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sentientcave · 1 month

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Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

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Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #Price please keep your dogs on leashes they are terrorizing women #The boys missed the real retirement party because they got emergency deployed and they've been trying to reschedule all year long #Good thing they've got such a good gift to make up for it #The homies in discord agree: These guys are unsettling

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maitadori · 1 year

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I MISSED YOU sfw. jing yuan x afab!reader.

word count : 2.6k

summary : in which jing yuan goes on a two week expedition and you both miss each other dearly.

content / cw : suggestive, making out, fluff, a small pint of angst, whipped jing yuan, emotionally constipated reader

a/n : more assistant reader and general jing yuan mwah

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI!!!!

"i'm going on an expedition tomorrow. it’s gonna last two weeks,” jing yuan says, trapping you against his desk. you’re silent, ignoring him. jing yuan pouts his lips and huffs.

when you don’t speak, he whispers in your ear, “you'll miss me, right?" a smug smile curls his lips as he tugs on your clothing.

you sift through his documents and answer blankly, "no."

jing yuan chuckles as he tugs you into him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his chin on your head.

"you didn't even consider it. you wound me."

"i'll really wound you if you don't get some work done."

jing yuan merely kisses your neck, watching in satisfaction as you shiver and fumble the papers. "i leave tomorrow for two weeks and work is all you think about..”

“general, cut it out..."

"you're so cute." his voice is muffled as he continues placing soft pecks on the skin of your neck, traveling his lips to caress your jaw. his arms move to wrap around your waist and you put a hand over his to try and push him away while your other tries to cover his mouth.

he sees it coming and kisses your fingers, grabbing them to kiss your knuckles softly as you finally turn to look at him with a flushed expression.

with others, they'd instantly assume you were upset, but he could tell; he knew you like the back of his hand.

"why do you refuse to do your work?" you whisper, as if afraid to shatter the atmosphere.

"you really expect me to sign boring papers when you're in front of me?"

"then i'm distracting you?"

"terribly so."

"then i must leave. i can't be the one to hold the general back from his duties," you say, genuinely and sternly.

jing yuan tightens his hold on you before you can attempt to escape.

"who said it was a bad thing?"

"no one had to!!! it is a bad thing!!! let me go," you groan out, struggling in his hold.

"tell me you'll miss me and i'll consider it."

"i'd rather die!!"

in response, jing yuan kisses your cheek, chuckling and smiling as he does. he ventures dangerously close to your lips. his hands are traveling all over you now, nimble fingers trailing past the hem of your shirt and caressing your skin.

"jing yuan!" your tone is scolding.

"i love it when you say my name," he groans, kissing the corner of your lips. "can i kiss you? please?" he finishes off with a demand that he needs his fill of you before his expedition.

he's pleading, a thing that isn't rare, but it is when it's genuine and not teasing. the whiny lilt to his voice has your stubborn wall crumbling.

"yes..." you sigh out blissfully, chastising yourself for your lack of protest. you’re barely able to finish before he's molding his mouth with yours.

you always relented when it came to him, if you were to tell him how much of a spoilt brat he was, he'd most likely giggle and agree. the mere thought of that has you reciprocating his fervent kiss tenfold.

he pulls apart slightly to whisper against your lips, “just by this i know you’ll miss me, but i really want you to say it.” he panting, watching fondly as your grapple him as an attempt to reel him back to you. it’s so endearing, because mere minutes ago you were doing the opposite.

that alone had him almost diving back in and kiss you breathless and mindless to the point where you’d forget your name. almost. but if jing yuan was anything, it was relentless.

“c’mon, i know you’ll miss me, all you have to do is say it.”

but jing yuan also knew that if you were anything, it was stubborn.

“so i could boost your ego?” you tried to sound upset, but your voice was so breathy that you failed immensely.

“i’ll kiss you until the only thing you can think about is me. just say the magic words,” jing yuan says smugly, smirking.

“who said i wanted that!?”

“you don’t have to. it’s written all over your face.” he nibbles your bottom lip, watching the way your eyes instantly gaze down at his lips. “i’m gonna be gone for two weeks. fourteen days without seeing your face, without you seeing mine. won’t you miss me? i know i’ll miss you. i’ll be thinking about your lips so much i doubt i’ll get much done.”

his words had a blanket of desire cover you full. it had you feeling so warm you swore you were drowning in it. how he was able to openly express his want for you embarrassed you beyond belief. it was such an overwhelming feeling; to hear someone talk about craving you in such a direct way. your lips parted and your pupils shrunk.

“w-what..?”

he kissed the corner of your lip. you squeezed your eyes shut.

“you heard me. please, [name], just say you’ll miss me,” his tone has a teasing lilt to it, it makes you a bit infuriated, because you know he’ll never let it go if you do say it. but like always, you couldn’t help but indulge him.

plus his lips looked very inviting.

“i’ll miss you, a lot. you’re all i’ll think about the entire time you’re gone,” you whine out quietly.

he smiles— not smirks— smiles. and it sends your heart racing. but before you can admire it, he’s on you.

“i’ll miss you so much, beloved.” he whispers against your lips.

beloved.

it’s been two days since jing yuan left. it’s not as bad as he anticipated.

well… for you it wasn’t. for him, you couldn’t really say that.

he missed you, it was apparent. if his millennium of texts were anything to go by. the corniness of it all had you scoffing endearingly. he was so adorable sometimes— something you’d never admit to him.

you did as you usually did when he was out, working on documents he left behind and sending letters. he wasn’t in his office often, so the loneliness and silence was something that was easy getting used to.

but as the first week came about, you couldn’t deny the small seed of dread in your stomach.

even if you were used to being alone in his office while he was gone, it was because you knew he’d be coming back within the day. he insisted it was just to see you. so although it was easy getting used to the day routine, the same couldn’t be said for the night; when you expected his arrival and soft voice echoing through the room as he talked about being excited to see you.

but like everything else, you learned to get used to it.

you picked up your phone, setting down your pen. the light of your device illuminated and you adjusted your eyesight to stare at jing yuan’s contact.

you hadn’t texted back.

jing yuan himself admitted he’d think of you the entire time. while it warmed your heart, it also cracked it a little.

you didn’t want to be a burden on your general’s conscious. he was busy and he didn’t need distractions.

jing yuan either got the message and hasn’t texted you, or he was just that busy. you assumed the latter.

you simply clicked the power button of your phone, turned off your ringer, set it on your desk face down, and picked up your pen.

you survived two decades without jing yuan in your life before you became his assistant, what was one more week?

it was hell, was what jing yuan deduced. the sudden influx of mobs on other ships had increased past a population jing yuan couldn’t ignore. bringing yanqing along helped a lot. for being so young, the boy was very strong.

he’d opposed to it at first, but yanqing convinced his general that it could be apart of his training. plus, if anything were to happen, jing yuan was there. he couldn’t argue with that.

and not to mention that yanqing was a huge remedy to jing yuan’s loneliness. he wasn’t opposed to being by himself, no, but he knew he’d only be capable of thinking about you.

it’s been 9 days, you hadn’t returned his last texts, and knowing you, he figured out why pretty quickly. you probably assumed yourself a burden. which wasn’t true, but you must’ve grown in an environment where you were treated as such, so jing yuan was aware how ridding you of that mindset could take awhile.

before, all he could think of was finally kissing you again. but now, all he wanted to do was hold you.

he remembers not too long ago when he insisted that he becomes yours, officially. but you protested, saying that it wasn’t good for his occupation, and that people would talk. at first, the idea of it didn’t bother him. when you’re the general, people talked about you all the time. so he was used to it, but he also realized that can’t be said for you.

you like being unknown to people, the solitude and the lack of interaction. you always told jing yuan you were fine with the little group you knew. sushang, bailu, yanqing, fu xuan, and him. you didn’t need anyone else.

he promised that it could be secret, anything to be with you. but you suddenly looked sad, and whispered quietly, “i don’t want to be your little secret, jing yuan. but i also don’t want to be scrutinized. so can you wait for me, please?”

he affirmed that he would, but jing yuan could also be a liar. he truly couldn’t get enough of you. he doesn’t think you understand just how special you are to him, how infatuated he is with you.

so he thinks about you for the remaining five days, hoping it’ll be enough to get him by before you’re in his arms.

you’re restless. everyone can tell. it’s gotten so bad to the point where even sushang herself insisted to help you, and that girl was anything but helpful.

you missed him, terribly so. and everyone could tell.

fu xuan pointed it out once and you could only groan, “don’t even say that…”

she giggled at your demise, telling you as she snickered that it was extremely obvious. she also held it over your head and said that if you didn’t take a break, she’d tell the general just how much you yearned for him. you relented faster than you could exhale.

having a day out with fu xuan was lovely. even if she was a bit bossy, she was still really fun. also, who knew she was a gossiper? that was a small tidbit about her you never knew, but welcomed all the same.

when you started to part ways and you changed your direction from your home to the office, fu xuan glared at you scoldingly.

“if i find out you stayed past midnight, i’m gonna tell the general,” it was a silly threat that had you laughing. you waved her off and walked your path.

you got comfortable behind the desk, basking in the familiar scent of your general. you stared at the documents and tilted your head. being his assistant was already somewhat taxing, you couldn’t imagine the load as a general.

you huffed and picked up your pen, dragging the work to you and writing away.

sometime later, you started drifting off to sleep. your head bobbed and you jerked up everytime your head drooped a little too low. you blinked blearily, looking at the small clock on jing yuan’s desk. you clicked your tongue. it was far past midnight. you must be lost track of time.

you prayed fu xuan didn’t find out, or she’d humiliate you beyond belief. you couldn’t help the urge to distract yourself anytime jing yuan entered your mind.

while ruminating in your thoughts, a small jiggle of the door handle had you stiff in your seat.

speak of the devil. you thought, waiting for fu xuan and her burning glare as the door creaked open.

but your eyes widened and your pen dropped once the door opens. your lips press tight together and your brows knit.

jing yuan enters in all his glory, still as handsome as he always was.

“g-general…” were the only words you could muster.

he looked a bit roughed up. you could only guess he might’ve got into some trouble. but he looked the same, warm as ever. he met your eyes and smiled softly. it had your heart pounding in your ribcage.

you noticed how you must’ve looked and instantly tried to gain composure, “w-welcome back.” you coughed into your fist.

you could hear him chuckle and the sound of his shoes as he approached you. your eyes dropped to the desk and you shakily picked your pen back up.

you missed him. you finally came to terms with it. it was a foreign feeling that had you unsure how to act. such a new territory that you could only avoid his eyes, frozen.

even when you felt his presence right beside you, even when he turned your chair to face him, even when he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. you were still.

his eyes traveled across your face, his face so full of adoration directed towards you that it had your brows knitting.

“you look so gorgeous. i missed you.” he whispers, a smile so pretty painting his lips— a smile that showed some of his teeth, and the curvatures of his dimples. you wished you could take a picture.

a quiet gasp left your lips and you finally looked up to meet his gaze. your expression looked nearly sad at his words and it had him caressing your cheeks with his thumb.

“you look the same as always,” you replied dumbly, perplexed at even your own response.

both you and jing yuan met each other’s eyes, wide and full of shock as you stared at each other. but it wasn’t long before jing yuan broke and he was laughing. you instantly became embarrassed, muttering a small ‘shut up’ under your breath.

he wiped away his imaginary tears, that dreamy smile still on his lips as he looked at you. his gaze was like burning hot molten melting into you, and you looked down at your fiddling fingers, unsure of how to act.

“i missed you too.” you voiced quietly.

you weren’t able to bask in his expression as he lit up. but how he leaned down to lock your lips let you know how he felt.

“i knew you would…” he whispers happily.

“can you shut up and kiss me?”

“your wish is my command.” he chuckles fondly, placing his hands on the arms of the chair on each side of you as he leans down.

you tug at his shirt and instantly initiate the kiss. something jing yuan couldn’t help but get excited at.

you’d never be able to fully word how you feel about him, so you hoped the little things were enough.

but maybe the way he moved you to sit in his lap and kiss you brainless as you moved against him could tell him everything.

“[name] missed you, general. she got super talkative, but not in the nice way, like in a bossy way! and she was like really annoying!” sushang yelled with her eyes squeezed shut, as if the mere idea of you stressed her out.

if it weren’t for your burning embarrassment, you probably would’ve smacked sushang upside her head. but instead you avoid jing yuan’s eyes, already imagining the smirk that adorned his lips.

fu xuan giggled and covered her mouth. you could only ruminate in your anger.

jing yuan taglist : @fxvcsd (my pookie) @ceylestia @cometheasteroid @voidsatoru @blazervain @meaningofaeons @reallyrene @kaito-exe-stopped-working @lechuko @h0ngh0ngh0ng

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr #assistant!reader #🃏; saturn.writes

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bookishdreamer28 · 6 months

Text

Heartsteel! Ezreal x reader

"Ezreal stop I have to go" you giggled trying to get away from his grasp.

"But baby I won't be able to see you for the rest of the day. I have to meet with the boys too today and just the thought that I won't see or touch you for so many hours makes me go crazy." He whined circling his hands around your waist.

"Oh poor baby that must be so hard for you." You teased him, leaning back to him.

"Hey it certainly is hard for you too! Come on, be honest. You simply can't resist me." He said and posed like he was a statue of a Greek God or something.

"Oh you're back to being annoying again. Guess I'll take my leave." You made the move to stand up but Ezreal caught you fast and placed you on his lap.

"Nah ah. You ain't going nowhere. Didn't I just say that I can't bear the thought of being away from you for even a minute? Just let me love you the way I know you like." He nuzzled his face in my neck and left small pecks there.

You sighed, enjoying the feeling.

He then pulled back and turned me to him.

He was quite for a moment. He was just looking at me, so fondly. In a way I have never being looked at before.

"Do you have, any idea, how much I freaking love you?" He whispered, bringing his hand on my hair, brushing them gently. My heart leaped. This man is making me having butterflies in my stomach every day.

"Hmm." I hummed, giving him a small peck on the nose. "But I love hearing you say it." I grabbed him, giving him small kisses all over his face.

"I love you so so so much"

He chuckled, cupping my face, and kissed me.

