping wildly as you stared down at them adoringly.

“You got me flowers.”

“It’s not a big deal. Jus’ swung by your favourite shop after work.”

Jesus, had you always made him this nervous?

You cradled the flowers in one arm, and let your free hand grab his. You tugged at it, silently telling him to come closer. You looked up at him, eyes sparkling.

“You got me flowers, J.”

The act of getting flowers was out of the ordinary for him. It seemed so…romantic. That’s not to say that he hasn’t bore his heart to you, ‘cause he had, but this…this was different.

At least, it felt different.

“Look, I jus’ thought, y’know…a girl as special as you deserves flowers.”

Oh, if you could’ve kissed him, you would’ve done so until you both ran out of oxygen. Maybe even longer. Even if it meant that you’d perish because of it.

But, you couldn’t, so you settled on pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. Then, he cleared his throat when he realized he might’ve been staring at you too long. “So, what’s the fancy getup for?”

“Oh, right,” you spoke. “My parents decided to pimp me out tomorrow night.”

His eyes almost bulged out of his head. “I beg your finest pardon?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Between the look on his face and his tone, he was making it impossible not to. “They’re throwing some benefit here for the Cut tomorrow night, and Logan asked for me to be his date. You remember Logan, right?”

You spun around, grabbing your empty vase off the dresser and heading back into your bathroom to fill it up. Meanwhile, JJ was stuck in place, his mind buffering.

Date? Did he hear that right?

When he came to, he was quick to follow you. “You— Wait— Huh?”

“Logan Huntzberger? I told you that story about how we snuck onto that boat once with a bottle of champagne and got busted by the owners, remember?”

“That’s not the part I’m confused about, Y/N.”

His tone was more icy than he intended, but he couldn’t help but feel something like rage boiling and brewing in his core. You didn’t seem to notice, though, and if you did, you didn’t show it. Instead, you unwrapped the bouquet cautiously and placed the flowers into the vase. You were about to pass him and the threshold back into your bedroom when his hard curled around your bicep.

“You’re goin’ on a date?”

You gave him a weird look. “He just wants to escort me to this thing tomorrow. And to be honest, there’s safety in numbers. My parents will be so focused on him that they’ll forget about me.”

His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away from yours as he let go of you. “You coulda just asked me.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as you placed the full vase back where it belonged. “You hate kook shit like this.”

“I woulda came for you. You didn’t need to say yes to some spoiled rich kid.”

“I didn’t say yes to him. My mom and dad did,” you reminded him. You walked up to him, arms crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling very open and vulnerable. “Why are you being like this? You know how they are.”

“‘M not bein’ like anythin’,” he denied. He moved away from you, grabbing his bag off your bed. “I gotta go.”

He didn’t know what he was doing. He just knew he had to get out of there before he exploded on you and ruined everything. How could you be going on a date with someone else when JJ was ready to tell you that he wanted you forever?

You grabbed his arm this time around. “Don’t do that. Don’t walk away from me. Just talk to me.”

JJ couldn’t stay. He felt sick. He felt like he wanted to strangle someone.

Okay, fine. Not just anyone.

Logan.

And maybe your dad, too.

“Have fun tomorrow, alright?”

JJ made his second escape of the day much quicker than he had with his first, practically poofing into thin air right before your eyes. You wanted to chase after him, beg him to just let you in instead of running away from you, but you knew getting him to open up wasn’t that easy. He’d have to want to come to you. So you just stood there, watching the doorframe hoping he’d come back, and growing utterly disappointed when he didn’t.

—

After the events at your home, JJ had decided to crash at John B’s. He thought being around him and the group would help take his mind off things, but all he could focus on was the void he felt without you beside him.

That night he had been even worse. He tossed and turned restlessly all night, never the one to be able to sleep without you in his presence. He needed to hear your rhythmic breathing and feel your warmth as you curled into his side in your slumber. It’s like his mind was never at rest unless he was with you.

The next day had dragged on, your date with Logan being the only thing on his mind from the minute he’d opened his eyes. He went to work, though he was clearly somewhere else mentally. He’d gotten scolded a few times, but he failed to remember why. Then, his bike broke down on the way back home, so he walked to Sarah’s house, hoping to catch a ride. He eventually made it, but was greeted by a party he had completely forgotten the group had planned.

JJ had half a mind to turn back and just go home. All he wanted to do was slump into a chair on his porch, smoke a joint and try to forget about the shittiest day he’d had in a long while. But he was far too exhausted to make that trip, and why go all the way home when he could get shitfaced instead? It’d help him forget just the same.

Right?

Wrong.

As the intoxication began to take over him, so did the thoughts of you.

Why did he walk away? Why didn’t he just open his mouth and say something?

‘I love you. I’m in love with you, and you can’t be with anyone else because you should be with me.’

That’s all he had to say.

And he blew it.

The group groaned around him when he started to rant about you and your date again. He’d been rambling on and on, causing a few people in the circle to leave so they wouldn’t have to hear yet another string of complaints fall from his lips.

“And it’s jus’ like, of course she’d ch-choose him,” he hiccupped into his red solo cup. “He’s like, rich ‘n loaded ‘n-n stacked.”

Pope rolled his eyes. “Those all mean the same thing, J.”

“Well, y’know what ‘m tryna say. He can give her everything. He could prolly buy her the planet. I could never do that.”

Sarah watched her friend wallow in his drunken sorrows, and she felt saddened for him. She had always known how much JJ loved you. She could see it in his eyes the first time she saw you two together. He’d bleed himself dry for you, and there was never any question about it.

“Okay,” she cooed, getting up from her seat and plucking his cup from his hand. “Think you’ve had enough, JJ. C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

JJ grumbled out a few protests, but Sarah ignored them, asking John B to help her lead JJ to one of the guest rooms. They managed to get him tucked into bed, and when his eyes fluttered shut, they figured they were okay to leave.

Unfortunately, not even a half hour later, JJ woke up. He was still way past intoxicated, but he stumbled into the kitchen in search of another bottle. He almost came up dry until he saw a bottle of whiskey less than a quarter full. He chugged down the remaining contents, and instantly made a hasty exit, his boots dragging against the pavement as he walked.

Though he was drunk, his feet led him in a familiar direction. He knew where he longed to be, where he needed to be.

He arrived at your house, clambering his way to your door and ignoring the nasty looks he’d gotten from your parents friends and colleagues. He pushed the door open, tripping over the threshold but managing to keep himself upright. He made his way through the house, and his mind quieted when his eyes finally landed on you. He was elated for all of five seconds because then he saw Logan’s hand find your waist. He pulled you closer to him, angling his head down slightly.

Absolutely-fucking-not.

“Hey! Keep your hands off my damn girl!”

Your eyes, Logan’s, and countless other partygoers’ all shot over to JJ. He was stumbling and had almost taken out one of the serves as he made his way over to you.

“J? What are you doing here?”

JJ ignored your words and your hands on his chest as he pointed an accusatory finger at your date. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch her again.”

“JJ, stop! You’re drunk!” You shout in a whisper, pushing him back a little now.

“You don’t know her. You haven’t spent your whole life loving her and making sure she had someone. You aren’t there to remind her to eat when she gets stressed, ‘c-cause she always forgets. ‘N you aren’t there when she cries, ‘n your heart doesn’t break when she does. You’re nothin’.”

More eyes were now on the three of you, and before you knew it, your parents were making their way over to you.

“Enough, Maybank. Get out of this house before I throw you out,” your father snarled.

“Dad, stop it!”

“You,” JJ said, turning his attention to your parents. “You two are the worst of ‘em all. Throwin’ this bullshit party when you’re never even here. You care about the cut? You don’t even care about your damn daughter!”

“JJ, enough! Let’s go!” You pleaded, trying to pull him.

He freed his arm from your grasp. “No, Y/N/N, everyone needs to hear this. They need to know they’re supportin’ two people who think it’s fun to body shame their daughter and remind her time and time again that they couldn’t care less about her. They didn’t even go to your graduation, Y/N/N. You worked your ass off, ‘n they couldn’t even be bothered to send you a damn card! Never mind the last five birthdays of yours that they missed. They’re pieces of shit, ‘n all their friends should know it!”

“You’re lucky I don’t call the cops!”

“Go ‘head. Call ‘em. Call ‘em ‘n tell ‘em that you’re arresting me for defending your daughter.”

“That’s it,” you mumbled to yourself. You grabbed JJ, pulling him hard this time. “Come with me, now.”

JJ’s voice got quieter the further away you dragged him, but it was clear enough. “‘M not done with you, Y/F/N!”

Luckily, Logan had come to your aid, helping you haul JJ up the stairs. It wasn’t an easy feat, as JJ had been swatting him away the entire way up. The two of you finally got him into your room, and you told Logan to rejoin the party. JJ sunk into your bed, and you tucked him under the sheets before handing him a water bottle. He pouted, not wanting to drink it, but relented when he saw the look on your face.

“Are you mad?”

You ignored his words, continuing to help him get settled. You were trying hard to bite your tongue because you knew that even if you scolded him, he most likely wouldn’t remember a single thing you said. That, and you could tell he was hurting. That’s the only reason he would’ve gotten this drunk.

“Uh oh. You’re mad. ‘M soo in trouble.”

“Tomorrow, JJ. Go to sleep.”

His big blue eyes sulked at you, though they were a tad hazy, and he latched onto your hand after you smoothed some hair from his eyes. “‘M sorry. ‘M just sad.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath. “It’s okay, J. Now sleep.”

He tapped his right cheek, silently asking you for a kiss there. You did as he requested, unable to refuse him, but not without an eye roll. Then he repeated his taps on his other cheek. You kissed him there too. The cycle continued with his forehead, and then his nose. When you were done, he tried his luck, tapping his puckered lips.

To that, you laughed softly. “Nice try, Maybank.”

—

If you could pay someone to pluck the memories of the previous night from your brain, you’d fork over all the cash you could muster. JJ’s behaviour, your embarrassment, apologizing to Logan profusely….

Yeah.

You’d erase all of it.

Mad and anxious as you were, though, you couldn’t stop thinking about how your ‘date’ had only made things more abundantly clear; you would forever be in love with JJ.

All night long, you knew Logan was trying to charm you. He was the perfect gentleman. He helped you down the stairs in your heels, guided you through the crowd, and got your drinks for you. Talked to you about your interests and actually, genuinely cared about what you had to say. But with every touch of his, all you could feel was the ghost of JJ’s and the trails of fire he’d left behind every time his skin brushed against yours. Could smell his familiar scent of weed, sea salt and some high-end cologne he’d snatched from a party on Figure 8, in place of the cologne that Logan had spritzed on himself. And when Logan tried to kiss you, you couldn’t even think about it. Because the truth was, you knew it would never compare to the sliver of heaven you’d ascended to when JJ’s mouth was on yours.

Your mind moved over to the boy you’d tucked into your bed last night, and a pang of worry hit you. Yes, you were still mad, at least partly, but you couldn’t focus on that. All you could focus on was your concern for him.

What was he battling? And why did he feel as if he couldn’t approach you about it? Didn’t he know by now that you’d stand by him through anything?

Didn’t he know by now that he wasn’t alone?

A loud clang in the kitchen caught your attention, and you decided to head down to investigate. You were also in desperate need of a cup of coffee.

You hadn’t expected to find JJ moving around your kitchen less-than-expertly during what would probably go down as the worst hangover known to man, but the sight that greeted you was nothing but endearing.

There he was, your best friend, surrounded by a chaotic array of ingredients and bowls and utensils. Flour dusted the tips of his blonde (now white) strands, there was a smear of what you assumed was batter across the apple of his cheek, and his clothes looked even worse off than his face.

Still, his tongue was poked out adorably while he concentrated on the soon-to-be-cooked ingredients in front of him.

“J?” You chuckled softly, unable to suppress your smile at the sight before you.

JJ’s eyes flit up to yours abruptly, a worried and panicked look spreading across his face. You could see the dark circles, and his voice was slightly hoarse when he spoke.

“Shit! You’re supposed to be in bed!” He rushed over to you, hands finding your shoulders with ease and trying to urge you to spin back around. “You gotta go back up.”

Your amusement was clear on your face as you looked around at the mess. “I don’t think that’s wise, J.”

JJ scratched the back of his neck, huffing frustratedly. His eyes weren’t as bright as usual, noticeably clouded by shame. “I jus’ wanted to apologize for last night. I thought makin’ breakfast would maybe help me get back on your good side.”

Your heart softened at his sincerity, your annoyance from the previous night now dissipating at his intentions. “You’re always on my good side. I just wish you’d talk to me about what’s going on instead of completely dodging me and getting blackout drunk just ‘cause you’re avoiding things.”

You’d always known him so well. Most times, you knew him better than himself. That being said, JJ should’ve known that you’d figure him out the minute he showed up at your house. He messed up terribly. He knew he embarrassed you, he knew he might’ve ruined the party and angered your parents beyond belief. But right now, he knew that even after all those things, they’d never stop you from worrying for him and making sure he was good on all fronts.

He definitely didn’t deserve you, but at that moment, he decided; he was going to keep you anyway.

“You’re way too good for me.” JJ’s flour-dusted hand cupped your cheek, and he looked down at you with all the love he could muster up, and then some. “You’re way too good for me, and I fell in love with you anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his words hung in the air, and you blinked, momentarily taken aback by the confession you’d spent nearly your entire life yearning for, yet never expected to hear.

“You’re…you’re in love with me?” You repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes searched his, and now, they were as clear and sincere as ever.

JJ nodded earnestly. “After that night, when I showed up with those flowers…I was gonna tell you. ‘N then you told me about your date with Logan ‘n I jus’ freaked ‘cause I could feel myself losin’ you to this, like, superior guy who could give you everythin’ I couldn’t.”

“J…” you trailed off sadly in a whisper.

“It’s always been us, y’know? Two peas in a shitty-parents-pod. But even on my worst days with Luke…it never mattered, ‘cause I had you. ‘N when I thought about you leavin’ me…Y/N/N, I couldn’t even stomach it. Then I kinda went off the deep end.”

You grabbed his hands with urgency. “I could never leave you, J. Never.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a soft voice. “I love you too much.”

JJ’s gaze searched yours, his eyes mixed with hope and trepidation. “For real?”

“Yes, for real, dummy. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and your heart pounded in your chest at your confession. But this time, it wasn’t with nerves or fear, it was one hundred percent, wholeheartedly with love.

“So, does that mean I can finally kiss you again?”

Even at his most vulnerable, this cheeky boy could still whip out a boyish smirk on command. This only prompted you to toy with him a little, just to get back at him.

“And what makes you think I’m gonna kiss you, Maybank?”

His hands surged toward your hips, and he pulled you impossibly closer while licking his lips. “I know you, remember? ‘N after the other night, I know what you look like when you want to.”

Damn, he was good.

Your arms looped around the back of his neck, and you threw him a daring look. “So do it.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. His lips found yours, and you stood there for some time, just drowning each other without anything holding you back this time. Things couldn’t have been more perfect.

He couldn’t have been more perfect.

Just like that, the two of you were home. And you’d never dare to leave.

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lovelybrooke · 10 months

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The way things were before (Platonic Yandere Muzan x reader)

This was inspired by the last episode of the latest season where we get some Muzan lore. This is kinda my first time writing real angst so tell me what you think. Keep in mind this is based on the anime and I haven't actually read the manga.

Pt.2

Check out my other works here: Masterlist.

Anger.

Ever since Muzan was young, one emotion he always felt was anger. It stuck to him like a tumor, destroying him from the inside out.

He felt anger for his illness that prevented him from having a real life. He felt anger for having to be tested on by doctors nearly daily. He felt anger that people looked down upon him as he grew weaker and weaker. But more importantly, he felt anger that nothing changed. He never got better, he never got stronger, no matter how much time went by.

As he aged, and his illness got worse, Muzan accepted the fact that his anger, his hatred for everyone would never leave him.

That was, until he found you. His beautiful, wonderful child, the only thing that could quell the rage inside of him.

You weren't his biologically, no, but that didn't matter to him. Before he was too sick to leave his bed, Muzan found you orphaned living on the streets and took you in. Ever since, you've been repaying him by taking care of him.

"Father, it is time to take you medicine." There you were, right on time. Muzan refused to take his medicine from anyone else, even his most notable doctors.

He was too weak to sit up, simply moving his head to acknowledge you, watching as you sat down in front of him. Muzan didn't complain as you moved his head so the medicine could travel done his throat more smoothly.

Once done, you lay his head back down, putting the small bowl down next to you, blessing him with a kind smile. "How are you feeling today father?" You question.

"I'm doing fine now that you are here, my child." You giggle, the smile reaching your eyes. A small smile graces Muzan's face at your happy demeanor. Even if it is only for a second, Muzan is happy.

"Oh, I almost forgot." You gasp, "The doctor has new medicine for you, he wanted to give it to you himself."

Muzan let out a childlike groan, rolling over to face the balcony. It was beautiful outside, but Muzan couldn't help but feel annoyed. The sun was too bright, the wide was too strong, the birds were too loud. Even the thought of having to interact with his doctor for a second caused his blood to boil.

You roll your eyes at him, "Father, you have to take your medicine, the doctor knows better than me." He does move to face you, but you could tell he was annoyed.

"The doctors are incompetent." He moves back on his back; his brows cross in frustration. "They have been treating me for years, but here I remain, trapped in by bed." He laments.

You frown at his words, looking away from your father with sorrow. You remember a time when he was still healthy enough to spend time with you, your favorite days being when he would grow flowers with you, teaching you about their meanings and medical uses. But now, just standing was enough to strip him of all his strength.

You've been forced to watch as your father grows more resentful for the people around him, hating his doctors, maids, even gardeners for simply existing, being able to live the life he most desperately wanted. On days where his illness is at his worse, he mumbles about wanting to destroy them all, something you assumed was delirium caused by the medicine.

Even though your father has changed, you still love him, and you can't help but see him as the carefree, happy man he was when you were younger, even now. It's why you so desperately want him to get better, so that maybe you could go back to the way things once were.

