#I know some people don’t like first person pov because it feels too close and ‘I’ didn’t do anything. the character did

[white-weasel]

Do…. Do people actually have an issue with stuff being written in present tense?

[zara-renata]

The land of tears | ao3 | masterlist

You're at Azure Square with your perfectly nice boyfriend when you see your dead adopted brother through the crowd. Caleb's back and he's not going to let you go again. This is one of several variations of the reunion scene that I want that I know Infold won't give us. caleb x f mc, caleb x you, second person pov, some caleb pov. this story contains: references to saint-exupéry's the little prince, deeply possessive caleb, codependent relationship dynamics, not healthy at all, but caleb and mc match each other's freak, mc just doesn't know it yet. we've got some mechatronic arm/hand worship and caleb being unhinged in his pov about being back, about mc being his, and the state of mc's life without him. mc refers to caleb as her brother, caleb has differing opinions about that title.

It’s a cold January day. The sun is almost too bright, high in the noonday sky over Azure Square, reflected between the mirrored highrises thrusting from the heart of the Linkon City. The sky is a blinding, cloudless blue.

You stare into it.

There are no airplanes in view.

No contrails, streaking through the blue.

It’s the weekend. The bright weather, the weekend—people have been drawn from their hibernation, so Azure Square is packed. The mass of bodies never fails to make you uncomfortable. Too much movement, too many threats, too much stimulation. You have to breathe shallowly through the discomfort, with your lonely lungs.

It’s a rare weekend where you have both days off, no missions on your agenda. Just a stretch of free time. Free time that you still struggle to enjoy. Free time that echoes hollowly like your empty apartment, your empty fridge. Your empty heart.

You need the distractions of work, of task after task, to keep yourself moving forward, footstep after footstep. Little steps. Just keep going. You can’t quit. You’ll get through this, too, like you’ve gotten through everything else, Pipsqueak.

A gentle, warm voice in your head, echoing hollowly. One you haven’t stopped hearing for a year.

You wonder if you’ll ever stop hearing it.

You want to stop hearing it. You’re afraid of the day you stop hearing it.

You hear another voice, encroaching, overtaking the memory in your head. A vine, twisting around a cherished, deeply rooted tree. You have the feeling of an invasive species, even though that’s not fair.

You turn, look at your boyfriend. He’s smiling tentatively, a little confused.

He says your name again, and you realize he’s been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now, as you stood, entranced by the terrible, bright blue sky, the sun hurting your eyes.

Your exhausted eyes.

Even after a year, you still don’t sleep. 

You try to dismiss your irritation, your sense of wrongness about the handsome, sweet man standing before you—a trick of the light, a side effect of the insomnia. It’s not his fault, that he’s tall, but not ridiculously tall. That his eyes are a pretty blue, and not—and not any other color. That he doesn’t know you, not really, and likely never will. Because you can’t stand the thought of letting him in. You buried yourself in an empty casket, a year ago. What is there to know, now?

You try to smile. “Yeah, sorry.”

“You looked so far away,” he says, stepping closer to you. You let him, even though your first instinct is to always take a step back. But that’s not healthy. That’s not normal. This is your boyfriend, after all. Your patient, perfectly nice boyfriend. “What are you thinking about?”

You think of an empty casket. About how you’ve felt so far away, from everything, everyone, for so long. You can’t remember what being close feels like anymore, even though he’s standing right in front of you.

“Just that it’s very bright, for a winter day.”

He looks relieved. You’re glad he swallows your lies so easily. The one time you tried to talk to him about how you felt, about how you felt like you had buried yourself with your dead, he had said words like unhealthy. Like codependent. Dysfunctional. He had said these words, with a strange look on his face, a look that was all-too familiar to you, through your whole half-remembered life, any time you had been honest about how you felt about your family.

About your brother.

You've never known how to explain.

He was your other half.

What do most people know, about having half of themselves outside their own body? About not being able to breathe, without twinned lungs breathing with you, setting the pace? About not being able to sleep without his voice, more familiar to you than you own, saying it’s okay to close your eyes? That he’ll protect you from the nightmares. 

What could anyone know about what you went through? All the things you can’t remember. The things that you can’t remember, but the not remembering never stopped from leaving their brand burned on the inside of your skin, your panting, panicked lungs, your raw throat, waking up screaming yourself hoarse in the night. 

All you can remember is soft, indigo eyes. Warm, strong arms around you in the dark.

“Where are your aviators?” your boyfriend asks. “It’s not like you to forget them.”

He asks, because he doesn’t know they were your brother’s. If he knew they were your brother’s, he’d insist on buying you a new pair of sunglasses, in a different style.

You can tell that he doesn’t like it when he discovers that something you use often belongs—belonged to your dead brother.

He doesn’t say anything. That would be too confrontational. He knows it’s not a good look, to resent his partner’s dead sibling. But the look on his face: Dysfunctional. Codependent. Unhealthy.

He doesn’t know that the necklace you never take off is your brother’s. He doesn’t know that the sunglasses you wear religiously, on sunny and cloudy days, are your brother’s. Your favorite mug,  your favorite oversized hoodie, your favorite oversized gray sweatpants, your phone charm, a little apple—

Your face in the mirror, because he’d run his knuckles along your cheek, tweak your nose, gently flick your forehead. The lungs behind your ribs, because you breathed when he breathed, when you couldn’t remember how. Your hair, because he used to tug on your ponytail, your braids, your bun, he’d run his fingers along where it was buzzed, when you wore a fade for a while.

All these things belonged to him, had always belonged to him.

Teasing. Smiling. Gentle, and playful.

All the things you never were, and never had to be, because he was those things for the both of you.

You shake your head. “Forecast called for snow. I didn’t expect it to be so bright. It’s okay. We’re going to a movie, anyway, right?”

You try to smile again.

He studies you.

Buys your lie.

You don’t want to take the sunglasses out of your bag. You don’t want to protect your eyes, today.

You wear his sunglasses religiously, except for the days that are unbearable. The days where you want the pain, as you stare into the bright, hollow sky, searching for airplanes, for contrails in the blue.

You wonder how much pain your brother endured, in his last few moments.

Moments that might have felt like a lifetime in the flames.

Sometimes, you need to let the sun hurt your eyes. 

A burn without flames.

It’s the least you deserve.

You go in first. I’m not your sidekick.

No. You were never his sidekick. You were just his other half. Or rather, he was yours.

Your boyfriend nods, tightens his pretty scarf around his strong neck against the chill. A gift from you, when the weather turned colder. Not hand-knit, like the one you made for your brother. But lovely, expensive. “Yeah, it starts in half an hour. We better get a move on if you want snacks.”

You let him take your hand. You’re grateful for the gloves between your skin and his.

You know that’s not right. That it’s not normal.

But when have you ever been normal?

You walk through the crowds, the shifting mass of humanity. The reflection of the sun between the mirrored buildings. The scents of food, perfume, crisp winter air.

You look up at the sky, let the sun blind you, leave sunspots in your vision, and then look forward, over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

The sunspots dissipate, slowly. 

There is the scent of fried food. 

The sound of a woman’s laughter.

A child, shrieking about a toy.

Your gloved hand, held in your boyfriend’s, squeezed just a little too tight, as if he can sense how far away you are, how far away you have always been, from the day he met you, as he smiled shyly at you from across the bar while you were out with Tara. Who mustered the courage to introduce himself to you, asked about your job, listened attentively as you spoke, acted impressed. Who told funny, safe jokes. He asked for your number, not content with just giving you his card. He didn’t want to let you slip through his fingers, he said.

You, someone so beautiful, poised, a hero, Linkon’s finest. Someone just cold enough to present a challenge, but who smiled softly, chose a sophisticated drink, listened attentively in return.

All the things you learned from watching your brother go through life easily—smiling, charming, poised, popular, a hero. 

Your boyfriend fell in love with the mask you wear now. The mask you put on, the day your brother left for the DAA and left you behind, because he could no longer smile for you, laugh politely for you, make jokes and charm people for you. A shield, between you and the rest of a demanding, draining world.

Now, in Azure Square, there is the scent of food, the sounds of life.

There is the mirrored sun.

And between your boyfriend’s shoulder and a group of tourists lifting their selfie sticks in the air, stands your dead brother.

You don’t blink.

If you blink, he might be gone when you open your eyes again.

This has happened to you before. You look across a crowd, and are convinced you see the curve of his cheek, the long line of his nose. 

You see indigo eyes in strangers’ faces across the street.

You hear him calling your name, but when you turn, there’s no one there.

Each time, your feet move before you can even think. You’ve almost been hit by a car, multiple times, crossing streets where he’s not on the other side.

You startle strangers as you pull on their arm from behind, turn them toward you, search their eyes for a color that you’ve never seen anywhere but in his face.

It’s never him. Just a trick of the light. A mirage in the desert.

The devastation, afterwards, realizing it’s not him—it’s like waking up all over again, to your ears ringing. To the fire reflected in his necklace.

To being forced to lower an empty coffin into the ground.

Now, across Azure Square, his back is to you. 

But you’d know him anywhere.

His broad shoulders. The sheen of his brunette hair. His indigo eyes. The inner curve of his elbow. His strong calves. His long toes.

His scent, his voice, echoing in your head.

His lungs, breathing for you, when you couldn’t breathe for yourself.

When the panic would come, and collapse your chest.

Breathe with me. Breathe with me. Look at me, look only at me, and breathe with me.

You can’t blink. Your eyes hurt before, and they hurt even more now.

He turns.

The sun pours liquid gold over his profile.

It’s him.

It’s him.

It can’t be him.

This is a mirage. You are a pilot, stranded in the desert, downed plane smoking behind you.

You are lost in the desert, and you are hallucinating water.

He’s dead. 

You’ve been in the desert for a year now.

Even before—even before he walked into the house first, and everything changed, you had tried to live without the other half of yourself.

With each broken promise to come home, to meet. With each rain check, Sorry, Pipsqueak something came up at work, a new mission, not this time, I promise, next time.

With each day, the distance grew, straining the tether between you.

You couldn’t bear waiting until it snapped entirely, couldn’t bear waiting until the day he finally severed it first. 

You couldn’t bear waiting for the day he announced that he had found someone else. When his profile picture inevitably changed to two smiling faces, instead of a silly carved apple.

Because of words like unhealthy, codependent, dysfunctional.

Because of the time stretching, longer and longer, between each answered text, each missed call.

Because of distance, between you, stranded on the earth, and him, flying high in the sky.

So you decided to carve him from you, an expert butcher, after he took your lungs, along with the necklace you gave him, and flew to Skyhaven, into the blue, blue sky.

You haven't breathed right since he left for the DAA, and you left for the Academy.

You decided to carve him from you. You were adept with blades, after all.

No one really needs two kidneys.

Two hands.

Two eyes. 

People can survive with half a liver.

And you feel like he always had your entire, mangled heart, such as it is. You’ve lived without it, for as long as you can remember.

You are a skilled butcher on the battlefield, as well as in the privacy of your mind. Carving out pieces of yourself, forcing yourself to live without the other half of you, the person carrying the most important parts of you, long before he walked into the house first, drew his last breath, left you alone on the sidewalk to watch your childhood home containing the best parts of you, brightly burning.

So many people live without parts of themselves, every day.

If you couldn’t sleep without his voice, telling you it’s okay, I’ll protect you, from the world, from the nightmares?

Well. You just wouldn’t sleep.

You couldn’t afford to panic, anymore, without him there to show you how to breathe again. 

You just never breathed deeply again.

You took your terror, a constant thrum under your skin ever since Gran brought you home from a place you can't remember, and swallowed it. Keep it in your stomach. 

You can’t eat much, because there’s so very little room left, where food is supposed to go.

But one does what one must, living without so many parts of oneself. And the only food that you could ever stomach was food made by your brother's hands, anyway.

After your expert carving, you can laugh, run, fight, do your job, return a lover’s touch—because what does it matter, that the hands touching you are wrong, with most of yourself in the blue, blue sky, out amongst the stars, wherever his pilot’s wings took him?

You’ve been so far away from yourself, for so much longer than the moment he walked into the house first.

Now, your body wants your eyes to blink. 

Seeing him through all the shifting bodies, the cold January wind pulling tears from your wide, disbelieving eyes.

But you can’t. If you blink, when you open your eyes again, he’ll vanish.

He’s dead.

You tried to kill him, kill the parts of him remaining in you, long before he actually died.

It must be a mirage.

He used to read to you, huddled together in Gran’s bay window in the attic, about a pilot who fell from the sky, crash landed in the desert. A little prince. A fox. A rose.

A little prince who tames and loves a rose, but leaves her behind to explore the stars.

Your brother always referred to you as his rose, when it was just the two of you. But how could you be something so delicate, beautiful, entitled?

You were actually the pilot, struggling under the hot sun. Downed, while the little prince flew back amongst the stars.

I did not know how to reach him, how to catch up with him... The land of tears is so mysterious.

You had learned to live without him.

So what, if you still tried to blind yourself in the sun, looking for his path through the sky?

A small price to pay, when he walked into the house first.

Now, across Azure Square, he looks so beautiful, right there, soaked in gold, in the blue blue sky.

What if it’s not a mirage?

You stop.

Your boyfriend turns. Looks at you curiously.

You can’t tear your eyes from your dead.

Is it the sun? A trick of the light? Is it really only a mirage, in the desert, the desert of your days dragging out behind you, contrails of grief from the moment the words left your lips?

I’m not your sidekick.

Your brother continues to turn. Now, he’s facing you. Through all these moving bodies, through the sunlight cascading down his shining hair, the soft downward turn of his indigo eyes, flashing in the mirrored light.

You hear your boyfriend say your name again, as if from a great distance. The distance that has always been there, because you have been so far away, for so long.

You’ve spent so long, searching the sky, for traces of him. His contrails white against the brilliant blue. Long before he died.

You’ve survived it all. His leaving the first time. Through the long years, where you pretended to live just fine without him, to not need him, his breath in your lungs, his voice in your head.

His death, his final smile, the last horrible, petty thing you said to him.

If he’s just a trick of the light, you’ll survive it.

Again.

It will hurt, but you’re used to the pain. You’ve been buried, suffocating in the dark, for so long already.

You just. You have to be sure.