The kiss became a little more heated and we both got lost in each other's lips just like that.

After we pulled away, he left a kiss on my forehead and looked at me.

"So, how about we take it upstairs?" He growled, hand gripping my waist.

"Let me think about it....Nah I have to go." I tried to hide my smile, and once again, tried to get up.

"Excuse me?! Heck no. You're coming with me you little minx. You can't get me all excited and then leave me in such a vulnerable position." He took me in his arms in bridal style.

I laughed hard and rested my head on his shoulder.

We went into our room and he gently placed me on the bed.

"Can't blame you, I mean I'm irresistible after all." I posed in a dramatic way and Ezreal snickered.

"You little minx." He said grinning and cupped my face, kissing me intensely again.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A heartsteel post with my boy Ezreal cuz I'm obsessed with him and the boys 🙌 I'm going to post more of them at some point 💯

Thank you for reading 💕

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daenysx · 10 days

Note

hi I can’t stop thinking about an aemond fic with his girl graduating university. I graduated today and can’t stop thinking about how supportive your modern aemond would be!!

thank you for requesting, angel! i'm sorry, this is a bit short but i hope you enjoy, congratulations!! requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader ♡

aemond watches you take your make up off as he does every night.

this time, it's a bit different. the hour is later than usual, you are a little tipsy because of the celebration drinks but you insist on completing your skin care routine. he lays in bed, his eye following your movements in the little bathroom attached to his bedroom. you give him a smile when your eyes meet, he likes being the person you smile at night.

you apply your night cream on your clean face and turn off the lights as you leave the bathroom. aemond adores how your face looks without any make up on, he likes it either way but your clean face reminds him how safe you feel with him. you trust him enough to create a night time routine with him, it's so nice to be the person you sleep and wake up next to. he opens his arms, you willingly lay next to him, your head on his chest and your arm wrapped around his waist.

"you don't have classes tomorrow." he says. "how does that feel?"

you sigh, nuzzling closer. "it's so weird. i don't think i ever remember a time when i don't continue studying after summer."

"you'll get used to it." he graduated three years ago. "and you can always continue studying if you want."

"i feel free." you say. "and i'm kinda proud of myself. i mean at some point it was really hard like it's never gonna end."

aemond is proud of you. so proud, he can still remember how his posture got straighter the moment you finally graduated. he is the person who has been with you all the time when you were studying, when you were crying because of your papers, when you were finding out about your grades and celebrating them. now, it's all over. you finished another important part of your life and he is one of the main characters. such a nice feeling, he thinks.

"i totally remember that point." he smirks. he does remember the time of your final week during your last semester at uni. it's safe to say he won't let you forget it either. it was a hectic week, you don't remember you ever studied harder in your life. one night, you were literally talking about your lecture notes in your sleep and aemond had the pleasure of learning your class.

"it happened once, aemond." you roll your eyes. "i can't control what i do when i sleep."

he changes your positions to be on top. he kisses your nose, your cheeks. he feels delightful tonight, you cup his cheeks to start a kiss that plays with his heartbeat. he brings his finger to your chin, tilts your head back for a deeper angle. you are both very tired but aemond thinks he can kiss you for an eternity. it makes him feel like he's the lead of one of those cheesy romcoms but he can't help himself.

"do you think it's gonna be okay?" you ask him, breaking the kiss. he knows you are nervous about what to do with your life now, university was hard but it had consistency. your every day was planned, routines were safe. right now, you need to build yourself a new life, it's a new chapter. beginnings are always scary.

"of course it's gonna be okay." he says, playing with your hair. "no matter what you decide to do, i'll be here."

"i think i'm afraid of stucking into a thing i'll hate and then never being able to change it."

he smiles, your pout has always been this cute. "trust me, sweetheart, you can change it. if you ever feel like you're stuck into something, i promise i'll help you with the change you want."

your pout turns into a smile. there she is, his brilliant girl. he kisses the corner of your lips fondly.

"i'm so proud of you." he says before kissing your forehead.

"thank you." your eyes are shining, you kiss him as a way of telling how much his words mean to you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #modern!aemond imagine #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond fic

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bendycxmet · 8 months

Text

Repair You—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Just repairing Vash's arm. He might see it as more than just a simple act of service though.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Content: fluff, the whole gangs here, drinking, drunken and silly Vash, Wolfwood being a tease

You sat quietly at the hotel desk for quite some time now, feet swung onto the hardwood desktop while haphazardly leaning backward in the rusty old chair with a book between your fingers. The crew had gone out for another late-night drinking session, negating your pleas to rest tonight as the previous night's session had taken a lot out of you.

"You're starting to show your age there yanno" quipped Wolfwood as he slung his arm heavily onto your shoulders. He leaned in, smirking with downward-cast eyes as the lit cigarette between his lips swirled nicotine smoke around your persona, putting you in a heady yet annoyed space.

"Am not! You know we're both around the same age, right?” You swatted the smoke that crawled its way into your nostrils, but Nico paid no mind, only crowding closer into your personal space to hear the futile excuse you gave next.

“It's just the hangover from this morning is still lingering. Maybe I feel it more than you since I out-drank your ass and you lost that bet when we were playing darts!" you teased as you wiggled your finger into his side. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, grumbling that you had cheated.

A loud stomp could be heard from behind, and before you could turn to see who was noisily heading your way, a tuft of blonde hair and dazed blue eyes appeared.

"Mayflyyyy cmonnn you didn't spend enough time with me yesterday night!" A poof of his breath revealed that Vash had already started the night's festivities. You see the striped tie wrapped around his forehead. You chuckle.

Yep, he’s definitely a couple drinks in.

Judging by how he had nudged his way between Wolfwood and yourself and sent a pointed glare toward the Undertaker, Vash was tipsy already. It was fun to see him tipsy when you were sober, as you were able to pinpoint the funny and affectionate little habits he threw your way, especially his small bouts of jealousy when Wolfwood became too close to you. He clung to your side as he batted his eyelashes, peering down at you with what could be described as the most endearing puppy dog eyes you have ever seen.

"Oh Vash, I did spend all yesterday night with you! You glued yourself to my side as if I was going to disappear! But you passed out on one of the tables before we left. That's why I played darts with Wolfwood." You giggled as you recalled Wolfwood begrudgingly carrying Vash back to your shared hotel room.

"Hey now you guys, let's just let them go back to their room. We can have enough fun here, right Milly?" drawled Meryl.

"Yeah!! Let's get a round of drinks going again, everyone. Have a good night y/n!" shouted Milly in a warbled tone as she clumsily made her way to the bar, Wolfwood trailing close behind to ensure the tall girl didn't drop any of their drinks.

"Mmmm please don't go…" whimpered Vash as he tucked his head into your neck. "I'll miss you too much."

"Vash, angel, have fun tonight okay?” You whispered into his ear.

“I'll be waiting back in the room. Plus, yanno what night it is?" you wiggled your eyebrows teasingly. Vash simply gave a slow blink.

"Arm repair day~"

Before the last word could escape your lips, Vash positively beamed at you, squealing in excitement before pecking your face and lips.

"Promise?!"

"I promise. I would never break our promise of these nights. Now go, I'll be waiting for you." You went to push him away as he kept planting wet, sloppy kisses against your cheeks, the skin flushing from his deep affections.

With that, you exit the populated bar, turning to look over your shoulder one last time as Vash bounds after the crew as they order another round of shots of a liquor you were too familiar with the night before. You groan, feeling nauseous at the thought.

You smile fondly at the memory that had played out only hours prior, ears perking up as several pairs of footsteps and giggling voices made their way down the hall. A loud thump could be heard before Meryl's quiet chastising ensued, warning the two to quiet down before they awakened the snoozing hotel patrons. Planting your feet down from the desk, you went to meet the crew in the hall. Swinging the door open, you were met with quite a chaotic scene.

Vash had Wolfwood's face in his hands, smooching faces being made as Wolfwood struggled to keep him at an arm’s length.

"Needle noggin I told you to quit it! I’m not your Mayfly.” Wolfwood perked up at the sound of your creaking door.

“Look! There’s your beloved Mayfly!” Vash whipped his head up, searching for you until his eyes met yours.

“Mayflyyy!” Vash pushed off Wolfwood and launched his body at yours standing in your shared hotel room threshold. You fell backwards with the strong, heavy weight of Vash abruptly meeting your ill-prepared stance, worrying you had hit your head on the dirty hardwood floors until you felt Vash’s warm fingers pressing into your skull. You sighed into his neck, wrapping your arms around him. Even drunk, Vash always prioritized the safety of your being.

“You should’ve seen him. His last drink sent him begging to see you. He was in tears. I shoulda told the bartender to dilute that beer,” chuckled Meryl, a snoring Milly hanging from her shoulders. “Well, we’re gonna turn in for the night. Good luck handling the typhoon.”

“Thanks you guys. Mind shutting the door? I’m in a bit of a… predicament.” Peering down, you can see the content smile gracing Vash’s face as he rubbed his face into your shirt, inhaling the scent of you.

“Sure thing. Night you guys.” With that, Meryl shut the door.

“Hey Stampede, enjoying yourself there?” Vash groaned, pinching your side with the hand that was not cradling your head.

“Yanno I hate when you call me that. Where’s my nicknamesss?” drawled Vash, sniffling as he peered up at you. You brought up one of your hands to tenderly caress his warm cheeks.

“Sorry my sweet angel~” you said in a lilted tone. “Thought you had forgotten all about me, and our designated nights.” Vash let out a loud gasp as he pushed himself so that he was sitting with his back to the end of the bed.

“Never ever! Look, I’m all ready.” Vash messily threw his red coat off, tugging his humanoid limb off and offering the piece to you. He seems to have sobered up quickly at the mention of what he had been looking forward to all night.

“What a good boy. Now go take a shower, you don’t smell like my usual Vash. I’ll get started on this.” Vash’s cheeks flushed an even darker pink at your praise, promptly hopping up and entering the bathroom, water and steam hissing from the gap under the closed door. You sat at the edge of the bed, tinkering with his arm with some tools you bought from a vendor many towns ago. You don’t understand why you love to do this for him. Maybe it's the only act of service you can do for him. Well, it’s the least you can do when he’s constantly laying down his life for you.

Vash exited the bathroom, steam filling the hotel room. His gray, weathered sweatpants hung low on his hips, chest left uncovered so that you could trail your eyes down the many scars littering his skin. You can never get used to seeing him like this, quickly averting your eyes back to the task at hand, struggling to quell the blush settled now on your face. The sensation of the cotton cloth between your fingers gave your brain a distraction from the sight in front of you. You missed the teasing spark in Vash’s eyes as he made his way to you, sitting on the floor and pushing his back between your calves hanging off the edge of the bed.

“How goes it?”

“Almost done… just gotta polish it.”

He hummed, tilting his head back until he was staring at you work. The cute crease you made in between your eyebrows whenever you were focused always had his heart twinge. How lovely it was to have someone take care of just one piece of him. Yearning for your attention after a long night without you, Vash turned his head to kiss the inner area of your knee. You giggled at the ticklish feeling.

“What’s wrong? You missed me that much?” You set the now polished arm on the bed, running your fingers through his coarse, soft blonde hair, occasionally scratching at his scalp. Vash hummed, his entire body slumping against the bed at your gentle caresses.

“You have no idea…” Vash’s breaths began to slow at the feeling of your fingertips combing through his wet hair. What a strange sight to see when his hair wasn’t spiked into his usual style. The way his hair settled lightly over his eyes gave him an almost vulnerable, boyish charm, the urge to shield him and take him away from the world that hurts him constantly hitting you square in the chest. You took a deep breath, remembering that he would rather get hurt himself before seeing you attempt to protect him. Better to just ensure the arm that protected not only yourself and the crew, but also himself, was optimized at all times.

“Let’s get under the covers, I can feel how tired you are.”

Vash progressively became heavier as a serene expression crossed his face, unfocused blues following your movements as you guided him under the covers, allowing his head to hit your chest, knowing he would appreciate hearing your soft, beating heart in his dreams. Vash’s last moments awake included him turning onto his side, arm wrapped around your middle, his legs interlacing with yours. The ensnaring warmth of him began to lull you to sleep, but not before you heard a quiet whisper floating upward from your chest.

“Thank you…”

You didn’t need an entire sentence to read in between the lines, or rather, in between two words to know that Vash was not just thanking you for repairing his humanoid arm. With those last two words from him, Vash’s soft, even breaths willed you to sleep.

A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading my first piece of fanfic I've ever posted! Not usually a writer, so bear with me haha just doing this for fun. I just really love Vash so I wanted to add some fanfics into the fandom. Thanks for reading and hope for your continued support! See ya <33

masterlist

Dividers

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #vash the stampede #vash x reader fluff #vash fluff #bendycxmet writes

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roseboysstuff · 5 months

Note

Hear me out- Shiro with a young chubby trans boyfriend so age gap- and he’s super horny one day from saving the galaxy or whatever, and goes to his boyfriend and just fucks his dick between his cute boyfriends thick thighs his dick rubbing against his baby boys wet slippery cunt.