"Father, I promise they just want to help." You try and talk some sense into him, though his resolve doesn't budge. You sigh, "it would make me really happy if you let the doctors give you the medicine." You put emphasis on the word really, in hopes it would motivate him. To your luck it did, Muzan moving to face you, sighing at your pleading face.

"Fine." Was all he said, feeling warmth bubble up in him as you smiled. You leaned down and hugged him the best you could.

"Thank you, father." Muzan smiles, happy once more.

---

You haven't visited you father in days, him forbidding you from entering his room a few days after he took the new medicine. You didn't mind though, it probably had some bad side effects, so you left him alone. Though, you couldn't help but question whenever he ordered for a worker to enter his room, especially when you swore, they never left.

Today was the final straw, you had to see your father. Workers had been disappearing left and right, and you knew your father was not going to be happy about it if you kept it from him.

As you get closer and closer to your father's room, a stench more disgusting than anything you've smelt before entered your nose and caused you to gag. You would've thrown up than and their if you didn't cover your mouth quickly.

The smell only got worse as you slowly crept towards the door, it nearly becoming unbearable. You swallowed down you fear as you knocked at the door. You could hear the faint sounds of crunching, like someone was chewing on something tough which made heartbeat against your ribs.

"F-father, are you in there." The chewing stopped and your heart sank. Your hands shook as you heard someone move towards the door. Slowly, the door opened, revealing your father covered in blood. He smiled down at you creepily, a stark contrast between the horror that covered your face.

Muzan moves to cup your cheek in his hand, blood smearing on your face. He could hear your fearful breathing coming from your nose as you inhale and exhale in rapid succession. He rubs your cheek, trying to calm you down as you look into his room, seeing the mangled-up bodies behind him. Your breathing became even more erratic at the sight, Muzan simply sighing with a frown.

"(Y/N), you don't understand-"

"You killed them, father." You whisper, backing away from him.

"I am much stronger now; I can protect you." You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. What was he talking about?

"You killed them." Your repeat you back hitting the wall. Muzan was directly in front of you, looking down intimidatingly. For the first time in your life, your father scared you.

"I had to, my child." He answers, his voice calm, but you could sense his annoyance. "It's the only way I can remain strong."

You don't say anything as he moves closer, hugging you into his chest as your world went dark.

---

It's been years since that day.

Your now older, more aware of the situation you're in. You father was now a demon, forced to consume humans in order to live. You realized quickly it was from the medicine the doctor gave him, and you curse him everyday for doing so.

He took your home from you, forcing you and your father out of your village. He took your life from you, forcing you to remain hidden with you father. Most importantly, he took your father from you, him now a husk of the man he once was.

Along with the myriad of strange side effects, your father couldn't go out in the day, the sun causing him immense pain, one of the only few things that could hurt him.

You learned to treasure the mornings, them being the few hours away from your father. While he was busy learning all he could about his aliment, you were trying to maintain the image of a normal human being. Working, socializing, anything you could do to forget about the atrocities your father committed when the sun set.

You wish things would go back to the way they were before.

"-N)? (Y/N)?" Oh, you were in the hospital, getting blood work done. You look over at the doctor in front of you, him attempting to get you attention.

You've been feeling terrible for the past few days, constant headaches, hot flashes, soreness. You could barely move without pain. You got blood work done, now waiting for the results with anticipation.

"I just wanted to ask you a question before giving you the news." His voice is solemn, not giving you a good feeling. "Does your family have any history of illness?"

You want to answer yes, but that would we wrong. You're not Muzan's child, so you shouldn't have inherited his illness. "No, my father was plagued with illness years ago, but he's...better now and I'm not his child biologically."

The doctor nodded, looking away dejectedly. When his eyes finally met yours, they were serious, "You've developed a rare blood disease." You heart sinks, but the doctor continues, "I suspect about a month or so is what you have left."

You could feel tears in your eyes, but surprisingly you didn't feel all that sad. Ever since you were young, you've accepted the fact that you would die, it's something you've learned from your times on the streets. The doctor continues talking, but you don't hear a word, to busy wondering how you're going to tell Muzan.

---

"Father, I'm home." No response, but you know he heard you.

On your way home, you accepted that you weren't going to tell Muzan. You knew if you would, he would try to turn you, and you couldn't accept that fate. To you, even death was a better fate than becoming a demon.

You slowly make you way up to your father's study, knocking on the door before entering. Like most days, your father is hunched over his desk, books and papers strewn about.

He doesn't acknowledge you when you enter, even when you move to stand beside him. You take a look at the scientific papers, not understanding a single thing about any of them. The only recognizable thing was the blue spider lily that for some reason was crucial to father.

"How was your appointment?" He doesn't look at you, flipping through pages of a book.

You sigh, shaking your head, "It was fine. Apparently, I was overreacting." You let out an awkward laugh. Muzan nods, before moving his attention back to his book.

It's like he was consumed by this flower, it was the only thing he cared about. You missed you father, even though it's been years since he's felt like one. In a way, you feel like death would be more welcoming than the life you have now, one that is consumed by fear for the man your supposed to feel safe around.

You left without telling you father, silently hoping you wouldn't see him in the morning.

---

Your hopes were not answered.

It's been week, but death does not come, all that greeted you was endless pain.

Your father found out when you collapsed one morning, and while he was mad you lied to him, he was livid when you refused to be turned into a demon. He's never yelled at you before, it surprised you when he screamed and threatened you, but you didn't change your mind.

In the end, your father was forced to watch you slowly succumb to your illness. You attempted to brighten his mood by framing the situation as repaying you. You took care of him, now he is doing the same. The only difference being you won't make it out in the end.

"Father, do you remember when I was little," You murmur to him; you voice raw and quiet. Your room was dark, blocking out any light so you could barely see your father looking at you. "You used to grow flowers with me." Your giggle sounds almost painful, but the smile on your face was one Muzan had nearly forgotten. "I'd get so sad when mine would die."

He doesn't speak, he can't, "Then you'd tell me not to cry, because death is normal for all living beings." Your voice is getting quieter as you speak, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "You were trying to comfort me about your death, I didn't know that at the time."

Muzan wants you to stop talking, he hates the pain in your voice. "I wish we could go back to the way things were before." You said, before finally going quiet. Muzan hears your breathing stop before letting out a sob.

---

It's been over a thousand years since your death and ever since then, Muzan has been filled with anger.

Anger for this imperfect world that took you away from. Anger at you for refusing the life he could've given you. Anger at himself for making your last few moments miserable.

He doesn't know who to blame for his misfortune, but he knows that if he lets anger consume him, he'll find someone to blame.

Muzan chooses to remember you when you were younger and at your happiest. When he's alone, his mind often wanders to these moments, when you were just a child, so small he was afraid anything would hurt you. He never let you out of his sight, wanting to protect you from the world.

Though in the end, he still lost you.

Since the day you died, Muzan was filled with rage. And he will continue to be until the day he sees you again.

He just wishes things would go back to the way they were before.

---

A/n: I don't even know if this counts as Yandere but whatever.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer #kny muzan #kny x reader #platonic muzan x reader #muzan x reader

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pellucid-constellations · 7 months

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angstober (3)

Prompt: "But I love you"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/n: This takes place at the beginning of civil war :) ANGST!! I love angstober <3