You pull your hand from your boyfriend’s, begin to run.

You still haven’t blinked.

Your eyes burn. 

People must sense your desperation, because they part for you, easily. You’re moving through them like a jet in flight. There is only you, and your destination.

Your mouth is moving, and it’s the first time in a year that you’re saying anything that matters.

“Caleb.”

Your voice is loud, even in the bustle of all the people filling the Square. He pauses, indigo eyes searching the crowd.

You’re running, running, through the sun-drenched square, the awful, blinding bright blue sky, and when his eyes finally meet yours, you feel like you can fly.

You don’t hesitate.

You launch yourself at him.

He catches you, just as you knew he would.

You wrap your legs around his solid waist, your arms around his neck. 

You’re not thinking.

You tear your gloves from your hands with your teeth, drop them to the ground. Your hands are in his hair, fingers digging into the bur of where it’s shaved against his neck.

His eyes, his soft indigo eyes, are the only thing you can see.

His sweet breath, warm against your face, puffs white in the cold afternoon air.

“Caleb,” you say, lungs full for the first time in a year. Longer. “Caleb.”

“Hey, Pipsqueak,” he says softly, and it’s not his voice in your head, but in your ears. You watch his full lips form the words. 

It feels like a dream.

A dream you’ve had so many times, only to be jerked back from the dark, to open your eyes to a world where he’s dead.

“Caleb,” you say.

He holds you, indulging you, as always, one big arm wrapped around your waist, the other tucked under your ass, supporting you even as you’re probably squeezing him with your legs to the point of pain.

He smiles at you. His blinding, lovely, soft smile. “Did you miss me?”

You devour his face with your eyes. His pretty purple eyes, turned down at the corners. His long, straight nose. His generous mouth, his warm smile.

Did you miss him?

What a stupid question.

What a stupid fucking question.

You bury your face in his warm neck. Breathe him in. Clean skin. Sun-soaked linen, hanging in the spring breeze. Caleb.

“Is this real?” you ask, helpless, desperate.

He holds you more tightly. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s real.”

You want to tell him to promise you.

But he’s promised you things before.

That you would be seeing him every day, soon.

That he’d be home soon.

You can’t help yourself.

“Promise?”

You stare into his eyes. Something moves across his face, here and gone, before you can catch it.

“Promise,” he says. Easily. Like he really means it.

You don’t want to move. You just want to stay here, in his arms, forever.

You don’t want to ask anything else. You don’t want to destroy the ecstatic relief of this moment.

You can’t stand to keep moving through the desert, only to discover that this is a mirage.

A trick of the light.

He must feel the same, because he continues to hold you, effortlessly, stroking his hand down your hair with one big gloved hand.

“Caleb,” you say.

“Yeah,” he answers you. A reassurance. A confirmation.

“Caleb.” A sigh. A question.

“Yeah Pipsqueak. It’s me.”

You hug him, and he hugs you back, as you stand in a sea of people moving around you, as the bright winter sun spills over you, drenching you in a dream that you refuse to wake up from.

The moment could have lasted for a lifetime, or just a few heartbeats.

It shatters, when your boyfriend’s voice breaks through the haze of Caleb’s soft hair under your hands, the scent of his neck in your nose.

“Who’s this, babe?”

You feel Caleb’s body tense under yours. You keep your face buried in his warm neck.

Your boyfriend wouldn’t know.

You put away Caleb’s pictures, early on, after. Seeing them had torn at all the phantom parts of you that shouldn’t have hurt anymore, because Caleb took them with him when he left. You suffered, every time you had to tear your eyes away from is photos again, knowing that the pictures were the only way of seeing him, for the rest of your fucking life.

You had stared in the mirror, more times than you could count, wishing your eyes were a pretty purple, turned down at the corners. Wishing for his soft, silken hair in his exact shade. Trying to find him in your features, an anchor, a pale reflection of what you lost.

But his blood didn’t flow through your veins, despite you spending all the life you could remember feeling like it did.

Caleb makes a fist of your hair. Tugs a little, gently. “Gonna introduce us, Pipsqueak?”

You're so happy to be in this dream, to have him in your arms, that you forget to resist. To rebel. To refuse him, his gentle, firm requests, as you had done once he left for the DAA. You let him gently guide your face away from his neck. Let him slowly lower you to your feet, your body dragging against his. You only half turn, as he keeps his arm around your waist, your body tucked into his. You can’t let him go yet. You’re not ready to let any space come between you yet. You keep one arm wrapped around his waist.

You look at your boyfriend, and it’s like looking at a stranger. You shake your head, try to clear the sense of wrong that has always been there, no matter who you tried to date, no matter who you tried to care for. “This is my—,” you begin, but Caleb cuts you off.

“I’m Caleb.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen.

“Caleb? Your brother, Caleb?” he asks, eyes darting between Caleb’s face and yours.

“I’m her Caleb, yeah,” Caleb’s voice sounds funny. As if he’s angry about something. “And you are?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Sorry, Caleb, this is my boyfriend. And yeah, this is Caleb.”

“So you’re… Not dead,” your boyfriend says, strangely. 

“Very much not dead.” You can hear the smile in Caleb’s voice, but when you look at him, he looks colder than you can ever remember seeing him. Something about his eyes is different, different from the little boy you knew, as he read you stories of pilots, of little princes and tamed foxes, of roses, as he stares down your boyfriend like he presents some type of threat.

It occurs to you that you should let him go. That you should step away. That needing to cling to him like this is— unhealthy. Dysfunctional. 

Can you be excused, just this once, if you’ve believed that he has been dead for a year?

You’re suddenly overwhelmed with the fear that this is a dream again.

Your lungs hurt.

You turn your head. “Caleb,” you say, desperate.

He looks away from your boyfriend, gazes down into your face.

You lift your arm from his waist, up, up, clutch the back of his neck, soothing yourself with the soft buzzed hair there, as it fades into his longer, soft strands. “Caleb, is this real? This isn’t a dream?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s real. Keep looking at me.” 

He leans down, and he has to come so far to come down to your level, rounding his shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours. Looks into your eyes.

All you see is indigo.

“Breathe,” he says, and he takes a big inhale. 

You do as he says. Breathe in. You feel his breath against your lips, sense his chest expanding with the breath in his healthy, living lungs. 

He exhales, clouds forming on his lips, drifting into the bright blue sky.

You exhale, and he inhales again, as if trying to breathe in your breath.

The ache in your lungs eases, as he does this for you, the way he used to. Before you went to the Hunter Academy. Before he went to the DAA.

You finally allow yourself to close your eyes, forehead resting against his. “Caleb,” you say.

“Yeah. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls away from you, just a little, but takes one big gloved hand and tucks your face into his chest. You hear him address your boyfriend.

“Hey man, it was nice meeting you. It’s been a long time, and we have a lot to talk about. I’m gonna take her back to her place so we can catch up. She’ll call you later.”

Your boyfriend says something, but it’s lost to you, as you soak in Caleb’s warmth, as you enjoy the feeling of being able to breathe again, after so, so long.

Of feeling, not far away, but close, for the first time in a year. Longer than a year.

Of feeling like your body has been returned to you, after being buried in the earth, for a year.

Then you’re being turned, guided through the crowd.

Everything is a blur. You can’t ask any questions. 

Despite his reassurance, you still don’t believe him. 

He’s made so many promises before, after all.

You don’t want to wake up from this dream.

He’s holding your hand, helping you into a passenger seat. Some kind of Jeep, some muddy, functional military vehicle that stands out amidst the sleek, gleaming cars meant for urban travel.

The inside smells like him.

You stare at his profile, still limned in bright, bright sunlight, as he takes your hand, holds it in his, sheltering yours, resting your clasped hands on his big thigh as he drives one-handed, relaxed, through the weekend traffic back to your apartment.

You stare at his face in the mirrors of your elevator. He stares back, smiling softly.

Neither of you say anything.

What needs to be said, in a dream?

It’s enough, that he feels so real, his warm, big hand holding yours. He feels so alive.

His scent, the scent of home, of clean laundry, of clean skin.

His beautiful, kind eyes.

Inside your apartment, he squats, unlaces your big boots. The sound of his long fingers sliding through the laces is loud in the silence of your empty place.

You suddenly hate not having his eyes on you.

You bend down, place your hands on his cheeks, lift his face.

He pauses, looks up at you. Indulges you, as he always does.

“Caleb.”

It’s all you can say.

All you can think.

“Yeah, baby.”

You shiver.

He only ever called you that, when it was the two of you.

You always wondered what he meant. 

He never looked at you like a lover. Never touched you like a lover. But why would he have to, when he is the other half of you?

He has always been so much more to you.

And yet, you know, that you have always been so much less to him.

Why else would he refuse to kiss you, touch you, take what you’ve been clearly offering, for years, before he left for the DAA?

But whatever he used to give you was enough, even if you always wanted him to touch you differently, just as he named you differently, when it was just the two of you.

Before he left for the DAA.

Before you learned not to breathe.

It will have to continue being enough now.

If this isn’t a dream.

You lost him once.

If this isn’t a dream, you’re never, ever losing him again.

“Caleb,” you say, and he smiles.

“Yeah.” He rises to his feet. He’s so much bigger than when you were children, now. He’s so much bigger even, than the last time you saw him. You admire the controlled strength of his body, its graceful movement as he shrugs out of his winter coat, hanging it on a peg on the wall. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You step out of your boots. 

He moves his hands to his own combat boots, broken in but still buffed to a shine. He removes them efficiently. Lines them up neatly in your shoe rack, adds your own boots next to his.

You’re about to unzip your jacket when his big hands replace yours on the zipper, gently guiding yours out of the way. He watches your face as he unzips your coat. He’s still smiling softly, the curve of his lips more familiar to you than your own in the mirror.

“Caleb,” you say. You can’t stop yourself, each time.

“Yeah.” He answers you patiently. “I’m here.”

He slowly slides your coat from your shoulders, your arms. He hangs it on a peg next to his, then takes your hand again, leads you further into your place.

The bright sun is spilling in through the drawn up blinds.

He looks around, then turns, looks down into your face in question. “Pretty grim, Pipsqueak.”

You look away. You don’t want to talk about this now. You don’t want to wake up from the dream.

He’s here. Right here, so warm and big next to you.

Breathing.

Alive.

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you disobey him, he lifts a hand, strokes it over your hair. Makes a fist in it, gently guides you to look at him again. For the first time, you notice that he hasn’t removed his gloves. Before you can ask why, he continues. “Why the bare walls?”

You sink into his hands, let him tilt your head up, look up into his beautiful, precious, familiar face.

There’s something different about his eyes.

You can’t tell what it is.

“You know why.”

His smile fades.

“You’ve been dead for a year,” you say.

He looks away, for the first time. Then looks back at you, tilts your head back further, curving your throat, naked under his eyes.

“It's felt like that, yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” 

What else is there to say? This is a dream, right? Despite his promise that he’s here, that he’s alive. That this is real.

He lets you go, and you feel like falling to your knees.

But you haven’t fallen to your knees as a result of his absence for years now.

You manage to stay standing.

“Thirsty?” you ask, when he just stands there, looking at your face, your neck, your chest, eyes drifting down to your feet and up again. As if he’s as thirsty for your image as you are for his.

You’ve only ever been able to slake the thirst of his throat. It has always had to do, knowing that he wasn't thirsty for you.

“Very,” he says, strangely emphatic. But then he seems to return to himself. “I’ll make us something. I know what you like the best, after all.”

He turns, and you watch his broad back as he moves into your kitchen.

You realize that he’s about to see more evidence of the desolation his death has wrought in your life.

You suddenly can’t stand it.

You move forward, grab his arm.

It’s hard.

Like, really hard.

Not hard like firm muscle.

Hard like the barrel of a gun.

He turns, grabs your hand with his, gently, firmly, removes it from his bicep.

“What do you need, baby?”

His voice is gentle, but his eyes.

There’s something different about his eyes.

You’re starting to wonder if this isn’t a dream.

“Caleb?” 

He sighs. “Let me get you something to drink. Then we can talk.”

But you don’t want to talk. You want to know.

You have to know.

“No, I want to see.” 

His voice is harder, now. “No, you don’t. You have no idea—”

You cut him off, anger sudden, bright, painful.

One of the few things you have left to you, after he took everything else with him into the ground.

“No. No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand, what it’s been like—,” you choke, the loss, the weight of the past year suddenly overwhelming.

How dare he hide part of himself from you? How dare he disappear for a year, say nothing, let you believe he was dead? Let you suffer, suffocate, be buried in the ground in an empty coffin? You need to see him, to touch him, to feel him. It’s the least of what he owes you. After everything.

The anger ebbs, just as quickly as it came. You need this. You need him.

“Caleb.” You step forward again. Lift your hand, slowly. “Please.”

You’re not above begging. You’ve never been above begging, wheedling, pleading.

An annoying little sister.

Until he left. 

Until the time between returned texts, missed calls, set you on your butcher’s path. Your limping half-life, muscling forward, agonized at every step, every milestone, alone, untethered, with most of yourself flying so far away, high in the sky.

You had never been above begging, until the day you decided never to ask him for anything, ever again.

Something strange passes over his handsome face, then. Again, it’s so quick, you can’t catch its meaning, the feeling behind it.

He sighs again.

You know this is his consent.

You move forward, place your hand back on his arm. Feel its hard planes, the inhuman hardness under your palm.

Then your hands are at the hem of his hoodie, his undershirt. Scrambling, shaking. You lift, lift, the soft fabric, the scent of clean laundry filling your nose, the smell of home wafting from his now-exposed skin, his waist, abdomen—the soft trail of dark hair leading down into his pants, the slight, soft layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath.

Caleb has always been big, hard and soft, strong. Not hydration starved, stone cut. The strength of a man who excelled at sport, at lifting weights, at eating heartily to fuel his big body. That hasn’t changed. You resist the urge to lean down, press your face into the soft hair of his belly.

You lift his shirts further, and he lets you, lifting his arms.

You pull the hoodie, the undershirt over his head, and your eyes widen as his right arm is revealed in its silver, breathtaking beauty. Your breath catches. You drop his shirts on the floor.

He must misread something in your gaze, in your hitched breath. His voice is bitter. “The price of resurrection,” he says.