Okay so I just got this request like a few hours ago and I usually do my requests in a chronological order but damn I couldn't wait to write this one coz young chubby trans boy is so meeeeeee Also shiro rubbing his dick against my cunt is like a dream shush i never said that

Shiro was so fucking needy for you. He had been away for a few days, and hadn't had any relief for his cock since the mission started. Sure, he could have just jacked off pretty easily, and been done with it. But his hand didn't compare to the feeling of your body against him, whether it was your tight cunt wrapping around his cock, your hands running up and down it, or your tongue skillfully licking around his tip. You just did it better than he ever could. And he was on a mission to feel you again, walking with a passion out of his lion and walking through your front door. He was hugging you tightly from behind as soon as he enters, with your happy voice welcoming him back. He could feel your skin under his fingers, soft and plump and it drove him wild. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to hold back from bending you over. But he held back enough to give you a big hug, and let you kiss him. You were his beloved boy, his sweet little boyfriend, and he wanted you to know that he was glad to be back, not just for the sexual relief, but that he genuinely missed you. It didn't take long for you to feel how hard he was growing though, and like the kind boy you are, you smiled fondly. "Shiro, if you need me, you can have me." And he took you up on your offer, bending you over the sofa. Even being in the heat of passion, he still prioritised your comfort. Yes, he was going to use your body for relief, but he also needed to make sure you enjoyed it. By this point, you were soaked. You had missed him so much too, and the assertiveness he was showing, combined with the look of intense desire in your eyes had you aching for him. He pulled your pants and boxers down, moaning at the sight of your wet cunt. He couldn't want anymore, and pulled his own pants down, quickly mounting you, rubbing his cock between your thighs. The sensation was incredible, for both of you. You could feel his whole cock sliding across your clit, in between your folds, catching on your entrance every now and then. He could feel the wetness and smoothness of your skin, the texture of your cunt was almost too much for him. He loved you, and he had missed you. He had missed rubbing against you. Your sweet moans and whimpers. The gasps you made when he kissed your neck. How you collapsed into a whining mess when you orgasmed. And especially the way you begged for his cum, begged for him to climax. And he would grant your every wish, so he released his seed, some getting on your cunt, some on the sofa. "I'll clean you up later, baby boy. Just come here and let me hold you." You happily obliged, cuddling into his lap. He loved having you close to him. The feeling of your belly under his hands as he wrapped his arms around you. How soft and squishy you were. It was heaven for him.

#ftm reader #male reader #x reader #shiro x ftm reader #shiro x male reader #shiro x reader #voltron x ftm reader #voltron x male reader #voltron x reader

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keerysfreckles · 5 months

Note

Hey again I was wondering if you could do a Joe Keery x reader where its their baby girls first Christmas and Joe's holding her showing her all the Christmas decorations in their house and then the Christmas tree which makes the baby in awe and her eyes get all big and she makes noises and grabby hands for the ornaments and then the reader makes cookies and hot chocolate for her and Joe and watch Christmas movies they also have a fire going on as well and it's just so domestic and cute and fluffy 🤍

christmas for three — joe keery

pairing: dad!joe keery x mom!gn!reader (no use of pronouns)

warnings: pure christmas fluff

a/n: i love christmas joe sm my heart actually hurts

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

the week before christmas was always busy in your shared house with your husband, joe. this year was different however due to the new addition to the family; your daughter.

she had a wonderful birth, coming into this world as healthy as a baby can be.

december 18th came quickly for you and joe, meaning you only had a week to finish everything for the holiday season.

all the gifts were wrapped and in your closet, ready to be put under the tree. the three stockings were full by the fireplace.

what needed to be done was bake deserts for the christmas eve dinner at joe's family's house, and bake deserts for christmas dinner at your parents house. it was a lot to handle, but you always reminded yourself that it was worth it every year.

you were in the middle of making cookies, specifically for the christmas eve dinner. turning around to wash your hands, you spot joe and your daughter from your position in the kitchen. you smile fondly at the pair.

joe was holding your daughter in his arms, positioning her in order for her to see the tree. he was pointing to the ornaments in her field of vision, and you could barely hear him explaining what they meant to the three month old.

finishing the task at hand, you place the last batch of cookies in the oven, and set the other dirty dishes in the sink, promising yourself that you'd do them tomorrow.

joe turns his head at the sound of your slippers hitting the wood floor of the living room. you rest your head on his shoulder, and your heart only warms at the moment playing out in front of you.

"i think i'm putting her to sleep," joe laughs quietly.

you hold your hands out, "i'll take her to bed," you suggest, "i have to clean up in there anyway."

"are you sure?" joe asks, after handing your daughter to you, "you know i don't mind putting her to sleep love."

you nod, "i'm sure honey," you lean up and kiss his cheek before making your way down the hallway.

in fourteen minutes your able to set your daughter in her crib comfortably, with her blanket and stuffed animal beside her, and were able to quietly tidy her room.

you crack the door to her room, and are instantly met with the smell of hot chocolate.

entering the kitchen, your heart warms once again at the sight of joe with two mugs, full of hot chocolate and marshmellows. you turn your head and see all the dishes were now in the drying rack, and the dishwasher was running.

"i figured some hot cocoa would brighten your christmas spirit," joe handed you one of the mugs, before holding his hand on your lower back to lead you two into the living room.

you giggled once joe sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, and was holding his hand out for you to join him.

you stared lovingly at the man sitting across from you.

"what?" he asks, chuckling slightly before taking a sip of his chocolatey drink.

"you look so pretty by the fire," your voice is soft, but joe knows every word is true.

"i could say the same thing about you hun," he replies, which makes your cheeks warm and a smile adorns your features.

a minute passes, before you speak again, "can you believe this is our first christmas with a child?"

joe lets out an exasperated laugh, "it seems too good to be true. but before we know it she'll be in kindergarden, and bringing boys home, then going off to college."

the two of you laugh, "she's not even a year old yet joe, can we not talk about her growing up?"

joe nods, knowing the topic has made you emotional the few times you've joked about it.

he places a warm hand on your knee, and places his own mug down. he leans in slightly, making you meet him. just as his lips brush your own, his soft voice mumbles against your skin.

"i love you."

his lips finally meet yours. it was gentle and soft, not worrying about one fighting for dominance, or tongues getting in the way of the sweet moment.

you turn your head, deepening the kiss, and making joe move his hand to your cheek as you scoot closer to him.

"i love you," you repeat his words, after pulling away from the kiss.

#shelbi writes #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader #joe keery x gn!reader #dad!joe keery #christmas fic #joe keery stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things

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mimisempai · 8 months

Text

You no longer need to hide who you really are

Summary

Through a small bowl for keys, Aziraphale once again realizes Crowley's kindness and how he always tries to hide it. It's his turn to show the demon all the good in him.

Notes

I know I've touched on this theme before... but it's true, Crowley is kind

On Ao3

Rating G - 1684 words

"Aziraphale? What's with the bowl and the keys in it?"

Aziraphale, who was reading a book at his desk and having no idea what Muriel was talking about, got up and walked over to them.

They were standing in front of the small table where the horse stood and where Crowley used to put his glasses every time he entered the shop.

He approached and saw the bowl that had caught their attention.

It was a small white porcelain bowl, the handles of which were two delicate angel wings, and the keys Muriel had mentioned were the keys to the bookshop.

The angel murmured fondly, "Crowley..."

Muriel looked at him in confusion and asked, "How do you know it's him, and why would he do such a thing?

"Where the heck are those keys?"

Crowley watched in amusement as Aziraphale rummaged through the pockets of his pants, then his jacket, before moving to the chair where his vest lay and searching its pockets as well.

Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair in annoyance.

"Angel."

The angel replied a little exasperated, "What?!"

Crowley pointed to his desk with his finger and said gently, "On the foot of the desk lamp."

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to his desk, grabbing the keys before saying in a calmer tone, "Thank you, my dear."

Crowley said kindly, "One of these days you're going to have to find a place to put your keys, it's always the same, see, I don't have to look for my glasses anymore, they're always on the horse."

Aziraphale shrugged, "Yeah, yeah, you can lecture me some other day."

Then he was gone, to the sound of the demon's slight chuckle.

"Crowley must have done it for that reason," Aziraphale said in an emotional tone.

Muriel said softly, "He's really nice Mr. Grumpy, isn't he?"

Aziraphale nodded and Muriel continued, "But why does he always do this kind of thing in secret or as if it were nothing?"

Aziraphale replied quietly, "He's always done it that way. Probably because as a demon he risked a lot to do good, so he learned to hide the best part of himself. But I'll tell you a secret, Muriel. Crowley is the kindest person I know."

Muriel replied, "I know, I've always found him kind, even though he teased me a little at first, and even more so when we were in heaven. I wondered how a demon could be kind."

Aziraphale looked at them indulgently and replied, "I think by now you've been able to see that not everything is black and white, that goodness and kindness don't necessarily have to do with our nature as angels or demons, right?"

Muriel nodded and said with a small smile on their lips, "I live next to an angel and a demon, so yes..."

They threw a glance at the window and added, "Speaking of demons, here he comes. Are you going to thank him for that?"

Aziraphale smiled softly, "Oh yes, I'm going to thank him properly."

Muriel was still a long way from understanding everything about relationships, but they'd learned when it was time for them to retire so, they said softly, "As for me, I'm going to go have a hot chocolate at Nina's before I go home."

Aziraphale smiled gently at them, "Good evening, Muriel."

They gave him a quick salute before striding off, and just as they came through the door, Crowley entered.

Aziraphale barely gave the demon time to get through the door before he was beside him, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly as he whispered, "Thank you."

Crowley laughed softly and replied, "Not that I'm complaining about a welcome like that, but why thank you?"

Aziraphale stepped back a little and showed him the bowl with the keys saying, "Thank you for this."

Crowley shrugged and replied nonchalantly, "Well, it's not much."

Aziraphale replied gently, "It may not mean much to you, but it does to me. Crowley, you took the time to do this for me because you saw that I was always looking for my keys. You did this for me. Why do you always deny the good things you do?"

The angel took the demon's hand in his own and continued, "You can slam me against the wall, I won't change my mind. You're kind and good, Crowley. That's your nature, regardless of the fact that you're a demon."

He brought the demon's hand to his lips and, eyes locked with Crowley's, kissed the palm gently before saying, "You're kind."

He watched the demon swallow and his cheeks color slightly before he breathed, "Angel...no, I..."

Aziraphale cupped his cheek and asked, "Crowley, my dear, would you allow me in return to show you how kind and good I think you are, as you have shown me how beautiful you find everything in me?"

Crowley had the urge to flee, but he also felt something new, the urge to stay and be praised by his angel.

Aziraphale said softly, "As it was with me, it's up to you, and if you accept, you can say stop at any moment and everything will stop without any consequences.

At that moment, seeing the angel's clear gaze and gentle smile, Crowley decided to let go.

He said softly, "Okay..."

Aziraphale pecked him lightly on the lips and led him up the stairs to the bedroom.

Once in the room, he made Crowley sit on the edge of the bed and asked quietly, "Still good?"

Crowley nodded and replied somewhat defiantly, "Go ahead, Angel."

Knowing his demon, and knowing that this defiance was a way of hiding his embarrassment, he leaned down and kissed him gently on the forehead before placing his hands on the flaps of his jacket, removing it and placing it on a chair. He then undid his tie and placed it next to his vest, continuing to undress the demon until he was down to his underwear.

The angel took off his own jacket, bow tie, and cufflinks, which he also placed on the chair before rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.

"Will you lie down, my dear?"

Crowley obeyed and slid to the top of the bed before lying down. Aziraphale came to sit on the edge of the bed and, taking one of Crowley's hands, gently kissed the inside of his wrist before saying softly, "You deserve the world, for it is what you give to the people you show kindness to."

He let go of the demon's hand and took the other, kissing the wrist in the same way and saying softly, "You're kind when you're willing to look like a villain to save a family's children and goats."

Aziraphale climbed onto the bed, then straddled the demon, leaned down and pressed a kiss to its chest before saying, "You are kind when you take under your wing an angel who is terrified at the thought of having thwarted God's will."

He slid down the demon's legs and gently took one of the feet in his hands.

"Angel, no..."

"Does that mean stop?" Aziraphale asked softly.

He looked up to see Crowley covering his face with his arm as he replied, "No..."

Aziraphale gently kissed the ankle, then said softly, "You're kind when you come to save an idiot angel who got himself into a bad situation because of his sweet tooth."

This made the demon laugh slightly, so Aziraphale put his foot down and took the other in turn, kissing the other ankle and saying softly, "You're kind when you rescue a few books from the rubble because an angel is desperate to have lost them."

The angel continued to dot the demon's body with tender kisses, enumerating all of Crowley's acts of kindness.

Getting close to the demon's face, he pulled his arm away and, placing his hands on the flushed cheeks, said softly, "Crowley, you're kind, even when you did your demon work, you always gave people free will to choose whether to do evil or not. You've given people a chance to do the right thing regardless. You always tried to be as kind as you could, as best you could under the circumstances. Knowing that it could have terrible consequences for you. I know this because I've been the object of your kindness countless times. You are kind. You don't have to hide it anymore, at least not from me."

Crowley shook his head slightly and, placing his hands on the angel's, said, "Do you know, Angel, how hard it is to deny for thousands of years what you are deep inside, to forbid yourself to be who you really are, knowing it will cost you dearly? To weigh all your actions and words because the slightest revelation, the slightest weakness will have terrible consequences? Then there was you, to whom I could show that kindness while denying it. Because there were no consequences. Because you accepted it. You insisted on seeing it in me when I wouldn't and couldn't show it. So be patient, because it's probably going to take me some time to openly acknowledge it."

Aziraphale pressed a light kiss to his lips, "I am not asking you to change, just to accept that those who love you as I do see your kindness and good heart. Even in something as simple as a little bowl for the keys of an airhead angel."

Crowley chuckled slightly, and Aziraphale pressed his lips to the demon's again, kissing his laughter.

Then he slid onto his side, resting his head on the demon's chest, who wrapped his arms around him.

Crowley murmured quietly, "Thank you, Angel. For allowing me to be who I really am, at least with you, all these years."

Aziraphale replied softly, "Happy to have been able to provide you with this little safe space."

He lifted his head and grabbed the demon's neck to bring his face closer, then pressed his lips to his to express better than words how much he loved his kind demon.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #GOS2Spoilers

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hollowwrites · 9 months

Note

HC part 2! HC part 2!

(Only if you want to!)

HC part 2! HC part 2!

Loving super tall Ominis. I'll always love a good height difference 🥵

Ominis Headcanons Pt. 2

So when I said I thought about a little more, I lied I went a tad mad

I’ll refer to MC as Evelyn throughout this cause she’s my ship with Omi. This is basically my notes page. Things may conflict. Who cares? If anything grabs you please ask about it. You guys inspire me for way too much of my stuff 💚

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

Family (Angsty…)

Some waffle about Ominis can’t be alive past 50 because of Tom Riddles family tree? No. He separates from his family after he’s 18. He uses his Aunts notes to prove that she has passed away and because of this he learns she left everything she owned to Ominis. He uses her money (I like to think it’s the majority of the Gaunt fortune because she’s not a blood purist therefore is sensible with her money not spending it on trinkets and Slytherin heirlooms) to legally separate from his family so they scorch him from the records.