You can also read my angstober drabbles here and here (if you wanna)!!

~~~

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

God, how things were supposed to be different.

Bucky rummaged through a backpack he’d thrown in the corner of your apartment sometime last month. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Now, you were left wondering just how many items he’d strewn about his life, a randomized placement of his belongings all ready for him if he needed to bolt.

Would he take you, too? Were you not something he considered his?

“Bucky, talk to me. What’s going on?” you tried. You’d already asked that same question in three different ways. After he’d barged through your door with his hoodie drawn up to his chin and his hat low on his forehead, you’d bombarded him with questions. He hadn’t answered any of them.

And he was wearing gloves. He hadn’t worn gloves around you in a long time.

“I can’t tell you. Can’t stay here.”

You were grateful for a response this time, at least. You tracked him with your gaze as he zipped up his backpack and moved through your kitchen, removing pots and pans from your cabinet in a loud, clattering motion. He reached his arm in until his elbow disappeared within the wooden doors and then pulled it back out, a gun now firm in his grip.

“When did you put that in there?” you startled, uncrossing your arms from your chest. You were still in your pajamas. Bucky had gone to get breakfast and left you in bed. And now he was leaving.

“A while ago,” he responded, the words barely forming on his lips.

He was moving again before you could truly voice your bafflement, shrugging the bag over his shoulders and readjusting the straps. Panic surged through your chest and up your throat. He really was leaving. You knew he’d been running from something when you met all those months ago, but there had been nothing wrong when he left this morning. You made him feel safe. He wanted to stay with you. He’d told you that himself.

You reached out a hand and he jolted at the contact, gaze shooting up to meet yours. Your eyes flickered between his own, desperation clear in your expression as you pleaded with him. “Don’t leave. Tell me what’s happened.”

Your hand burned on his shoulder but you couldn’t remove it.

He looked almost as ruined as you did, but there was something else behind his eyes. Determination, maybe? Resolve?

“I can’t.”

It was the shortness that ultimately broke you. You heaved out a pained breath as your waterline filled, letting your hand drop. Your arm swung uselessly down to your side and you bit into your lip as your eyelashes gathered moisture.

Bucky’s stoic demeanor fractured, a tiny sliver showing you the man you’d come to know. The one you’d carved out from cold, hard stone. It had taken you weeks to get him to smile, even longer to get him to finally kiss you. When he spent the night for the first time, he was too stiff to hold you. But that was all different now. He was different now.

He had told you he wanted to stay. That he wanted to keep you safe.

You saw that part of Bucky as his lips twisted into an uncomfortable grimace, his arms reaching out to haul you into his chest.

“C’mere,” he grunted out, chin resting on the crown of your head. “C’mere, honey, I’m sorry.”

You cried into his chest, hiccuping as you asked, “Why are you leaving? I can come with you. I want to help you.”

He shushed you, running gloved hands along the back of your head. “Can’t, baby. Where I’m headed isn’t safe. I’ve been real lucky for a while but that luck’s run out.”

“Bucky, you can’t—”

“I’m not good for you here. I need to keep you safe and I can’t do that while I’m being selfish. I’d give anything to bring you with me, but I won’t put you in danger.”

You pressed your nose into his chest, willing the feel of him into your memory. You could hardly breathe like this, but that didn’t matter. When he left, when he was really and truly gone, you probably wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.

Your hardwood floor creaked beneath your feet as Bucky stepped closer and burrowed you further into his body, his lips pressing hard against your forehead. You hated this apartment—this tiny, cloistered space in Romania. It would only serve as a reminder of him once he was gone.

Maybe you would move.

But would he be able to find you, once it was safe? Would he come looking?

The thought made your chest constrict. What if he never came back?

Bucky pulled back from you, taking your face into his palms. His face scrunched up in displeasure at the tears still glistening on your cheeks, and he tried to remedy them with the pad of his thumb. They kept coming, even when you’d stopped crying.

“I have to go. Longer I stay here, the more danger you’re in.”

Your next words fell from your lips without hesitation, tears thick in your tone as you stressed, “But I love you.”

Bucky froze, mouth parting. You’d said it with so much sadness, so much heaviness in the words he’d been aching to hear for so long. You hadn’t said them yet because you didn’t want to scare him off.

But he was leaving now. There was nothing to lose.

The kiss he pressed to your lips was hard and rushed and a breath left his nose with so much tension a low groan accompanied the action. His fingers were gripping your jaw and desperately trembling. His feet were slotted between yours and you tugged at his jacket to bring him closer, closer, closer.

“That’s why I have to leave,” Bucky huffed out against your lips, eyes closed. He couldn’t watch as he left you. “I’m gonna find you again. Even if it’s in another life.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #angstober 2023 #day 18

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

blow me like a candle • e. jaeger

Eren was never really a fan of parties or celebrating birthdays at all for that matter but (y/n) knows just the trick to make his special day one worth remembering.

cw: black fem reader, musician eren x influencer reader, oral sex (m/f receiving, he eats ass for like .1 seconds 😭), food play, squirting, toy use, public play, aggressive eren, mentions of car sex, masturbation, choking, overstim, kitchen sex, pet names, cumshot, breeding, (princess, daddy, baby)

wc: 4.1k

📝: y’all know I couldn’t let baby boy’s special day pass without doing something for my fav ship! Hope y’all enjoy. Happy belated to my beloved!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆

“And who all did you invite?” “Just a few friends, that’s all.” “Get to naming or I’m not going.”

the expected banter between you and your fiancé had been going on for nearly an hour now. All this amid your preparations and planning for the one day a year that you’d have to all but force him to take it off.

“For real, EJ? It’s your own damn birthday party. How you not gone go?” Smacking your lips in pure frustration at your man. Honestly, you shouldn't be too surprised when dealing with someone so stubborn and ornery. For the three years that you had been together, March thirtieth seemed to be a day of dread rather than enjoyment for the disgruntled musician. Fans had already begun flooding his inbox, comments and mentions with love, adoration and fan edits of the man who brought them a plethora of hits over the years. Some even consider him the sole reason they were even on this planet. Celebrating the life of EJ the Don..you were scrambling all week, planning a party for him in secrecy, hoping to surprise the rapper but with a bit of digging and zero resolve from his assistant, he quickly discovered your plan and voided it immediately. While everyone else was showering him with love and hoping to make his twenty eighth trip around the sun a happy one, Eren was too busy being glued to his next online match and dismissing any and all talk about some extravagant party. Including his own wife to be!

“Because (y/n), it’s pointless. A bunch of people who don’t even fuck with me on a regular day, running in my face and being annoying. Why should I spend my day in a loud restaurant or looking at Jean’s ugly ass mug when I could sit right here, kick my feet up, play some COD…..” His words trailing off while pulling you toward him with a gentle grasp on your wrist. “And eat frosting off your ass. Is that too much for a man to ask?” You’d all but dismissed him, rolling your eyes as he burst into laughter. It was obvious he wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’m serious though, princess. There’s just no use in wasting time or money on something like this. I’m happy right here with you.” At the end of the day, it was his decision. But a last ditch effort at guilt tripping couldn’t hurt! Folding your arms over your chest, (y/n) pushed your lip into a pout, giving him those glaring brown eyes. The ones he could never resist or say no to. Truthfully, you wanted him to have a nice time and gather all of the people who cared about him in one place. For once, let him be the one taken care of..

“I get it, I’m sorry..” “it’s fine, I just rather—“ but before he could finish his sentence, you began in on your little tirade and even threw a few tears in to make it plausible. “I mean, I just wanted you to have a good day, that’s all..I guess it really doesn’t matter.” In the midst of your little tirade, his smile would quickly fade into a look of confusion. Now he felt bad! Here you were planning and expending all of this energy into a gathering, spending your own money and resources to give him an amazing night and he’d rather spend it playing some stupid game. Unbelievable! Refusing to see his baby upset, regardless of his better judgment, Eren released a huff and got up to console you. “Calm down, princess..alright, you win. I’ll go.” Just then, that seemingly somber glare turned to one of pure excitement! “You mean it?! Oh my goodness, I’m so happy!—“ but there was one minor stipulation he wanted to attach to this little acceptance offer. In mere seconds, that deviant grin was back plastered across his handsome face and you couldn’t help but get the sneaking suspicion that something insane was swirling around in that big ass head of his. “One condition.” The only words he uttered to grab your attention. Cradling your waist tightly and running his hand across the lower part of your stomach. “I’ll go to your party, because I know you worked so hard planning it. BUT…there is something you have to do for me..” just then, you’d freeze in his clutch, wondering what exactly this man had in mind. Granted, he would’ve been perfectly content with just you, a blunt and his PlayStation but since you were all but forcing him to participate in this little charade, he might as well be entertained while going and he knew just the trick to doing so! “What is it?…” but alas, you wouldn’t receive your answer right away. Just as you had done for him, you’d let his mind wander and contemplate what could be. Walking off towards the kitchen after parting with a peck to the cheek, Eren just burst into laughter at the thought of his own sinister plot. “ ‘EJ, stop playing. What is it?”

“I’ll tell you just like you told me..it’s a surprise.” And suddenly, you knew the next few days of anticipation of what was up his crafty little sleeve.

it wouldn’t be until the night of his much anticipated soirée that you’d find out just what he was up to! By that time, it was too late and he had surely set you up! Because what other way..what gift would be greater than to force (y/n) into sporting a controlled vibrator for the duration of the event?! Underneath your shimmery designer, thigh length dress and thin pink panties lay a discreetly hidden device..shoved inside of you and controlled by his hands. Even with the promise of wanting to do anything to make his special day the best and just genuinely happy, you couldn’t believe that this was his request! Coupled with the fact that he didn’t want to be around all of these people anyways? You were certainly in for a hell of a night. Forcing him to do social interaction; the one thing he despises most on his birthday…this was karma! So as you sat by his side at Casa Tua..across from a table of his peers as they poured alcohol and sang his praises, he was casually tapping away at his screen, tormenting you with each passing second. That silicone mashed up against your mound and whirled around in your flesh. Tiny shocks of stimulation sporadically hitting your clit. Gifts and wrapped packages surrounded the table, lavender ambience lighting scattered above you and your company as he swirled his thumb pad around and drove up the frequency, making it nearly impossible for you to keep your composure. “..you’re the worst.” “You did say you’d do whatever I wanted.” To which you had no choice but to agree. No matter how flustered you were, clenching your thighs together and chewing at your lip. Everyone around you cackling, bantering among themselves. Meanwhile, you’d keep your hands entangled around his arm, clutching each time he hit another pulse. Trying to shield your face from being spotted. “No need to hide that pretty face..let everybody see how much you’re enjoying this.” Snickering from behind his palm as he gave that small dot another spin and watched you peel over once more; clutching his arm in the process. However, he was unphased and continued sipping at his champagne flute full of Moët. That smirk riddled across his face. He only wanted you to cave so that he could inevitably risk you away but your pride wouldn’t allow it. After having made your little spectacle and pleading the case as to why he needed to be drug out of the house, you were going to pay for this!

“..why don’t you moan a lil’ bit for me, baby? Tell me how good that feels inside of you..” It was at that exact moment, the waiter began dispersing meals around the table and neither of you could focus on the delectable dishes in front of you for the fact that the only thing you wanted was to devour each other! Eren was growing farther aroused and impatient by the second. Wishing he could tear you out of that dress that had your titties looking so juicy stuffed up in it. That made the curvature of your plump ass sit just right and of course, there was that beautiful face…one he wanted to fuck relentlessly until you stained his dick with that sticky gloss. “Or better yet..say the magic words and I’ll make it stop.” All the while taunting you with higher frequencies..whispering in that low deep tone that always drove you mad with lust. Whimpering through muffled lips, (y/n) cradled your face into his shoulder blade and to play it off, he’d coil a hand around your back when the server made his way to your side. “Had a little too much to drink..lightweights.” Chuckling with the man before he walked off. Buying you a bit more time as you rutted your dripping cunt against that toy. Staining the seat of your panties in that slick…a mess he had to see for himself. Luckily for the both of you, everyone was a bit preoccupied with their own side conversations to notice that he was discreetly tugging back your thong and exposing that swollen clit to the cool elements. “…I bet you want to let it out so bad, don’t you? Ride my fingers instead…or better yet…” just then, you’d feel his middle and ring fingers swirling your swollen bud, eliciting a gasp from you. “I can give you this dick. Whatever you want, princess. All you have to do is say it. Don’t be so stubborn..” that smug look had turned into a full blown grin because he was getting an absolute thrill out of all of this. The longer you waited, the further you prolonged your own orgasm. There was no point in pretending you could handle it. “ ‘Ren..” “Say it.” So reluctantly but eventually…you’d cave! In a shrill moan, still cradling his forearm through his white button down, you’d utter the one phrase he was looking for:

“…take me home.”

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*

thirty minutes later

after having abandoned the restaurant and all of your unsuspecting friends, the two of you jetted out of the eatery; his arm cradling you as he carried you from the establishment. From there, his plan was in motion. Funny enough, the two of you had devised your escape plan in the event that you couldn’t hold out; under the guise that you had fallen ill after one too many glasses of liquor. Putting on one hell of an act, so much so, an Oscar should’ve been seated next to his five Grammys. Either way, it worked and once valet wrangled his red McLaren to the forefront of the building, you were out of there! The brief drive home was equally as thrilling as the rush you got from potentially being caught. Whilst he maneuvered the wheel, trying to get you guys home quickly, you’d indulge him from the passenger’s seat; legs parted to either side, facing him whilst playing with that pretty pussy. Gently rubbing on yourself to release that tension building in your body. In the confines of this car, you were free to scream as loudly as possible, say whatever you please. Pumping those digits in and out, creaming all over them as you moaned for the man responsible. Even squirting and drenching his leather interior, which brought a big smile to his face. “You’re so fucking sexy, oh my god…”

so it came as no surprise when you got through the front door of your home, things only escalated…whisking you around whilst making out. Pinning you against the wall with his knee parting your thighs. Eren slid those nimble digits between your folds… whimpering and grunting against your lips. Tugging your top down and sucking on your nipples. Ravaging every inch of your body he could get his hands on..those tattooed fingers pinching, pulling and spanking you as he saw fit. Who needed two hundred dollar dinners when he could devour you as he saw fit? Naturally, it was only fitting that he take you to the kitchen, set you atop the counter and really start the party..no pun intended!

“Open those fucking legs, hurry up.” From the switch of tone in his voice, you knew for certain he was done playing these games. All night, he had been watching you strut in that tight little two piece..teasing him and practically begging for him to get that pussy. How envious he was of that Lush Vibrator being buried deep in your greedy little cunt. He could’ve had it all a lot sooner had you just let him stay home, now..it was time to put his claim on it. Not wasting another second of his precious time, (y/n) parted those thighs as far as you could spread them and held them in place with your palms. Gripping the thick of that ass and staying steady for him. It was a beautiful sight.. “..Eren, baby. I need it so bad. I need that dick..” desperately declaring as you watched him strip himself of his own clothing. “I know, baby. I got you..” Your panties tugged to the side by a finger hooked around the material and heels dangling in the air. Trust, he wanted to fulfill your desire for the both of you but there was one thing he needed before doing so. See, he had plans all night of how he wanted to go about this…the fantasy plaguing his perverted mind for days. With his shirt finally unfastened, he’d toss it to the floor, starting on his belt next as he beelined for the fridge. You already looked absolutely delectable and divine, but this would just set it over the top. When he retrieved his sought after item, you’d smirk and begin laughing when you saw what he had. “First though, let me have a lil’ taste of you.” Brandishing in his hand a canister of whipped frosting, Eren removed the top and tilted it downward, leaving a few little dots on your neck, nipples..along with a trail going down your exposed stomach. Even leaving a few on your asscheeks. Pink confectionery laden across your beautiful dark skin..it was the sweetest treat he could ask for. Bending down, he’d grasp your chin lightly and shove his tongue into your mouth, flinging it around as you engaged in sloppy kisses. It was almost criminal how badly he wanted you..cupping your breasts in your palms, you’d watch him closely as he lowered his head to begin lapping up those tiny piles of frosting. Slowly, he’d twirl his tongue around your perky mocha nipples; softly suckling them off. (Y/N) trailed those freshly done nails through his hair. Those narrowing eyes glaring at him as he glided down your body.

“Mmphm!” Sharply exhaling in reaction to his careful movements. He could tell that you were thoroughly enjoying this little display of foreplay. “I’ve been waiting all night for this..” Slowly but surely swiping up the sugary trail, all the while keeping his gaze fixated on you. It wasn’t until he reached your mound did he pick up that can once more and dot your clit with the same substance. “Let me see your hands, baby?” Cooing to you in that sweet tone as he intertwined your fingers and shifted his focus to your slit, slurping on those delightful juices; stirred up by all the teasing. The mixture of your natural taste and that subtle sweetness of that frosting intermeshed for a delicious flavor. He was in absolute bliss at the moment, enjoying every bit of that body that he had been denied all evening. Because of that, he was going to ensure that he ate your pussy until his jaws locked up. For his own pleasure and you could come, cry and whatever else you felt necessary but this was his right now. “Hnghhh!! ‘Ren…oh shit. Right there..eat this pussy..” He’d continue on, spitting down into those folds and your entrance, being stretched open by his two free fingers. Whilst the two of you held hands, he’d greedily feast, making loud moaning noises and vibrating against your plump lips. Soon, he’d turn his attention to your decorated backside and licked it clean; gently flicking his tongue across your asshole momentarily. By this time, your nectar was trickling down his chin and even to his throat; that bobbing Adam’s apple jumping as he drank in your divine mixture. Eren was so enamored that he didn’t want to come up for air even..only to praise you for doing so good for him. “Keep putting in my face, princess..mmm, fuck..” meanwhile, you had no idea just how hard you had gotten him through the concealment of those pants. Hearing the sounds of your smacking wetness and little voice calling out for him. He’d proceed to tongue fuck and give you insurmountable pleasure, so much so that you reached another orgasm, but it was right before you could make it to a third did he cease and come up for air. His mouth and cheeks eventually stained in that syrupy sex. “C’mere..” demanding in a breathy wind as he clutched your throat and meshed your mouths together.

with the opposite set of digits, he’d undo the button of his black pants and tug his boxers down his waistline. That thick cock; swollen and throbbing with desire for you. “I want you so bad…want you so fucking bad..” by this time, becoming quite needy as he gripped his shaft and drug it across that aching cunt. Glaring with watchful eyes, (y/n) nibbled at your bottom lip in anticipation and Eren had no plans to keep you waiting for long! “..Take it…” “..give me that pussy. Open it up f’r me..” using your fingers to part that pretty slit open and seconds later, his tip made home inside of you.. “f-fuck!” Normally, he’d be gentle and all for going slow..taking his time but after being edged along for teased, he was about to tear your shit up! The initial sensation catching him up a bit until he gained a rhythm and the two of you finally found yourselves in sync. That leg draped over his shoulder and shook as he began to thrust. In and out..feeding you a couple deep ones, only to draw out some of that silky cream. Pumping until he was able to fit half way. “..you gonna let me have this pussy, baby? You can take more, I know you can. ‘S so tight..” baiting you along with that sweet charm, all while choking you out for added stimulation. He didn’t let you take your eyes off of him for one second, wanting to see each of those beautiful reactions. Even when you began to shed a small tear and whimper. “You can take this dick f’r me, can’t you? Let me put that shit in your stomach? That’s the only gift I want..” “..mmmm..yeah. I can take it, daddy. Give it to me!” Begging him to increase his speed and beat your shit sore if that’s what he desired. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long before he hit his stride. You’d find yourself clutching the sides of that countertop, bracing yourself for that brutal pounding. The sounds of your rough love making ringing throughout the room, all that passion and affection coursing between your sweat riddled bodies. “Right there, right there! Please don’t stop, ‘Ren! I’m gonna come.” That much apparent by the tight clutch of your cunt around his shaft. That milky white sheath coating him…but he knew what was coming next and he couldn’t wait to feel it. So much so, he’d massage your clit and bait you on.