You take him in. His big feet, steady on your kitchen floor. His long legs, thick thighs encased in cargo pants. The soft line of his hair on his stomach, tapered waist, the flare of his back, his huge pectorals, the dark soft hair there. His broad shoulders, heavy with muscle. His big arms, one the lovely, softly furred skin you remember against you in the middle of a panic attack, in the middle of the night when the nightmares would come. The other, gleaming under the bright sunlight streaming through your windows.

Sinuous silver metal, grooved in intricate patterns for movement, utility. Ending in a hand, still encased in a glove.

“Beautiful,” you breathe.

Until this moment, you haven’t given yourself a chance to wonder how he was here, whole, after the explosion, the fire.

You didn’t dare let yourself believe that this wasn’t a dream.

But here he is. The rise and fall of his big chest as he breathes, as he watches you, watching him.

His arm, the evidence of what he has endured.

You reach out, pause as he flinches. But he doesn’t pull away. You take his gloved, prosthetic hand in yours, lift it to your mouth.

You open, exposing your teeth. You gently bite the soft leather, clench. Pull. 

The glove slides off his hand, this new hand of his, as Caleb’s chest rises and falls, faster.

As a soft pink rises up his chest, his neck, into his cheeks.

You think because of the embarrassment. Maybe misplaced shame.

As if he should ever be ashamed of having survived. Of having come home to you, finally.

You think you can forgive anything, in this moment.

You know it won’t last. You know that too much has happened. 

You’ve always held terrible grudges.

But for now, you forgive him, as you take his metal hand in both of yours. As you lift it to your cheek. As you close your eyes, nuzzle into his cool, silver palm, so grateful that he’s here, whole. 

You’ve never been whole. He’s always had half of you. More than half. But it doesn’t suit Caleb, not to be whole—your wholesome, better half.

You’re so grateful that even the parts he lost have been restored in such a beautiful, strength-suffused way. A living sculpture.

You don’t see him clenching his teeth.

You don’t see the tears, gathering at the edges of his soft, indigo eyes.

The heave of his chest.

Just for a moment, as he breaks a little, as he helplessly watches you, because he can’t feel you very well with this hand, as you press your face into the most inhuman part of himself.

He takes a deep breath. Steadies himself. He pulls you in with his strong, gleaming arm. Wraps his other arm around you. Tucks your head into his chest. He resists the urge to take his silver hand, squeeze your throat, his long fingers reaching the back of your strong, delicate neck.

Just enough pressure, to leave a collar of bruises, to remind you when he has to leave you again that this is real, that he's real, when you start to doubt again, to worry again.

For your boyfriend to see.

You feel the soft hair under your cheek, his warm skin, contrasting with his cold metal hand, the steady heartbeat under your ear.

This is real.

He’s alive.

Caleb is alive.

“Caleb.”

It’s all you can say.

“Yeah.”

He holds you like this, standing in your kitchen. He holds you like this for an eternity. But it will never feel as long as the year without him.

You don’t think it will ever be enough, after what you endured, during your year buried in the dark.

Finally, you realize you have to go to the bathroom. You pull away. “My kitchen is empty. You don’t understand what it has been like, since you've been gone. So don’t judge.”

He looks down into your face, smiles at you. There’s no trace of the tears in his eyes. “Oh, I’m gonna judge you, Pipsqueak,” he teases, and the familiarity of it helps you breathe. Gives you the strength to scowl at him, force yourself to pull further away. 

“Be more useful than you have been for the past year and order something to eat while I’m in the bathroom,” you order him.

He snorts a laugh. Gives you a lazy salute.

You don’t see his smile fade, as he watches you move away from him, shut the door to the bathroom behind you.

You don’t see his shaky breath, the cold which leeches from his arm back into his eyes. He looks around your apartment, the empty walls, the lack of pillows, blankets on the spare furniture. As if you don’t allow yourself comforts, anymore. All of the color, the life bled out of a place that should be your safe space, your sanctuary. All the color, the life that he knows lives inside you, even if you don’t believe it yourself.

He turns, opens a cupboard.

Bare.

Opens the fridge.

A half-drunk bottle of wine. The rest, bare.

He scowls.

He’s been gone for too long. You’ve lost too much weight.

But he’s back now.

Things are going to change for you, now. Because he’s going to change them.

Your phone vibrates from your coat in the hall.

You don’t see him stride to the hall, fish it out of your pocket, unlock it. He knows your passcode, still. It’s his birthday, after all.

It’s a text from your boyfriend.

He stares down at it. All okay? Raincheck for the movie? Maybe tonight after you’ve had a chance to catch up with your brother this afternoon?

His contact picture in your phone is a picture of the two of you, him smiling brightly, you smiling slightly. A reserved, faraway smile. Caleb knows this smile.

It’s your mask.

The mask you put on, after he left for the DAA.

This smile is the only thing that will save your boyfriend from an unfortunate incident that costs him his life.

This smile tells Caleb that removing this man from your life will be a cakewalk, so no extreme measures are necessary.

If you were really happy with this guy, you would feel safe enough to not smile at all. To reveal all the hollow, empty places inside you, that only Caleb can fill.

If you had shown your true face in the photo, Caleb might have to worry.

Caleb types, briefly.

You: Not today. Still busy with Caleb. I’ll call you.

He then deletes both texts.

He turns the phone to silent. Slips it back into your coat pocket.

He slips his own phone out of one of his pockets, orders some food and drinks as you so adorably demanded.

He doesn’t bother putting his hoodie or undershirt back on.

He pours two glasses of water, since you don't even have any fucking tea in your cupboards. He takes them over and sets them on one of your sidetables next to your couch.

You emerge from the bathroom, come to him on the couch. You just stand, staring down at him. A complicated look of sorrow, of relief—anger, hesitation, yearning—on your gorgeous, cherished face, all of your emotions, plain as day, so easy for him to read. Even when you tried to hide them. Even when you tried to push him away, keep him at arm’s length.

He knows you better than you know yourself, after all.

“Why so far away?” he finally asks.

A helpless look crosses your lovely face now. He reaches out with his human hand, and you take it, let him pull you down next to him on the couch. You rest your head against his shoulder.

Neither of you speak. He just holds you, your body melting into his. His fingers, the ones he can feel the best, drift up and down your arm.

There will be time now, to speak, later. 

All the time in the world.

Caleb’s back, and he’s not going anywhere. He’s going to fix what he broke.

It’s time to start making up for lost time.

He thinks about the book he used to read to you as a child. About a little prince, who loved a rose. A demanding, capricious, prickly rose. Whose upkeep took all of the little prince's time, energy. Eventually, the little prince tires of the work, and leaves his rose behind.

I was too young to know how to love her.

Unlike the little prince, Caleb never tired of his thorny, difficult, needy rose. The rose that he began taming from the moment Gran brought her, hollow-eyed and traumatized, from a terrible, terrible place.

You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.

But Caleb did have to leave his rose behind, for much longer than he intended.

"I'm sorry, I'm so tired," you interrupt his thoughts, yawning, wide, freely.

You haven't been this pliant, this needy, with him in years. He marvels at the sensation, of you being so close to him again. Of you revealing yourself to him again, after so long, with your clinginess, your need to be close to his body, to him, your naked reliance on what he can give you with his big body, his soothing words.

Apparently his death actually had an upside.

He turns his head, looks down at you. "Then sleep, Pipsqueak."

Your beautiful face twists into an expression of dread. It breaks his heart, as it always has. "I'm afraid to fall asleep."

How often has he heard this from you, through the course of his life by your side? Your nightmares, ever present, walking on one side of you, as Caleb walked on the other, helpless, unable to reach into your mind and crush them with his telekinesis. He has always tried to be everything to you. To give you everything. But the only thing he could offer you for the dreams haunting you was treatment for the symptoms, instead of destroying the cause. His arms around you in the dark. Brushing the sweat-soaked hair from your forehead. Whispering silly stories to you, until your heart stopped racing. Resisting the urge to kiss you, to roll on top of you, fill you until you forgot everything but him.

He asks a question he thinks he already knows the answer to. He knows you better than you know yourself, after all. "Nightmares still bothering you?" He lets his human fingertips drift up to your face, thumbing across your cheek. Your skin is so soft. He wants to run his tongue where his thumb is. He has always wanted to run his tongue where his thumb is, where his fingers are. Along the delicate skin of your throat, the insides of your thighs, behind your knees, between your legs.

He hated himself for the want.

The little prince was too young when he left his rose to know how to love her properly.

In many ways, so was Caleb.

But he died. He died, and he crawled back from the grave, just to be with you again.

He's not the same boy you knew. And he's not the same boy who was too young to properly love his rose.

"Yes. But they changed, after you died." Your breath is shaky as you exhale. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. I don't want to fall asleep right now, because I'm afraid that when I wake up, this will all have been a dream."

He wants to know about how your nightmares changed. He hates the idea that there are things about you now that he doesn't know. He needs to know everything.

But now he has time. All the time in the world, to re-learn every part of you. To learn what he never allowed himself to learn, before. Your taste. You softest, most tender places.

"Sleep. I'll prove to you that this is real. I'll be here when you wake up," he promises.

And he means it. He cleared the entire weekend, as he hacked your phone, figured out where you'd be. As he made his way to intercept you in public, to gauge your reaction to seeing him for the first time, to make you feel safe by giving you the choice to come to him, instead of him suddenly confronting you with a ghost at your door.

To see how you'd react to seeing him, when you were with another man.

He knows you better than you know yourself. You reacted just as he had expected, had hoped.

He probably smiled a little too wide, as you hid your face in his neck, as you clung to him, as he told your interim boyfriend that you were otherwise occupied for the rest of the day.

Now, you look up at him, completely unaware of the intensity of his feelings for you. That'll begin to change, from now on. You nod. Whisper, "Okay."

"Good girl," he murmurs, and leans back on the couch, pulls you down with him. You rest your head on his bare chest, and he feels whole for the first time in years.

You fall asleep like the sun slipping below the desert's horizon, melting into him.

He watches you sleep, idly running his good hand along your back, tracing your spine. He's hard as fuck, but he does nothing, as he has done for years. His dick can wait.

He knows you better than you know yourself. And whatever has changed in the last year, he'll learn.

He has time. All the time in the world, now.

Suddenly, you whimper in your sleep, frowning. You're dreaming, and it's not good.

He lifts his human hand, gently presses into your lower lip with his thumb. You whimper again, open your lips. He slips his thumb in, relishing the feel of your warm, wet tongue on his skin. You wrap your lips, your tongue around his thumb as you sleep, and you settle, your body melting into his again. He's hard as fuck, but still feels so satisfied, watching as he soothes you with a part of himself.

He has time. All the time in the world, now. And this time, he's not going to resist the urge to kiss you, to stuff you with himself until all of your empty, hollow spaces are filled. Dying puts things like guilt, sin, societal expectations into perspective.

Nothing is going to stop him from getting everything he wants, this time. And in the process, he's going to give you everything he knows you want in return.

No, he's not the same kind-hearted boy from your childhood.

And he was never your fucking brother.

[sunflowerim]

some lines from Solitaire that just hit too close to home

“Tori,” says Becky, “you look a little bit like you want to kill yourself.”

I deflate into a chair and nod philosophically. “It’s funny because it’s true.”

//

My name is Victoria Spring. I think you should know that I make up a lot of stuff in my head and then get sad about it. I like to sleep and I like to blog. I am going to die someday.

//

Sometimes I hate people. This is probably very bad for my mental health.

//

personally, thinking or talking too much about “boy issues” makes me want to shoot myself in the face.

//

I am a vacuum. I am void. I am nothing.

//

THE FIRST THING I do when I get home from school is collapse onto my bed and turn on my laptop. This happens every single day. If I’m not at school, you can guarantee that my laptop will be somewhere within a two-meter radius of my heart. My laptop is my soul mate.

//

(charlie to tori): “You like to act as if you care about nothing, and if you carry on like that, then you’re going to drown in the abyss you have imagined for yourself.”

//

I instantly wish I’d just shut up. I always do this thing where I accidentally say self-deprecating stuff that makes other people feel really awkward, especially when it’s true.

//

I really don’t do anything unless I actually want to do it. And most of the time I don’t want to do anything at all

//

One day I’m going to forget how to wake up.

//

Smoking is so pointless. The only reason I can think of for smoking is if you want to die. I don’t know. Maybe they all want to die.

//

When you watch a film, you’re sort of an outsider looking in. With a book—you’re right there. You are inside. You are the main character.

//

You think you’ve met bad people, and then you meet people who are worse.

//

I don’t want people to be worried about me. There’s nothing to worry about. I don’t want people to try and understand why I am the way I am, because I should be the first person to understand that. And I don’t understand yet. I don’t want people to interfere. I don’t want people in my head, picking out this and that, permanently picking up the broken pieces of me.

//

We’re so used to disaster that we accept it. We think we deserve it.

//

Did you have a bad day?”

“Yes. Always.”

//

Nobody is honest; nobody is real. You can’t trust anyone or anything. Emotions are humanity’s fatal disease. And we’re all dying.

//

I haven’t ever known what I wanted out of life. Until now. I sort of want to be dead.

Tori's pov really is something.