I think the developers gave Ominis blonde hair to win Malfoy points but I also think it symbolises his separation from his family. Tom Riddle and Art of the Gaunt Family all have dark hair so our boi Omi is physically different compared to them not just mentally. It also might help him later to disassociate from his family because he doesn’t look like them.

I genuinely can’t remember if this was mentioned in game or not (I stop playing after Beasts Class and pretend that nothing bad happens to any of our bois) but I imagine he’s suffered Crucio quite a few times. If his family are cruel enough to do it once, they’d do it multiple times.

I mention this in my Blindsided fic but I feel like Crucio would leave a scar behind. Avada Kedavra does so why not Crucio huh? Is it because I wanted Eve to tend to his wounds and try to remove the scarring?…maybe. Do I care if it makes any sense at all? No!

Obviously because of this I feel like Ominis is covered in scars. Always hidden so no one can see how horrible a family they are…even though everyone already knows.

Patronus

His Patronus is a difficult one. I was Googling animals that have some of Ominis traits so I’ve narrowed it down to three:

Spider - I read an article ages ago debating whether or not spiders or insects in general feel pain or not. They either don’t or have a high tolerance for pain. So I feel like with how often Ominis gets tortured he’d have grown a tolerance for it like a Spider.

Vampire Bat - …I like Vampire Ominis what can I say? No obviously they use echolocation like his wand and they sleep in the day…need I say more?

A Blind Basilisk - THE UNINTENDED FORESHADOWING. Plus a basilisk is a dangerous snake, blind or not blind, like Ominis. People would maybe underestimate a blind basilisk thinking it would be easier to take down with its main weapon taken from it but I would still not want mess with one. JUST LIKE OMI

Either way I think once he falls in love with Eve his Patronus would change to Dove (I headcanon that Eves Mom used to call her a dove and her wand is a bird skull)

Speaking of Patronus’ he wouldn’t be able to cast one until he met Sebastian.

His first memory he could use to conjure a Patronus would be when Sebastian asks him to stay with him over the holidays. The mixture of guilt, relief, happiness and sadness he feels is powerful enough to cast one.

Second would be looking after Eve after she got Crucio’d in the Scriptorium. Despite the horrible origin of the day he looks back at it fondly. It’s where him and Eve truly started to bond and probably where his feelings for her originated.

General HCs

He snaps his wand a lot. It’s constantly in his hand and Sebastian is a trying person to be around so I imagine he just grips it too hard and snap. Learns to fix it himself after one too many visits to Ollivanders.

Maybe he completely snaps it one day after he separates from his family and has to get a completely new wand. Evelyn points out that it’s a lighter wood than before. I know the wood has nothing to do with anything like that but I like the though that he’s free of his dark past and his wand becomes lighter because of it

His boggart is just an amalgamation or screams and torture he’s pretty used to it. I go in detail here

He definitely grows up to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher just to rub it in his families face. Plus I think he’s close with Hecat she would put him forward for the position. Maybe he quits before Dumbledores era to travel with Eve finding ancient magic spots.

Thinking about the mirror of Erised is tricky with the boi cause blind BUT I think his deepest desire is just peace so maybe when he ‘looks’ into the mirror he can hear the wind blowing through grass and can smell roses, the distant sound of Eve and Sebastian laughing. I think he gets to live that anyway…he deserves it.

Relationshipy stuff (NSFW 🔞)

I don’t think he wants kids… I just can’t see him with them. I know people like Dadimis but…no. Maybe I’m projecting but kids take so much patience which he clearly does not have.

Contrary to everyone else’s opinion but I think he like public signs of affection he’s just a touchy person. He’s always had something in his hands whether it was a stick when he was younger or his wand he’s ALWAYS touching SOMETHING. It grounds him. So he’s touchy when he knows the person doesn’t mind.

I think he’d shamelessly hold Sebastian’s hand everywhere. I don’t think Seb would care either. If it’s comforting then whatever

(NSFW 🔞) So I’m expanding on the choking thing from last time 👀 I don’t think he’d do it in a dominating way, I think it’s more of a feeling thing? I imagine the first time it happened was an accident. He just slid his hand up her chest and went a bit too far up. He felt the vibrations of her moaning against his hand, yeah he can hear it but feeling it is better. After that it’s almost a certainty that his hand will find its way around her neck. Maybe it becomes a dom thing but not originally.

Masterlist

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sugdenlovesdingle · 8 months

Text

Tarlos @flufftober day 6 (day 5 is coming ASAP)

Alt prompt #3 Wearing each other's clothes (it's in there if you squint!)

The perfect costume (AO3) Nancy is throwing a Halloween party, TK wants the perfect outfits for him and Carlos. ---

“Hey babe where is your spare uniform?”

Carlos paused for a second, trying to make sense of the greeting, before sliding the door shut and dropping his keys on the table.

“Uhm... I'm wearing it... Why?”

TK looked at him.

“Why are you wearing your spare uniform?”

“Well sometimes when you wear your clothes, they get dirty and you need to wash them.” Carlos replied, snaking his arms around TK's waist and pulling him in for a kiss hello.

“Yes, I know that, smart ass. But didn't you just wash it over the weekend?”

“I did. And then I wore it and it got dirty and now I have to wash it again. Why are you so interested in my uniform? Are you thinking of another career change?”

“What? No. Nancy would never allow it anyway.”

“Pity. I think you'd be a good cop.”

“You just want me to be a rookie so you can boss me around.”

Carlos grinned.

“You've never complained about that before.”

“Hmm true. Very true.” TK said while unbuttoning Carlos' uniform shirt and moving his head to the side to give Carlos better access to his neck.

“You smell nice.” Carlos commented between kisses. “I love coming home to you when you've had the day off. You're all relaxed and happy to see me.”

“I'm always happy to see you. TK said, pulling his shirt free and slipping it off his shoulders.”

Carlos' hands slipped under his shirt and tried to pull it up over his head.

Only instead letting Carlos undress him or undressing himself, TK stepped out of Carlos' embrace and put his uniform shirt on.

“How do I look?”

“What?”

“How do I look?” TK asked again, doing up the buttons.

“You'd look a lot better wearing a lot less clothes.” Carlos said, trying to get TK back on the same page.

“We'll have plenty of time for that later. We need to figure this out now.”

“Figure what out?” Carlos asked, struggling to keep up with his husband's train of thought.

“My costume. For Nancy's Halloween party.”

“The Halloween party that's over three weeks away?”

“Yeah I know it's kind of short notice, that's why I thought I'd go with this to save time. What are you going as?”

“Your very confused and slightly sexually frustrated husband?”

“Babe. Come on, focus.”

Carlos sighed and resigned himself to the fact TK's mind was too busy with this costume thing to get him in the mood for any fun stuff. He sat down at the dining room table.

“Why are you so stressed about your costume? The party is three weeks away. That's plenty of time to come up with something.”

“Yeah but I want it to be good. It needs to be really good.”

“Why? It's a party thrown by our friend, not a competition.” Carlos pointed out and then narrowed his eyes at his husband. Please tell me you don’t have some kind of bet going with Nancy.”

“No, I just want to look good. Nance and Marjan have been plotting and planning for days. Which isn't fair to the rest of us because they work together so they see each other every day. I think they're going with some kind of couple's costume.” TK complained but then his eyes lit up. "We could do a couples costume too! I can arrest you and put you in handcuffs! You have a set of handcuffs at home don’t you?” he grabbed Carlos’ work bag and started digging through it.

“And have everyone make fun of me the entire time we're there? I don't think so.”

“What do you want to go as then?”

“I don't know. Maybe I'll just put on my yoga clothes and go as yoga instructor or something.” Carlos shrugged.

“You cannot go to a party in yoga clothes.” TK dropped the bag and walked over to the table. “I won't be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” Carlos grinned and pulled TK into his lap. “I happen to like your hands all over me.” He angled his face up as a silent request for a kiss. TK rolled his eyes fondly before giving in.

“You know I like having my hands all over you too.” He continued when they broke the kiss. “But we can’t do that at a party with our friends.”

“Good thing we’re at home then. With no plans for the next 24 hours.”

Carlos started undoing the buttons on his uniform shirt that TK was wearing and pushed it off his shoulders before dropping it somewhere on the floor, and moving on to TK’s own shirt.

“Babe… we can’t leave these costumes until the last minute.” TK said, trying very hard to not let himself get lost in Carlos’ kisses and touches.

“We have three weeks. We’ll think of something.” Carlos insisted, yanking TK’s shirt over his head and giving him a triumphant grin. “Right now, there are other things I think we should focus on.” He said and started kissing TK’s bare chest.

“You’re impossible.” TK said but moved so he was straddling Carlos’ lap and pulled him into a heated kiss.

“Yeah, yeah.” Carlos said between kisses and stood up and hoisted TK up on the table. “You love it.”

Later, after they’d made it to bed for more comfort, they lay wrapped up in each other while coming down from their high.

“You know.” TK started while absent mindedly drawing shapes on Carlos’ bare skin with his fingers. “My old turnout gear is still at the station. You would fit that. We could do a red vs blue thing.”

“Are you actually kidding me? Are you still thinking about that Halloween party?” Carlos pushed himself up on his elbows and gave his husband an exasperated look. “And here was me thinking you were enjoying things as much as I was.”

“I was! Am! My mind just kind of… wandered just now.”

“Right. That’s what everyone wants to hear after sex.”

“At least it wasn’t during.” TK teased but the look on Carlos’ face told him that had been the wrong thing to say. “No baby, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I want us to look nice for the party.”

“The fact that you’re thinking about that now really isn’t doing anything for my ego, you know.” Carlos muttered, dropping back onto the mattress. “I think I’ll just cut two holes in a sheet and be done with it.”

Over the next few days, TK had decided on Carlos’ spare uniform as his outfit for the party, but Carlos himself had yet to pick something and it was driving TK mad.

“How about you also go as a cop? We’ll be a duo.”

“I’m not wearing my uniform to a party. It’ll be like I’m going to work.”

“You don’t like anything else I suggest. If you leave it too long there won’t be anything left in stores.”

“Maybe I’ll just wear something of yours. I’ll go as husband who is obsessed with finding the perfect costume for a Halloween party.” Carlos teased and pressed a kiss to TK’s lips before grabbing his work bag and heading out the door with an “I love you, see you at lunch” thrown over his shoulder.

As the days passed and the party kept getting closer, TK’s frustration with his husband continued to grow.

Carlos insisted he’d found a costume for Nancy’s party but refused to tell him what.

“You’ll see at the party.” He’d just said with that mischievous smile on his face TK loved so much.

He’d tried everything from sex, to cooking his favourite food (with help and encouragement from Andrea), to asking his sisters in law for tips on how to make Carlos talk.

Unfortunately nothing worked and up until the day of the party he didn’t have a clue what Carlos’ costume was going to be.

“I don’t understand why he won’t just tell me.” TK complained, adjusting his duty belt, wondering how Carlos could wear it all day and still move. He’d worn most of Carlos’ actual gear on the belt and it was heavy and bulky and uncomfortable.

“Maybe because you’ve been going crazy over it?” Marjan suggested. She was dressed in a long black dress as Morticia Addams, while Nancy wore a pinstripe suit and a fake moustache as Gomez. They looked great together and it made TK more annoyed with his husband’s secrecy.

That and the fact he wasn’t there because he had to cover a shift for one of his colleagues and had promised him to meet him at Nancy’s place the moment he was done.

“You’ll find out soon enough, he just texted me that he’s on his way.” Nancy told him and handed him a drink.

“Why is my husband texting you and not me?”

“I don’t know.” Nancy shrugged. “Probably because he didn’t want to be interrogated about his costume.”

About fifteen minutes later the bell rang and Nancy went to open the door.

“Oh my god dude you look amazing! TK is going to lose his mind!” TK heard her say followed by the unmistakable sound of his husband’s laugh.

“Let’s hope so. It’s taken a lot of planning.”

TK got up to take a look and could barely believe his eyes when Carlos walked into the room.

He was wearing a full luchador costume, looking like he’d just stepped out of the ring. Brightly coloured boots laced up to his mid calves, leggings TK recognised as the ones he used for yoga, but with flames painted on the sides, knee pads, a pair of shorts with the Mexican flag on one of the legs, glitter on his chest, a cape around his neck, and a mask that covered the top half of his face.

“How do I look, officer Reyes?” Carlos asked innocently.

“Oh my god.” TK muttered, shamelessly checking his husband out.

“You approve? Lexi and Luisa helped me put it all together and get ready. There is glitter all over the place back home now though.”

“I really don’t care.” TK said, pulling him close and keeping him in place with one hand on the string of the cape around his neck, and the other on the back of his mask and kissing him in a way that wasn’t entirely suitable for the situation. “We’re going home early.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #flufftober2023 #tk strand #carlos reyes #my writing

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soulsilversprings · 10 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

I finally remembered to post for one of these! The opening of "I Know A Friend" - Ch. 3! Ash vs. Norman is happening soon, and Petalburg City is still as unhinged as ever :')

The gang was scheduled to meet outside Petalroot Savory – some upscale establishment with cursive signage and dim lighting. But five minutes past their reservation time, the Hoenn natives still hadn't arrived.

"Well, we better go in" – Dawn checked her Pokétch – "or we'll lose our reservation."

"Let's go, I'm starving," Ash agreed, charging ahead of the group to enter the restaurant.

But whereas normally, Ash's presence brought warmth wherever he went, this time the atmosphere went frigid – the hostess’ smile dropping as Ash approached the stand. She pulled aside a nearby waiter and leaned close, covering the side of her face as she spoke in a hushed voice.

What could be the matter? Chloe wondered.

"I'm very sorry," the hostess finally said, turning her attention back to Ash, "but unfortunately, we're unable to seat you tonight."

"What's wrong?" Gary asked, eyes narrowed as he pointed to a row of empty tables. "Those aren't all reserved, are they?"

The hostess grimaced and looked down at the register. "Yes, well, unfortunately–"

"Get 'im outta here!" one patron yelled, and a chorus of boos followed from the dining area.

"What's going on?" Chloe asked.