“Squirt on this dick then..come all over it..” Coaxing out that sticky rain as he swiped his fingers across your bud and let it spray his lower abdomen. Your body shook violently in reaction to that pent up orgasm. The third one you’d experienced tonight and you weren’t sure how many more you could handle. However, your husband-to-be was going to put it to the test! “Thaaat’s my girl. But you’re not done..I know you got more.” Gritting his teeth and grunting in your ear. Giving you only seconds to adjust before folding you yet again and doubling down, folding you into a bit of a mating press to really pound your pussy. “AHH! Fuck, fuck…” making you yelp in an excessively high pitched voice as your skin smacked and collided in a fury. His entire pelvis soaked in slick as he slammed those full balls against your backside. The two of you were making a beautiful, aggressive, mess…letting him have all of you was more than he could ask for on a day like this! Soon though, you wouldn’t be the only one reaching climatic bliss as you felt him swelling up inside of that tight womb. “Imma—imma nut in that fucking pussy!” “Come in me, ‘Ren! Nut in this pussy, daddy!” Emptying his sack shortly thereafter and letting the remnants spill into you. Both of you releasing ear shattering cries simultaneously.. “..oh my God..” “..oh shit.”

even so, that still wasn’t all he had in the tank! Once he pulled out, letting the pulsating shaft hit the cool air; withdrawing from your sore warmth to give it a break. “..yeah, I need that throat now. Clean me off, baby.” And you were thrilled to oblige! Helping you to the floor, placing you on your knees, Eren positioned himself in front of you and kept that hair reigned back as he let you work your magic. “..you’re so fucking pretty..gone let me fuck this face..” just in pure awe of how gorgeous you looked, despite being put through the wringer by him. With tear stained eyes and running makeup, you’d laugh and ask that he pass you the frosting. Now it was his turn to be devoured and sucked up. The best finish to an already wonderful night. You were so thankful that he whisked you away from that party now! Tilting that canister up, you’d spray a single line across his aching cock and quickly slide your tongue across it shortly thereafter. “Mmmmm..yeah..see how good you taste?” Nodding your head as you began bobbing it back and forth. Cleaning up your mixture of cum and the pink cream splattered all over his lower half. You didn’t even need hands..taking him to the hilt in the back of your throat only moments after beginning. Eventually, you’d start implementing twisting palms and drawing out not only more of his moans but the remainder of that nut as well. “Are you going to come for me?..come all in this mouth?” Fluttering those adorable eyes that made him weaker than he already was. (Y/N) would open your mouth wider, preparing yourself to be drenched in that warm seed. You knew he couldn’t withstand it much longer. That thumping was growing by the millisecond and as you’d twist him around in your palms..”OHHH! FUCK…”

you’d find yourself absolutely saturated in that hot white semen. Covering your face, mouth and titties..to which you’d proudly parade with a wide smile on your face. Wiping it clear from your eyes with his thumb, Eren would lean down and give you the biggest kiss he had mustered all night. He couldn’t believe the aftermath of what you two had created. But you both could do nothing but burst into laughter..

“Damn..kinda went overboard, huh?”

“You think so?” regardless, his happiness was your main concern and giving him the best present a man could ask for. He couldn’t imagine celebrating any other way!..grasping your chin once more, he couldn’t help but to keep showering you with pecks, even after swallowing his cum.

“Hey..happy birthday, baby..” Knowing that dinners, expensive gifts..whatever, nothing else could top this.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

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Yo! Good morning/evening, hope you are fine^^💝. I wanted to ask you a question but I was afraid that it may bother you or something (you know..that feeling when you are scared that you might disturb someone or being an unwelcome person) but yeah I will ask you since i was serious about your answer for some time now so I hope I'm not annoying you or something *feel free to answer only if you wish^^. You seem to know the characters pretty well, you are quite capable and great at reading and understanding them, one of the things I'm serious about is what do you think would make someone qualified enough to be with malleus? Do they have to be of the same species?certain Reputation, stature or traits?(sorry can't help it since I can't rest until I know everything about what interests me and figure it all out😅). Thanks for giving me some of your precious time I really like your blog, you're amazing💜

No worries, you’re not bothering me at all ^^ I love to talk about my hyperfixations www

Now, I know a lot of fans (particularly on the EN side) like to ship Malleus with their OC and especially with Yuu so I want to first make it clear that my response is NOT meant to invalidate those Malleus shippers. Whatever I say here is based on my own interpretation of canon lore (and let’s be real here, TWST won’t ever confirm if anyone is romantically interested in Yuu because it might not work with how some players view their own relationship with that character). In fanon, anyone can be with anyone, but in canon there are very specific in-universe rules and expectations laid out for Malleus so these are what I will be referring to.

I also want to emphasize that the final traits I discuss in this post do NOT reflect Malleus’s personal tastes or views. He has little say in what kind of an individual his spouse would be, so his own preferences are not speculated about or taken into account here. The traits I will be bringing up are based on what I believe the lore implies are the desirable traits for those marrying into the Draconia royal family.

We got it? Good 👍 Read more below the cut!!

Firstly, I’m completely disregarding the ideas of “Malleus can love whoever he wants to love”, “Malleus can scare people into accepting who he loves”, and/or “Malleus can change the law so he can marry who he loves” (a la Sultan from Aladdin or through some other Disney magic or logic). Here’s why:

In general, those solutions for “high stakes issues” are too simple, and that has never been how Twisted Wonderland tackles complicated problems. Just look at every single OB boy’s backstory. They’re so complex that they aren’t totally resolved by the end of their books; these problems persist and are long term things each of them are working on addressing. This is also true of the politics TWST introduces to us; Leona for example explains how there is social pushback and resistance to the idea of infrastructure reform because the culture of the Sunset Savanna stresses harmony with nature. This has made it difficult for them to adopt new technologies because real politicians in their world have to seriously weigh their cultural values with their health and societal progress. The only time there are really easy solutions are in events or vignettes where the emotional stakes are not super high, but who Malleus marries is, in fact, super important since this will entirely change the life of a main character and his country.

With that first bullet point in mind… No, Malleus cannot love whoever he wants to love. Certainly, he may feel affection for another but he can never truly be with them. He is royalty and the only heir to the throne of Briar Valley. It follows that he is expected to marry for political reasons/to better his nation. This is a non-negotiable obligation for him.

Rather than saying, “Malleus cannot scare people into accepting who he loves”, I think it’s more accurate to say Malleus knows he probably shouldn’t. I mean, yes, he may be upset about his S/O not being accepted by his people but I feel that is discrediting a lot of the loyalty he has for his own country. As a kid he may have thrown tantrums when he was upset and potentially harmed staff, but as a 178 year old he has a much better understanding of decorum and maintaining it in spite of his own grudges. For example, even though he personally dislikes Leona he still commands Sebek to apologize to him because, at the end of the day, this could harm Briar Valley’s relationship with the Sunset Savanna. That’s not to say that Malleus can’t be petty (he definitely is)—but implying he would be petty toward basically his entire country just because they would disapprove of the one he loves?? (We know this would likely be true because Sebek’s parents faced similar backlash when they got together.) I feel like his own sense of awareness and responsibility for his country, crown, and people would override that. As an example, Malleus states that he has never been in a car before because the senate would be against it and often kept Malleus in the castle. Someone of his power could easily ignore them and sneak out and do whatever he wanted, yet the dialogue implies Malleus didn’t. He obeyed his political advisors even when he was younger and arguably much more immature. Malleus might not like certain decisions made about his life but it sounds like he ultimately complies with them.

Continuing from the previous point, let’s say for the sake of argument that Malleus does scare everyone into line. What about his public image and the mental health of his S/O? Maybe Malleus can frighten people to not talk out of turn to his face, but he cannot control what people whisper about him behind closed doors or to treat his S/O well or like they actually like them. Not only would they be alienated (away from their own home and forced to adapt to a new one) but they’d be treated oddly by others too. What kind of reputation is that for Malleus? To be a tyrant king who throws a hissy fit anytime someone talks about his partner in a way he doesn’t approve of? With a spouse who is not at their best mentally because of the constant ostracization? (This is similar to what Leona experienced in his childhood.) I don’t think Malleus would want to subject anyone to that kind of life, especially not one he loves. And again, this attitude would be the vast majority of his people. It’s not like it can be avoided or resolved in an easy manner, especially when the people of Briar Valley have proven to be against change.

Lastly, Malleus would not change the law so he can be with whoever he wants to. To begin with, I doubt this is a unilateral position the senate would approve of. But okay, let’s accept that Malleus is royalty so his power overrides the advisors’ power. So he effectively just changed a law for a very selfish and personal reason rather than changing something to actually benefit his people. That doesn’t feel in-character for him, not when Malleus seems to understand that it is the duty of those in higher status to help those below them rather than themselves (see: Riddle’s Suitor Suit vignettes. Malleus has acted selfish before, yes (who remembers Endless Halloween Night? His Dorm Uniform vignettes? I do.)—but never at the cost of changing the status quo of his country. (Book 7 is not included here because he’s in a very distressed emotional state then; this “new law” scenario posits that Malleus is in a normal state of mind.) This is a major change—change which Briar Valley, its people, and most importantly, Malleus, are not ready for. You think there wouldn’t be social pushback against this? From a society that has become complacent with its own way of life and is still isolated from the rest of the world? That Malleus, someone who struggles greatly with accepting life changes himself, could enact such a big change so easily? (On a more technical level, you don’t just pass a law and it instantly becomes tangible or real, there is a process of approval and then implementation.)

Additionally, it’s made clear in Ghost Marriage that “[Malleus] cannot enter into an engagement lightly”, which is why Sebek goes in his place. Eliza, the Ghost Bride, is royalty (er, albeit dead) but it seems that royal status is not enough to qualify as his partner. Maybe this is because she’s dead and doesn’t have anything of value for Briar Valley (no land, no people, no political power), but it could also mean that the partner has to be given the thumbs up by other parties.

All that being said, here are some of the conditions I think would have to be met for Malleus’s future spouse:

Has to be someone of equal or at least high status. This means they also have to be a royal or at least of nobility. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who is referred to as a duke.

Because of how self-contained Briar Valley is + nocturnal fae having beef with diurnal fae, I imagine his partner would have to also be a nocturnal fae. This would also solve the MASSIVE lifespan difference between fae and non-fae because at least fae would be far closer to each other even if their lifespans fluctuate but subspecies.

Someone suited to rule by his side. Being married into any royal family is no joke—it comes with the expectation that you will contribute somehow, and the partner should be fully equipped to enter the world of politics with him.

Piggybacking off the last point, I think mental fortitude is also a prerequisite. This is because being a politician (navigating the social climate both within your country and outside of it, keeping your people and colleagues happy, maintaining public approval, managing laws, dealing with potential attempts on your life, etc.) can be very stressful and can hurt those who are faint of heart or not prepared for the responsibility. Leaders have to make tough calls at the drop of a hat, and they have to be ready for it.

Has a lot to offer in terms of benefits to Briar Valley as a country. This could be in terms of resources, connections, and/or political savvy. This appears to be true of Malleus’s dad, who acted as a diplomat for Briar Valley.

Vetting and formal approval from the senate. lmao good luck with that

Has to be able and willing to have a child. They at least need an heir to the throne to succeed Malleus. (However, knowing how exclusionary and conservative as heck the senators are, I doubt they would accept anything but a biological child 💀)

Preferably someone with powerful magic or is skilled at magic already so as to lessen the chance of “tainting” the bloodline with a weak mage or a non-mage.

I believe that Briar Valley would prefer someone with old fashioned values like them, not someone pushing for massive reform. They have a culture that is resistant to change and a history of fighting for resources with outsiders, so if Malleus’s new spouse tries to introduce a bunch of technology or open its borders to other countries (even if they have good intentions), the people + the senate may oppose them. His father is implied to be open-minded, but he at least understood that such change isn’t reasonable without time and effort dedicated to the endeavor.

All that being said 💦 I think that this topic is actually less about what Malleus as an individual wants and what his country, his people, and, yes, even his asshole senators, want. This is basically an arranged marriage situation so that their country can maintain power and relevance. It’s about the collective and what Malleus must do for their perceived security and prosperity.

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follows-the-bees · 5 months

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While we are talking about THAT scene in 2x3, I want to talk about a very small moment in it that is beautifully done throughout the series: the sound design.

I don't talk much about the soundtrack or sound design in my filmmaking threads because it is not my area of expertise. Sound mixing in film is incredibly hard and I have a lot of respect for people who do it.

Let's look at just 30 seconds of one scene.

In this scene we have:

1) Lapping of water in the room

2) Sound of Stede's footsteps in water

3) The creaking of wood as the ship rolls

4) Stede's voice and breathing

5) Swish of blanket being removed

6) Ed and water in the ocean

7) The beautiful Kate Bush song

All of these are layered on top of each other and each one serves a purpose.

The sounds of the water and wood creaking make the viewer feel like they are in the room, it makes it more intimate. We feel the quiet grief.

The sound of Stede stepping into the water is cut right after Ed hits the purgatory water. It helps emphasize that Stede is meeting Ed in both worlds. He is literally treading the water (mermaid), bringing light and hope.

Stede's voice is soft, he thinks he is speaking to Ed's dead body. The grief voiced for the first time all episode.His intake of breath is the loudest part of the scene, making the viewer more aware of Stede's feelings, his hesitation if he wants to see Ed like this.

Just like how the creaks and water noises make the audience feel like they are in the ship, the water sounds and Ed's muffled voice make the audience feel like they are underwater with Ed. Can feel his struggle more viscerally.

And last we have the amazing soundtrack.

The lyrics line up with Ed's hand first moving.

"Give me your hand."

Ed starts to fight with the rope in the water and his hand twitches in the real world.

Credit for gif

All of these elements are mixed together to complete the scene. They make the audience feel the intimacy of the moment, the lyrics line up with the tone of the scene. And it is beautifully crafted to help tell the story in sound that we see on screen.

Every scene throughout the show is cut together with this level of detail in the sound mixing.

For example, When Ed is throwing away his leathers, the audience hears the very blatant sounds of him binding them up. The loud plop when they land in the water.

Ed is mainly silent during his trek up the stairs and metaphorically dumping of his old self. We can hear the wind whipping around him as he stands on the front of the ship (the same spot Stede stood in the first season when he declares the crew his new family.)

And this silence, the sound of the water wind once again shows the intimacy of a scene. We see Ed's resolve to start a new life.

I implore on your next rewatch to take in all of the sounds implementated into any scene of the show. It's surprising how much there is.

My full breakdown of the 2x3 scene! I talk about editing and overall filmmaking.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #stede bonnet #ofmd stede #ofmd edward teach #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ed x stede #meta #meta analysis #sound design

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stardewremixed · 10 months

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First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him.

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG.

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen.

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses.

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

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When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle?

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful.

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd.

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick.

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn.

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery).

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life.

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared.

Through her actions.

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches.

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again.

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer.

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed.

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter.

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back.

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her.

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return.

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference.

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily.

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time.

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.”

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him.

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless.

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better.

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.”

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm.

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped.

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse.

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much.

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.”

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on?

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler.

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more.

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day.

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift.

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time.

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety.

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special.

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love.

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play.

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her...

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed.

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh.

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared.

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied.

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.”

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly.

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest.

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.”

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat.

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?”

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves.

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her.

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.”

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.”

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker.

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life.

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.”

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...”

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?”

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free.

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward.

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal.

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side.

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus.

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade?

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight I’m in a good mood. Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation.

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night.

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land.

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager.

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded.

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet.

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.”

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye.

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.”

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real?

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.”

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity.

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.”

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things?

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty.

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him.

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction.

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.”

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?”

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious.

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.”

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would.

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.”

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison.

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!"

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd.

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt.

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily.

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair.

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss.

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

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

When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner.

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.”

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her.

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.”

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked.

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?”

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team.

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?”

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence.

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.”

“It is special,” she replied.

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.”

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch.

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him.

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.”

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.”

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?”

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly.