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "What a beautiful flower you are"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a few words reminding you of how strong, worthy and important you are through every step of your journey. remind yourself of how flower can stand up in the rain and how they may grow through concrete. no matter what is going on, remember that at the end of the day you are always the best, strongest and most valuable flower around at any given time. you can't compare with anyone else, cause you're unique.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. readings do not substitute real life experience nor professionals/doctors advices.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

You make beautiful things grow around whatever negative may happen. You find the positive side in anything that happens and know how to start all over again from anything, trying to make it better. You welcome and nurture what hurts, you transform it in seeds that one day will give life to beautiful flowers just like you. I think you help a lot especially people around you in this process of seeing and finding a positive side, a different side from which to look at what happens and what has happened. You give new povs and new life to scraps and past (it could also be something you like to do creatively/practically, btw). I think those coming in touch with you are deeply changed and inspired by you. You probably forget to use this beautiful habit of yours for yourself too. Please, include yourself into this. You're as deserving of beautiful things as others. Nurture your own pain too, and do anything you can to make it grow into something beautiful and bright as you. And don't close off from others, don't hide your pain from those who'd love to help you. Let them do it for you. You deserve as much as you give away.

song: obsessed | mariah carey (don't be overly obsessed in helping others to the point of codependency, help yourself as well)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

You may have experienced some difficult relationships (eg. family, love, friends, colleagues...) and now you kind of buildt a multi-layered wall around your heart so that people won't be able to make you suffer/betray you again. And yes it's hard for people to get in and hurt you but also to love you. And yes it may make you feel strong and in control but I think you may be also struggling a lot because of this. Being so overprotective of yourself, despite ofc understandable (it's a defense mechanism), is making you feel lonely too because it's blocking your connections from growing. You've been through a lot and you're still here but it's not because of your walls that you made it through. It's because of the love that pulse inside of you. Have a talk with your emotions, with your wounded ego, and realize that not everyone is here to hurt you. You're very much hurting yourself first by not letting others in in fear of something that may never happen. You can survive anything, you can defend yourself, you can call people out or ask for clarifications. It's not you the naive/"wrong" person if you trust others and they let you down or betray you. You cannot control what others do with what you give them, nor you're responsible of/guilty for that. Come back to you, master your emotions.

song: pure shores | all saints

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3

I think at times you're confident and well but other times you let your self doubt come in between and make you fear you're saying or doing something bad? Ruining something or the day of someone else? Like you end up falling easily and fast into this negative mental pattern of being useless and inherently "bad" (guilty? unworthy?). I think it's a matter of growing acquainted with your boundaries, setting some healthy ones and not fear being judged (it may have happened a lot in your life) for them or not being appreciated anymore or abandoned if you stopped pleasing others. We need to respect ourselves too, not just others (and pleasing them is not the same as respecting them anyway: you can disagree/say no and still be respectful). It's like you forget about your worth (it doesn't depend on how good you perform) all of a sudden in fear of being left out. You may feel unsafe in setting your boundaries especially when stressed out (or it just may stress you as said), like you may fear being perceived as rude and left alone. It may be that you got manipulated or gaslighted into feeling always wrong, guilty or bad if you didn't acted as "expected of you". I'm sorry about this: remember you are inherently good and worthy, and you have the right to stand up for yourself. You won't end up alone. Find your inner balance and peace, go slow. You're already perfect.

song: underdog | you me at six

[theholypeanut]

♪ You Belong with Me ♪

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Isagi Yoichi, Kunigami Rensuke

Cw: stalking, fake dating or is it?, fluff and a tiny lil angst, mention of Barou not getting bitches (pov he goes to the same school as Isagi) , mention of Otoya being a horny perv (Otoya slander as always love u Eita)

Plot: Being a football star is not an easy task, being popular can really get on your nerves when someone goes too far. That’s why he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend to make all of this unwanted attention to go away highschool au, fake dating trope, afab!reader, ~800 words each

Bachira Meguru

Bachira was never very popular with girls, so when he started getting anonymous love letters, he was excited. Someone is crushing on him? However, as time passed, it seemed like this person was more obsessed than in love - writing about how cute Megu looks under the shower (how do they know?) and thirsty messages about how amazing he smells - it got very uncomfortable, especially when you don’t know who is sending you all of this. So he asked you if you could pretend to be his partner, just so the stalker would leave him alone. 

Fake dating Bachira was actually a lot of fun. Since you were close friends, so you essentially did the same things, except his hand was wandering on your back a lot, around your waist, in your hair. He started to call you Bumblebee in front of others, making you blush with his affectionate behaviour. To be clear, he was clingy before, but now Bachira Meguru was just a menace. However, it didn’t take you long to get used to wearing his sweatshirt when it was cold, and holding hands around his teammates “because you’ll never know if the stalker is seeing or not, so we have to be like this all the time”. But as time went on Bachira started to be more bold. At first, he kissed your hand occasionally while you walked home, and eventually, he moved on to kissing your forehead goodbye. He didn’t care if it was around people or not anymore. You couldn’t control the butterflies in your stomach every time you felt his lips on your skin. 

Obviously the creepy stalker sent some nasty stuff to Bachira about being heartbroken, however after two weeks you got a familiar envelope in your shoe shelf. Scared that it might be some threat, you opened the letter with shaky hands.

“Take care of him well. I can see how much he loves you”

It caught you off guard, but without a second to think about it, you felt familiar hands around your waist. “Good morning baby” Bachira’s face was right next to your ear as he planted little kiss on your cheek. And just as you looked at him you thought: god, I really don’t want this to end.

He saw the envelope in your hands and got angry at the spot. “I really hope they don’t even try to mess with my-” you shook your head and showed him the letter. “It’s good. You are good” You stopped for a second with a sad look on your face. “I guess if it worked we don’t have to-” the bell starting classes stopped you from ending the sentence. But Bachira knew what you wanted to say and he hated it.

You spent morning classes thinking about Meguru way more than usual. The silence on his part was frightening you, because what if for him it was really just an act? What if he doesn’t mind to come back to things as they were?

On the lunch break you felt your phone vibrating.

Megu: Can we talk? Come behind the gym

Without answering you just stood up and went feeling anxiety taking over your body. When you arrived and saw a familiar silhouette, your heart skipped a bit. Meguru came closer and pushed you gently against the wall and put his forehead on the crook of your neck. Feeling his breathe so close to your skin make you shiver.

“You are right, you don’t have to pretend anymore” he said, and your throat got dry as you felt like tearing up any moment.

“But if we stop pretending, and do it for real, does that mean I can kiss your lips too?”

Isagi Yoichi

Isagi was your best friend since childhood, the best neighbour, an amazing companion to play board games with. And of course, you were always the loudest fan cheering on all of his matches.

Isagi got very popular when he became one of the best players in his high school and girls and boys finally saw the side of him you saw all along: a very athletic, nice and cute boy. And a very, very handsome one.

At first it flattered him that so many girls came to see him play; however, the louder they screamed, and they squeaked every time he looked in their direction, the more annoying it was to him and distracted him from the game. “Isagi, control your fun club” he heard from angry Barou.

But to be fair, he had no idea what he could do with this issue. He was simply too kind to snap at them, and too shy to stand up to them either.

“Maybe they’ll stop if you date someone?” Bachira mentioned in the locker room after practice. Then he whispered right to Yoichi’s ear: “You have someone who you want to date for some time already, right, Isagi?”

Isagi blushed. Of course there is only one person he would even consider to date: you. But how could he ask you to date him because of something so stupid? He couldn’t do that for years now, so how will he grow a pair now?

“Maybe just get a fake girlfriend” he heard Aiku speaking. “If you are such a virgin you can’t actually get one.”

So obviously, when he asked you, if you could pretend to be his partner to get rid of unwanted attention, how could you say no?

And that’s how you two ended in this situation: holding hands with your childhood friend while going back home together. His hands were so warm, and big, and for the entire route you felt hyper aware of his presence.

“So… how was the practice?” You asked to fill the silence. Normally you’d talk for hours and joke all the way home, but apparently Isagi is also not used to holding hands.

“It was very good… I think the fan club might get more and more discouraged” Yoichi barely could make a full sentence, that’s how much he focused on the way your hand felt. If he knew he could hold your hand everyday, he would ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend years ago.

Pretend. Yeah.

However is it still pretending if you are doing that on your way home with no one around?

“So… what are your plans for the weekend?” He asked trying to get himself together. His team didn’t have to play any matches this week, which was a rare occurrence. And gave him some time for himself.

“Well, I don’t have any particular plans” you started holding his hand tighter. He blushed. “I was thinking maybe I’d study some, watch a movie… on my own”

Oh?

“Do you maybe…” he started while looking away, so you won’t notice his embarrassment. “Want to watch it together? Or… or study together?”

You looked on the ground. Isagi started to regret his boldness - what if you don’t actually like him this way? What if you are actually embarrassed to hold hands with him and it makes you uncomfortable, and you only let it happen because you are a good friend? With growing silence he started overthinking everything and started taking his hand back, just to not make you feel more uncomfortable.

But you held it tighter and raised your brow.

“And what do you think you are doing, huh?”

“I’m sorry, that was very stupid” he started. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, you are already spending so much time with me because of this whole situation, just tell me and I’ll stop bothering you so much”

For a football star he was really insecure, but what could he say? He crumbled under the idea that you might be annoyed with his touch or by his presence. Even if he’d have to keep his feelings for you forever, he’ll do it if that mean he gets to keep you as his friend.

“Yoichi” you started quietly. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. You could never bother me, you know? I actually…” you felt the feelings stuck in your throat. “Missed you a lot, since you are so busy with your football career. I missed spending time with you. Just us”

Isagi felt adrenaline was rushing through his veins just like before he was about to shoot a goal. This was an occasion he was waiting for so long.

“Do you maybe want to go on a date together?” He said without hesitation. You blinked a little surprised.

“You mean like, a fake date?”

“No. A real date. Just us. We can go to cinema, or maybe for a picnic, or we can just study together too…” he held your hand so tightly his fingers turned white. You smiled.

“Yeah, I’d love that”

Kunigami Rensuke

Saying that you and Kunigami were very good friends would be an overstatement. You were a manager of his football team for a year now, and you had a massive crush on him, but you never really talked regularly.

Kunigami was always a very polite guy, thanking you for every towel, every water bottle, always helping you with tasks that require strength, but he wasn’t very talkative, so you just assumed he was doing it out of simple generosity - he was a truly decent person. No wonder so many girls were swooning whenever he was on the field, it was always like this. His physique, handsome face, manners - you sometimes felt jealous over girls who could just openly state their feelings for Kunigami, because in your position it would be inappropriate. So you kept it nice and hidden.

Until you regretted it deeply.

There was this one particular fangirl who was on every match, cheering the loudest, always bringing Kunigami food “with lots of protein just as you like”, made herself a shirt that looks just like his football jersey. She was indeed very annoying and most of the team would either find her unbearable, or, as Otoya, were always staring at her ass in this very short skirt she was wearing.

And then you heard one day as you just arrived to school, that Kunigami has a girlfriend. It was like time stopped for a second. Till now you never expected your crush to date someone else, so in split seconds your heart was aching. Was this that girl? Did she finally succeed in her obnoxious tries?

The whole day at school felt like a fever dream. “Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve” was all over your brain. Maybe you should’ve confessed? Be more aggressive in your tries for his heart? Could you even have any chances?

You took your lunch out and tried to find a quiet place to eat, so you can spiral into your teenage depression a little more. But while going around school you passed the girl’s bathroom, just to hear The Short Skirt crying to her friends. You stopped right behind the door.

“He said that he has a girlfriend… and that I should stop coming on the matches… because it’s not okay towards her…” she took breaks to sniffle.

“You shouldn’t cry about it, we know you are way better than this half-ass girlfriend! There’s no way he got someone better than you!” - her friends were seriously doing their best.

Your brain was working fast. So it wasn’t her? You never saw Kunigami talking to any girl outside of you and her. Does he have a girlfriend outside of the school? Actually, Kunigami gives this vibe “neighbours to lovers” or “childhood friends to lovers”, so it wouldn’t be that far off.

You went to think about it in silence to one of the quieter wings of the school, and was just about to eat your sashimi, when someone aggressively entered the room.

“Oh, good. I found you.” you could see Kunigami was running just seconds ago. He was breathing just as he just ended a marathon. Was he that desperate to tell you that your presence bothers his girlfriend too? “Can I sit with you?”

“Sure” you only let out. He took a place meter away from you and didn’t say anything for a while. It started to get a little awkward, so you brought your bento closer to him.

“Do you have any lunch? Want some sashimi?” you went into your manager mode. If your players don’t eat well, how can they play well? Kunigami considered your offer for a split second.

“No, thank you” As always, you thought, Man of few words.

“So…” he started, while looking at the wall. “I don’t know if you heard the rumours yet”

You tried your best to keep your composure. “Yeah. You have a girlfriend? Congratulations” probably the lack of enthusiasm sold you away. At worst you can always pretend that you are just worried that he will play worse if he’d date, right? Because he is a valuable player.

“Yeah this one. So I kinda wanted to talk to you first, before you hear it, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “Yeah I should have told you yesterday. Sorry”

Oh? You frowned your brows. It’s not like you are such good friends that you would be the first person he’d say that he dates someone? Again you barely talk outside of practice. “Yeah I don’t think you owe me anything. Again good for you, Kunigami-kun”

“No, I don’t think you understand what I mean” he said quickly, like he was afraid you’d leave. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” You felt a little lost now.

“Actually…” he started, still not looking directly at you. “When I told this cheerleader girl that I have a girlfriend, I did it just so she would stop acting like this. It’s not true”

Oooooh. You blinked. Well, now the day started to get a little brighter. “And you wanted to tell me that… why?”

If you sit closer, you’d see how Kunigami’s ears were bright red. “So Bachira said, that maybe I should ask you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a while, so we would be sure that it looks realistic” he paused and finally looked at you. You never saw him looking so vulnerable. “Of course you don’t have to do anything. I was thinking that maybe I would walk you home, and we would eat lunch together, and we should exchange phone numbers…” With every word he looked more and more red. Could he be any more adorable than in this moment?

You smiled, and then dramatically sighed.

“I don’t know, Kunigami-kun. That is a lot of heat I am taking on myself - you have quite an aggressive funclub” you could feel how he freezes in fear, afraid of where are you going with this. Just like a scared puppy. “I think lunch and walking home are not enough. You owe me at least one date per week, where we go to the cinema, or to the arcade…” you thought for a while. “Honestly if you will not after every goal look at me and obnoxiously scream THIS ONE IS FOR YOU BABY, I don’t know if this is worth it. If I’m gonna get murdered by this witches, at least I wanna know you embarrassed yourself enough to compete with Shidou’s cringe. ”

You could feel how all of the stress just disappeared from his shoulders. He really had all of his little speech prepared.

“Okay” he said smiling. “But I’m not saying anything sexual, some things Shidou screams during the matches are seriously nightmare’s material.”

“Ah shoot, no INTO THE WOMB?” You decided to tease him some more, as he is technically now your boyfriend.

“Please stop”

“Then we go to the arcade twice per week”

“If you skip the embarrassing screaming, I can even win you plushies on every outing”

And just like that, you kinda wished The Short Skirt will never be fully convinced about you two, so you can spend time like this for long enough, so it will just become real.