"I'll tell you what's going on," an elderly woman said, waggling a finger in Ash’s direction. "This one wants to besmirch the good name of Petalburg!"

“That’s right!” The man next to her stood up indignantly. "Those who dare challenge the great Norman are not welcome here!"

"Arceus, not this again..." Ash groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as the customers continued to jeer. "We didn't have a problem last night. What gives?"

“What do you mean, again?” Dawn asked.

Meanwhile, Goh rested a concerned hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder while shuffling behind him – looking both to protect and be protected at the same time.

Chloe couldn’t quite blame him, though, as more irate customers began to approach the lobby.

Are we… really getting kicked out?

She’d never seen anything quite like–

"Are you kidding me?!" a set of new voices sounded from behind. The group turned around, Dawn and Ash beaming at the sight of the three indignant guests who had just entered.

“This is ridiculous.” The bespectacled, Farigiraf-proportioned man approached the hostess. “I can assure you, my dad would want us to be able to eat here.”

“Pardon?” the hostess asked.

All eyes were drawn to the bandana-clad brunette, who shot a fiery glare at the staff as she slammed her fists on the stand. "My dad is Norman, you fucking idi–”

Her wrath was restrained by the other man – cabbage-like hair and about her height – who, even as he pulled her back by the shoulders, looked upon her fondly, wearing a smirk as if he were impressed.

Tense seconds passed as the employees murmured amongst each other in confusion. Then, the hostess stammered – something resembling an apology – and just like that, she led the group to a table for eight.

#wip wednesday #lmaoirrelevant fics #wip #wip tag #kohahika #contestshipping #shigesatogou #satogou #chloe cerise #ash ketchum #may pokemon #max pokemon #edit sorry this scene is long oops

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shadowqueen402 · 8 months

Text

A "Perfect" Ending

(This fic is based off of @kayssweetdreams's A "Perfect" Vacation fic. This is basically a Bad Ending! AU fic. But don't assume all hope is lost. Someone will make a guest appearance in the end 😉. I hope you like this!)

Prim smirked in pride and victory, watching the people living their everyday perfect lives. The city, that had once been Timeville, was now called Perfectville. And everyone was behaving…perfectly. Prim had finally gotten what she worked so hard to get.

Especially a certain man that she longed for since 1995. That man was none other than Roy Montgomery, Aria's father.

See, after Prim accomplished her goal of making everyone perfect, she had her guards imprison Esme, Aria's mother. Then, she "persuaded" Roy to be her lover while she took Aria under her wing. Otherwise, he'd never see Esme again.

Now, Prim was living her ideal perfect life; with Roy by her side and her five perfect "daughters". Aria, who had been brainwashed into being perfect, was soon labelled as "The Most Perfect Girl In All Of Perfectville" and was seen as a goddess.

As much as she wanted to gaze at her accomplishments, there was an…important matter that she wanted to discuss with Roy, her "husband".

She made her way to her office where she spotted Roy, staring out the window with a glum and tormented look on his face. He had been doing this since Prim took over Timeville. With an sickeningly sweet smile, Prim placed a hand on Roy's shoulder.

"Gah!" Roy yelped, jumping a bit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. Did I scare you?" Prim let out a giggle.

"…I…I…didn't hear you come in…" Roy confessed.

"After all this time, you still can't tell when I'm standing behind you?" Prim made a fake frown of amusement. "I thought you would have been able to tell by now, darling…"

"To be fair, you do make a habit of…being unpredictable…" Roy pointed out.

"…So what were you doing in my office this time, darling?" Prim asked before her gaze landed on a pile of tapes that were scattered on the floor. Ones that she remembered fondly recording back in 1995. "Oh! Are those our old tapes? The ones we made back in the nineties?" She giggled. "Did you get a bit nolstalgic for the good old days?"

"…Well… I suppose you could say that…" Roy shrugged.

"You know, I had a nolstalgic moment today, darling." Prim's smile held some disdain into it. "I saw someone who I haven't seen in two decades! …And by that, I mean this is the first time he's seen ME in two decades."

Roy snapped his head to face Prim, his so-called "wife". A look of shock and suspicion flashed in his eyes. "Who are you talking about!?"

Prim's smile remained. "Oh my! Are you jealous, darling? Are you worried that someone improper is going to try and steal me, your perfect wife, away from you?"

"That's…actually the last thing I worry about." Roy frowned.

"Oh, darling!" Prim gushed like a lovesick schoolgirl. "That is ever so romantic! See, I knew you were perfect for me!"

"Right…" Roy averted his gaze. "So who did you see today?"

"I'll tell you all about it on the way to the airport, darling!" Prim responded with a beam.

Roy widened his eyes in shock. "Wait—airport!?"

"That's right, darling," Prim said. "Start packing your bags immediately! We're going to Japan!"

"We can't do that!" Roy protested. "What about our jobs!?"

"Don't worry, darling." Prim didn't seem bothered by Roy's reaction. "I've already called our bosses and informed them that we just needed to take a little trip. They were VERY understanding!"

"How long will we be gone for?" Roy asked.

"I'm not entirely sure, darling," Prim answered. "It will all depend on how fast I track him down…"

"What about…our daughters?" Roy mentioned. "Tomorrow is Yuri's, Dolly's, Misère's, and Kaylo's first day of school! And tomorrow is Aria's first day of college!" He still was not used to calling the first four mentioned girls "his daughters". Especially since, in reality, they weren't his. Only Aria was.

"If our daughters are anything like their perfect mother, they'll have absolutely no problems whatsoever taking care of themselves!" Prim insisted. "Oh, I hope our perfect Aria meets someone that is special, proper, and perfect! It would be so nice if she's gotten a proper boyfriend by the time we get back!"

"…I hope not…" Roy muttered truthfully, shuddering.

"What was that, darling?" Prim asked, glancing at her "husband".

"N-Nothing, sweetums…" Roy mentally cringed at the nickname he forced himself to give Prim.

"Enough dawdling, darling!" Prim waved his reply off like it was nothing. "We have to get going now! We don't want to miss our flight to Tokyo!"

"Uh, shouldn't I pick up the tapes?" Roy looked at the tapes that were still scattered on the floor. "They're scattered everywhere!"

"Don't bother, darling!" Prim was smiling like an excited person.

"What if…our daughters find them?" Roy had an uneasy look on his face.

Prim's smile widened as she pulled out two suitcases; one belonging to her and the other belonging to Roy. "You know, there's a part of me that hopes they will."

Floating outside of Prim's mansion, a humanoid being that bore a red striped jester hat scowled at the sight of Prim's and Roy's retreating forms. He recalled how confused he had gotten when he noticed that Timeville was changed into "Perfectville" and how graceful and proper everyone behaved around him upon arriving to the Waking World.

That was enough to give him a sensation that something was very, very wrong.

His theory was proven when he saw how Aria behaved. She was no longer the same person that she used to be. Rather, a shell of her former self. Her smile was eery and too nice. Instead of her usual outfit, she now wore a light blue blazer over a white shirt with a black ribbon, a light blue, mini pencil skirt, white thigh-lengthed socks, and black loafers. He wanted to talk to her and ask if she was okay. But something told him that that was out of the question.

Instead, being the clever Nightmaren he was, he hid in the shadows and kept a close eye on Prim. When he saw the platinum-blonde haired woman who proudly called Aria "her perfect daughter", he glared at her in suspicion. She obviously did something to his girl and he was going to find out. One way or another.

After some silent spying, he finally got the answers he was looking for. He now knew what Prim did to Aria and those other four girls. He now knew where Esme, Aria's true mother and Roy's true wife, was being kept. And most importantly, after eavesdropping on her conversation, he now knew where Prim was dragging Roy to.

And he was NOT happy in the slightest bit.

Messing with him was one thing, but anyone who dared messed with his Aria practically had a death wish. Rage gleamed in his icy blue eyes as he clenched his fists.

Prim was going to PAY!!

He would show her absolutely NO mercy!!!

Trying his hardest to remain calm, he turned to face a Goodle who was flying a bright green bird-like Nightmaren.

"Return back to Nightmare," He ordered the Goodle. "Tell Master Wizeman that I will return a little later. There is a…personal matter that I must take care of."

"Yes, Lord Reala," The Goodle replied, flying away to head back to the Night Dimension.

Madame Prim, Kaylo, Misère, and Dolly belong to @kayssweetdreams

Aria, Esme, and Roy belong to me.

#balan wonderworld #ocs #fanfic #alternate universe #yuri brand #reala #nights journey of dreams

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youshouldhavepaidattentiondad · 9 months

Text

Time Stands Still

Ao3

Entry #2 for the @hatchetfield-bang! The OCs in the story below are mine :3

Summary: While on an assignment in a small town in Florida, John meets the man who will one day become his husband.

Florida.

Of course it had to be fucking Florida.

Sweat practically drips off John's brow as he walks down the street. The humidity in the air makes him feel as though he's being slowly smothered by a very damp blanket.

He can handle it though. He has to be able to handle it. This is his first undercover solo mission since being recruited for the Special Unit: Paranormal Extraterrestrial Interdimensional Phenomenon. He needs to prove himself to all the higher ups who think he's just some young upstart.

Which, to be fair, he is.

At 25, he's the youngest to be recruited into P.E.I.P. He's heard all the sneers, seen all the side-eyes, knows people think he's too young, too green. This is his chance-

His sudden collision breaks him out of his internal monologue. Stumbling back, he looks up at whatever he just ran into.

"You alright, man?" A gentle, slightly twangy drawl asks him. The voice belongs to a tall man with sharp features. Long, dark hair falls over his shoulders, past the nonexistent sleeves of his tank top. There's paint splattered across his ripped jeans.

John remembers to breathe. He's in the South, after all.

"Yeah, I'm all good. Sorry, I didn't see you there." He chuckles slightly.

That makes the man give a good-natured laugh. He glances to the side before jerking his head in that direction.

John looks over to see a local drive-in restaurant. Red picnic tables sit under a pavilion of sorts. The shade seems to beckon to him, to get out of this blasted sunlight.

"Good place to get some ice cream. It's where I was headed actually." The man gives an easy going grin. "Care to join me, stranger?"

Oh, that sounds amazing. "Sure."

They head toward the walk-up window. John scans the letterboard menu before the window opens.

A teenage girl peers out. "Hey, Russ," She greets the man with John familiarly. "How ya doin'?"

"Doin' well, Amber, and yourself?"

"Pretty good. You gettin' your usual?" Amber questions as she holds up a notepad, pen poised to write

"Yeah, that'll work," Russ gives her a grin, "That and whatever this guy wants."

Amber's round blue eyes land on John. Her eyebrows raise as she looks him over. "Oh, a new face in town. What can I get for you, sir?"

John isn't sure how he feels about being called 'sir.' It feels wrong, he's still young. He's not even a rank worthy of being called "sir.' "Um, a strawberry milkshake."

"You got it." Amber pops the gum she's chewing. "What size? We got small, medium, large, and jumbo." She points up with her pen, where the cups are posted above the window to show their size.

"A medium is fine," John says politely.

She nods. "That'll be three-fifty, Russ."

Russ reaches into the backpack slung over his shoulders and pulls out a wallet. He slips out a five and passes it to Amber. "Don't need change."

Lighting up, Amber nods. "I'll bring it out to y'all when it's ready!" She declares before closing the window.

Chuckling fondly, Russ leads the way to one of the picnic tables.

"So, she was friendly," John says awkwardly once they're seated across from each other.

"That's just how Amber is," Russ says with a shrug, "She's a good kid. She graduates next year. Plans on going to nursing school."

John blinks. He hesitates slightly before asking his next question. "How do you know that?"

That earns him a small laugh from Russ. "It's a small town. Everybody knows everybody," he explains, "Her mom was my first grade teacher. My sister used to babysit Amber. I work at the high school as an art teacher."

A small smile of disbelief curls John's lips. "That's crazy," he says, "I'm from a small town and we don't all seem to know each other like that."

"Y'all's definition of small must be different than ours," Russ teases, "Where you from anyway, stranger?"

"A little town up in Michigan called Hatchetfield," John explains, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest at the way Russ calls him ‘stranger’. "Though, based on this-" He waves his hand, as if gesturing to the entire town they're in, "You'd probably think it was a city."

Russ laughs again. "It got a mall? If it's got a mall, it's definitely a city."

Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, John admits, "Well, yeah, but it's not a very big mall-"

Russ' laugh echoes slightly from how loud it is.

"What'cha laughin' 'bout, Russ?" Amber asks as she walks out onto the pavilion, carrying a tray.

"We got a city slicker on our hands," Russ says, voice shaking with mirth. Grinning, he sits up a little straighter as Amber approaches them.

"Got a banana split for you, Russ," She says as she sets down a massive sundae in front of him. "And a strawberry shake for the city slicker," She giggles as she passes John the cup and a straw.

John's face and ears feel hot. "Thanks," he mutters as he begins peeling the wrapper from the straw.

"Let me know if y'all need anything else," Amber says as she sets a plastic spoon and a stack of napkins in front of Russ. She gives them another smile before heading back inside.

Russ picks up his spoon, immediately digging into his split. John slides his straw into the cup before taking a tentative sip.

"Holy shit, that's good," he mutters.

Glancing up, Russ shoots him another smile. "It's cause they use fresh local strawberries. 'Sweetest strawberries this side of heaven.' Least that's what they print on the newspapers."

"Do they really?" John asks. He shrugs before he gets an answer and takes another sip of his shake.

The two sit quietly, the only sounds coming from the cars flying by on the road.

"What made you decide to be an art teacher?" John finally asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Not much else to do with an art degree,” Russ replies with a crooked grin, “Least not like in a small town like Arkets. What about you, stranger? What brings a Michigan boy like yourself so far down south?”

John hopes Russ keeps calling him ‘stranger.’ There’s something enchanting, almost endearing about it.

When asked about his work, John finally comes back to his senses, suddenly feeling heat rush to his face. He quickly takes another long sip of his shake.

“Military,” he finally says, “Got a temporary assignment at the base nearby.”

Russ nods. His smile dims slightly at the information. “So I take it you won’t be hanging around very long,” he comments.

“We’ll see what happens. With the military, you can never tell how long things will take.”