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?”

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him.

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life. She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her.

“Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers.

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.”

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sophie-frm-mars · 9 days

Note

Hi, ex-supporter here. Genuinely hope you’re doing well. I have been tempted to start up my support again because you genuinely are a talented writer/creator and I do enjoy your work.

I hope you understand supporting your Patreon is somewhat fraught. Your private life should be none of our business, but sadly it is relevant here. Moral action, both private and political is central to your work; you have called out plenty of people for abuse & morality drives your politics. We know abuse took place on your end, but that’s all.

A lot of people like myself might be emotionally rooting for you to bounce back from this, but are unable to support you right now because that moral dissonance has not been resolved. We really don’t know if you are like other ‘cancelled’ leftist influencers and just use leftist values to deflect attention away from abuse, or you are actually trying to do better and working on yourself.

You don’t owe us anything. However, many of us who are eager to support you are forced to hold back because trust has been damaged, and there has not been any real sign of reparation or reconciliation. Maybe you think those kind of questions are invasive, maybe you don’t think we are real fans for not sticking by you despite the allegations.

I don’t know, I just want you to know that there are plenty of people who do want to support you, but feel they need to trust you first. And that can’t happen without addressing some things.

Anyways, best wishes. Take care.

Hiya, thank you for speaking to me on this.

Before I say the rest of what I say I want to be clear that between me and the people I was involved with in 2023, there were some instances where I was responsible for harm, there were instances where I received harm and there was also a general pervasive ecosystem of harmful behaviours in the community I was in. This includes people who signed the statement against me, and in one instance one of them did something which everyone to whom I have described it has agreed is sexual assault, though there is more besides.

For the time being I'm not talking publicly more about what happened because it was a very messy situation, and although I have been seriously harmed by issues in my personal life being litigated in public in this way, I don't want to give my full account of my relationships with everyone involved because I don't want that type of harm to be done to other trans women. There are plenty of complicating factors as there often are in real life that social media isn't really capable of parsing. I have made it clear repeatedly that I am open to hearing anything that people involved want to say to me, and I talked in this post in January about that and about what I would be doing to ensure that I put in the work and make sure I don't cause harm like it again

https://x.com/sophie_frm_mars/status/1745414530455261531

I think that that post says everything I would like to say for now, although I regret saying I agree that my behaviour was abusive, because with more distance and perspective I don't think abusive behaviour was actually described to me.

As I understand it via the support that my therapist and friends have offered, my problems in 2023 were that: I wasn't taking my mental health seriously, I didn't learn good kink practice, I had very little appreciation of my own boundaries and when I shouldn't be doing something that someone asks me to do, and I was high basically all the time. I am in therapy and doing DBT and taking my mental health deadly seriously, I have done a huge amount of reading assigned by my therapist about kink, sex, relationships and mental health, I am working in an ongoing way on learning how to effectively communicate, know my boundaries and understand myself well enough to not be in the kinds of situations that risk harm, and I'm no longer high all the time.

(If anyone is interested in those book recs, so far I've read: Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again by Katherine Angel; The Right To Sex by Amia Srinivasan; Screw Consent (I hate this edgy title) by Joseph Fischel; Playing Well With Others; The Loving Dominant by John and Libby Warren; I Hope We Choose Love by Kai Cheng Thom; The New Topping Book by Dossie Easton and Janet W Hardy; and Dissociation Made Simple by Jamie Marich. There have been some others, and I've written a bit about them in the book club channel on my discord as I've been reading)

I haven't heard from the people involved. The last I heard from anyone was one of my exes calling me a pathological liar and saying that they just want to move on with their lives, so while I'm doing the work to make sure I act better in future I am just trying to get on with my life and let them get on with theirs. I hope this clarifies why I have not talked further about the situation.

I will say that the last few months have been hellish for me. I have been frequently suicidal, I spent Christmas and new years alone, I lost a tooth because I couldn't afford proper dental treatment, people from within the community I've been ostracised from have been putting pressure on my remaining friends to cut ties with me, Keffals had my abuser on her twitch stream, a bizarre exaggerated and monsterised version of my personal life has been publicly gossiped about by trans people, fash and "leftist" drama streamers alike, I have been doing other work to make sure I can still pay rent and afford my bills and my HRT, and to survive. As I've been getting more stable and more able to focus on things besides this, I've been working on new writing because all I want with regard to my work and my channel is for my writing to help people. I don't want to talk about my private life, but I do understand that some number of people will feel after what has been said about me that they can't move forward with me without hearing the full details. Lots of people in my life have repeatedly encouraged me to publish a full account of everything that happened but I know how the Internet works and I don't want other trans women to be harmed in the ways that I have been harmed.

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anadiasmount · 4 months

Note

are you willing to write for trent alexander arnold? if so please write something fluffy or something antsy which gets resolved and turns to fluff

it’s you - trent alexander arnold x reader.

quick sum: love is never easy. especially when you least expected it from liverpools finest bachelor. will you finally take the leap of faith, or lose the guy who’s willing to do the extreme for you to see reality.

wc: 1.9k | masterlist | trent’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hi angel! and hello to my trent girlies! i haven’t written for trent before so i hope you enjoy this 🤍

you felt stuck. constantly looking around and avoiding the man that had consumed your thoughts in ways you didn’t picture. feeling awkward and timid when he walked past you or your eyes connected.

the trip was last minute, you didn’t plan to go if it wasn’t your friend insisting you went since she would be alone. you didn’t want to go, it meant you would have to see trent after you avoided him since he confessed his feelings to you.

trent wasn’t one to speak much. always reserved and kept to himself, a completely different person on the pitch and in real life. but with you, he felt he could speak for hours about everything, not once get tired of it. you let him be the person he would’ve never pictured to be.

what went wrong?

he knew you from the back of your hand. needed to keep yourself busy in order to survive. an almost graduate from uni and working at your dream internship. a small volunteer worker just outside the city.

he knew when you lied, scrunching your eyes brows and hands twitching. he knew when you felt happy, the small wrinkles and dimples popping on your face. he knew you were upset when you bit your lip and unfocused around your surroundings.

trent knew you felt the same way he did but this time he couldn’t properly read you, left hurt and confused by your manner. “i’m in love you with y/n… i’ve never felt like this for anyone before. and it feels so right when i’m here, with you.”

his brows drew in when your smile slowly dropped, pulling your hands back and cleared your throat. “trent…” you whispered, you clenched your jaw unsure of what to say. “i need time to think of this. i-i-i just don’t know what to say…” you stood up and grabbed your coat.

“say you love me back,” trent prayed in his head, watching you stumble around to retrieve your belongings. “what do you mean? i confess how i feel and you’re running away?”

“i need time to think. this is all so sudden, and i don’t want to pressure either of us. or give us false hope,” you smiled trying to reason and not break his heart. but trent’s heart broke, a millions thoughts racing in his head and the idea of not being enough tracing back.

he fluttered his lashes and painfully smiled, was he about to cry? is this what pain felt like? a stab in the heart, millions of needles poking in his chest as his hands fisted. “well you know the way out…” trent motioned with his hand, walking to the side to let you go.

you approached him, having the urge to explain why you said what you said, but he walked back. tears came out your eyes, knowing you hurt the man you loved in front of you. “trent,” you croaked, but he just shook his head.

“don’t.”

not a single soul knew of the two of you. a private secret. he wanted to protect you from his hectic world. and you wanted to have something genuine and real. you had something real. had. but like always you ruined it. like every person who walked into your life, leaving because you were scared.

trent was straight forward with you. always communicating with you. the only person you found yourself lurking to at the end of the day. his touch lingering on you ever when you weren’t together. the way he smiled made your heart heat up and your hands slightly tremble.

you didn’t deserve him. you were a broken person. afraid of committing. you were afraid of love. the idea of falling for a person, so hopelessly devoted to them, and in the end for it to not work out. you easily got attached, and it wasn’t any different with trent.

trent had a way different life than yours. lights, money, women, his job, all shining on him wherever he went. he had a family, friends, a base supporting him, while you it was just your sister and trio. he constantly reminded you he wasn’t the person in the papers, which was true.

he valued you. he trusted you. he confided in you. he respected you. he loved you. why couldn’t you just allow yourself to be with him? why did it feel hard to finally accept and take the leap of faith and be with the man who has ever truly loved you?

you were stressed. constantly turning in your sleep. eyes closing but your head refusing for you to sleep. chest rising and falling as you listened quietly to the rain fall. the sheets barely covering your body, and the pillow feeling less fluffy and now hot. with a small groan you stood up, the time reading almost 4 am.

you tipped tied downstairs. walking by the room your friends and his friends were occupied in. the thunder and lightning shining in the open and clear windows. you opened the cabinet and grabbed a glass, pouring cold water to relieve your dry throat.

you closed your eyes, hands gripping the counter as you felt goosebumps suddenly rise. “couldn’t sleep?” you gasped quietly, the glass slowly tipping before quickly catching it and standing up straight. trent stood there, bags under his eyes, lips pursed with his arms crossed. muscles flexed under the loose black tee he wore with his black calvin klein boxers.

“something like that,” you said, averting your gaze, hand coming up to brush your skin or maybe the nerves away. he stepped closer, inspecting you, noticing you were wearing the small black shirt he owned with your batman themed shorts. “same. couldn’t sleep with all the noise outside…” trent confessed, also grabbing a cold glass of water.

you went quiet. the feeling of guilt consuming your insides as you kept asking yourself if this was truly happening. you couldn’t stop staring, savouring maybe the last few glances in case it would be the last. trying to make a mental imprint of the moles you traced while he slept, the small scar under his brow, his lips.

your throat went dry again, but this time the cold glass of water wasn’t going to help, the only thing that could was finally take that leap and let him out of misery for the two of you. “trent…” you said softly, hearing him and finally connecting eyes.

“don’t you think i deserve an explanation?” he asked with a sad smile. you bit your lip and nodded. “yes you do. and i’m willing to explain everything, but i understand if it’s too late,” you respected his feelings knowing he deserved this but also not wanting to push him to the limit.

“i love you. i do. so much. i need you to know that before i start saying anything,” his eyes widened a bit, mouth opened to say something but you shushed him. “for once in my life, i can’t let you or us go. i made the mistake that night and i beat myself for it. not only did i hurt you in the process but also the idea of us.”

“i’m scared,” you teared, smiling. “it’s scary to feel this way. to have my heart racing when i hear your name, our song, your voice. love to me always felt like a joke or fantasy. love is about letting someone know your map of flaws and imperfections. to fully be vulnerable.”

“love with you though? is like a dream come true. you understand me more than i understand myself. you saw me for who i am and not the person i put myself to be. you love me at my prettiest and also lowest. you hold me close, kiss my forehead, and use those words of reassurance i need to hear and always believe.”

“i love when you sleep next to me, where i get to stare at the prettiest man on earth as you sleep. i love to see your smile get bigger when i tell you about the kids at my volunteer work or my jokes. i love to sit with you at the end of the day and allow me to hear about your job and family. to see the flowers you send or bring when i see you. trent i love you, so much.”

“i’m scared to lose you. to lose the only person i’ve let into my life this close,” you shrugged smiling painfully, holding yourself tighter as you wiped your tears away. you hear his footsteps approach, sobbing quietly when he pulls you closer to him, his hand brushing your head, feeling his lips kiss your temple. the longing feeling replaced with warmth and safety.

your skin becoming hot and getting rid of the cold goosebumps and chilling feeling in your chest. you kiss his chest, tip toeing up as you continue to trace his neck and jaw, his cheeks with kisses mixed with your tears. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry trent,” you apologised, your hand gripping his bicep.

“stop. don’t torture yourself anymore. let me hold you. let me feel you. it’s just you and me, okay? shhhh,” he hushed you, repeating his same movements to help you calm down. you sniffled, pulling back slightly after a minute. “i deserve you. i love you, and your imperfections and flaws. for allowing me to become the man i wished and longed to be.”

“please don’t push me away anymore. you aren’t ever going to lose me, because what we have is eternal. your love to me is a safe space, the world and women i dreamed of having and i finally have it now. it’s you, always will be you baby,” he brushed your tears away, feeling your lips kiss his wrist and hand, losing himself in your eyes.

“i love every single part of you.”

the chilling counter made you hold trent tighter while laughing, feeling and hearing his deep chuckle as his hands traced your thighs. “are you ready now?” he asked, kissing your collarbone. “more than ready,” you said, officially taking the leap of faith.

he sighed and let his shoulders fall in a relaxed manner and smiling, watching as his eyes closed and lashes touched his upper cheeks. “trent look at me…” he stood up and grabbed your chin, “i love you,” you felt the need to say to confirm your feelings and his. “i love you, pretty girl,” his nose nuzzled into your neck, tracing all the way up to your cheek.

you sealed the night with the anticipated kiss. getting the blood rush through your veins, as you fully focused on him. his lips feeling like home. his fingers bringing your face closer to his and getting lost in the way he devoured you. not in a rushed or hard manner, in a passionate and loving way.

“my girl officially.”

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold fluff #liverpool fc #taa 66 #football fanfic #footballer #football #football one shot

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nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius · 4 months

Text

TBB Incorrect Quotes, Part 19

Wrecker: *lifting weights* Omega: Wow… He's so intense! Omega: I wonder what drives him. Wrecker, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

Crosshair: What have I done wrong?! Echo: Everything. For your entire life.

Omega: Guys! I found a 100 dollar bill! Omega: *looks around* ….Should I keep it? Echo: Omega, just do the right thing. Crosshair: And put in your bag. Echo: No—

Crosshair: I prevented a murder today. Omega: Really? That’s amazing! How did you do that? Crosshair: Self-control.

Mayday: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying. Crosshair: And? Mayday: And you are.

Hunter: When I die I want Crosshair to lower me into my grave so he can let me down one last time.

Wrecker: I was just diagnosed with deez. Echo: Good, I hope it’s lethal.

Echo: Compliment me. Crosshair: You have eyes. Echo: Yeah, that works.

Echo: Don’t say a word. Wrecker: Fergalicious. Echo: Wrecker, I said no words. Wrecker: Oh, I see how it works. Two weeks ago, we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word, now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you.

Hunter: What do we say when life disappoints us? Crosshair: Called it! Hunter: No.

Crosshair: What is wrong with you? Hunter: Many, many things... Hunter: And most of them are your fucking fault.

Tech: Hunter? I mixed redbull with coffee and now I can see sounds, should I worry? Hunter: Tech, I swear to god—

Omega: I don’t want to talk about it. Crosshair: Good, I don’t wanna hear about it.

Tech: I have a plan. Hunter: Good! As long as we aren’t breaking the law again, I’m open to hearing it. Tech: … Hunter: … Tech: I no longer have a plan.

Omega: What’s your biggest fear? Mayday: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Omega, under her breath: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Mayday: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Tech: No… not really. Mayday: Are you going to do something about it? Tech: Hm… nah.

Echo: What kinds of sounds annoy you? Hunter: Are we talking real sounds or imaginary ones? Echo, now interested: Lets say imaginary. Hunter: Spiders wearing flip flops.

Mayday, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Tech: Might I make a suggestion you possibly won’t like? Hunter: Do you make any other kind?

Crosshair: In alcohol’s defense, I’ve done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober too.

Jesse: I hate you! Crosshair: Wow! So much in common already!

Crosshair: Am I a good person? No. But do I try to be better every single day? Also no.

Tech, talking to Tarkin: With all due respect, which is none…

Tech: I have an idea. Echo: I have the hospital and Rex on speed dial.

Tech: Tech, I think we have a problem. Wrecker: What, the fire? Tech: No, the- wait, what fire? Wrecker: Oh forget about it, this sounds more interesting.

Crosshair: I was arrested for being too cool. Mayday: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Wrecker: Do you even, cuddle, bro? Do you even lift, bro… each other up with kindness? Do you tell your loved ones that you care about them regardless of who is listening? DO YOU EVER RESOLVE CONFLICTS, EMOTIONAL ISSUES THROUGH COMPROMISE AND COMPASSION RATHER THAN ANGER AND DENIAL?!

Tech: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people-opener”? Crosshair: Crosshair: …Should I not have?

Tech: I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are. Hunter: Okay? Tech: … Tech: … Tech: Actually it’s gonna bug me if I don’t, so—

Mayday: You know what your problem is? Crosshair: I only have one?

Wrecker: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup? Tech: The afterlife, I guess.

Wrecker: You look really stressed. Hunter: Haha, it’s the stress.

Crosshair: “Ladies and gentlemen” is unnecessarily gendered, overly formal, lengthy, and honestly, I’m falling asleep already. “Cowards” on the other hand, is inclusive to all genders, to the point, and dramatic.

Wrecker: I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter “s”. Crosshair: *looks over at Tech and Phee* Crosshair: Is it “sexual tension”?

Hunter: I have a question. Wrecker: Shoot. Hunter: Is the S or C in scent silent? Echo: Fuck you, I’m going to be thinking about this all day. Wrecker: Okay well, cent is pronounced the same way as scent so I’m gonna say the S is silent. Hunter: Okay, but sent is also spelled the same way. Echo: The holonet says that the C was added in the late seventeenth century, so I guess the S is silent. Crosshair: Plot twist, both the S and the C are silent and the E actually makes the sss sound. Echo: Crosshair is not allowed to talk anymore.

Hunter: Let’s not Crosshair this into a worse situation than it already is. Crosshair: Did you just use my name as a verb?

Omega: Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to play the trumpet? Tech: Why? Omega: I want to wander around playing it to annoy Crosshair. Tech: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play the trumpet well for that. Omega: Tech you have opened my eyes.

Hunter: Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

Crosshair: I’m never donating blood ever again. Crosshair: The second you walk through the door, it’s just one invasive question after another! Crosshair: ‘Where did you get it?’ 'Why is it in a bucket?’ I mean, do you want it or not?

Wrecker: Are you alright? Crosshair: Short answer or long answer? Wrecker: Short? Crosshair: No. Wrecker: Long? Crosshair: Nooooooo.

#star wars #incorrect quotes #incorrect bad batch quotes #tbb incorrect quotes #the bad batch #tbb #featuring mayday because why not #and jesse because nobody else quite fit as well

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the-hopeless-haze · 1 year

Text

You Know I’m Not That Girl

Summary: You don't want to be tied down. You've lived almost your whole life running from commitment. But Aaron wants more from you. You don't know how to handle that.

Word Count: 10k+ (I KNOW)

Warnings: smut nsfw mdni

-------

His mouth is on yours again.

Hot, heavy, heady, like you could get drunk off his kiss.

You don’t know that he picked out that shirt you’re taking off his body just for you. You also don’t know that he combed his hair this morning thinking of you brushing it back when it falls forward on his forehead. For whatever reason you also failed to notice that he let that waitress he was interviewing in relation to the case back at the diner flirt with him much longer than he would have if you weren’t in the room. If only to get a reaction out of you, however selfish his motivations were.

But the thought in the back of his head hurts more than he can bear.

That you noticed all those things. And you didn’t care.

It wasn’t so far-fetched. You are a profiler like him, after all, and it causes you to glean things from people that you’d rather not know. It makes it harder to be innocent, naïve, happy. Because you learn how to read people, and you learn how to separate paranoia and fiction from reality and fact.

In the same token, though, learning how to read people led Aaron to learn how to be unreadable. How to be a blank canvas, stoic and resolved, never granting anything a reaction. It worked well. It allows him to morph easily, because his tether on who he is outside of the job is so loose nowadays, especially after divorcing Hailey.

But you could’ve seen the signs and chosen to ignore them. It’s unclear how obvious he is, because what he feels like is his skin is on fire every time you walk in the room. If that were the case, though, there’d be a lot more talk of what the two of you were doing behind closed doors. So far, no one knew, or no one was brave enough to talk about it loud enough for him to hear.

Aaron knows he should just enjoy this. He has you, half-naked, begging for him to touch you. Kiss-bruised lips—you did that to him. Hair disheveled by your hand. Cock hard and straining under his dress pants, well, that was your influence too. You are here. Tangible. Real.

Though sometimes he gets the feeling all you’re giving him is your body. Like your soul is far away. Detached. You’re giving yourself to him, sure, you’re arching your back at the touch of his hands and you’re kissing him back fervently…. But there’s nothing else behind your actions besides a desire to get off.