And so did Kunigami.

By slowlyholypeanut please give credit don’t translate and don’t steal love u

Bachira is the best wingman for both Isagi and Kunigami 🫶 (and for himself) what an icon

[oimitocat]

TSWCP — CHAP 3

lee minho x m!reader

chapter summary; you just can’t live with the silence. you can’t bear it. this time, you prove minho you really will risk it all for him. will he take it or leave you with your heart bleeding in your hands?

content warning; subtle internalized homophobia + subtle insecurity + tension + constant change of pov (mainly minho’s) + crying + makeout session

content genre; idol au + actor au + fluff + angst + 9th member! reader

word count — 6.4k | m.list | a/n; this sucks btw ;(

it’s cold. frozen and heavy. 

that’s how you could describe your heart after what had happened days ago. your mind? static. looking for signal. waiting on connection. 

concert tours are coming up. your management had managed to sort something out with the executive directors of the drama so that once you come back from tour with the group, shooting wouldn’t be delayed or a hassle. the thought of it is dreadful. you still have to pull off a few conferences and amidst your tour dates some photo shootings have been crushed into your schedule. 

as much as it pisses you off, it also can’t be helped. 

“what’s your favorite scene?” an interviewer asks. 

you blink, having zoned out. gayoung’s soft touch on your knee brings you back to your current position. 

“me personally,” gayoung says with her fluent english. “i really loved the scene where i had to ride a horse.”

you stare at her before smiling. the other actor, another close friend of yours on set is minwoo, he laughs. 

“i had to help her five times to climb on that thing because she kept slipping.”

“ah, the cons of being a gnome,” you tease automatically.

everyone busts laughing while gayoung gives you an offended expression. she starts an argument, you feed it. 

minho clutches his phone as he watches the interaction from his screen. the video had been posted not so long ago now. he can’t help it, seeing you from a screen and aching. why had he been so stupid? kissing you? confessing? 

you two could never be as perfect as you and gayoung are. your chemistry is absolutely beautiful. it’s so natural. how could he ever compare to something like that. much less now? he ruined what he had with you. was a kiss really worth it? absolutely not. not after the rift he created with you became unmendable. 

“y/n, since the drama is based on a book, it has been said that the first few episodes on the next season you’ll have to portray heartbreak, betrayal and desperation. will that be hard for you?”

he watches how you shake your head immediately, that joyful expression you had dropped “i have to display a raw emotion, most of the time we as actors have to study how to display something we’ve never experienced but in this case, i’ve actually experienced heartbreak and desperation.”

minho’s eyes widened a bit. are you insane? how could you say that with your girlfriend right next to you? 

“could you maybe give us some insight on that?”

“well,” you look up at the ceiling for a moment. then you look back at the screen but for some reason it feels like you’re looking at him. as if you knew he was watching. “as an idol and actor you need to let go of many things you end up carrying, i think everyone does and everyone has someone to seek out and trust enough to simply rant and be yourself with. yet, things kind of change when you grow in the industry… maybe the fans don’t know this about me but i cherish those who i’m close with and will always find a way to keep our bonds, despite how i seem like i’ll let people come and go- it’s nothing like that. filming this drama took a lot out of me…”

“it not only took away my sleep but it took something else away. i loved shooting it, but if i had to do everything all over again…” you pause, sighing, “i think i would… but i’d change a lot of things and work hard not just to keep my career going but to keep those around me too. yeah, maybe we can’t stop people from leaving when they decided they will no matter what but it doesn’t change how horrible that feeling is.’

“you have gayoung though, as a couple i’m sure you share your burdens with her now, right?”

bitterness flashes across your features for a moment. no one has caught that, no one will. only minho.

because as much as it hurts… he’s the only one that knows you more than you know yourself. 

“of couse,” you smile. bitter. “just shows that when someone won’t be there for you, someone else will.” you pause, “and be better.”

ouch. minho turns off his phone, he covers his face into his hands and breathes wetly. he really is the worst, isn’t he?

fans have started to notice the distance between the two of you. bubble messages flood in every now and then saying they hope you and he are doing okay. he sees the comments questioning the silence that has been built between you two. the members know. 

well, they don’t know you two had kissed or that he is inevitably in love with you. 

but they know you two are not in good terms. 

chan had questioned you about it and when you didn’t give him a believable answer he had seeked minho out. all minho said was — “y/n is just too busy to keep what we have, i made sure he focuses on his career.” which in turns absolutely outed the fact minho caused all of this. the look of disappointment chan gave him is the same one he gives himself after crying and looking in the mirror.

even crying feels illegal. 

the worst part is you and jisung share the dorm with him. he hears jisung question you about your distance. he hears you talk to people— to gayoung — over the phone. he bumps into you on the way to the laundry, to the bathroom, in the kitchen. 

he works with you.

he lives with you.

he misses you. 

yet, you’re not his to seek out anymore. you’re his coworker now. 

nothing more… 

“where’s y/n? we’re about to board the plane,” jeongin says with a pout. 

minho unconsciously looks around, equally wondering where you are. they had driven to the airport at around 10 and you weren’t in the dorms. through check ins, you still hadn’t popped up. 

later, however, the video of you running through the airport with your bodyguard and manager blows up. minho finds that out in the van after landing in tokyo. he had wondered why you were so disheveled when you entered the plane. 

“we have four concerts here in japan,” seungmin mumbles to himself, “we have one day to roam around, one morning left and then we’re off to the states.”

“doesn’t y/n hyung have a private conference in the states?” jisung asks.

“what?” minho frowns.

chan sighs, “he really needs to take a break. this whole year is going to be packed.” he rests his head back on the seat, “he barely managed to pull off the concerts in korea.”

“well we do have a few free days in between our concerts,” seungmin offers, “he’ll have some sort of rest.”

minho swallows. are you really that busy? 

he still doesn’t get to see much of you. he’s had to hear hyunjin recap how you have 2 interviews a day before flying with them to japan. how you had to pull an all nighter to review a script for a morning commercial schedule. it’s crazy, he thinks. how are you alive. 

when all of you come to the venue to rehearse, he sees you thrudge in after chan, who seemingly had to drag you here. your hair is everywhere, your face puffy from sleep, your large hoodie and baggy joggers make you look small. minho forces himself to look away, his heart clenching at your adorable sight. 

practice goes alright, minho thinks. sound check goes well, jisung and changbin goofed off with the autotune. they had tried to pull you into their fun scheme but minho noticed how you grimly looked at them. it didn’t change how you still went along with it, always willing to entertain the guys. they’re your family just as much as they’re his. still, everyone is tense around you two.

because they know.

they know their favorite hyungs are in weird terms. they don’t ask, they don’t have to. it’s visibly written in the air. 

“minho can you go check on y/n,” chan asks him the morning of the official concert. 

everyone went through the same checks and passed. everything is ready. minho hadn’t really seen you today regardless, despite dancing and singing beside you. he truly does not recall you being around other than on stage, not even during lunch break. 

“why me?” he asks without thinking, it even comes out bitterly. 

chan stares at him for a moment. no one is around, just him and minho. “are you really going to drag this out?” he asks, tone evidently showing how angry he is, “everyone else is checking up on him except you. what are you two doing?”

minho looks away, fists clenching at his sides. “we’re just… not in a good spot-“

“and how long will that last? huh? y/n isn’t prideful like you are, so who is dragging it out?”

that was like a slap in the face. 

“minho, don’t shut me out.”

yet minho closed the door and never dared get near it. you never begged again. verbally. he took notice of your sad eyes after the fight. he felt your presence begging to call for him. yet you didn’t. because you knew the door that was slammed in your face would never open again. 

“i’ll check up on him before we get on stage,” he says softly. 

chan sighs, “i’ll take it.”

backstage, as he’s getting in his outfit, he sees you thrudge around. on your phone. clearly you’re talking to gayoung. he sees you smile for a second before walking out. he can’t help but follow you out discreetly. you step behind a wall, he stays around the corner. 

“i’m screwed,” you whisper. “so fucking screwed, you have no idea.”

minho steps back. well you’re alive and that’s all that matters. why would he check up on you? you don’t need him. you have the guys. you have gayoung. that’s clearly who you’re talking to.

he doesn’t need to overstep. your life isn’t something he’s involved in. 

“minho! y/n!” 

minho whips his head around, his heart pounding. does hyunjin have to be so fucking loud!? outing him like this!? he should leave before you realize he was right behind you- he makes the mistake of turning around again and coming face to face with you. 

he’s caught. 

he swallows and stares up at you. your dark eyes boring into him. you’re all ready to get on stage. he couldn’t even speak if he wanted to. there’s nothing to say. 

the way you walk past him makes his heart drop. 

the act was unfamiliar until 2 months ago. that’s how long he’s been dragging it out. that’s how long it’s been when he hurt your feelings and smashed his along. it felt like so little time but it felt like an eternity ago.

an eternity that is burned into his skull and haunts him. 

not even the roar of the fans when they come on stage silences the thousands of thoughts in his head. 

he’s on the stage feeling like a puppet. except his strings tangle with yours. the amount of times you bumped into him from stumbling were too many to count. he hates it. 

and he hates how much he worries. 

above all, he hates that he can’t near you. 

and it’s his fault. 

it’s probably the fourth concert day, the last concert in japan. they’ll be here for a day or so before flying back to korea. 

your chest feels tight. 

you get nauseous a lot. you can’t really stomach much. at most a soup you get at the hotel you’re all staying at but even that leaves you with an upset stomach. 

you had filmed a commercial in japan, gayoung had been flown out here. it frustrated you, didn’t matter where you went, gayoung had to be involved somehow. the girl isn’t at fault, it’s the company, you know that. 

“oppa are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

you raise your head and look at your phone. the video call started thirty minutes ago when she finally landed and finished going through security. you don’t hate her, she’s a good friend. you haven’t kissed her, both of you strictly left that for the scenes only. you hug her, you cuddle her, you carry her but she’s not who you love. maybe as a friend. not as a lover. 

“you look like shit ever since we finished the drama, i didn’t want to point it out,” she says, there’s a bit of a teasing tone but she’s also dead serious. 

“a pretty girl like you shouldn’t curse,” you say with a sigh.

she stares at you before starting a string pf curses. you chuckle softly, shaking your head. you groan, your migraine returning. she immediately pauses. 

“oppa, i’m worried for you. joking aside, you really do look like shit.”

you grunt, looking around the room, “i think i’ll feel better when i’m back in korea…”

she puts the phone close to her face, as if she could see you more clearly that way. “i hope so or we’ll have to shoot a ‘taking care of my boyfriend’ blog.”

“ugh no,” you whine.

she laughs, “just kidding, the company is going to make me show my concern though if something happens.”

you give her a face, “nothing is gonna happen gayoung, i’m fine. just not a hundred percent.”

“well as long as you get back home safely,” she says softly, “i care for you y/n.”

all formality is out the window. it always has been with her, you see her as a little sibling from how long you two have worked together for. almost a whole year and a half. you had known her before the drama but contact wasn’t fully established until then. 

“i have to get going to the venue,” you finalize, dread expressed on your features.

“okay~,” she sing songs as she gets inside her van, “don’t push yourself, okay? see ya!”

“bye,” you throw a peace sign and she quickly mimics you before hanging up. 

you drop your phone on your bed before scrubbing your face with your hands. sometimes you’re thankful that you’re dating a friend instead of someone you don’t know, you’ve heard companies do that so this isn’t bad. yet, it isn’t good either. 

you’ve been like a zombie these last few weeks. taking all sorts of pills and gummies that would give you energy and help you get through concerts with a smile. you know the guys are worried about you, but you’re not the only one feeling overworked. still, you’re the one with the worst of it. 

“let’s put on our best show,” chan says as he pats everyone’s backs. he pauses when he comes to you, “let me know if you need a break-“

“hyung, seriously,” you grimace. “you make me feel like i don’t belong sometimes.”

he frowns, realizing he overstepped. “shit, no. y/n that’s not what i meant- i just- you know that i know.”

you stare at him, almost mortified. “uh-“

“please get to the stage quickly!” a staff member says. 

chan gives you a once over before heading out, you follow suit. your migraine hasn’t stopped. the roaring of the fans feels like a hammer being pounded on your skull from the inside. you genuinely contemplate taking up chan’s offer, especially when you zone out and step on minho’s shoe accidentally. 

“my bad,” you say automatically, stepping away like you had been burned.

and maybe you were, with the way he looks at you annoyingly. when did you feel so left out like this? 

you execute the choreography perfectly, smiling at hyunjin whenever he comes across you on a part. fans fawn over each and every one of you. yet, when your part comes during the bridge, you stop mid verse when something oozes out of your nose onto your upper lip. immediately, you look away from the camera and wipe it with your sleeve. the worst part is minho was behind you for the formation, his brows furrowed when you immediately stumbled when walking to the next formation. 

“are you bleeding?” jisung asks ushered as jeongin sings. 

you walk past all of them, jogging to the backstage. the bleeding won’t stop, normally you can just wipe it away and it’s unnoticeable but you knew this isn’t as easy. you’re hyper aware of your physical status. 

“oh, here let me,” a staff member says as they guide you to a chair. 

the fans are worried, chan clarifying that you’ll be fine makes it worse. how weak could you be?

“the bleeding stopped,” you say as you look at the clean tissue you pull away from your nose. 

“ah, are you sure you want to go-“

“thank you for your care, if anything comes up i’ll let you know,” you bow low before heading back out after the second song. 

there’s a moment where the members speak and chat, you anxiously return to the stage as jisung speaks to stay. you could stand beside anyone, they’re all dear to you and have been with you during tough times. yet, you unconsciously went to minho’s side, awkwardly standing there when you realize you shouldn’t have chosen him. 

even now, does he really give you comfort? why are you lying to yourself like this? 

“oh! hyung! are you okay?” hyunjin asks out loud on the mic. 

you swallow before looking down at your mic, “minho hit me with his mic when i went to formation.”

what. 

minho spins and looks at you. you clearly lost your mind. 

“i’m good though hyung, no need to apologize.”

everyone on stage is looking at you like you really have lost it. minho’s eyes are like saucers. he hesitates before bringing his mic up to speak, looking away and nervously fidgeting with his inear. 