Silence fills the space between them again.

“So what kind of art do you do?” John asks.

That makes Russ’ face light up again. “All kinds. I mostly like painting and sculptures though. If you have some free time, you should let me paint you.”

Embarrassment immediately at those words. John almost chokes on his shake as he feels the blood rush to his cheeks and ears. “Why would you want to paint me?”

“Cause you’re handsome,” Russ states as though it’s obvious, “‘Sides, if I get a painting of you, that would give me a reference for a sculpture.” He laughs heartily before taking another bite of his sundae. “You might have just become my new muse, just so you know.”

“Well, I’m flattered.”

Too soon, the ice cream is gone. John stands regretfully. “I should get back to my lodgings,” he says, despite the fact that he could sit out here talking to Russ until nightfall. “See you around, Russ?”

“See ya around, stranger.” Russ grins at him as he also stands, extending a hand for John to shake.

John takes it, swallowing slightly at how firm Russ’ grip is.

He doesn’t necessarily run back to the small apartment P.E.I.P. has rented for him, but he does move rather hastily, racing up the stairs to his door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands of himself as he stares at his reflection in the small mirror over the bathroom sink. “You’re here for work, not to get googly eyed over some guy.”

His hands tighten on the edges of the sink as he leans in closer to his reflection. “You’re here to prove yourself, MacNamara. Not to get your heart broken.” He grimaces as he remembers where he is. “Or get yourself killed.”

He pushes off the sink, the glass over the face of his watch glinting in the light.

It’s almost a week before he sees Russ again. This time, it’s at the local grocery store. John pushes his cart down one of the aisles, debating whether or not he should get some chips when he hears a voice like warm honey behind him.

“Well, hiya, stranger,” Russ greets him, leaning against the handle of his own cart. “Fancy runnin’ into you here.”

“Have you been trying to run into me?” John questions with a smile as he turns to look at him.

“Who can say?” Russ winks. “You been busy with your work stuff?”

Yes, John has actually. Not that he can give Russ any of the details of his mission. “Yeah I have,” he answers evasively. “School’s out for summer, right? What have you been doing in your free time?”

“Art,” Russ answers simply, “There’s a summer program at the local library, I host an art class of some kind for the kids each week. Turnout’s been great.” He glances at John’s cart. “D’ya like beer?”

“Uh, yeah?” John says, taken off guard by the sudden change in topic. “Why?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place this weekend?” Russ invites. “We can have a few beers, hangout, maybe let me sketch you.”

John laughs, despite his heart fluttering like a rogue butterfly in his chest. “You’re still just trying to make art of me, aren’t you?”

“I’ll never tell.” Russ grins widely. “So what do you say?”

At the sight of that smile, John forgets the talk he gave himself days earlier. “Sure.”

At that answer, Russ grabs his hand at the same time he pulls a pen from his pocket. With a click, he’s suddenly writing his address on the back of John’s hand in black ink. “See you at six Friday night,” he says as he releases John’s hand.

John can feel the heat in his cheeks and ears. “Yeah, see you then,” he agrees.

Friday night rolls around to find John standing outside of a small house. The address has long been washed from his hand but instead found itself burned into his brain. Taking a deep breath, he knocks.

It takes several moments, long enough that John begins to fear he’s at the wrong house, when the door opens.

There stands Russ, in a raggedy tank top and cutoff denim shorts, with his hair tied back and paint smears on his forearms. “Sorry, lost track of time,” he says with a sheepish grin. “Come in.”

Chuckling, John follows him into the house. Russ leads him into the kitchen.

“Hungry?” Russ asks as he pulls a couple beers from the fridge, passing one to John.

“A little bit,” John confesses as he takes the cold bottle. He’s starving actually, having been too nervous about this all day to eat anything.

Humming, Russ opens the fridge door again to look inside. “I could whip us up something quick. You allergic to anything?”

“You don’t have to cook,” John says hurriedly, “We can order pizza or something. You don’t have to go through all that trouble for me.”

Russ looks at him seriously. “It’s no trouble, stranger. Now, you allergic to anything?”

“...no,” John finally relents with a small smile. He twists open his beer and moves to sit at the kitchen table while Russ gets to work.

The kitchen quickly fills with the most delicious smell. John’s stomach growls and he doesn’t even have it in him to be ashamed about it.

“Just a little hungry, huh?” Russ teases him as he flips the burger patties in the frying pan on the stovetop.

“Hush. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a home cooked meal?” John asks.

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” Russ answers as he stirs the onions he’s been caramelizing.

John has to think about it. “Probably Christmas last year? When I got to go visit my parents on leave,” he admits. “I can’t cook, so it’s takeout food for me.”

“Really?” Russ asks in disbelief. “You tellin’ me a handsome fella like yourself ain’t got someone back home? Someone to cook and clean and all those old fashioned stereotypes.”

With a laugh, John shakes his head. “No. I don’t think there’s anyone I’d want to make into a wife, anyway.”

Oh, that was gutsy. He almost regrets saying it, but then he sees the corners of Russ’ mouth perk up in a slight smile.

A few minutes later, a beautiful patty melt with a handful of chips on the side slides in front of him on the table. Russ sits opposite with his own plate and beer.

Eagerly, John lifts the sandwich and takes as big a bite as he can. “Oh my god,” he mutters through a mouthful before he resumes chewing.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Russ chuckles before digging into his own food.

There’s not much to say when there’s delicious food in front of you. Too soon, John’s sandwich and chips are gone, as is his beer. “That was amazing,” he tells Russ sincerely, “You’re a great cook.”

“Thank you kindly.” Russ sips his beer before noticing John’s is gone. “Need another?”

“I can get it,” John assures him as he stands, making his way over to the fridge. “So is this when you bust out the art supplies and make me model?” he teases as he rejoins Russ.

“Can’t make you do nothin’,” Russ says with a laugh, “Strong military guy like yourself, you’d kick my ass if I tried.” He tilts his head as he smiles at John. “Would still like to sketch you though, if you’re up for it.”

John considers this as he drinks his beer. “Yeah, I think I am,” he agrees. “Where do you want me?”

Russ lights up at that. He quickly stands from his chair and leads John into the living room. “Sit right there,” he directs John, pointing to an armchair next to the window. “I’ll be right back.”

When Russ returns, he has a sketchbook and a pencil. He settles himself on the arm of the couch, sitting cross legged. “Comfortable?” He asks John as he flips open the book. “You’re gonna have to be still for a bit.”

“I’m good,” John says as he leans back, letting himself relax against the chair. “You work your magic or whatever you artists do.”

Russ smirks at that. “Oh, it’s definitely magic,” he assures, twirling the pencil between his fingers before bringing it to the paper.

John tries his best not to move. At times, he finds himself holding his breath. He can do this, he’s been put through torture simulations, where he has to remain stoic and not break composure.

Though, he has to admit, this is different.

Russ’s eyes dart up from the page to look at him and John swallows softly as their eyes meet.

It’s different and definitely more difficult.

Close to a half hour later, Russ slides off the arm of the couch to approach John. “Whaddaya think?” he asks as he presents his sketch.

“Holy shit.” John’s eyes widen as he takes in the drawing of himself. “I think you gave yourself some artistic liberties,” he tries to joke as he feels his cheeks heat up. “There’s no way I look that good.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Russ chuckles. He brings a hand up to sheepishly rub the back of his neck. “So this is a bit awkward to ask now, seein’ as I’ve got you at my place and all, but what’s your name, stranger?”

Oh right. They never formally exchanged names.

“John,” he finally responds when he finds his voice, “John MacNamara.”

Russ gives him a crooked little grin, “Well, it’s nice to meet ya, John.”

“Nice to meet you too, Russ,” John says with his own smile.

It hangs in the air for a moment as they gaze at one another.

There’s an electricity to the air around them, its crackling practically audible.

John’s not sure he wants to put a name to it. He said he wasn’t going to do it, he’s here for a mission-

He’s not sure which one of them moves first. Russ’ sketchbook ends up on the couch, his pencil on the floor, as they kiss. John has to stand on his toes a bit and Russ has to lean down, but it doesn’t take away from the moment.

When they break apart, Russ grins broadly at him, resting his forehead against John’s tenderly. “You’re gonna be the death of me, soldier boy,” he whispers fondly before kissing John again.

Over the next few weeks, when John’s not working he finds himself at Russ’ house. He models for Russ to paint. Russ cooks them meals. They watch movies and drink beer. They makeout on the couch like they’re teenagers.

John especially likes that part.

One Saturday night, John sits at the kitchen table while Russ stands at the stove. John watches him with a soft smile as he sips on his beer.

“Why don’cha take a picture, darlin’?” Russ teases as he glances over at John as he stirs the sauce he has simmering.

“Don’t have a camera,” John retorts with a smirk.

Russ laughs at that, shaking his head. He sets the spoon on the counter before walking over to John, ducking down to steal a kiss. “You’re ridiculous.” He straightens up to walk back over to check on the pasta.

“You love it.” Heat flares slightly in John’s cheeks as he says the ‘L’ word.

“Yeah, I do.” Russ shoots him that crooked grin that John has become so fond of.

John’s heart almost stops at that.

Before he can recover, there’s a knock at the door. The two of them share a glance before Russ exits the kitchen to go answer it.

John hears the door open, followed by a chipper voice. He can make out Russ talking. The words are drowned out by footsteps.

Before John can move, a young woman walks into the kitchen. She has dark hair like Russ, with round, friendly eyes. She stops when she sees John, her mouth dropping open slightly.

“Hello,” John greets politely before taking another sip of beer.

The woman turns to look at Russ, an accusing look in her eyes. John feels his heart drop, his grip tightening on the bottle in his hand.

“You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone!” the woman exclaims with a playful slap to Russ’ arm.

“How do you know he’s not just a friend?” Russ jests, giving John a reassuring smile.

The woman giggles, gesturing wildly to John. “I have eyes. He’s hot!”

John relaxes at the exchange, though he does blush at the woman’s words.

“Calm down, Lori,” Russ tells her, bringing a hand up to pat the top of her head. “You said you had something to tell me?”

Lori’s eyes twinkle. She presents her left hand with a flourish. On her ring finger, a diamond sparkles in the kitchen’s lights. “Rich proposed!”

“Congratulations!” Russ says happily, wrapping her in a tight hug.

Returning the hug just as fiercely, Lori giggles again. “I’m so happy, Russie.” She pulls back, glancing over at John again. “Now, do you have something to tell me?”

Chuckling, Russ shakes his head. “Impatient as always. That’s John. John, this is my little sister, Lori.”

“Nice to meet you,” John says with a little wave.

“Nice to meet ya as well!” Lori gives a brilliant smile before looking at Russ again. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone then,” she says playfully, “I’ll give you a call tomorrow so I can tell you more about it!” She gives Russ another hug and waves to John before disappearing.

As soon as John hears the door close, John smiles at Russ. “She seemed nice.”

“She’s great,” Russ agrees. His smile dims as he returns to the stove. “Just too bad I’ll have to miss the wedding. I’ll probably just take her and Rich out to dinner to celebrate sometime.”

Frowning, John sets down his beer. “Why would you have to miss the wedding?”

“Because our parents will be there,” Russ says quietly as he picks up a spoon again.

The weight of those words hits John. He sits silently as Russ goes about draining the pasta. “I take it your parents…” he trails off, not quite sure how to put it into words.

“Yeah, no. Not at all.” Russ shakes his head. “That… that wasn’t a pretty night. Least I was smart enough to wait till I had my own place to come out,” he comments jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

John stands, crossing the room so he can rub Russ’ back. “I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, Russ turns to give John a quick kiss. “I’m doin’ pretty well without them, anyhow,” he reasons, “Plus, I still got Lori on my side, so it could be worse.” He gently nudges John back as he grabs an oven mitt. “What about your parents?” he asks as he opens the oven door.

“My parents know and accept me,” John says simply. He’s not going to mention that in almost all their letters to him they ask when he’s going to bring home a nice boy.

Russ sets the tray on a dishtowel on the counter. “That’s good. I’m glad.” He turns to grab plates from a nearby cabinet. “So if this keeps going good between us, I would meet them?” he asks, his teasing tone back.

Laughing, John settles at the table again as Russ plates their food. “If my parents knew about you, I couldn’t stop them from meeting you.”

He hears Russ chuckle at that. “Speaking of things going good between us,” Russ comments as he carries over two steaming plates of chicken parmesan. “I’m gonna be a little bit old fashioned and ask if you’d like to be my boyfriend.”

“I-” Caught off guard by the question, John flushes. “Yes. Obviously, yes.”

Grinning, Russ steals a kiss as he sets the plate in front of him.1

Two months later, school is back in session. Meaning John can't spend all of his free time hanging out at Russ' place.

Sure, they have the evenings and weekends together, but it doesn't feel like enough time. John doesn't think there is such a thing as enough time with Russ.

One Friday, when he arrives at the base for work, he's quickly escorted to the Officer in Command's office. Instead of the base's officer though, he's greeted with his own commanding officer from P.E.I.P.

John quickly snaps into a salute when he sees him.

"At ease, John," Colonel Cross says with a soft chuckle. He stands from the desk, walking around it to extend a hand to John.

John relaxes, shaking the colonel's hand.

"I'll be honest with you, John, a lot of people didn't think you'd pull this mission off," Cross admits as they release hands, "But not only did you get all the intel we needed, you also managed to do so undetected. Not many first year agents can say the same about their first missions."

Pride swells in John's chest. "Thank you, sir."

The bubble bursts a moment later as he realizes what this means. "So I'm headed back to Hatchetfield?"

"You ship out first thing Monday morning," Cross confirms, "The general wanted you back today, but I convinced him to let you have the weekend. Give you the chance t say goodbye to any friends you might have made."

Swallowing softly, John nods. "Understood. Thank you, Colonel Cross."

After that meeting, John ends up back in his apartment, packing his things. He feels like he's on autopilot.

He's going to have to tell Russ. The very thought feels like a lead weight crushing his heart.

It barely takes any time to pack up his scarce belongings. He sits on the floor, staring at the wall in front of him.

Are they going to break up? He guesses if Russ doesn't want to do long distance, that's really the only option. The very idea of things ending makes his chest ache.