Maybe he’s not being fair, exactly. You’ve done nothing to indicate you don’t care about him. But whenever he asks to see you outside of the office, the jet, the bedroom…. You come up with an excuse. You kiss him again until he forgets what he asked you. And then it’s back to this.

It was never his intention to make this just about sex. He’s barely done a casual thing in his life, never mind having a casual situationship. It wasn’t long after Hailey, and if he was being honest, he’d wanted you before that, and even though he’d never cheat… Haley knew his eyes were wandering. She could smell it on him. Takes one to know one. At least he didn’t actually commit the deed with the ring still on his finger.

And then… you both went undercover as a couple and it was one thing after another, caught your eye in just the right light and then your lips. It was in Vegas, of all places, but what happened there didn’t stay there like he thought it might’ve. Once he had you… he wanted you in whatever capacity you’d grant. Even if it was just sex. Even if you refused to talk about it.

But it was getting unbearable to keep holding back.

“Aaron,” you say breathlessly in his ear. “Where are you? Because you’re not here with me.”

Funny you should call him out like that.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, pushing it back, away from your face, looking into your eyes in the dim lighting of the room, feeling his own brim with tears. Quickly, he diverts his gaze to above your head, leaning up to press a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’m right here.”

You try to swallow against the lump forming in your throat. He needs to not do this tonight. You need to do whatever you can to make sure he doesn’t do this tonight. You can’t handle a confession, or more of a conversation than “good night” after you fuck him.

So you wiggle out of his embrace, start leaving wet open-mouthed kisses across his torso, heading down lower, lower…. Down the length of his body until you reach the fabric of his pants and he’s flushed red in the face.

“Honey…” he says quietly. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you tell him.

And you think from the look in his eyes maybe you misread him. This alone might result in him professing his undying love for you.

You don’t know how he stayed married to Hailey that long if she refused to give him head. That’s the first sign right there, especially when she demanded it for herself. Or, well, that’s what you’ve gleaned. He’s much too gracious to be throwing his ex-wife under the bus. Still. You know he didn’t get this often, if at all.

It’s usually not your favorite thing in the world, granted, because a lot of men are too rough and you don’t like to be manhandled when you’re already struggling to breathe. But Aaron was so gentle the first time, caressing your hair and praising you in between whimpers and breathy moans.

Let’s just say it was hard to look at him in the office the next day. If nothing else the two of you are a perfect sexual match.

You can’t believe you ever got him on his back.

You must have caught him off guard, in those bright lights of the Vegas casino, both of you a little tipsy off the free drinks, neither of you really playing the slots even though the case was over. The plane needed emergency maintenance. Funny how these things just happen like this.

You were still clad in your sequined dress, high heels, and heavy makeup and you remember making an off-color comment about how your fake marriage for the case was never consummated. And he said something stupid, stiffly, like, “Well. It was fake.”

And you said, “Well, what if at least the consummation part was real? We should’ve done that first, you know, to really sell it. Maybe we should have sex now, you know, in case we ever need to go undercover again.”

When his eyes widened and he cleared his throat you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

You knew you had him long before that, though. JJ, a beautiful blond woman, always knew when men’s eyes were wandering where they weren’t supposed to, having been a victim of it her whole life. And she informed you on multiple occasions that Aaron’s target was you. She wasn’t wrong. But to act on it? You had to be crazy.

You knew it was stupid from the get-go, and not just because you’re technically his subordinate. You were in the midst of two situationships prior to him, and you knew logically both of you wanted different things. Yes, he married his high school sweetheart, and maybe the divorce led him to think a little differently about what sex and relationships meant to him. Ultimately, though, you know what he wants. A live-in girlfriend that will marry him someday, have his kids, and give him the whole white picket fence deal that he thought Haley would’ve given him.

But you’re not that girl. You never could be.

Even if you could be locked down, you care too much about your career to give it up while he works. Little does he know you’re vying for his position if it ever opens up. You wouldn’t be so cruel to oust him, no, but if he or Gideon were to ever transfer…

But you know Aaron won’t leave. His career was the mistress that broke up his marriage, not you. He chose it over her time and time again. And he would choose it over you, too, when push comes to shove. Leave you alone when you’re swollen pregnant with his kids and he’s halfway across the country. Doesn’t sound like your idea of a good time. You almost can’t blame Hailey for wanting an end to it. Raising kids with someone like that is akin to being a single mom anyway.

Kids aren’t even something you want. If you can’t stay with a lover for longer than six months, you don’t know how you’d be able to handle an eighteen-year-long commitment, even if it was your own flesh and blood.

You’re theorizing a lot about what this man really wants from you for someone that’s never had a conversation with him about it. But you two don’t talk much. You made sure of that.

He’s not saying anything as he helps you free his cock from the confines of his dress pants, hard and leaking pre-cum already, and you look up at him where you lay crouched at the end of the bed. He’s hesitant, still.

“Touch yourself,” you say quietly, looking at him, commanding him softly.

He does what you say, bringing his left hand to wrap around the base of his cock and fisting it, giving what seems like an experimental tug, like he’s never touched himself before.

Which you know is a lie.

But you make him nervous.

He does it again, again, again, and without warning you lean forward and lick the pre-cum weeping from his tip, whimpers leaving him as he stops moving his hand.

“Did I say you should stop? No. Keep going,” you order, and he nods in agreement and starts moving his hand across his length again.

You almost wish the rest of the team could see how easily you get him to submit to you. It’s quite honestly the best part of this whole arrangement.

You watch him for a little bit, seeing how his cheeks get redder from exertion and beads of sweat start forming on his chest and neck, and he’s fluttering his eyelids closed, muttering your name under his breath, begging you to touch him and put your mouth on him again. What a sight for sore eyes. He’s not going very quickly, just steady and sure, like he does all things. Again, you meet him, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock and he’s able to keep his ministrations going until you run your tongue over the underside of his cock, meeting the edge of his hand in the process.

Both his hands fly to your hair now, and you take the hint he’s all set with the teasing. You take more of him in your mouth, feeling him settle hot and heavy against your tongue.

“Jesus Christ,” he whimpers, massaging his fingers gently through your hair. “You feel so good, so much better than my hand.”

You would certainly fucking hope so.

Leaning back a little, you let go of him, pressing hot, wet kisses along his length, leaving smears of red lipstick in your wake. When he’s wet enough for your liking, you take him in your mouth again, suppressing your gag reflux to take almost all of him. You were never much of a deepthroater, again, because it’s not fun to have a man jab the head of his penis in the back of your throat, but for Aaron, you’ll try. You can at least give him this if you can’t give him anything else he wants from you. You know he won’t try to hurt you in the search of his own pleasure.

Unlike some people.

The tears pricking your eyes are due to the feeling of his cock in your throat. Nothing else.

Aaron shouldn’t look down at you because he thinks he’ll cum right then and there. You’re bobbing your head up and down on him now, the feeling of your lips and your cheeks hollowing around him almost too much to bear. He knows he sounds desperate, wrecked, stupid, even, his voice unrecognizable to even himself as he grunts and whimpers your name, begging you, pleading with you… for what? He doesn’t know. Everything. He wants everything you can give him.

More than you’re willing to give him.

You were very good at distractions.

You’re also very good at telling when he’s about to cum, and you stop right before he was going to warn you.

“What was that for?” he asks, panting, coming down from his almost high, still feeling needy and disoriented.

“You should know by now. You’re only finishing in one place. I suffer through birth control for a reason,” you grin, letting him kiss your mouth as you travel back up to his face.

“You should know by now that I can last for more than one round,” he teases, kissing you again.

“Still have to wait for that refractory period, old man,” you retort. “And I’m not feeling patient tonight.”

“No? Neither am I, then,” he says, reaching forward to snake his hand in your panties, feeling how damp they are against his knuckles, and he inserts his index and middle fingers into you, pumping slowly, methodically, stretching you out, trying to ignore his throbbing cock. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

“You can cool it with the flattery, Aaron. You don’t need to woo me. You already got me in your bed.”

“Not really a way to accept a compliment.”

“I wasn’t accepting it. Please just stop talking and get me off.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, honey, look,” he says, his fingers leaving you for a moment to turn the light on all the way. Nodding toward the mirror on your left, he climbs back on the bed. “Look at yourself. See what I see.”

You don’t really see anything to gawk at. You’re just a woman with mussed hair, sitting in a lacy black bra and panties, but when his hand wedges its way between your legs again, you realize you can use this to your advantage. Fuck his bullshit, making out like he was trying to help you increase your self-esteem when ultimately, he was just using you to get off like everybody else.

But two could play that game.

Something about watching his frame envelop you, watching his fingers scissor in and out of you in the mirror, dripping wet with evidence of your arousal… well, fuck.

“See?” he murmurs, kissing your mouth, but you’re still watching the mirror, and even that is more erotic, being able to see him and feel him from all angles. “So beautiful.”

When his face disappears between your thighs you think you might cum right then and there. Seeing only his black hair, your hands fisted there, the muscles of his back and arms flexing as he holds onto your hips… Christ.

“Aaron,” you hiss as the bridge of his nose runs over your clit.

“Mm?” he asks, not bothering to stop licking at you, his voice muffled by your cunt.

“Wish you could see yourself right now, fuck,” you whine.

Aaron pulls back from your body to look at you, grinning like a goddamn psychopath as you whimper from the sudden lack of his mouth. “I like the view down here.”

“Then get back down there, you bastard,” you say, pretending to be irritated but you’re smiling, too. “You can’t see anything, anyway, dumbass.”

“Still one of my favorite pastimes,” he says, fucking his fingers into you again, causing you to buck your hips against his hand involuntarily. Taking a glance into the mirror, Aaron begins to understand why this turned you on so much. It wasn’t so much about watching himself, no, it was you from a different angle, seeing you as a whole instead of the bits and pieces he usually gleaned in the glimpses of light.

Eye contact in the mirror is somehow sexier, hotter, and more intense. Intimate. Watching you watching him watching you watching him. Hair frazzled. Skin sheen with sweat. Hands gripping onto skin and sheets. The whole picture rather than the tiny details now on display.

“So wet for me, honey. So gorgeous,” he coos, rubbing his thumb over your clit.

“Aaron—“ You start to protest, but the words die in your throat and you grit your teeth, head falling slack on the pillows behind you.

“Sorry, honey, but if you want to get off you’ll have to suffer through my compliments,” he says, grinning at you again, leaning up to kiss you, the taste of you potent on his tongue.

“Fair trade, I guess, Aaron, fuck,” you hiss, bringing your head back up to watch him as he travels back down your body, disappearing between your legs, and you think if this is all he ever wanted to do for the rest of his life (besides work, of course, neither of you could ever give that up) you would be the happiest woman alive.

Aaron can tell you’re close to your peak, your thighs squeezing his head and trembling against him, and he looks up at you briefly, saying, “Honey, you can let go.”

And you do, the coil breaks finally and you cum, gasping out his name as you pull his hair just hard enough that he grunts yours out in almost a scolding tone.

“You’re lucky I’m nicer than you,” Aaron says after kissing your mouth gently and brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“Not hard to achieve,” you say, smiling at him, letting him lean down to kiss you again. You deepen the kiss, wrap your arm around his neck, wrap your leg around his hip, and straddle him, your cunt dangerously close to his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Exactly,” you quip, and he chuckles.

You think these are the only times you ever see him smile.

You try not to dwell on that as you sink onto his cock. It’s easy to forget anything you were thinking about now, feeling him fill you completely, hearing him moan your name as you start fucking him.

It still amazes you how desperate he is in bed, given how restrained he is elsewhere.

You’re so close to driving yourself over the edge, Aaron meeting you thrust for thrust, the friction against your clit each time almost enough… but then he reaches for your waist, stills your movements, and flips you onto your back, and you look at him questioningly.

“Is this okay?” he asks gently.

“Yeah. It’s okay, but was that not doing it for you? Because it was working for me.”

“I just… I just wanted to be closer,” he says, leaning down to kiss you softly, setting a slow pace as he starts fucking you again. “I can’t reach you like that. I can’t kiss you. I just… I need this right now. I want to be closer. Is that okay?”

There it is, the lump in your throat returning. His eyes are looking into yours imploringly, begging you for an answer, that yes, it’s okay, yes, you understand, yes, you want this too.

You can’t find words so you just kiss him like he said he wanted, and it’s different, not being able to see his face now, making out the entire time he’s inside you, the kiss turning messier as his pace increases. Your bodies are impossibly close, god, you’ve done everything in your power to avoid missionary with this man to avoid this, his body completely enveloping yours, just inches away from putting all his weight on you.

It’s taking everything in him not to say it. Not to say he loves you. It’s all that’s running through his head right now, sweat dripping down his back, but he knows you’d rationalize it away, say it’s because he’s fucking you right now that he’s bringing this up, that when his mind is clear he won’t feel the same way.

Even hypothetically, you break his heart.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Aaron, right there,” you whine, arching your back, drawing him out of his pity party, and he fucks into you with renewed fervor, making sure to angle his hips the exact same way each time, doing anything, anything at all to make you feel good. Predictably, you let go quickly, your cunt squeezing him as you cum, and he knows he won’t last long either, and true to form it’s a few thrusts until he’s spilling into you, slowing his hips until they still, his cock starting to grow soft inside you.

“Will you stay tonight?” Aaron asks before moving off you.

“Yes,” you nod.

“The whole night?”

“Yes, Aaron,” you say. “Why?”

“I… I want to wake up and you’re still here…. I…” His voice trails off before he can tell you why. Because he sleeps better when you stay. Because he can pretend you’re really his if you stay the whole night. Because he loves you.

“So you can fuck me again in the morning before we go in?”

He tries not to frown. Of course, he’d always want to have sex with you… but it seems like you know when he’s on the verge of a confession, on the verge of asking for something more and you always divert the conversation to sex instead.

“We’ll have to get up early,” you say, stroking his hair absentmindedly. This, you don’t mind. This, you can do. You can stay the night. You can sleep next to him, bodies still intertwined. You can kiss him good morning, tease him for his morning breath.

What you can’t do… you can’t believe he really loves you or that even if he did, a real relationship outside of the bedroom and the office would work out.

You and Aaron had a rocky start. You were transferred from a white-collar crimes unit the second a position in the BAU opened. Always an issue with authority, you antagonized him whenever you thought his decisions were wrong, which came as a shock to the rest of the team who seemed happy to fall in line. But you refused to sit idly by while a man had the audacity to be incorrect and lead his entire team down that path.

He never raised his voice, but you did.

And he wasn’t always wrong.

You still don’t know how he possesses this much restraint. You envy it, almost. Control. Self-control.

But you didn’t know that that in itself is what made his eyes wander. You were exciting, tantalizing, and stimulating. A wildcard. The arguments between the two of you meant something, unlike the same tired ones he had been having with his soon-to-be ex-wife at the time about how he was never home, how she wanted children and didn’t want to raise them alone. They were at an impasse. He wasn't with you. Even when you nauseated him back in those early days, there was always a solution to whatever issue was at hand. Unlike at home.

It was the same thing. Day in. Day out. And he thrived on predictability. It’s what keeps him centered. Or so he thought, until you came into the bullpen, guns blazing. What he wants though… he was never going to get. From either Haley… or you, it seemed.

Sighing, Aaron rolls off you to let you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth.

You didn’t even bring your own toothbrush from home. He bought you one to keep here.

He follows you into the bathroom, grabbing his own toothbrush, and the eye contact in the mirror this time is different. More poignant. Simmered down. Hollow.

“Try not to look so miserable, Aaron. I did just fuck you,” you say.

“I’m just tired,” he lies.

“Mm.”

“When are we going to have a conversation?” He asks you after spitting out toothpaste in the sink, coming over to hug you from behind, and kissing your jaw gently.

“Who needs conversations?” you tease, leaning back to grind against him.

Maybe you were getting to be predictable, too.

But he tries not to let it get to him. You’re still in his bed, wearing his shirt to sleep in, wrapped in his arms.

And you still are when the sunlight bleeds through the blinds.

———

Aaron didn’t get it at first, but now he does. You said he wasn’t the only one you were sleeping with from the get-go, not completely honest prior to getting him in bed, but after you fucked him and then he almost gained the courage to tell you he saw you as more than just a friend with benefits, you dropped that bomb.

He didn’t expect it to be this close to home.

But he understands now. Morgan would’ve been his first guess if it was anyone else on the team, but oh, was he so wrong in his heteronormative thinking.

The way you used to sidle up to Elle, smirking, flirting, giving her that look he thought was reserved just for him. He knew… All those secret glances, the way you hugged her, let her fall asleep on your shoulder on plane rides back… and it’s part of why he feels like he can’t overstep, ask you to be with him seriously. Why he can’t tell you how he feels.

Now he sees Elle, trying to keep a frown plastered on her face but she can’t help but laugh at whatever you said. You squeeze her shoulder. You act like nothing’s wrong. But he can see in the way Elle averts her eyes from you that there’s a rift between the two of you. It was never too noticeable in the field. The two of you are solid agents and you’d never let the personal get in the way of the professional. There was a decrease in the jokes and smiles you shared together, and you’d sit next to him on the plane instead of her. But other than that…It was an invisible severance of ties.

Now, though, the two of you were the only people on the floor, the only two that got sucked into paperwork this evening, and he recalls it’s been a while since both of you drew the short straw together. It didn’t use to be like that. You two would always offer together, he recalls, order Chinese takeout or pizza, take the overtime, and tell him to go home to his wife, that the two of you could handle it. That was before he started having sex with you.

Nowadays, you either stayed with Morgan, or on the off chance you’d stay with Elle, either one of you would leave early, most often Elle. You’d tell her you got it. Often Aaron would take pity on you and take half the stack despite your protests, and sometimes you’d bring your half into his office and work in silence, in tandem with him.

Fair enough. He was your rebound just as you were his.

You cup Elle’s cheek with your hand, kiss her cheek softly before moving away, and he can make out you saying “I’m sorry.”

Elle turns away, jerking her body away from your touch.

You fake a smile.

“What is wrong with you?” she says, raising her voice.

“Elle, I…”

“No. You don’t get to do this. You ended this by sleeping around.” “You said you didn’t want anything serious! And you knew you weren't the only one when we started this."

“That didn’t mean I wanted you to go fuck somebody else. Or for you to leave me out to dry after I was just in a fucking hostage situation!”

“It’s the job, Elle, you—“

“How can you be so goddamn insensitive?” she asks, eyes blazing at you. “You weren’t trapped for hours in a train car in the middle of Texas with an unsub armed with two guns! No. You were fucking somebody else. That’s what you were doing.”

“No, actually, I was working to get you out of there,” you snap back.

“Right. Reid was more instrumental in that operation than you ever could have been.”

“Why don’t you go fuck Reid then and fuck off?”

“You know what? That sounds like a good fucking idea. At least he actually cared about my well-being after the fact. You’re all set with your ex from college and your new mystery man you won’t tell me anything about.”

“Listen, Elle, you told me you were fine. I didn’t want to press it. And I haven't seen my ex in over a month."

She sets her jaw, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re colder than some of the guys we bring in, you know that, right? What the fuck? I don’t care that we were never going to be flag wavers who came out to the whole team and put our careers and lives in danger. Sure. It was mostly for fun. But I thought you saw me as something more than just a fuckbuddy. I thought I was at least your friend. No one’s fine after that. You know that. Although I don’t know, maybe you would be. Must be nice to be so detached.”

“Elle… I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t know you were struggling. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I would’ve been there if you reached out.”

“Yeah. It’s always like that, isn’t it? You can never be the person who chases, never be the person who asks if someone needs anything from you,” she scoffs.

“Elle, I… I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I am!”

“Okay.”

“I still want to be friends.”

Elle laughs sardonically, shaking her head. “Not yet. You’ve got to give me space right now.”

“I gave you a month of space.”

“It wasn’t enough. I need some air.”

And she starts walking away in a huff, and that’s when Aaron realizes he needs to pretend he was doing anything but watching this public display of disaffection. He puts his key in the lock to his office, but you hear it in the dead silence of the building, and you look up and see him, making eye contact with him across the awning.