“uh, my mistake, i didn’t realize you were that close when we turned.”

“hyung doesn’t realize his strength either,” hyunjin jokes nervously. 

there’s no way to verify or deny that fact. in the formation you and minho are pretty hidden, so in the end, it’s a possibility no matter how slim. 

“the fuck was that,” minho grits when all of you are backstage for an outfit change.

“hey, don’t fight,” changbin huffs. 

you stand there stiffly, changbin between the two of you. everyone has run off, not wanting to get caught up in it. chan comes up to you two. minho glares at you before stepping back. 

“i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, like he really did hurt you on the stage.

“but you did.” you say automatically. 

“hey, hey, what matters is that you’re okay,” chan says, believing the words that came out of your mouths. 

neither chan or changbin know that minho’s apology and your accusations are not from what happened minutes ago, but from what happened two months ago. you look away, turning to change. 

now, things are worse. the anger you had from what minho did dwindled down into your suppressed sadness. you meant everything you said- you’d leave anything and everything to keep him. yet, why didn’t he want you? 

you cover your face before your stylist fixes your makeup, you ask for a few moments and she goes on standby. your head is killing you, you want to cry from frustration, you absolutely want minho. 

he always knew how to make you feel better. 

how come the last time you fought him he kissed you? isn’t he hurting too? why is this so difficult? 

by the time you’re back on stage with the other members, you can’t really stay focused. you trail behind anyone and everyone down the stage when some of the songs are free reign across the stage. you stick to jisung, the second closest member to you… well, maybe the first one now that minho wants nothing to do with you. 

you watch him across the stage. 

during the song there’s a beat pause. everyone looks at each other playfully, but minho’s eyes latch onto your gaze. 

you smile at him, painful but yearning. 

he at least has the decency to wave back. 

and the flame of hope ignites in your heart again. 

your life feels suffocating. 

you can’t remember how many times you’ve been seen only as gayoung’s boyfriend. the idol with an outed relationship that bloomed from a drama. you get back to korea. you fly out for concerts. you fly out for interviews. 

it’s constant movement. 

everyone found out your nosebleeds come from stress and your lack of sleep. chan knows the most of it, he does lack sleep too. still, your life is busy even with not scenes to shoot. 

minho isn’t handling that well. he hasn’t exactly stepped up to confront you about the situation between the two of you. nor has he approached you on terms outside of fan service. it’s not even as often as before, it’s crumbs of what the two of you used to do. ever since you started a relationship there’s constant war between fans when a member is too touchy with you. 

you’re not an object, you don’t belong to gayoung. if only they knew the relationship was strictly a job on top of all your jobs. you were called in for modeling, for drink commercials, a cafe wanted to have a theme with the drama and you and gayoung had to sponsor their promotions for a week. the drinks were okay. 

the food was okay.

nothing could beat minho’s cooking. sadly, you don’t think you’ll ever get the chance to eat it ever again. you and minho’s situation hasn’t gotten better nor worse. it’s just.. still. 

you often stare at your ceiling at night when you have the luxury to be home early to rest. it’s not often but when you do… your mind drifts. 

to how soft minho’s lips are. to the hunger you two had demonstrated. the way his soft breathes ignited a fire in your stomach. he took that chance and built a wall between the two of you. 

“yah,” a voice calls out.

you jump, sitting up and whipping around to face your door. 

“i made dinner.” 

you look at the door as if minho opened it and stared at you. he’s behind the wooden pallet. he’s talking to you. your body twitches before you stiffen. 

no.

you can’t. 

you’ve waited all these months for this but you just can’t. something won’t let you. is it your self restraint? you don’t want to fight again. if you tried to bring up the topic he’d run away. he’ll somehow blame you. he’ll do everything possible to keep you at a miles distance. 

he’s just being a coworker. 

he’s obligated to show interest and care. 

“i know you’re awake,” minho says.

is his voice trembling? 

“i’m good.” you say softly, staring at the bottom of the door to see his shadow. it’s loud enough for him to hear. 

if you accepted, two things could happen. you argue and make things worse. or you lose all control and take the riskiest bet of them all. 

neither is good. 

you don’t particularly care for your fame. you have enough in your bank to survive if you get fired or blacklisted. you have backup plans. yet, you’re not ready for it yet. you’re just waiting on minho to accept that he’s the one at fault, even if it’s indirectly.

when that will happen? you don’t know. maybe him wanting to eat a cooked meal was it. yet, your instincts tell you not now. 

so you lay back down, hearing minho huff and stomp away. 

he definitely thinks you hate him. you love him, but you want him to feel a little sting. it’s nothing compared to the scalding he gave you months ago, but giving him a little taste of his medicine won’t hurt.

at least you don’t hope so. 

he has to reach out the right way. 

and… you close your eyes and toss and turns…. and if he doesn’t do it before you finally decide, then you’ll have no choice to make the move. 

just a little longer…

you hope your heart handles it. 

he doesn’t near you. you’re used to it now, despite how much it hurts you. 

it’s the end of the year and all of you are preparing for the award shows. you have many to attend— mma , mama, the baeksang arts awards. probably some more. 

the biggest is mama. it’s one of the ones at the end of the year. the acting award is in may, or so you heard. thing is you’re a nominee and they’ll announce that further on, right now your main focus is the award shows of the month of december. it’s a stressful time, but not as stressful as when you were fresh of the drama. 

since last month, you’ve had more time to breathe. to sleep too. 

you do have the obligation to keep going on dates with gayoung. instead of being home alone with minho when jisung is stuck in the studio you choose to hang out with her. unknown to you- that hurts minho. well, maybe you do know. 

“sound check done, thank you!” 

all of you bow. 

“hyung!” changbin runs to you, “i’m hungry!”

“yeah! me too!” seungmin yells. 

you smile, adoring how cute changbin looks as he clings to your side. “and what do you want to eat? we have to start getting ready for our performance tonight.”

“crab!” changbin pouts. 

“i want something else,” hyunjin argues. 

you laugh, “just order what you want… you know where my card is…” everyone screams happily, “and remember to watch your intake, i don’t need anyone with an upset stomach during or after performance. also!” you point at them, “just buy food, i don’t want to recieve a bill of some video game purchase.” you eye felix who whistles.

minho simply watches you from afar. these past few months weren’t easy. still, he can’t bring himself to face you yet. why would he? your life is as perfect as it gets— you have a successful acting and idol career. you have a beautiful girlfriend. you have millions of doting fans. what would he speak to you for? his feelings? those are worth nothing for you, it’s destroy your image. 

assuming you really did mean what you said all those months ago, what benefit would you get? he can’t do that to you. he can’t bear to think that you’d leave everything you worked so hard to build just for him… if he had ever said yes. 

but he knows better. 

and he knows his spot is exactly where he’s in- watching you from afar. seeing you work as an idol beside him. 

“alright guys, let’s go show them what we’re made of,” chan says with a whoop. 

minho simply won’t intervene. 

despite how much rest you’ve had compared to a few months back, you still don’t feel your best. still, your performance is full of energy and charisma. the whole performance is full of crazy moves and entrances. the acts hyunjin and you pulled were the highlights of the whole stage. 

by the second act, your place was to do a flip between two dancers, so that they would soon do a dance break with you. you’d have to wait for a few moments until felix finishes his line and everyone files to the side for you to do your part. 

you’ve rehearsed this plenty of times, you know when to enter and when to wait. you know how many steps to take and when to turn. when to breathe and when to blink.

yet, you take the wrong step and fall six feet off the platform stage. bodyguards run to you as you groan, your trembling arms helping you push yourself off the ground. jeongin’s worried eyes are on you, he’s hidden from the amount of dancers before him. 

“are you okay!?” a staff asks as they help you get to your feet. 

you had fallen on your hands and knees. the impact was rough but the adrenaline makes it feel like you’re fine. your hand hurts bad though, or is it your wrist? you just stare down at your shaking hands, scratched and getting red. you wobble, your knees almost giving out. you need to get back on stage-

the dance break starts. 

“help me get up!” you yell, panting. 

“if you’re injured we have to-“

“you have to walk all the way around-“

“y/n-ssi you need to get checked-“

everyone is talking but not moving. you growl, grabbing a bodyguard and your stare was enough for everyone to get the gist. they hunch over and hook their hands to give you leverage, your foot wobbles from weak balance as you boost yourself up with their help. clearly everyone is confused and worried, yet you crawl onto the stage and quickly get on your feet. 

the impact is starting to reveal where you’re hurt. your ankle is probably sprained, each step is killing you. your shoulder aches, your elbows sting. 

still, you run and when your backup dancer catch you on their peripheral vision, they immediately step back to sync with you when you backflip and spin to the floor in a breakdance pattern. it’s the final steps of the formation you were supposed to perform, yet it still blew everyone away and regained the attention of everyone. 

going through the rest of the choreography was killing you. it took everything in you to not wobble as you did your lines and performed with the rest of the members. 

the worst part? was that after forcing yourself to stand still for approximately one minute as the performance comes to an end for the cameras to stop rolling, you lose your balance when going down the stairs and once more, you fall from the three foot high staircase that lead to the backstage. 

“hyung!” jeongin cries out, catching everyone’s attention. 

medical staff already surround you as you lay on the floor, groaning and grunting. 

“what’s going on?” minho asks, eyes wide and his heart pounding. 

“hyung fell off the stairs!” changbin exclaims.

“he also fell off the stage,” jeongin sobs, “and he still hopped on and kept going-“

“hey, hey, let’s let them work,” chan says, gathering the kids away despite his anxiety skyrocketing. 

minho doesn’t budge at first, his glassy eyes fixated on your body as the medics put you on a stretcher when you say how much it hurts to move. he’s worried sick, you really pushed yourself that bad? he can’t wonder if you’re insane or passionate. no one really enjoys the rest of the ceremony. during the speech chan mentions how passionate they are for their dream, even mentioning how y/n pushed himself to give the best performance even when he shouldn’t have. 

back in the dorms chan texts the chat, saying you had dislocated your left shoulder and wrist. you’re bruised on your elbows and knees, the height would have fractured them but you had placed all your weight in the impact in your hands, causing one wrist to suffer more. two to three months until you’re fully recovered. 

they still have to perform. minho can’t help but cry, he knows very well the company will make you keep going through promotions and schedules no matter how hurt you are. 

and he’s nervous. how will he put aside his actions in order to care for you? you live right next to his room, how could he feign interest when you’ll be in need of assistance for a while? hyunjin was the same, so how could he not intervene? 

his biggest fear is this— what if you don’t let him? 

he’d deserve it of course. you have every right to refuse his help and care. 

it gnaws at him for the three days straight that you’re in the hospital. it was per your request to stay for a little longer. how will he face you? is now the right time? no. yes? 

he isn’t sure if he’s crying from guilt, self hatred or anxiety anymore. so when he hears your familiar footsteps inside the dorm he freezes. jisung is with chan and changbin again, coincidentally saying he’ll be home extremely late, he enters a frenzy. 

he hears your gruttal sigh as you walk inside your room, your door closes. 

well. it’s now or never. 

you either reject him all together — reject what? he doesn’t know. he has no idea what he’s going to say, no idea if he’ll ask to console you or to apologize for what happened or what. something has to be done, though, and if you never let him get close to you again then he’ll understand that it’s the consequences of his actions. 

he takes a deep breath as he heads out of his room. he swallows the knot in his throat when he stands before your door. 

“leave me alone, minho,” you say before his fist even makes contact with your door to knock. 

he stares at the door as if it was it that spoke to you that way. “y/n… i-“

“just leave me alone they way you said you would. you don’t need me so i don’t need you either.”

minho breathes shallow, “y-you don’t mean that-“

“the fuck do you want?” you groan, “what? i get hurt and now you decide to speak to me?”

your voice cracks at the end of your grievance. it breaks minho. 

“i’m sorry,” he sobs, “i shouldn’t have been selfish! i shouldn’t have hurt you like that!  shouldn’t have shut you out!”

he hiccups and takes a step back when you open the door. through blurry sight, he looks at you. you stare down at him, why are your eyes so tender? 

“but you did…”

“i just knew if i didn’t i’d have no restraint,” he sniffles, “i love you.” he whispers, looking down at the floor, “seeing you with her hurt so much. knowing you smell like her made me nauseous. knowing she was your new focus made me feel like i didn’t belong in your life anymore-“

“minho,” you grab his chin with your free hand, tilting his face up. “why does it take me getting hurt for you to speak to me again?” 

minho shakes his head, “i just can’t come between you and gayoung-“

“me and gayoung are dating by contract, not because i love her.” you confess, finally letting that out. “you think i want to be with her?” 

minho pushes your hand away, hot tears streaming down his face again. “what will the company think? we won’t work! you have so much to lose and-“

“you think i give a damn about all of this!?” you push him forward until he’s trapped between you and the wall. “i love you, lee minho.” you stare at his mortified expression, “i stand by what i said. for you, and only you, i’d give up everything.” 

“your career-“

“none of this means nothing if you’re not in it!” you grab his chin again, “you don’t have to love me back, you don’t have to accept my feelings! just, just talk to me again, please,” you beg, your own eyes glassing over, “don’t just be my coworker, be my friend again. be my safe place again. i-i’ll put away my feelings for you, we can forget that i love you but don’t shut me out again.” 

“y/n…” he stares at you, realizing how truly broken you’ve been since that day. 

“that’s what i meant that day… none of this is worth it if the one person that made me feel like i belonged isn’t with me.” 

“oh, y/n…” his bottom lip trembles, “have we really been that blind?”

you close your eyes and sigh, “i understand you’re scared of the public eye…”

“i am…” he whimpers. 

“but i’d walk through fire if it meant i’d have you as mine for the rest of my life.” 

he locks eyes with you, drowning in the warmth of your orbs. his heart hammers in his chest again, would he do the same? what is he really scared of? loving you and risking his career? 

no, he concludes. 

“y/n….” he says shallowly before leaning in to kiss you. 

he’s scared of losing you and realizing everything he has isn’t worth that. 

you kiss him with passion. his soft lips syncing with yours, saliva mixing with yours as your tongue grazes his. your hands grab his waist and pull him flush against you.