With a frustrated groan, he drops his head in his hands.

That afternoon, after school lets out, he heads to Russ' house. It feels like an eternity before he's knocking on the front door.

"Hey," Russ greets with that easy-going grin. His smile falters when he sees the look on John's face. "What's wrong, darlin'?"

Shaking his head, John walks inside. He hears the door close behind him.

"John? You're scarin' me, sweetheart. What's wrong?" Russ asks, worry painting his words.

Taking a deep breath, John forces himself to turn around. "Got new orders today," he says, trying to keep any emotion from his voice. "I ship out Monday, back to Hatchetfield."

Russ seems to freeze for a moment before he leans back against the door. He studies John for several moments.

"What does that mean?" Russ finally asks quietly.

John swallows back the growing lump in his throat. "Whatever you want it to mean." His voice trembles slightly.

There's a pause before Russ' smile reappears. "Then I guess it means you better write me, soldier boy."

A relieved puff of laughter escapes John at that. "God, I love you."

It takes seeing the surprise on Russ' face for John to realize what he just said. Heat floods his face, quickly rushing to his ears as well.

Before he can try to backtrack, Russ is there, kissing him like his life depends on it.

"Well, that's a relief," Russ says as they break apart. "Cause I love you too."

Grinning, John pulls him into another kiss.

Sunday morning, John wakes up in Russ' bed to the smell of cinnamon and coffee. Smiling into the pillows, he closes his eyes again.

Just basking.

A few minutes later, he walks out of the bedroom in his boxers and one of Russ' paint splattered shirts. "Good morning."

Russ looks over from where he stands at the stove, grinning immediately at the sight of John in his shirt. "Good mornin' to you, sweetheart."

John heads to the already full coffee pot. Easily, he grabs a mug from one of the cabinets and pours himself a cup. "What're you making?"

"French toast," Russ answers. His sweatpants hang low on his hips and John admires the view as he sips his coffee.

"My favorite," John smiles as he leans back against the counter.

Chuckling, Russ glances back over his bare shoulder. "Makin' it special, just for you, darlin'."

An easy quiet falls over them, only disturbed by the sizzling of the toast cooking in the pan.

John sips his coffee, watching Russ cook fondly.

"You're gonna burn holes in my back if you keep that up," Russ jokes as he starts plating their food.

Laughing, John shakes his head. "Well we can't have that, now can we?"

He drifts over to the table, sitting down just as Russ brings the plates over. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Russ kisses him before heading into the pantry. He comes back with a bottle of maple syrup. As he sits, he sets the bottle in front of John.

John grabs the bottle quickly, pouring the maple-y goodness over his French toast. “I’m going to miss this,” he says solemnly as he passes the bottle over to Russ.

A small smile tugs at Russ’ lips. “Me or my cookin’?” he questions as he proceeds to drown his toast in syrup.

“Both. Just this in general, just being with you.” John cuts a piece of toast with his fork and takes the bite. “It’s been amazing.”

One of Russ’ eyebrows raises slightly. “You act like this is goodbye forever. It ain’t.”

Laughing softly, John shakes his head. “You’re right, you’re right.”

The day passes by lazily as they watch movies together on the couch. John finds himself with his head on Russ’ chest, listening to his heartbeat instead of the film. He closes his eyes.

“Gettin’ tired, darlin’?” Russ asks as he rubs John’s back.

“No. Just… just trying to savor this,” John smiles. His eyes open again as he tilts his head up to look at Russ. “I love you.”

Russ returns his smile before leaning down to kiss him. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

As John shifts to get more comfortable, he hears the jingling of his tags. His eyes widen slightly before he sits up. He pulls the chain they're on over his head. "Here. Something to remember me by," he says as he offers the necklace to Russ.

Russ' eyebrows raise as he takes the necklace, examining the raised lettering. "Don't you need these?"

"I'll request new ones when I get back," John says with a shrug.

Chuckling, Russ pulls the necklace on, the tags resting over his heart. "Thank you, soldier boy."

Monday morning, well before the sun is up, John's already at the airport, waiting on the plane to start loading. He stares at the runway through the floor to ceiling windows in the terminal.

He already misses Russ.

Hearing the call for active military to board, he stands, duffel bag in hand. He makes his way onto the plane, finding his seat before buckling in for the flight.

When he makes it back to base, he heads straight to his lodgings. His duffel bag gets tossed unceremoniously onto his bed. He heads to his dresser, picking up a notebook, an envelope, and a pen from atop it.

He settles at the small table in the kitchenette and begins writing.

Dear Russ,

I've made it back safely to Hatchetfield. I love our country and my job, but I wish I was still with you.

Maybe one day you can come visit me here. I'd advise you to come during the summer. Being from Florida, I'm not sure how well you'd handle the bitter cold of a Michigan winter.

Be warned though, if you come for a visit, there's a high chance you would have to meet my parents. It is a small town (even if you think it's a city) and we would probably end up running into them.

I know it's barely been a day, but I miss you already. I hope you are doing well. I look forward to receiving a letter from you.

Love, your soldier boy,

John

Gently, he tears the page from the notebook before carefully folding it into thirds. He slides the letter into the envelope before sealing it.

He begins to write Russ' name on the front of the letter, hesitating when he realizes he doesn't know Russ' last name. He never mentioned it.

John guesses he tries to avoid using it, since it's a tie to the parents who disowned him.

Biting his lip, he writes Russ MacNamara on the front of the envelope. Under it, he fills in the address before putting his own name and address in the upper left corner.

Satisfied and suddenly nervous, he grabs a stamp from the junk drawer and sticks it to the upper right corner.

After posting it at the post office on base, he heads to Colonel Cross' office.

The colonel looks up from some paperwork as John walks in. "Hey, John."

"Colonel Cross," John greets with a nod. P.E.I.P. seems to be a lot more lax about formalities, but John's strict training from the previous branch he served in hasn't died yet. "I need to request new dog tags."

Cross raises an eyebrow. "That can be arranged. What happened to your other set?"

"I believe I forgot them when I was packing," John lies, trying to ignore how his heart seems to beat louder.

A smirk curls on Cross' lips and John knows he doesn't believe him. "I'll put the order in. You should have them by tomorrow."

John bites back a sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"Not a problem, John."

Every day for the next several days, John checks the small letterbox in front of his lodgings, waiting on a letter from Russ.

Finally, he comes back from duty one day to find two envelopes waiting for him. He chuckles as he sees Russ wrote Russ MacNamara above the return address. He looks at the other envelope, his smile growing slightly as he sees flowing cursive spelling out the name Florence MacNamara.

Once inside, he settles on his bed, setting the letter from his mother aside so he can open the letter from Russ.

Dear John,

I'm glad to hear you made it back safe, darling. I miss you as well. I could list all the things about you I miss, but I doubt you want a thousand page letter.

I think I'd like to visit Michigan. I've never been outside of Florida, if you can believe that. You're right though. I'd have to acclimate to the cold, so it's best not to start off with it.

Meeting your parents would be an absolute honor, sweetheart. Especially since they raised such a fine young man.

I'm doing very well, all things considered. The school year is going very well. I've been nominated for Teacher of the Year, which is always touching. Been working on a new piece. It may or may not be of you. You'll just have to wait and see.

I can't wait to hear back from you. I'll be eagerly awaiting your next letter.

Love,

Russ

P.S. I was tickled that you decided to give me your last name in lieu of my own. I like it.

John grins as he finishes the letter. His fingers itch to write a response but he just sets the letter to the side before picking up the letter from his mom.

My dear son,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have tried calling, but since you didn't answer, I'm going to guess you have been gone on orders.

Things are going well here. Your father and I are going on a short trip to visit your grandmother. This letter should find you after we make it back.

Please give me a call when you are able. I know you're an adult and a military man, but I am still your mother and I worry.

Love,

Mom

Sighing fondly, John makes his way onto the kitchenette to pick up the phone from the wall before dialing his parents' number.

There's a few rings before a warm, familiar voice says, "MacNamara residence, Florence speaking."

"Hey, Ma," John says as he leans against the wall.

There's a gasp, quickly followed by, "John! Oh, honey, it’s so great to hear from you! How have you been?"

"I'm good, Ma. Got back from Florida about a week ago," John responds.

"Florida? That sounds like it was lovely. Were you there for work?"

"I was," he confirms, "It was nice, though I'm glad to be back. I wasn't too fond of the humidity."

He hears his mom laugh at that. "I'm glad to hear it, honey. Anything new going on?"

Damn mothers and their innate ability to know when something has happened.

"Yeah, actually." John toys with the phone cord for a few seconds before clearing his throat awkwardly. "I started seeing someone."

What can only be described as a happy little shriek comes through the receiver. John actually pulls the phone away at the noise with a wince.

"John! That's such big news! Tell me all about him, honey!"

Feeling himself blushing, John chuckles as a grin spreads across his face. "His name's Russ. I met him down in Florida. He's an art teacher at a high school."

"Does he treat you well?" She asks, suddenly sounding serious. "When do we get to meet him?"

"Meet who?" John hears his dad ask in the background.

"John's boyfriend, Russ," His mom responds, her voice slightly muted.

There's a bit of shuffling on the other end of the line before his dad's voice comes through clearer. "Congratulations, son."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Nathan, give me back the phone!"

"Hey, I'm curious too!"

"You act like I won't tell you what he tells me!"

John laughs fondly at his parents' shenanigans. "We've talked about him coming up here to visit, but nothing's set in stone yet. He did say it would be an honor to meet you."

"Aw, he sounds like a gentleman," his mom says appreciatively.

"Where's he at if he's coming up to visit?" His dad asks, sounding confused.

"Florida. John met him down there while he was there for work," his mom explains.

John stifles another laugh, ignoring how he's starting to feel homesick from his parents' exchange. "Yeah. He's in Florida, working as an art teacher," he fills in his dad.

"A teacher, huh? That's a fine profession," his dad responds. John can imagine him nodding as he says it. "Cece, stop trying to take the phone!"

"I still have questions!"

John shakes his head, not that either of them can see. "Actually, I just got off work and desperately need a shower. I just wanted to call so Ma would stop worrying."

"She does worry," his dad agrees.

"Of course I worry! He's my baby boy, no matter how old he gets! We won't keep you though, honey. We love you!"

"Love you both too," John bids, "Bye."

"Goodbye," his parents say in unison.

John hangs up the phone with a smile before heading off to shower.

The next couple months fall into a comfortable rhythm. John and Russ exchange letters, filling each other in on the details of their lives.

Well, most of them. John can't tell Russ much about his work given the nature of it. Russ doesn't ask too much about it, which John is grateful for.

Everything is going smoothly.

Until one morning, John gets pulled into the colonel’s office, alongside a couple other agents.

“Good morning, you three,” Colonel Cross greets them. A serious expression has settled on his features, unlike his usual warm and welcoming smile. “You’ve been selected for an urgent mission.”

All three of them salute. “When do we ship out, sir?” The agent on John’s left asks.

“Immediately,” Colonel Cross responds, “I’ll escort you to the hangar and debrief you on the way.”

John doesn’t allow the panic to set in. He can’t. So he listens to the colonel’s briefing as they march down the hall. He straps himself into the seat of the plane. He comforts himself with the reasoning that with a mission this important, it probably has a time restraint. It shouldn’t take more than a day.

A day turns into a week.

A week turns into a month.

It’s close to three months later when they make it back to P.E.I.P. HQ. Tired, hungry, and haggard, they tromp out of the plane into the hangar.

“Well done, you three,” Colonel Cross greets them, looking far more relaxed than the last time they saw him. “Head back to your lodgings. You’ll have a week off to recoup before you return to your normal duties.”

They all salute him, albeit wearily, before splitting off to head back to their homes.

John lives the closest to the hangar. As soon as it’s in sight, he makes a beeline for the mailbox. His heart drops when he opens it and sees the stack of letters inside.

He snatches the letters before hurrying into his room. He settles at the table before quickly opening the letter on top, guessing it’s the most recent. It’s dated from two weeks ago.

Dear John,

I’m not going to lie, you’re worrying me, darling. It’s been almost three months since I’ve heard from you. I don’t know if you’ve just gotten busy, don’t want to hear from me anymore, or if the worst has happened and you’ll never see this letter.

John’s heart drops at the implication. He quickly scans the rest of the letter, noting the phone number under Russ’ signature.

Not caring about the long-distance cost, he grabs the phone off the wall and quickly dials in the number.

It feels like the phone rings forever before Russ picks up with a “Hello?”

“Russ, oh my god, it’s John, I’m so sorry,” John says immediately.

“John?” Russ says, sounding almost disbelieving. In the background, John hears a soft thump. “Darlin’, are you alright? What happened? You didn’t respond to none of my letters-”

“I know,” John interrupts, “I know and I’m sorry. Something with work came up and I wasn’t able to write. I’m sorry.”

There’s no sound on the other end for a long moment. For a split-second, John thinks the call dropped or Russ hung up on him.

“John, I thought you died,” Russ’ voice finally comes through the speaker. “I had no way of knowin’. I was fuckin’ terrified.” Another pause. “What exactly do you do for the military, soldier boy?”

A small laugh escapes John at the familiar nickname. “I’m…” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think I can say,” he admits, “It’s a special unit. I get sent out for missions. That’s why I was in Florida for so long.

“I have the next week off though,” he changes the subject, “I’ll be able to call every day-”

“Wait, what?” Russ sounds confused. “You can’t just drop somethin’ like that and move on like it’s nothin’.”

“Russ, it’s not something I can talk about,” John sighs, “It’s part of the job. It’s part of me at this point. I can’t promise I can always tell you where I’m going or where I’ll be. Things happen at the drop of a hat here.” He hesitates for a moment, biting his lip. “What I can promise is that I’ll always come back to you. No matter what.”

More silence.

“Russ? Honey, talk to me,” John says worriedly.

“... I’m sorry, John, I just need some time to think about all of this,” Russ replies, suddenly sounding exhausted, “Decide if that’s somethin’ I can deal with, okay?”

“...okay. I understand,” John barely whispers, trying to ignore the pain in his chest at those words. “Just… reach out to me whenever you’ve decided, alright?" He gives Russ his number, making sure he has it down correctly before speaking again. "I love you."