And your face falls. It’s not anger or sadness at the way you’re looking at him… it’s fear. He recognizes that look all too well. And it breaks his heart, to think you’d be frightened of his reaction to anything you brought to the table.

Aaron walks down the stairs over to you, and you’re trembling. “What’s the matter, honey?” he asks softly.

“Nothing. I’m okay,” you lie, blatant lies always falling from your mouth. Why couldn’t you ever just be honest with him?

“You don’t seem okay. Why don’t we go talk in my office?”

“I’m okay, Aaron. Please,” you say, but your eyes are brimming with tears as you speak. “Please just… let me work on my files. I don’t want to be here all night.”

“I don’t care about the files. I want to make sure you’re okay, and I know you’re not. Please talk to me. What’s going on with you and Elle?”

“I… how much of that did you hear?” you whisper nervously, your voice taking on a higher frequency than normal.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

“But I…” You trail off, leaving what you are unspoken. Jesus, you wonder what he must think of you now. Slut. Dyke. Whore. Cunt. Bitch. Just another woman who fucked him and then fucked him over. You were waiting for the slurs to start spilling from his mouth.

It’s not like the two of you were exclusive.

But you know for him it was only you and part of you feels guilty anyway.

“I’m not mad,” he reassures you. “I could never be mad at you.”

Oh, God. There it was again. The false promises, the ones you get at the start of every relationship. Wasn’t that what Elle said to you, or some variant of that... until things got too close for comfort for you and you stepped back? Like you always do?

“I highly doubt that,” you say, trying to level your voice and fight back the tears threatening to spill over onto your cheeks.

“I don’t want to ignore this. I want you to be able to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say,” you tell him, a little harsher than you meant to. You expect him to nod curtly at your attitude; like maybe he would have when you first started working here, walk back into his office, and call it a night.

But he doesn’t walk away. He steps forward and wraps you in a hug that you don’t return, your arms still crossed over your chest against his body. His lips press against the top of your head and you hate this, you feel claustrophobic wrapped in his embrace, and you wish you could be normal, that you didn’t fuck up everything good you ever had.

But he’d be another one on a long list.

“Honey… I don’t care if you’ve been with women. I knew about this before, anyway, or suspected the two of you were together. If that’s what you think the issue is, I want you to know it doesn’t bother me at all. It shouldn’t bother anyone. I’m sorry I had to find out this way instead of you telling me on your own terms, but I… I still care about you. This didn’t change anything for me. Okay?” Part of you wants to psychoanalyze his statement, tear it to pieces, and make him an asshole for saying it. Because…no, it shouldn’t need to be said. He’s not a hero for this. It should be a given, that whoever you’re with would accept who you are. But you’ve had past men you’ve been with be bullies, terrorize you for it, make you feel like a whore, dirty... like you’re less of a woman for it. Projecting all their insecurities on you.

And for a man as traditional and reserved as Aaron… you somewhat expected him to be the same way if he ever found out. At the very least you expected him to call things off, and ask for some space. It’s a relief and a burden at the same time that he didn’t. You’re glad he’s accepting and it means there’s one less bigot in the world, but now it’s so much harder to villainize him or to make yourself believe he only sees you as a recurring one-night stand.

“Please talk to me,” he begs, pulling away from the hug to look at your face.

“What is there to say, Aaron? You caught me. I’m a whore.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he scolds. “I’m not mad about that, either. It’s not like we ever really discussed what we were.”

“Jesus, Aaron, what’s it going to take for you to hate me?” you ask, shaking your head. “I refuse to believe you’re this much of a pushover after Haley.”

He stiffens a little at the mention of her name, but he nods. “Why would I hate you? Anyway… yes. She cheated on me. But she had my last name and my ring on her finger. It’s a little different than… whatever it is we’re doing. We didn’t put labels on this. You told me you were still seeing somebody else. I knew there was…overlap. We never talk about what it is, and what we want from each other. Hailey and I were far past that point and she betrayed my trust.”

You hate how courteous he is about this, how he’s refusing to put any blame on you at all. You almost wish he would scream at you. At least that you know how to deal with.

“I told Elle,” you say quickly. “About us. Or… well… not us. Not that it’s you. But that I’ve been sleeping with someone else. I told her a month ago, probably two months later than I should have. And I never told you about her… because… I hadn’t been seeing her as much since we started sleeping together, either, Aaron… and I didn’t know how you would take this.”

“I told you. I’m not mad,” he says. “It’s okay. Everything’s still okay. Please. You can still come home with me tonight.”

You frown, and shake your head. “It’s been every night this week.”

“Did I wear you out, yet?” he asks, smiling a little more suggestively than usual.

You smirk devilishly, finally returning to your natural self. “You know you never could.”

“Then, please. I’ll take half your stack and we can head to my place after. I still want you.” Aaron punctuates his statement with a kiss to your forehead.

—————-

And so you let him take you home, your place this time, you let him kiss you, tangle his hands in your hair, you let him tell you how gorgeous he thinks you are without a mirror on the side of the bed to prove it.

You let him tell you he loves you without stopping him this time before he gets there. But you don’t say anything back.

You like him. You do. He makes you laugh, he’s handsome, and you know he would treat you well. He has, so far, and you’re not even dating.

But he’s too good for you. One girlfriend before you, who he married. No flings to speak of. He always tried to be perfect, color in the lines of what a stereotypical man should be in this day and age, although you did appreciate he was never boastful about it. Strong yet caring. Stern yet soft-spoken. Intelligent, but he knew his limits.

You weren’t like what men thought women should be. You certainly never fit into that mold.

He stops fucking you, stills inside you.

“Please say something. Did you hear me?” he asks you.

“What?”

“I said, ‘I love you’”.

“No, you don’t, Aaron. Stop it,” you say.

“When are we going to have a conversation?”

“Not now,” you say.

“Then when?” he asks, searching your eyes for something more than your words were giving him.

“Not when you’re fucking me. Jesus Christ. Way to kill the mood, Aaron,” you say, trying to come off like you were teasing.

But he’s not taking the bait today.

“It doesn’t kill the mood for me,” he says quietly.

“Aaron, please,” you say, trying to thrust up against him.

He ignores you. Now he knows his only chance to get you to listen to him is if you’re in bed with him. Now that he knows your track record from what he gleaned from your conversation with Elle. “Remember when we had that case that looked like a satanic ritual attack? And you told me I was stupid to go after that heavy metal kid because you used to be into that, and you went on a whole tangent about how I needed to learn the difference between profiling and stereotyping?”

“Mm.”

“And you were right.”

“Yes. I was.”

“And I just… I don’t know. I love that you’ll speak your mind. I love that you’ll call me out when I’m wrong. I love that you’re not afraid to be a little… hostile to get your point across when you know you’re right. That you’re subversive. That you’re also… kind when the situation calls for it. That you’re witty. That you’re so, so, so intelligent and gorgeous and…. I’m not good with words or emotions. I know you’re not either. But believe me. Believe me when I tell you I love you because… I really do. And I want this to be something else. Something more. I want us to be exclusive. I don’t want… I don’t want you to be afraid and push me away like you’ve done with other people in the past.”

“Aaron. Your cock is in me right now. You’re not thinking straight,” you say, teasing again, kissing him, but he breaks away.

“Can you be honest with me? Please? Like I was just honest with you. What do you want from this?”

“This. This is what I want,” you answer.

“Just sex?”

“I don’t know. We’re friends, Aaron. We get along… for the most part. What will really be so different if you call me your girlfriend?”

“What do you think will be so different that you’re so against it?” he asks.

You sigh. “Things are good right now. Aren’t they?”

“They are, but I want more from you.”

“What more could I possibly give you, Aaron? I fuck you almost on the daily. When you were happily married, did you get that?”

“I wasn’t happily married,” he sighs.

“Exactly. That’s an oxymoron. It won’t be any different with me.”

“I think it would be. You’re not a choice I’m making at seventeen.”

“Aaron, stop it. I’m still just a woman.”

“You’re the woman I want. I want to be with you. It’s… yes. The sex is great. I’m not complaining. But I… I want to be able to take you out to dinner. Go for runs with you. Be the only one you sleep with.”

“So it is about that. It does bother you.”

“No. It didn’t.”

“But it does now.”

“I don’t have to be mad at you for it to bother me. Like I said. It was never anything we discussed until now.”

“Yeah. Now that we’re discussing it, do you feel better? Because I don’t,” you snap.

“Honey… it’s been killing me. Keeping it secret, close to my chest.”

“If you really cared about me, you would move,” you say, trying to bring levity back into the situation and get him to fuck you again as you roll your hips up against his.

“Okay,” he says solemnly, pulling out of you, and searching the floor for his boxers.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“I can’t… I can’t keep doing this, having you close but not as close as I want you, knowing you don’t feel the same way or want the same things. I held on too long for something I was never going to get with Haley. I can’t do it with you, too.”

You don’t say anything. You stay there, naked in the center of your bed, and you watch him get dressed, and you watch him leave your bedroom. You meet his hollow-eyed gaze. You don’t say a word.

You know it’s over.

It takes a lot of strength for Aaron to exit your apartment.

But he finds it anyway.

——————

You’re talking to Reid enthusiastically about the book series the two of you were reading. Or rather, that you were catching up on that Reid had already finished.

That was another thing Aaron loved about you, how you seemed to be one of the only members on the team that actively sought out Reid’s eccentricities and special interests. In fact, he may have been the only member you hadn’t had choice words with at one point.

You could be gentle when you wanted to be.

He knows he shouldn’t be looking at you. He should be avoiding you unless it’s absolutely necessary to be in your presence. But it was so very hard to ignore you, even if you did break his heart for good this time.

There’s another person who’s watching you.

Elle.

It’s hard for Aaron to read Elle, sometimes, too. She comes off reserved. Uncaring. He wouldn’t have thought the hostage situation bothered her as much as she claimed it had with you the other day either.

No one in this room is good at dealing with emotions. Compartmentalization? Everyone could teach a class on that. It’s what you studied, being profilers, people that hid away the depraved parts of their psyche to be able to function as members of society. So it only made sense that the rest of you would fall in line with that, albeit maybe not to that degree. Refuse to discuss anything that bothers you, though. Relive nightmares over and over again. Tell no one.

He’s tired of it.

“Elle, I need to speak with you,” Aaron says softly. “In my office.”

“Something wrong?” She asks, averting her gaze from you.

“I just need to speak with you,” he says, leading her up the stairs and unlocking the door of his office, and letting her follow him in. “You and her… you two were…”

“What?” she asks, already on edge.

“Together,” he says stiffly.

“As in?”

“Dating.”

Elle laughs sardonically, biting her nail anxiously. “No.”

“I’m not mad or upset. Whatever you tell me is held in strict confidence here. For both of your safeties,” he assures her gently.

“I said no. I meant no.”

“Then…?”

“Why do you care, Hotch? It’s not going to affect my work.”

“I just… I want to know.”

“For your own curiosity?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Aaron doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to put Elle in a precarious position, make her not only come out of the closet but also admit that she slept with you. But he needs to know where he stands.

Well. Takes one to know one.

“Wait a second. Son of a bitch. It was you,” she says quietly, realization visibly dawning on her. “You’re the man. You’re the one she told me she was sleeping with. There’s no other reason you’d pull me aside like this. Wow, she likes to keep it a little too close for comfort, huh? Maybe she’s trying to sleep with the whole unit.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he says firmly.

Elle shrugs. “It’s not anything bad. If that’s what she wants to do, she should have at it. We both know she could score. She’d definitely give Reid a good time.”

“Stop it,” he scolds.

“You can’t tell me I’m being unprofessional. You pulled me, your subordinate, in here to talk about how you’re in love with her.”

“Excuse me?” he asks firmly.

“God, Hotch, it’s nauseating. It’s all Morgan and Garcia talk about. It’s very obvious. You’re not exactly subtle. I didn’t know you were getting any, though. Good for you, I guess. That’s about as far as you’ll get with her.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

But he knows exactly what she means.

“She’s distant, right? Cold, even. I thought maybe it was because she didn’t want to come out with a sign that says she sleeps with women, which, fair enough. Lots of reasons to stay closeted in this day and age. I’m not exactly a flag waver myself. I knew I wasn’t going to be walking down an aisle to her someday. Still didn’t mean it didn’t hurt that whenever I asked her anywhere besides my bedroom she flaked. Eventually, I got sick of it. It’s whatever. I wasn’t under any real delusions about what we were. I just got a little pissed and told her off. I was stressed because of the job and I took it out on her. We all do it. We’ll still be friends. I just want to play the game a little longer and ice her out.”

“Do you… want her?”

“No. Not anymore. I’m not as lovesick as you are. You can try to go for her. Like I said. Don’t think you’ll get farther than you have. Are we done here, or am I getting paid extra to give you a therapy session?”

“We’re done here. Cool it with the attitude.”

“Why? You let her talk to you however she wants.”

“Agent,” he says warningly.

“Right. You’re not in love with me. Special privileges,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Not a word of this to the rest of the team.”

“Yeah, no worries, Hotch,” she says, smirking and nodding. “I think surprisingly I’d have more to lose than you if it got out.”

Meanwhile, you had sat at the desk across from Morgan, thanking him for running coffee duty.

“What do you think that’s about?” Morgan asks you. “Hotch and Elle.”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” you lie, sipping at your coffee, wondering vaguely if they're swapping stories about how much of a bitch you are. “You ever think you’ll settle down?”

“Why are you asking me that? You’re more of a player than me.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Jealous?”

“Not in the slightest. Your life is messy and I don’t even know the half of it. Wish you would sleep with the boss man, though. Man’s lovesick.”

You wince a little. “Who? Gideon?”

“Yeah,” Morgan replies sarcastically, then drops his voice lower, “I’m telling you. Hotch would drop anything in a heartbeat if he had one second with you.”

“He had more than that.”

“You’re kidding me,” Morgan says, leaning back in his chair. “Okay. Then why does he still look at you like he didn’t?”

“Because I don’t want to be the next Mrs. Hotchner.”

“He had one girlfriend his whole life and he married her. And look at him. He’s not a player like us. You can’t fuck with him like that.”

“He’s a grown man. He knew what he was getting into.”

“Did you?” he asks. “Because I think somewhere in that cold, bitchy heart you love him, too. Can Hotshot Hotchner do it? Tame this femme-fatale?”

“You’re not funny, Morgan.”

Morgan shrugs. “I think if anyone could tame you it would be him. He’d certainly be the only one willing to put in the effort to.”

“Nope. He left like they all do,” you counter.

“Because you let him.”

Because you let him.

You didn’t even try to stop him.

These things were true. What was Aaron supposed to do with that?

————

All you taste is blood. The metallic-tinged liquid in your throat, your back pressed against the car, and you had your arms up to block the perpetrator but he got the best of you anyway. It’s a swift kick to the stomach and you bend over, the wind knocked out of you, and you’re spitting up blood, seeing it bright red and viscous on the grass in front of you. Your lungs burn, and your head aches, but the adrenaline coursing through you is enough to overpower that and to give you the strength to knee him in the balls, hard, and he keels over, groaning in pain. Morgan takes the opportunity to pull his hands behind his back and snap the handcuffs on him while you fall to your knees, leaning against the car for support as you struggle to catch your breath, still swallowing blood, wincing at the taste in the back of your throat.

It was your mouth that got you in trouble again, predictably. At least if nothing else you proved he had a temper and was easily provoked. You expect Gideon to chew you out later anyway. Aaron was still avoiding you like the plague.

“Can you hear me?” A voice asks, coming from above you, soft yet distinctly masculine and you realize it’s Aaron. What?

You nod, chest heaving, but you can’t speak even if you tried.

You feel him loosen the buttons of your shirt at your throat, rubbing your back soothingly. “Just breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay. You did well. Good. Just like that. Can you walk?”

You try to push yourself off the car and take a few steps, but your legs give out and you fall back into his arms, the adrenaline that was pushing you a second ago gone now that you weren’t being attacked anymore.

“Hey, hey, hey, easy,” he says gently, supporting your weight. “I’m going to get you to a hospital.”

“I don’t need…” you manage to rasp out, shaking your head.

“Shh. Shh. If you never let me use my authority for anything else again I’d be fine with it as long as you let me use it here. You’re going to the hospital.”

Calling an ambulance, he clears out the rest of the scene, letting the other members of the team go back to the office with the perpetrator, checking in with you at what feels like five-second intervals.

“I’m okay, Aaron. Really. I got kicked in the stomach. I’m fine,” you say when you can catch your breath.

“You could have a broken rib. Or nose. You’re still bleeding,” he points out, using the sleeve of his dress shirt to wipe the blood still dripping from your face.

“I think I would’ve heard either of those.”

“What if you lose too much blood? Hm?”

“From a nosebleed?” you question.

“It could happen.”

“Why are you… why are you acting like you care?”

“Acting?” Aaron asks, then shrugs. “It’s not acting.”

“You didn’t have to stay with me.”

“I wanted to.”

“Why? You could’ve made anyone else stay with me.”

“I wanted to be the one to make sure you’re okay,” he says, taking of his blazer, unbuttoning his dress shirt and handing it to you, leaving him in just his white undershirt. “You need to keep pressure on that. Stop the bleeding. Here.”

“Aaron… why? This isn’t just routine. Reid got hurt the other day and you didn’t—"

“Because I still love you,” he says quickly, looking you in the eyes. “It doesn’t just go away. I thought… I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought I was going to achieve by leaving that night. It hurts either way.”

“If it’s any consolation, I miss you,” you say quietly.

“I have two questions, then,” he says, exhaling, deciding to take a chance. There was nothing more to lose.

“Yeah. What?”

“You miss me? Or the sex?”

“Can’t it be both?” you ask sheepishly, blushing a little.

“I suppose.”

“What’s your second question?”

“You miss me? You don’t love me?”

“Aaron,” you say, moving his shirt away from your nose. “That’s not a fair question. I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone.”

“Why did you let me leave?” he asks.

“I didn’t agree to a third question.”

“Just answer me,” he says, exasperated.

“You were going to leave anyway, Aaron. We don’t want the same things. I don’t want to get married, and give up my career to raise your children.”

He shakes his head, looking at you incredulously. “Where in the world did you get the idea that either of those things were what I wanted from you?”

“You were married and it didn’t work out, you’re older, you—“

“See what happens when you refuse to talk about things?” he says, laughing a little. “Yes. I wanted a wife and a family. And I had a wife and the chance of having a family and… it fell apart. And in the aftermath of it all, there was you. I was never asking to tie you down and make you feel trapped. I’m not asking for you to have children if that’s not something you want. I’m certainly not asking you to give up your career for me while I work. You aren’t what I thought I wanted. You would’ve… you would’ve terrified me if I met you two decades ago. But you meet me where I’m at now, and that’s what matters.”

“I would’ve terrified you?” you tease.

“You do, now, too,” he grins. “A little. But in a good way.”

“Did you actually call this ambulance?” you ask.

“You know they take forever to get anywhere,” Aaron says, looking at you concernedly. “Why? Anything new hurt?”

“I’m fine, Aaron,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. “I would’ve been fine with an urgent care.”

“Forgive me for being cautious.”

“Forgive me for letting you leave,” you say, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“I already did,” he responds quietly, reaching for your hand and squeezing it gently.

“What… what do you want from me, then? Because I… I don’t understand. I’m argumentative, divisive, and hostile. I don’t know the meaning of restraint. I don’t—"

Aaron shakes his head and kisses you, then pulls away, looking down at you and grinning as the red and blue lights from the ambulance arriving start to illuminate you in the dark. “You taste like blood.”

You laugh more than you should have at that, your sides aching as you do. “You really are a profiler, huh?”

“Some might even say a good one.”

“What do you want—"

“I don’t want you to change. I want you to still call me out when I’m wrong. I want you to argue with me like you always used to. I never want you to feel like you need to hold back, act differently, or be somebody else. All those things you listed… I love about you. I just want you to be with me like I told you. Go out to dinners and breakfasts with me. Cook with me in my kitchen. Have wine outside with me in the summer. Go for runs with me. Drag me to Taylor Swift concerts with you. I don’t care. I want it with you.”

The paramedics exit the ambulance before you can respond, and they’re helping you onto the stretcher and taking your blood pressure, and asking you what happened, and it’s not until you walked the few steps to the stretcher that you realized how much that son of a bitch really got you. Maybe Aaron was right to be this worried.

Not that you’d tell him that.

They leave you in the emergency room to wait, as they’ve deemed you non-emergent amid the heart attacks, strokes, and overdoses being wheeled in. You’re breathing. Which is good. Your nose stopped bleeding. Which is also good. Your oxygen level is normal, which means you didn’t puncture a lung with a broken rib, which is excellent.

Now that you’re alone again, or, rather, without an audience of paramedics, you look at him, drinking him in again, letting yourself look at him for the first time in weeks. Broad shoulders, dark hair, large hands. Calm demeanor, even here. Strong. Commanding. Yeah. As much as you were a man's nightmare, he was a woman's dream.

“What you want doesn’t sound half bad,” you admit.

“Why would I want to trap someone I love in a situation where I knew they’d be miserable? I know you value your freedom and your career. I would never ask you to compromise that for me. I just… I needed to step back because you would never even let me speak. You never let me take you out. You only let me take you home. And it… it hurt, honey. But I still love you.”