“ngh- y-your wrist-“ he tries to say as you eat his mouth. 

“don’t care,” you grumble as you attack his lips without remorse. 

the pesty sting in your bone doesn’t matter when he’s finally in your arms. his whimpers and moans make you want more. you know he’ll sound even more beautiful beneath you in the sheets, taking all you have to offer. 

just the thought accelerates your heart rate. the beautiful man you’ve always wanted is finaly before you. the kiss means more than a confession. you place your hands behind his thighs, he makes a noise when you lift him up. 

“ah- your shoulder-!”

“it’s okay baby, what you make me feel is bigger than the pain,” you tease as you carry him to your bed. 

he can’t scold you or complain because you attack his mouth again. you grin into the kiss as you sit on the edge of the bed with him on your lap. it’s probably the hottest thing minho will ever experience. he straddles your waist for more comfort in this position, hands running through your hair as you kiss along his jawline. when you kiss a certain spot, he twitches and whines. 

with a lazy smile, you pull away and look at him. 

“let me take you,” you beg softly, panting.

he swallows, looking down at the tent in your shorts. “but gayoung-“

“can you stop mentioning her?” you growl, pulling him down by the hips so that your boner pokes him through his joggers. “she will never have me the way you can.” you kiss his ear, making him shiver, “the way you will.”

“i’m scared,” he voices out. he wraps his arms around your neck, “i-i want to say yes but… there will be no going back, y/n…”

“it was never a choice,” you say.

and he lets you push him down onto the bed. 

🏷️ TAG LIST — @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @gnusihcom @minholover1 @lucianidealz @desafortuno @missvanjii @lisaswifey @yongbokkk

©OIMITOCAT

©VICTORBUTNOTREALLY

[bubbbii]

Sweetness

title : Sweetness

pairing : Namjoon x Reader

genre : kpop smut, Namjoon smut, bts smut, very dirty content

warning : spanking, spitting, hair pulling, doggystyle, missionary, multiple orgasms, edging, name - calling, degrading, choking, scratching, 21+

Summary :

“You know why i sit up here, and deal with your bullshit? Is because i know you more than you know yourself, and i know how to prove that”

[REQUESTED]

[A big Namjoon fan wanted me to do a namjoon smut so to start the year off good i decided to start with one .. haven’t really had did one anyway so this will be my first, i hope you enjoy !! 💕]

!PUERLY FICTION! !NOT REAL!

do not steal story or idea without permission please and thank uu :))

legoo

________________________________________________

“Ok they’re almost here - oh my god” I looked behind me, putting on my brightest smile as i saw Chaeyoung’s stunned face. “Does it look good?” “It’s beautiful … you know, sexy to be exact” I hummed, roaming my hands over the tight fitted dress. “You think it’s gonna impress .. you know who?” “Oh trust me, he’s definitely gonna feel the energy. I’m gonna take all that i got” I responded, spritzing the YSL on me before hearing the doorbell ring.

“You go and get your bag ready and i’ll get the door” Chae nodded before i went downstairs and opened the door to see everyone there packed. “Sexy mamaaa heyy!” i smiled, hugging Lisa as she made her way upstairs. “You know … something told me to not go anywhere, knowing you were gonna pull some bullshit like this” “Am i not older than you?” “I don’t care!” I nudged Jimin, my little brother’s, head as he went inside with Jungkook and Taehyung behind.

“Ok so while you dressing up like the queen of the city, did you find out about the money?” “I didn’t get info yesterday, so i got a notif today and we’ll both go downtown tomorrow and get the money” Me and Seulgi fist bumped as she went inside with Momo behind her and the rest came along.

Except for one person.

“Guess someone took the occasion seriously” I sighed heavily at the deep voice filling my ears as i saw the smirk on his face. “You’re talking?” “This is a nice button up, you’re just afraid to admit that i look good” i smirked softly at him, seeing him tower me. “You look good” “Thank you sweetheart, you do as well” That sweetheart word gets me everytime … and brings up steamy flashbacks. “Thank you .. smell that?” “The YSL i bought you for your birthday, you know what you’re doing huh?” “And i do it very well” I whispered, walking away from him as i heard him close the door.

“Ok is everyone ready!?”’Hoseok yelled around the house and everyone upstairs came downstairs and we were all in the living room. “Time is good, i love it. We all decided to go separate cars so who’s riding with who?” Hoseok asked. Everyone decided their groups and who they were riding with.

Seulgi, Momo, Chaeyoung, and Tae.

Hobi, Yoongi, and Lisa

Jin, Jimin, and Kook

Which left 2 people.

“You know what that means” I said, slowly walking up to the tall man as my heels clicked on the marble floor. I took the car keys out his hands and made eye contact. “I’ll be in the passenger” I whispered before leaving the house going into the nice black interior car. I’m gonna love this.

Namjoon’s POV

“You know we did this on purpose right?” “Of course you did! I’m stuck with this woman!” “Now you gotta admit, Mimi has nothing on her, it’s the truth and you’re afraid to admit it” Lisa bumped in, the majority of the group leaving the house and it was just Hobi and Jimin. “You like that girl too much for you to be out here tryna prove a point, that you can ‘move on’. You haven’t even had a deep conversation for you to even think that! You really think i’ll let you near my sister if you were a piece of shit Joon no! It’s because i trust you. You gotta trust yourself” I sighed, Jimin’s words lingering in my head as they went out the door.

I turnt off the lights in her house, going outside last and locked the door behind me before getting inside to see Y/N sitting pretty in the seat next to me. “Took you long enough” “I was having a convo with Hobi and Jimin” “About?” “Hobi was going through something” Y/N hummed as i started the car. “So .. is Mimi gonna be there?” “Y/N” “I’m just asking a question i can’t ask a question?” “You’re being messy, stop it” “Now Joon who’s the messy one? You think i don’t remember?” I sighed, pulling off as i was the first one to drive off with the rest following behind me.

“Why does it matter, because i need to make sure that i get myself prepared” “Prepared for?” “To cause hell” I huffed, hearing her chuckle. “Listen,” She started, her voice going soft as her hand went for my right and held it on top of her naked thigh. “You know who was there when you hit rock bottom. You know who was there when you had nothing to your name YOU KNOW, who was there when all you could do is sit here and hope and pray. She probably thinks she has your heart but I KNOW i have your everything. Heart, mind, and soul. Do me a favor and, know who you’re dealing with”

Her words lingered in my head, taking a deep breath. She’s right .. and i know she is. My thumb caressed her thigh, feeling her hand go on top. “I know” Y/N hummed at the response, both of us enjoying the company of each other. Now i hope Mimi doesn’t show.

Time Skip.

Author’s POV .

“Right this way please” The group walked behind the waiter who showed us to the big and nice silky looking table. “While everyone gets settled in may i start with some drinks?” “Waters for all of us please and thank you” Namjoon responded and the waiter nodded before leaving us. “Pretty nice, the Kang’s did a good job with this one” “very nice and organized .. gotta give them their tens” Y/N chuckled, looking at Jimin as she shook her head.

“What makes you think the Kangs did their big one - hey .. let’s not forget” “They aren’t shit. And i stand on that and when i ever see them Lord knows im not afraid to show my true colors. That’s what im known for” Y/N added onto Seulgi’s statement, looking at Jimin who was beside her. “Dont cause trouble” Y/N looked to her left, hearing the deep familiar voice fill her ears once again. “You don’t know me well then, Kim” she responded, taking the cigarette out his hand to smoke one.

“Now who brought that in here?!” “Like we don’t see half of these people doing it also” Y/N responded to Jin as he huffed, shaking his head. “Yall need to quit that” “We’re not putting no one in danger, besides .. your precious Jiminine’s in the crew” Y/N said, putting the cigarette up to Jimin’s mouth as Jin’s eyes widened in shocked. “What !?” “Sorry hyung” Y/N and Joon chuckled as Y/N gave the cigar back to him.

“JOONIE AH!” Y/N was the first to look up, seeing Mimi barge into the restaurant and locked eyes with her. Y/N huffed in frustration, locking eyes with Namjoon. “Hurricane Katrina” Y/N whispered, chuckling to herself as Namjoon then looked up to see Mimi coming towards their table. “Joonie! I’m so glad i could make it i almost didn’t get a chance to come! Hello everyone!” The group was nice enough to smile at the jolly girl, now locking eyes with Y/N.

“Hello … Y/N” Y/N hummed, feeling the nudge of Joon’s leg making her smirk. “She was invited?” “Looks like i didn’t pray enough, this is my punishment” Y/N whispered back to Jimin, sighing heavily as the siblings looked at her. “So uh … where can i sit?” “I would kindly offer my seat” Y/N spoke almost immediately making the table look at her.

Jimin already caught on.

“And where would you sit?” I smirked at Namjoon, giving him my eyes. “I think that’s something you should know” Namjoon’s eyes widened a little, his jaw clenching as Jimin and Chaeyoung chuckled with each other. “That’s if .. you don’t mind, Ms Jung” Y/N cocked, looking at Mimi. “I-I’ll just pull up a chair” Y/N hummed, seeing the frantic girl hurry and pull a chair on the other side of Namjoon that was next to Yoongi. “Good choice” Namjoon huffed, glaring at me as i winked at him, drinking the water.

The time went on, everyone buying their food and we all started to dig into it. “I hope everyone is enjoying their food tonight!” Hoseok was the first to look up, seeing Mr Kang and a young man beside him. “We are, thank you” “I want you guys to meet my son, Yeojun, he’s taking over in a year and i want you guys to be familiar” Everyone greeted them, except for Y/N and Seulgi of course as Y/N just stared at the two.

“Ms Y/N” Y/N hummed in response, knowing what the son wanted. “Oh honey” Y/N shifted her eyes to see Mimi wiping something off of Namjoon’s bottom lip. But she had other plans. “You didn’t even get it off” Y/N said loud enough for the both of them to hear, grabbing Joon’s chin and wiped off the food with her thumb smoothly. Namjoon couldn’t take his eyes off her, watching her every move with such swift.

“I’ll be back” Y/N whispered to Joon, looking at Jimin and he nodded before getting up and walking away with Yeojun with Seulgi behind her. “Where are they going?” “Business … you know how she is” “Yahh that’s why i don’t want her going with him!” “She’ll be fine! Let it rest Joon” Namjoon huffed, his nerves starting to get to him.

Meanwhile. “You’re looking nice today” “I could say the same for you … ish. What do you want, because i know you don’t have my money” Y/N responded, looking into Yeojun’s soul as he sighed. “No, i don’t .. but i wanted to pull you aside, see as though i couldn’t do that” “I don’t give a fuck about what you got going on or what your pants got going on we’re in this together we got ourselves in it and you know that” Seulgi replied, Y/N looking at her.

“It’s ok, i got it” “Are you sure?” “Yea” Seulgi sighed, glaring at the boy before leaving the two. “Why can’t you just let me repay you another way” “That’s not what i want, i want cash in my hand Yeojun i will NOT repeat myself. Now you need to learn what business is we’ve set this thing up for tomorrow and i expect you to have it are we clear?” Yeojun smirked, getting closer to the older woman.

“You know you’re a lot cuter when your upset Nuna” “Don’t call me that Yeojun” “Well why is that?” “You heard her the first time” Y/N already knew who it was, not freaking out. Yeojun gulped, backing away a little as he saw the tall man. “Namjoon-“ “If you’re gonna sweet talk someone make sure your zipper is zipped and your jacket isn’t inside out” Yeojun’s eyes widened, looking down and sighed sharply. “F-Fuck” Yeojun quickly walked away and Namjoon got in front of her.

“Who was that?” “That’s Yeojun .. it’s business” “I don’t like him” “You don’t like anyone” Namjoon sighed, seeing Y/N chuckle. “Someone’s jealous” “I don’t get jealous” Y/N chuckled again, getting closer to him. “You know .. i would love to continue to ignore your little hoe’s glare at the back of my head right now, but we don’t want her to cause a temper tantrum in the restaurant do we?” Y/N whispered, smirking before going back to the table, Namjoon closely going behind.

“I do hope it was nothing serious” “Well Seulgi had to go back to the table it must’ve been … even Namjoon went to the rescue with no one stopping him” The table laughed at Taehyung’s statement. “Why would you leave me here?! They were playing questionnaire with me!” Mimi whispered - yelled at Namjoon as Y/N peeped immediately. “I had to take care of something” “Joonie ah! You don’t do that! I don’t know these people!” “It’s pretty rude to sit and talk about people to someone who’s friends with them you know .. that’s not very kind” Y/N spoke up as the whole table looked at the frightening girl.

“W-Wha” “Y/N come on now” “W-Well what was he doing over there anyway!?” “Oh pipe down princess he’s like a brother to me” “BROTHER” Namjoon said in shock, clearing his throat as the table looked at him at the voice raise. “Fuck do you mean brother?” “It’s not like ya’ll are talking, as long as he’s ok” “And it’s not like you know what he does when he decides to leave 10 at night” “Y/N!” Namjoon interfered again, looking the smirking woman with his jaw clenched. “Enough with your shit” “You love it when i do this you don’t mean that .. you love my shit. My ‘Bullshit’ as you say” Y/N responded, chuckling as she snatched the car keys outta his hand.

“Mind wrapping my food up when yall finished yea?” Y/N asked Lisa, and she nodded. Y/N took the cigar outta Joon’s hand, smoking one before blowing it in the air and turned to Mimi. “Aye,” Y/N called out, making the two look at her. “If you have an idea .. it’s right, trust your gut” Mimi gasped dramatically as Y/N smirked before giving the cigar back and leaving the restaurant with the wine glass in her hand.

The table looked at Namjoon as Namjoon’s face was in his hands. “We’re just gonna wait .. until hyung comes to his senses” Jungkook started, drinking his coke. And Namjoon realizes that she’s leaving with his car. “Shit! One of yall take Mimi home!” Namjoon said before sprinting out the restaurant and out the door to see Y/N getting inside. “Y/N!” Y/N turned to see Namjoon walking towards her.

“Didn’t think it took you that long” “Get in the damn car” Y/N chuckled, getting the passengers and they both drove off.

Y/N’s House .