“I love you too, darlin’. Bye.”

“Bye.” John hangs up the phone. He can feel tears burning at his eyes and blinks furiously to get rid of the sensation. He stares miserably at the stack of letters in front of him as his fingers trace over Russ’ signature.

The next few days feel torturous. John starts writing letters, only to cross out the words he puts down. What can he do? Beg? Plead for Russ not to end things between them?

He doesn't want to guilt Russ into staying with him. That wouldn't be fair to either of them.

The evening of the third day since his return, his phone rings. John practically vaults off his bed to rush to answer it. "MacNamara speaking." He tries to ignore how his heart attempts to beat out of his chest.

"Listen to you, soldier boy, soundin' all official-like." Russ' familiar drawl drips through the speaker, sweet as honey.

John smiles. "Well, I never know who's going to call," he replies before asking, "How have you been?"

"I've been alright," Russ replies, "Been doin' a lot of thinkin'."

"Yeah?" John asks, trying to ignore the way his stomach drops. "So have I."

There's a soft chuckle from the other end of the line. "What'cha been thinkin' 'bout, darlin'?"

Taking a deep breath, John answers, "That I don't want to force you into anything you don't want."

"Well, here's the thing, John," Russ says with a slight hum, "I want you. If I have to share you with Lady Liberty, I guess I can deal with that."

A huff of relieved laughter escapes John at those words. He slumps slightly against the kitchen wall as his fingers tangle in the phone cord. "It's purely platonic between Lady Liberty and myself, I promise."

Russ' warm, familiar laugh drifts through the speaker. "I'm glad to hear it. You wanna hear what else I've been thinkin' 'bout?"

"Of course."

"Been thinkin' about headin' up that way for a visit," Russ says, "Spring break is in March. It'd be the perfect time for me to visit. If you can get away from work, of course."

“Give me the dates and I’ll go put in a leave request right now,” John says immediately, already reaching for a pen and paper. "Book a hotel and everything."

"Glad you're on top of it, darlin'," Russ replies before telling him the dates. "You go get that request put in and I'll talk to you later, alright? I love you."

"Love you too."

John doesn't quite book it across the base, but anyone who saw him would probably say he was jogging at the very least.

He slides to a stop outside of the colonel's office door, taking a moment to compose himself before knocking.

"It's open."

John opens the door to see Colonel Cross sitting at his desk, casually playing on a GameBoy.

"Oh, hey, John," the colonel greets as his thumbs tap the buttons on his handheld console. "What do you need?"

John blinks, once again not used to the seemingly laid back culture of P.E.I.P. "I wanted to submit a leave request," he answers.

That makes Cross set down his GameBoy. "You know, in the time you've been here, I don't think you've ever taken leave, except when we made you," he admits as he pulls out a form and offers it to John.

"Well…" John trails off with an awkward chuckle as he begins filling out the form.

"It's a girl, isn't it?" The colonel guesses with a smirk. "The same one you 'forgot' your other set of tags with?"

John feels his face and ears heat up. "Something like that," he mutters as he hands the completed form back to the colonel.

Humming, Cross raises an eyebrow as he looks over the form. "Well, if it's something like that, you might want to keep it quiet," he advises John, "We might be a more progressive branch, but that doesn't mean all of our members share the same beliefs."

"Yes sir, I understand," John says solemnly.

Cross brings down a stamp on the form, leaving a bright red approved mark across it. "Enjoy your leave when it comes around," he smiles as he files the form.

"Thank you, sir."

A couple months later, John stands in the airport in Clivesdale, wishing not for the first time that Hatchetfield would build its own airport so he wouldn't have to come here.

He's distracted from his Clivesdale hating thoughts by the sight of Russ walking toward him, rolling a suitcase behind him.

John grins as he takes a step towards him, fighting every urge to just fling himself into the man's arms. "Hey," he greets, slightly breathless.

"Hey yourself, soldier boy," Russ replies with that easy going grin John has missed so much. He peers around John, face dropping slightly at the sight outside. "Holy shit, is that snow? In March?" He asks in disbelief.

Laughing, John nods as he begins leading him towards the door. "You're probably gonna need something warmer than that sweater," he teases as he steps outside.

Russ hisses at the cold, already shivering. "Yeah, probably," he agrees.

John guides him to a small, green pickup truck, opening the passenger door for Russ to climb in.

"Thanks, darlin'," Russ says through chattering teeth as he hurries to get out of the wind.

Chuckling fondly, John heads around to get into the driver's side. He cranks the truck, quickly turning on the heat settings for Russ' sake.

"So this is your hometown?" Russ asks as they begin driving.

"Fuck no. This is Clivesdale," John answers with a scowl. "Fucking Chemists."

Russ laughs at that. "Ah, town rivalry?" He asks knowingly.

Muttering about how much he hates Clivesdale, John simply nods.

When they reach the Nantucket Bridge, John points out the windshield. "That's Hatchetfield," he declares, a bit of pride shining through his voice.

"Ah, yes, the city," Russ notes, cracking up.

"Stop it, it's just a small town," John protests. Before Russ can rebuttal, John speaks again. "Hey, so just a quick heads up. I told my parents you were visiting."

Russ raises an eyebrow. "Let me guess, they want to meet me?"

"Well yes. But they invited us over for dinner tonight," John admits, "Is that alright?"

"More than," Russ assures him. "What time are we supposed to be there?"

John turns into the parking lot of the hotel they're staying in. "Six. Well, Ma said dinner's being served at six, so we might want to get there around five-thirty."

They get checked into the hotel. Once they're in the room, as soon as Russ' suitcase has been set aside, John's in his arms.

Chuckling, Russ returns the embrace, kissing the top of John’s head. "I missed you too, darlin'," he teases lightly.

John doesn't reply, too busy breathing in the scent of Russ' cologne to answer. He finally pulls back to give him a grin before popping on his toes to give him a tender kiss.

"We should get you some warmer clothes before we go to my parents'," he says as he regretfully pulls away.

Russ nods, pulling John in again for another playful kiss. "Sounds like a plan, darlin'. We goin' to the mall?" He smirks, just barely holding back a laugh.

Rolling his eyes, John gently pushes him away. "You're never going to let that die, are you?"

"Nope." Russ gives him that crooked grin loves so much. "Never."

Five-thirty sharp, John pulls into his parents driveway before parking his truck.

Next to him, bundled up in a new puffer coat and hat, Russ looks nervous.

"Hey," John says soothingly, reaching out to take one of Russ' hands. "They're going to love you."

"Of course they will, I'm a catch," Russ tries to joke. He sighs as a hand comes up to brush back his hair. "I gotta be honest with you, John. I've never done this before, the whole 'meet the parents' thing."

John hums as he considers this, lacing their fingers together. "First time for everything, right?" He leans over to press a kiss to Russ' cheek.

Chuckling, Russ turns his head to give him a proper kiss. "Right." He takes a deep breath. "C'mon, let's go ahead in before I try to run."

On their walk to the front door, Russ' grip on John's hand tightens with every step they take. By the time they make it onto the porch, John can hardly feel his fingers.

Before either of them get the chance to knock, the door flies open.

An older man stands in the doorway, a wide grin on his bearded face. Green eyes twinkle as he steps back, waving them in. "Come in, boys! Get out of the cold!"

Grinning, John leads Russ inside. "Hey, Dad," he greets, finally releasing Russ' hand so he can pull off his coat.

He can hear Russ swallow anxiously before he extends a hand to man. "You must be Mr. MacNamara. I'm Russ, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Please, call me Nathan," John's dad replies as he takes Russ' hand, shaking it vigorously. "It's great to meet you as well, Russ."

"Are the boys here?" A lilting voice calls from another room.

John hangs up his coat before gesturing for Russ to do the same. "Yeah, Ma, we're here!"

As Russ hangs up his coat next to John’s, a petite woman comes in, wiping her hands on the apron she's wearing. "John, honey!" She smiles, the grin identical to the one on John's face, before she pulls him into a tight hug.

Laughing, John returns the hug, squeezing her maybe a little extra tight. "Hey, Ma."

When she releases him, she turns to Russ, seemingly squaring him up. Despite her small stature, John can see the fear in Russ' eyes.

"And you must be-"

Russ doesn't get the chance to finish before John’s mom hugs him, her head just barely reaching his chest. "Russ! It's so great to finally meet you, sweetie!" She pulls back, still smiling widely. "I'm Florence but please call me Cece."

"...nice to meet you too, Miss Cece," Russ replies, sounding slightly choked.

Cece shakes her head. "None of that 'miss' nonsense. We're family here." She gives him another smile before heading back to the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready!"

"Take your time, dear!" Nathan calls after her with a chuckle. He adjusts his glasses before leading John and Russ to the living room.

A large fire crackles merrily in the hearth. John bypasses the couch and chairs to sit on the rug, feeling the heat of the flames on his back.

Russ settles next to him, long legs stretched out in front of him.

"So, Russ," Nathan starts as he lowers himself into a leather wingback chair. "John tells me you're an art teacher."

"Yes sir," Russ answers. His hand reaches for John's, squeezing it when he finds it. "Been teachin' for the past three years."

Nathan nods approvingly. "Teaching is a fine profession. It takes a special kind of person to do it. My mother was a kindergarten teacher for almost forty years."

Whistling lowly, Russ' eyebrows raise at that information. "That's a long time. I'm sure she loved it."

"Oh, she adored it," Nathan assures him, "And her students adored her. Till she died, she would still get letters from former students telling her how much of an impact she had on them."

"What do you do for work, if you don't mind my askin'?" Russ asks curiously.

"I'm an editor at the Hatchetfield Gazette," Nathan answers with a small chuckle. "You should ask John to take you there. It's a great historic building-"

He's interrupted by Cece calling from the kitchen. "Dear, are you boring our guest with town history? He just got here!"

Laughing, Nathan calls back, "Nothing wrong with having pride in our town's history, love."

“Be that as it may,” Cece says as she leans out of the entryway leading into the kitchen. “Would you mind setting the table? Dinner is almost ready.”

“Not at all.” Nathan rises from his armchair, giving the boys a nod before exiting the room.

Smiling, John gives Russ’ hand a comforting squeeze. “They like you,” he assures him.

Russ’s shoulders finally relax. “Yeah, I guess so,” he chuckles. He leans in, nudging his shoulder against John’s.

They sit quiet for a while, listening to the fire, until Cece calls them for dinner.

The next few days seem to fly by in a blur. They do visit the Hatchetfield Gazette building. They also visit the lake, the Hatchetfield Historical Society Museum, and manage to catch a show at the Starlight Theater.

It’s one night after dinner when Russ brings it up. One of his hands plays with John’s hair as he says, “You know, I’ve been thinkin’, soldier boy.”

“Oh yeah?” John opens his eyes as he tilts his head to look up at Russ. “What’ve you been thinking about?”

“Been thinkin’ this wouldn’t be a bad place to settle down.” He gently presses his forehead against John’s. “Get a house, find a job, build a life.”

John swallows, trying to ignore how it feels like his heart pounding against his chest. “Yeah?” he whispers, voice cracking slightly. “You’d wanna do that?”

“If it meant being with you, yeah,” Russ answers, smiling fondly. His hand slides from John’s hair to cradle his cheek as he kisses him tenderly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” John murmurs, "Guess we should start looking at houses while you're up here, huh?"

"Not a bad idea," Russ agrees, "I won't be able to come back up till summer break."

John groans at that, pulling back some so he can look at Russ properly. "Don't remind me."

Chuckling, Russ rubs his nose against John's. "What kinda house do we wanna try to find?"

"Hmm… something decently sized," John says thoughtfully. "Maybe a three bedroom? That would give you a room to use as a studio and we could also have a guest room."

"That would be useful if Lori and Rich ever visited," Russ agrees, "Nice big kitchen, give me plenty of room to work."

John laughs. "Absolutely. God, I miss your cooking."

"Hopefully by summer, you can have it again." Russ grins. "I'll have to sell my house down in Florida. That should give us a good bit of money to put towards a new place."

Beaming, John kisses him. "And I'll move off base. That'll be nice."

"I can't wait." Russ kisses him again.

The sun shines brightly one summer day a few months later. The leaves on the trees sway in the gentle breeze. No clouds can be seen, leaving the blue of the sky exposed.

John stands outside a gray colonial style house, his truck parked in the driveway. He bounces anxiously on the balls of his feet.

It takes a few minutes before he sees a blue car slowly rolling down the street. Grinning, he walks to the sidewalk, waving.

The car turns into the driveway, parking behind John's truck. The driver's door swings open and Russ steps out, grinning broadly. "Hey, darlin'," he calls as he closes the door.

"Hey yourself." John can't stop smiling as he tilts his head towards the house before leading the way inside.

They step into the small foyer. John waits until the door closes to give Russ a kiss. "Welcome home."

"I'm never gonna get tired of hearing you say that." Russ kisses him again before stepping back. "So, give me the grand tour, soldier boy."

John does just that, taking Russ' hand to guide him through the house. Their home. Their footsteps echo in the empty space as they explore the rooms.

After the tour finishes, they sit in the empty living room. Russ leans back against the wall, his legs outstretched so John can rest his head on his lap. "I love it," he says as he runs his fingers through John's curls.

"I'm glad." John grins up at him. "We have so much to get. Furniture, decorations-"

"We can run to town later, get those things," Russ assures him. He looks out one of the windows into their backyard before looking back down around John with a smile. "We have a house."

"No, we don't," John disagrees. He reaches a hand up to stroke Russ' cheek. "We have a home."

Russ chuckles at that, shaking his head fondly. "You're such a sap, darlin'," he teases. He catches John's hand before he can pull it away to press a kiss to his fingers.

"Says the man who moved over a thousand miles to be with me," John counters.

"Yeah, I did." Russ smiles.

They sit there for a while, just basking in the newness. Sure, there are things to do, like getting furniture and going grocery shopping. There are going to be challenges, like with John's job and Russ finding a job, not to mention learning who they can safely be out to.

But for just a moment, time stands still.

#john macnamara #russ macnamara #ocs #hatchetfield universe #black friday #tgwdlm #nightmare time #mild homophobia

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