You wince. “I don’t know how to be in a relationship. I don’t know how to love. I’m broken.”

“That’s the thing I don’t understand. You’re always putting yourself down. Why do you think you don’t deserve this? That you don’t deserve to be happy?”

“I don’t know, Aaron. I’ve never seen a happy ending. For me or anyone else.”

“That doesn’t mean you should never try. And it doesn’t mean we can’t be happy now.”

“But it will hurt—"

“It will hurt anyway,” he reminds you. “These past few weeks have been hell.”

They haven’t been fun. He isn’t wrong.

“I’m not the easiest person to love.”

“Neither am I,” he admits. “I know I don’t bring a lot to the table. But I love you. And… Christ, it doesn’t take a profiler to see you’ve been damaged by somebody. I don’t blame you for living the way you have been, switching people out, and toying with people like you must have been toyed with on a larger scale. I don’t need to know the details if you’re not ready to share them with me. But whenever you feel like you’re ready, let me know. I want to listen.”

“Aaron,” you mutter. “Why can’t I just be fucked up?”

“You could be. But I don’t believe that’s the case.”

You don't say anything for a moment, leaning your head against his shoulder, listening to the idle chatter of everyone else in the emergency department waiting room. Kids crying, grown men screaming, and nurses talking calmly to patients. And then you focus in again on Aaron, listening to the steady rhythm of his breath, smelling the warm spice of his cologne against his neck, feeling the heat from his skin against yours.

And you think... maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

The journey was hell. But it brought you here.

"Okay," you say, with strengthened resolve. "I can't promise anything, but..."

-----

taglist @mrs-ssa-hotchner @mechformers @agentrose17

#Aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotch x reader #Aaron Hotchner #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x reader smut

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bangtanflirt · 1 year

Text

Not Like Other Girls (Part 2 of 2)

mainly angst, with some smut and fluff sprinkled in

Best friend Jungkook x Fem Reader, Hoseok x Fem Reader

NSFW. 18+

Part 1 > Part 2 (FINAL) > BONUS Part

Premise: Jungkook’s been your best friend since forever, and he loves that you’re “not like other girls,” as he puts it...so what happens when you decide you want to be like other girls?

Warnings: sexism, manipulative friendship, Jungkook and some other idols are just overall misogynistic assholes in this (all a work of fiction obviously, no way meant to represent these idols’ real life personalities), mentions of past internalized misogyny, one noncon kiss, slight physical intimidation, a fight, one more asshole jk warning because he amps it up a notch

____

Two weeks go by, with you ignoring every call and text he sends. Two weeks of you blaring your headphones and walking right by when he waits outside your residence hall or classes. Two weeks since you’ve left the group chat with him and the other two. Eunwoo and Yugyeom message you individually, each saying something along the lines of “Why are you being such a bitch to Jungkook?” You block them eventually. It was easy to block them. Jungkook, on the other hand, has not been easy to block. You’ve tried, fingers hovering over the button many times since the last time you’ve talked. However, something stops you every time. Memories of the past flood your mind: the little spot in the playground that the two of you claimed in fourth grade, the way he’d stayed up all night helping you perfect your science fair project in middle school, how he walked you home after your org meetings in high school. Everything would be so much easier if your mind could just forget about all the good things, but you can’t. The truth—however pathetic it may be—is that Jungkook is in too much of your good memories for you to just cut him off.

Not matter how much of a big game you talk, he still has a hold on you. Which is why, after two weeks of trying to fake indifference, your resolve breaks at the sight of him. He’s waiting in front of your residence hall again, but this time those sad bambi eyes rope you into stopping. He looks a mess with his disheveled hair and puffy eyes. It takes a lot in you to not immediately lead him inside and take care of his tired form. No y/n. Don’t be a doormat again.

“Can we talk in your dorm?”

“We can talk here. I’ll give you five minutes.”

“I’m sorry.” His shoulders are sagging as he looks down at the grass, unable to meet your gaze. You don’t say anything back.

“I shouldn’t have hijacked your birthday plans…and I shouldn’t have yelled about Hoseok…it was wrong of me. It wasn’t from a bad place, I swear! I just want to protect you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, y/n. I can’t not have you in my life.”

“Your way of protecting someone is really shitty.”

“I can see that now, and I promise you I’ll do better. Just don’t push me out of your life, please. I can’t handle it.” His voice cracks at the end, as if he’s too overwhelmed with emotion.

It breaks your heart and your walls all too easily, and you’re embracing him in a split second. He starts sobbing softly into your shoulder. “Come up for a while.” You invite, and the boy follows with his head down. It takes a moment for him to stop crying in your room, spilling apologies while holding you close.

___

The next day is, thankfully, filled with the normalcy you’re used to with Jungkook. You two meet up for breakfast, talking about the most random things as you usually do. It doesn’t feel like two weeks have passed. It doesn’t feel like anything bad happened between you at all. The air is light, and the conversations are filled with laughter, just like your favorite moments with him usually go.

“Are you free to study this evening? I have a calc test coming up and I need moral support.”

“I’m actually studying with a few people from the frat party. We’ve gotten kind of close—especially this girl, Ara. But you should come study with us!”

“With Hoseok too?”

“Yes Kook, he’s not some evil villain, I promise. You’ll like him if you give him a chance.”

You still haven’t told Jungkook you didn’t sleep with the older man. You don’t see the point in bringing it up anymore, since it shouldn’t determine whether or not Jungkook respects you. You just want to move on from the topic and the fight altogether. You also don’t tell him about your make-out sessions these past two weeks, not in the mood for another lecture.

His features visibly tense. “Oh, um…I don’t know. It might be too much of a distraction, and I don’t really know them. I’ll just study alone.” You know Jungkook enough to know what he’s asking without him saying it out loud: Please ditch them and study with me. The plea is clear in his eyes, but this time you act oblivious to it.

“Oh please, I saw you study for that physics final in high school! If you can focus on rotational motion while Yugyeom and Eunwoo argue about which Super Smash Bros character is the kinkiest, you can one thousand percent study with us.”

The two of you giggle at the past memory, and Jungkook eases up a little.

“Alright, I’ll join, and Bowser is definitely the kinkiest!”

“Not when Wario is right there!” You laugh, taking a sip from your best friend’s milkshake as he throws a ‘I told you to order your own’ look your way.

“Speaking of the guys…when do you think you’ll unblock them?”

“No time soon. You’re still on probation too.”

His face falls, but he doesn’t prod further.

---

“Guys, this is Jungkook, my best friend. Jungkook, this is Ara, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jisoo. I met Ara at the makeup convention and everyone else at the Beta Tau Sigma party after.”

You miss the icy glare he shoots at Hoseok. Hoseok seems to miss it too, being his usual friendly self while greeting the other man. Everyone greets Jungkook warmly except Jisoo, who seems a bit wary. She remembers when you ran to some guy and came back crying a couple weeks ago, and how that man looked a lot like this Jungkook guy. Suffice to say, she’s not as enthusiastic to meet him.

The study session goes by alright. Everyone’s stressed and engrossed in their work, but occasional banter and breaks keep you all going. You try to include Jungkook whenever you can, and your new friends—sans Jisoo—also try to strike up conversation with him. Jungkook, however, keeps his replies short and chooses to stay silent for the most part.

It’s only when he’s walking you home does he begin talking like his usual self.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t have much in common with them. I think we should just study alone next time.”

You raise a brow, “That’s not fair, Kook. You barely tried. We were doing our best to include you in the conversation.”

Jungkook doesn’t exactly know why he feels so strongly, but hearing you use the term ‘we’ for you and your new friends puts him on edge. You and him are supposed to be a ‘we.’ These are strangers.

His tone gets snappier at your comment.

“Wow, thank you so much for trying to include me in the conversation y/n. Must be exhausting having to talk to me when your new friends are there.”

“Hypocritical coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you basically treat me like I’m invisible when we’re with Eunwoo and Yugyeom.”

The rest of the walk is silent.

Hours later, when you’re about to go to bed, you get a text from him.

Kook: Sorry :( are you still mad?

You let out a sigh. He’s your best friend, but you wish he wasn’t so frustrating sometimes.

You: Kind of.

Kook: I’ll hang out with them again if you want me to.

You: Will you actually try to get along?

Kook: Yeah, I promise!!!

___

The next time you invite Jungkook out with everyone else is at another frat party. You don’t remember the name of the frat, but it doesn’t matter. There’s good music, godlike seven-layer dip, and an impressive variety of alcohol. You tease Hoseok at how Beta Tau Sigma needs to watch out or their ‘best party frat’ rep is in danger.

“No chance, wait ‘till you see the bouncy castle we’re getting for the next one!”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks at the way you lean close to the other man, laughing and talking as if the two of you are in your own world. It’s extra irritating considering your outfit for the night. You’d mentioned how you were borrowing one of Ara’s dresses, but he had no idea it would be such a tight one. Tight and short, with entirely too much of your chest exposed. It makes your birthday dress seem modest in comparison. He regrets meeting at the party instead of picking you up, wishing he could’ve talked you out of it before you left your dorm.

But he can’t do anything now, except watch Hoseok ogle you as you giggle and bat your lashes at him. It hasn’t even been twenty minutes yet, but Jungkook already wants to leave—and drag you out of there with him.

It’s after a few tequila shots and party games when Ara pulls you aside, asking you how things are going with Hoseok.

“We’re just friends!”

“Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

“Okay, we might be hitting each other up to make out now and then…and maybe I have a teeny tiny crush. But it’s not like it’ll go anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a total fuckboy!”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes, “those rumors are so out of proportion. I know Hoseok and I know he loves sex, but he’s not the ‘I don’t do commitment’ type. He just needs to meet someone he vibes with and he’ll turn into a mushy romantic in a heartbeat.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She breaks out into a giant grin, “Because he’s just like Joonie.”

You can’t help but grin too, tipsy Ara is especially cute when talking about her boyfriend.

“Fair, fair. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”

“You think the two of you will break away from the rest of us again?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Not tonight. Jungkook doesn’t really know anyone here, so it would be pretty shitty to leave him.”

“Yeah he does look like a lost lamb” she motions in the boy’s direction, where his body language couldn’t get any more awkward.

“That’s my cue” you say after taking one more shot and making your way back to Jungkook’s side.

“Here” you say, holding a shot in front of his face. He downs it instantly.

“How ‘bout a dance?” You hope a little dancing can loosen the boy up.

The speakers blast High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco, and you two yell the lyrics while jumping up and down in proper party-dancing fashion. Jungkook gets more comfortable as the song progresses, and you can tell the alcohol is getting to him. The next hour is genuinely fun for both of you, and he seems less apprehensive when the others join—as long as your attention stays on him. The problem starts when a slower, sexier song starts playing, and Hoseok pulls you close. The man wraps his hands around you from behind, sensually rolling his body and guiding you to do the same. Your eyes are closed and you’re too lost in the moment to feel the daggers your best friend is shooting with his eyes.

You excuse yourself for a moment, stumbling into a random bedroom until you can find a restroom to pee. What you don’t expect when coming out, is Jungkook sitting on the bed. He stands up when you come out, making his way closer.

“Oh hey, were you looking for me?”

He nods, now less than an inch away. You take a step back, feeling claustrophobic, but he’s keen on closing the gap.

“Kook, what are you—"

That’s when his lips come crashing down on yours.

It’s barely three seconds until you register what’s going on and push him off. You look into his eyes with pure shock.

“Holy fuck, Jungkook. You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Maybe…” he leans back in, but you turn your head away. He’s not a fan of this.

“Why are you dodging?”

“Because you’re not in your right mind! I’m your best friend!”

“And? Isn’t this what you what? Isn’t it better to get it from me than some guy you hardly know?”

“Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘what I want’?” You step back again, bringing a hand to his chest to keep him arm’s distance.

“Don’t act innocent y/n. That dress…the way you’ve been dancing…you’re telling everyone you want to be fucked tonight.”

You push him back, rage coursing through your veins, “I am not fucking you, Jungkook!”

He seems just as angry, almost falling back. “So you’ll fuck Hoseok, but draw the line at me?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?! I’m trying so hard to be nice and understanding, but you’ve been acting like a whore the entire night. You want me to treat you like a whore, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been trying to make me jealous…get me all worked up so I can fuck you good.”

You fervently shake your head no, still processing the absurd things you’re hearing.

“You’re just drunk…that’s why you’re saying all these things. You don’t mean any of this, right? Why would you be jealous…you don’t think of me like that.”

“I don’t think of you like that when you’re being the usual you. But this new persona you’re trying on…you can’t expect me to not be curious when you’re showing off like this. I’m a guy, y/n.”

“No, get away from me! You don’t get to use the ‘it’s a guy thing’ excuse this time. It’s not because you’re a guy. It’s because you’re a complete asshole!”

You try to walk away but he grips your arm, unwilling to let go despite your visible distress.

“Let go!”

“Don’t leave me, please, you can’t leave”

Your distress grows as you try harder to shake off his hold, and you’ve never been more relieved to hear the sound of a door opening than in that moment.

“Y/n, are you in here—” Hoseok stills at the scene, Jungkook’s digging his fingers into the skin of your arm as mascara-black tears roll down onto your cheeks.

“Oh great” Jungkook lets out a dry chuckle, “he’s been looking for you, how sweet.”

Hoseok wastes no time coming between the two of you, prying Jungkook’s hand away and putting his body in front of yours in a protective stance.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to stay away from her dude.”

The tension in the air is thick, too thick for even a blade to slice through. The way the men stare each other down has you squirming in anxiety.

“This isn’t your business.” Jungkook bites.

“I think it is.”

“Why? You feel obligated because she’s one of your sluts no—” his sentence is interrupted by a sharp right hook to the face. Jungkook falls flat on his ass, holding the hurt cheek in pain.

“Because she’s my friend you fuckface, and I thought she was supposed to be yours too.”

That’s the last thing Jungkook hears before the world becomes pitch black.

___

You don’t give in after two weeks this time. A month goes by, then another month, then another…and now you’re getting used to not having him in your life at all. It’s easier because, this time, he doesn’t try to call or linger around with those dumb doe eyes. He knows he crossed an unforgivable line and facing you now would have him breaking down in shame.

That night, once he came back to his senses and the world stopped spinning, he couldn’t believe what he’d done. His bubbling jealousy towards Hoseok, the fear of you drifting away, and the unhealthy amount of tequila shots all mixed together to make him do the most asshole thing he could. And now he’s lost you, for good. The days since then have been nothing short of hell, guilt eating away at his soul every moment he’s awake. That’s why he sleeps longer now, sometimes well into the evening—missing a lot of classes along the way. His grades keep plummeting but he can’t seem to care anymore. If you were there, you’d get so mad at him for slacking off; but you’re not there. It’s a month after the incident when Yugyeom drops by, worried because neither him nor Eunwoo get any messages back from him anymore.

“Dude, you look like shit. Will you finally spill on what exactly happened with y/n?”

“I fucked up, big time.”

Yugyeom stays silent as Jungkook spills out everything that happened that night, listening with worry etched on his face.

“Oh shit.”

“I know.”

“You went too far man.”

“I know.”

“I get you’re going through it, but don’t shut us out dude. Eunwoo and I are there for you, okay?”

It’s not long until Eunwoo hears about what happened, calling the day after Yugyeom leaves. His version of consoling is different.

“It’s not entirely your fault. You know that, don’t you? You went overboard because of the alcohol, sure, but your reasons were valid. She should’ve known what she got herself into when she decided that being a bimbo is more important than being our friend.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how much he agrees with that, but he does know that thinking of it that way makes him feel a little less shitty.

___

You don’t tell any of the others what happened, hell, you don’t even tell Hoseok the whole story. You can’t bring yourself to recount the incident without nausea overtaking your body. Thankfully, Hoseok doesn’t pry. He’s the one to walk you home that night, telling the rest you had a headache and need to leave early. He keeps quiet the entire walk.

He drops by your place a lot now, checking in on you. The first month is the hardest, you don’t want to even get out of bed. Thankfully, Hoseok is there to make sure you don’t waste away under your blanket (and that you’re turning in assignments on time). The rest of them can tell you’re different after the party, but you dodge their concerns every time. They still invite you places, even though you seem zoned out when you’re there. Ara, in particular, makes sure to come by with meals every now and again to ensure you’re eating okay.

It's the second month when you start feeling like yourself again. The zoning out and wallowing in pity is replaced with laughter and joy once more; no doubt thanks to your friends’ persistence. A realization hits you during this time: you’re truly free now. Free to explore what type of clothes you like best, wear the most dramatic makeup you want, and invest time in hobbies that make you happy. You’re free to do all of that without a cloud of judgement and insecurity looming over. And so you use this newfound freedom to your fullest advantage, raiding the dress and makeup aisles at the mall—with Ara, Jennie, and Jisoo by your side.

It's the third month when Eun-bi and Sol fly down to visit you, squealing at your new look.

“I cannot believe that you, Y/N Y/L/N, own this many skirts” Sol comments, going through your closet.

You giggle, “You like them better than the sweatpants I wore when I visited, don’t you?”

“It’s not the sweatpants we minded, more the ‘look at these whores’ look you would give us when we wore skirts.” Sol laughs back.

You cringe at the memory, glad it’s in the past now.

___

It’s another usual weekend with Hoseok’s hands in your hair and his mouth on yours, while some Netflix comedy special plays in the background. He pulls away earlier than you’d like him to, though.

“What do you think about going on a date?”

“A date?”

“Yeah…if you want to be more than friends who make out.”

You’re confused and it shows.

“Didn’t you sleep with that art major like two days ago?”

He lets out an embarrassed chuckle, “I’m just getting tired of the hookups. Been getting jealous of Namjoon a lot recently—of what he has with Ara.”

“I thought you said Namjoon became ten times more annoying after getting into a relationship?”

“Oh definitely—but he also looks a hundred times happier. If I have a shot at that with anyone, I think it’s you.”

You can’t help but fawn over the endearing look on his face, eyes brimming with sincerity. It’s by no means a grand romantic confession of love, but it doesn’t need to be. You can tell he’s serious, and that’s all you really need.

“I’d love to Hoseok.”

His heart-shaped smile widens to a toothy grin. He pulls you in for another kiss.

___

The next time Jungkook spots you, you don’t notice him. He’s on his way to the library and you’re on the lawn with all your friends. You’re wearing a flowy sundress and your hair is longer; you’re having the time of your life, with no regard for his presence. Hoseok’s by your side, and it seems he’s the cause of your never-ending laughter. Jungkook knows you’re with him—he’s the heard the gossip all over campus. Gossip is the only way he can keep up with you after being blocked on everything.

Bitterness boils inside of him at the sight: how easily you can be happy without him.

He thought he meant more, thought he was irreplaceable, just like you were to him. He knows he messed up that night, but part of him was still betting you’d come back. He was waiting for you to come back after Hoseok left you broken, and had planned all the words he’d say to assure you he could put you back together again. But it’s been four months since you and Hoseok became official, and you two look happier than fucking ever. He hates it.

But even so, he has hope. Hoseok is still Hoseok, and this happy ever after shit can’t last. He’ll wait for you.

___

Four months turns into a year, and a year turns into two, then three, until you’re walking down the graduation stage while your boyfriend cheers from the audience.

When the ceremony is over, you make your way to your friends, who are all rejoicing at the ending of a chapter.

“We did it bitches!” Ara exclaims, pulling everyone in for a hug.

“Couldn’t have done it without you” you refuse to let her leave your embrace. Your best friend only hugs you tighter, two of you now looking like boa constrictors in competition.

“Alright, alright, enough of Ara hogging. I want my hug” Namjoon pouts, pulling her away from you.

“We get it loverboy, you’re whipped” you punctuate with an eye roll.

He’s not one to let you have the last word, though. “If anyone’s a loverboy here it’s Hobi, mind you. He’s brought up the fact that you’re graduating with honors at least five times in the span of three hours.”

“That’s because everyone needs to know how impressive my girlfriend is!” Hoseok jumps in, chest puffed out with pride.

You laugh, playfully swatting your boyfriend’s arm.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“You know compliments make me embarrassed!”

“So am I just not supposed to compliment my insanely smart, incredibly driven, badass girlfriend who graduated with honors?”

“Make that six times in three hours” Namjoon lightheartedly chides.

It’s in that moment you bump into someone, not unusual in the buzzing crowd of graduates. But this time it’s not a stranger—or at least not in the technical sense of the word.

“Oh I’m so sorr—”

He stills. He doesn’t think he can keep speaking even if he wants to, feeling the heat of Hoseok’s gaze.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” That’s all you say, in the most nonchalant way possible, before turning around and resuming your conversation.

It’s like you never even knew him.

____

A/N: Another fic completed woohoo! Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me. All the interactions are such nice energy boosts to keep writing. Have a wonderful day lovely readers <3

Tag list: @namjooncrabs @starbtslove @gaby-93 @laurynne5

#jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #hopekook

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