“Y/N what the hell !?” Y/N took off her coat, taking off her shoes as well as she turned on one light to lighten the living room up. “What” “Now who’s really throwing the temper tantrum huh? Are you serious?!” “Give it up .. she was gonna find out anyway. Besides, you haven’t sneaked out in a while i’m sure she wasn’t gonna be smart enough to connect the dots like that” Namjoon huffed, taking off his jacket leaving his silky half - buttoned button up.

“You look very good in this, you know” “Stop trying to change the subject” “I’m not i’m just complimenting you” Y/N said softening up her voice. “So what, was this your ‘Revenge’ ? To get at Mimi because of how jealous you are? Why does it bother you so much huh? Since you wanna bring everything up and whatnot let’s keep going” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. “You know why” Y/N whispered. Namjoon smirked, seeing Y/N sit on the couch. “I don’t wanna explain that to you” “why? you expect me to know how you feel without telling me?”

Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes again. “You know how i feel about you” “I can’t tell” “Namjoon i’m not doing this with you godamn it!” “Uh huh” before you know it Namjoon’s lips was on top of her’s, towering her as she took time to kiss back. “I’ll get it out, don’t worry .. princess” Namjoon went to the neck, sucking and biting as Y/N moaned at the long overdue contact. “Oh my god .. fuck” “Oh you like that? My baby likes that?” Y/N moaned out loud, whining for more as she felt him grinding against her.

“Fuck i need more, daddy i need more please!” “Oh it’s not gonna be that easy doll, you’re gonna have to work harder than that” Namjoon laid her down the long way on the huge black couch, kissing all down her body until lifting her dress up and saw the soaking black lace that was shown. “My baby’s wet ain’t she, she’s wet for me ain’t she” Y/N moaned, mixture of whining afterwards as she felt the warm hand palming her hood. “Daddy ..” he took it all off, seeing the heating hood exposed to him.

And Namjoon wasted no time.

Namjoon sucked every juice out of her, hearing the moans and the whines come out the woman as it motivated him to keep going. He was loving this. “F-Fuck! Keep going .. please keep going, oh my god” “There you go ride my face like a good slut yea? You like riding my fucking face like that?” Y/N was getting out of control, rolling her hips on his face. She was going crazy.

Someone’s been practicing.

“Daddy i wanna cum — fuck! — i wanna cum please” “Oh you think you can cum huh? You wanna cum for daddy” “I do i do please, please i do i wanna cum for you don’t fucking do this to me” “I do whatever the fuck i wanna do to you” Namjoon stopped sucking her out, hearing her hiss at the denied orgasm. “Who’s gonna stop me?” Y/N groaned, locking eyes with the smirking man. “That’s what i thought” Their lips connected again, not letting go of each other as Y/N felt the hard cock grinding against her.

“Daddy’s so hard, i wonder why he won’t just put it in, and make me cum” “Cause daddy has patience, unlike the woman below him” Y/N sighed, feeling the cock slowly go inside her as it stretched her out. “Fuck you’re tight” “Just for you” Namjoon snaked his tatted hand to her neck, getting a good grip. “Just for me?” “J-Just for you” “then whatever i says goes right?” “Namjoon-“ He snapped his hips, fucking Y/N vigorously.

This is definitely what they both needed.

“FUCK! Just like that, just like t-that .. fuck! oh my god” “that feel good? my baby feels good?” “Yes it feels good, it feels so fucking good why the fuck you won’t let me cum!?” Namjoon got close to her, his grip tightening around her neck. “Because i’m getting my revenge sweetheart … and it’s very sweet isn’t it?” Y/N whimpered, feeling every ounce of her power gettin token as Namjoon fucked his cock in and out of her so roughly. But Y/N loved it, when he took control like this, in any situation. That’s what made him special to her.

“Alright come on, you gon work for this” Namjoon got up, sitting down as he got Y/N to go on top of him so her back was facing him. “You’re gonna work for this, until i start fucking up into you, you understand?” “Y-Yes” “that’s my good girl, let’s go” Y/N began to ride him, moaning her ass off as the heat rushed her body. Y/N was hot all over, fucking herself as she felt his hands roam all over her body. Feeling on her breast, massaging her thighs, Y/N couldn’t ask for nothing better.

He always made sure she was feeling good when they had sex.

“Daddy .. daddy please, i can’t take it please! I’m so fucking serious!” “Oh you’re so fucking serious? You’re always so fucking serious i’m gonna make you unserious watch this” Namjoon locked his arms around her thighs, and started fucking up into her causing Y/N to yelp at the sudden move.

“FUCK!” “Now you listen, i’m tired of pretending, i’m tired of your bullshit but the only reason why i put up with it is because i love you .. i know how you feel about me, i know you more than you fucking think” Namjoon said calmly into her ear as his hips became more rough. “You think you can fucking outweigh me? Thinking that you got me wrapped around your finger no baby, that’s not how that works - I run things around here, and you damn sure i’ll make sure that you and i BOTH know how you feel so say it for daddy, and i’ll let you cum”

Y/N took all the guts she had, setting her pride aside as the eyes rolled at the back of her head. She was trapped. “I .. fuck!” “I can’t hear you” “I L-LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU AND I’M SORRY! Fuck i’m gonna cum” “There you go that’s my good girl gon cum for me, gon cum for me” Namjoon’s hips picked up the pace, feeling the pressure build up in the pit of his stomach. “Y-You know what to do make daddy cum sweetheart”

Y/N clenched down on him and they soon reach both of their highs, Y/N squirting all over his dick and Namjoon painting her walls white. They calmed down, Namjoon stopping his hips and started to catch their breath. Namjoon brought her down with him, Y/N laying herself on top of Namjoon as she felt the soft kisses on her neck and shoulder. “You really love me?” Y/N shifted to look into his eyes. “Since the day i laid eyes on you” Y/N whispered, turning around and she was now facing him.

“I … apologize, for being closed off with you” Namjoon smiled, his hands caressing her back. “You know you mean no harm .. and look, i proved it” Y/N smiled, connecting their lips together as they kissed passionately. “You sure you love me?” Y/N whispered, nuzzling her face in his neck as Namjoon took a deep breath, holding her close.

“More than you think”

[lovingmachinee]

Date Idea

Taiju Shiba x Black Male Reader

AU: It’s like a whole mafia au but not like the manga but at the same time it sorta is

Plot: Takemichi and Chifuyu get a task from mikey in which they need mafia leader Taiju’s help with a little help from Taiju’s husband too

[name] POV

I laid down in our shared bed, head deep in the pillows staring into the little gap in the door of our shared bathroom. Taiju was in the bathroom, I could see him shaving in the mirror, his concentrated face focusing as to not cut himself.

Taiju Shiba, the man I married 3 years ago. Taiju has a dangerous lifestyle being a mafia leader and always managing his gang just so he can sell the most drugs in Tokyo. Before Taiju I never did any criminal business, but already on the first night we met I had to hide a bag of you know what in my purse. I was so confused and as an apology Taiju offered a date, I don’t even know why I’d agreed on the date in the first place but Taiju just had that charm to him. And if I never went I never would’ve met the love of my life. 

I sat up leaning my back against the headboard when I saw Taiju walk out of the bathroom into our bedroom. He grinned at me, walking towards his side of the bed taking his robe off and revealing his wide toned chest and his tattoos. He pulled the bedsheets up and got in between them scooching close to me. I giggled as he grabbed my waist dragging me towards him. “What’s good sweetcheeks?” Taiju said, running his hands up and down my ebony thigh, positioning it so that my thigh was half on his body while I laid on my side facing him. “What’s good dork?” I responded. Running my fingers up his chest one by one, like a walking stick figure.

Taiju chuckled at me, looking me deep in the eyes before wandering his eyes further down my body. “You’re wearing a thong?” he noticed. “Yeah, all my sleep underwear is in the wash and I had nothing else” I said, playing with one of his blue strands. “It’s kind of uncomfortable but I can’t sleep naked”. “Yes you can, but to be honest I like this better” He said, resting one of his hands on my dark asscheeks. “Real sweet baby, but I’m really tired so nothing tonight” I said, letting Taiju’s hand rest on my ass because that wouldn’t hurt.

“Fair,” he said, grabbing his reading glasses and a book from his nightstand. “Also I’m free tomorrow, Hajime is going to be in charge so if you want to do something?”. I looked up at Taiju while he read his book, one hand holding the book, the other one still on my ass kneading it like dough. “We could go out for lunch but other than that I just want to stay home with you”.

“That’s fine by me sweetcheeks” he said, glancing down at me for a second before continuing reading his book. My eyes started feeling heavy, I had a busy day after all. From visiting my grandmother to running errands to cooking dinner. “I’m tired Taj, goodnight I love you” I said drowsily before dozing off. 

“Goodnight [name]” was the last thing I heard before it went dark.

Well it didn’t take long before I was woken up, 13 minutes to be exact. Taiju’s phone rang, this ring was the one for the front door camera meaning there was someone in front of our house waiting. I opened my eyes and looked up at Taiju, still reading his book, irritation grew in his eyes probably because the person at our front door woke me up.

“Who is it?” I asked, mumbling slightly trying to keep my eyelids from falling down. “I don’t know two people at the door, I’m going to check mkay” Taiju said while watching through the front door camera via his phone. Taiju moved my one leg over his body and stood up putting his robe back on. “Go back to sleep I’ll be back soon” He said groggily and proceeded to walk out of our bedroom.

I moved my body to lay on my back as I stared at the ceiling. I’m not able to sleep again. Who are we kidding? Taiju is gone talking to some strangers and leaving me so lonely in our bed. 

5 minutes have passed and still no Taiju walking back through the door. “Maybe I should check-up on him?” I whispered to myself sitting up in our bed. He could be in danger, don’t get me wrong Taiju is a big man he can definitely fend for himself especially in our own house and his own territory. Well I let worries get the best of me and just decided to check up on him, besides I wasn’t able to sleep. I stood up and grabbed my robe, it was a purple sheer robe with flowers adorned over it. I put on my slippers and walked out of the door.

I made my way through the many halls in our house, the house was too big for just the two of us but Taiju didn’t care. Taiju got us a big Italian mansion like the ones I wanted. He promised me this house one night before we got married, when he stood in front of my apartment with a blooded wound in his side. Taiju got into a troublesome situation that night which resulted in him getting stabbed, not a fatal injury thankfully. That night when I was patching up his wound before going to the hospital he promised to live a quieter life for me, because he wanted to be with me and not have me worry to death every time he left. He promised me many things beside this mansion: he promised me a new car, he promised me a wedding ring hell he even promised me children. Although with his career path it wouldn’t be a very wise decision to have children. 

He promised me all those things and all I could do that night was kiss him on his lips, I didn’t care for all those things I only cared for Taiju.

I made my way downstairs and walked through a few more halls before starting to hear conversation going on the closer I stepped to the light of our downstairs living room, Taiju let those two people in the house so they must’ve not formed a threat. I tread lightly towards the entrance to our living room and stayed there. I leaned my body against the opening as I saw Taiju speaking to two other men sitting on two chairs opposite of him as he sat in the middle of the couch.

One of the two men had black messy hair the other one also had black hair but his was more tamed down and styled. They looked a little nervous in front of Taiju. Which I get he probably looked even more intimidating from the frown that he had on his face, his irritated tone because these two men had the nerve to wake me up.

The conversation went on too long, I had to remind Taiju that his beautiful husband was waiting for him to come back to bed.

“Taiju”

Takemichi POV

“So the only way you can locate the guy is through me?” Taiju said staring me deep in the eyes only making me feel smaller than I actually am.

Chifuyu and I got sent to Taiju’s estate at the request of Mikey, he didn’t disclose any more information just that we needed to find a certain somebody through Taiju and have to eliminate him. Mikey said that Taiju was the one we needed for this mission because he and the person had past relations. 

“Yes, Mikey expects your help as a “return of a favor” or so he mentioned” Chifuyu spoke up, I just stayed quiet. Taiju grumbled and muttered some words under his breath as he sat up from his elbows on his knees. “The little fucker is right, I do owe him…” Taiju said as he leaned back, I started to take in his features more. The ring on his finger, the expensive robe he was wearing and all the tattoos he had from the spirals to even a name. I tried to read the name “[na-”

"Taiju"

We all looked up towards the living room entrance and standing there was a man. Beautiful brown skin, a fluffy afro and such a plump body. I looked away red covering my face, noticing the man was wearing nothing but a thong clearly seen through his sheer robe.

“ahh [name]” Taiju said, leaning his head back over the couch towards this [name] person, [name] just like the name on the tattoo. He's Taiju’s husband. “I told you to go back to sleep baby,” Taiju continued. [name] started walking closer, his hips swaying with every movement. “I know, I just couldn’t” [name] said, now he was standing beside the couch. He leaned over towards the back of Taiju to wrap his arms around his neck. “Who are these guys, do you know them?” [name] asked Taiju. “They’re just some guys from an old friend of mine, nothing to worry about baby” Taiju said, gesturing for [name] to come closer towards him.

I just stared at the beauty of a husband that was [name] as he went to sit on Taiju’s lap. What was I thinking? Mina is sleeping in our home waiting for me.

[name] POV

My back against his tough chest while my legs were draped over his. In Front of me are two black heads dressed in simple black pants and a white dress shirt. 

“Mikey has a little mission for me baby” Taiju mentioned, he nuzzled into my neck. I caressed his face softly, “but you said you were free tomorrow dummy”. I looked over at the black head with the hair in front of his face, unlike the other one that had it combed up, waiting for him to explain. “o-uhm well” he startled because of my eye contact, weak little men. “Mikey needs to take out a rat in the north of tokyo that is ruining plans for a new establishment, and apparently the man had some tough relations with your husband’s business too in the early days”.

“Is it Konno?” I turned to Taiju when I asked that question, he nuzzled himself further into my neck enjoying the scent of my shower wash. “mhmm probably is, so therefore I have to deal with it” he put his head back against the couch again as he squeezed my thigh. “I’m sorry sweet cheeks, tomorrow is not going to be a free day for me” Taiju said. I pout, wanting to finally have a day off with Taiju. “Sadly then that’s settled” I turn towards the two black heads who came bearing the news that would ruin the night and the next day for me, “Can I get you guys something to drink?”.

I grab the gold tray with on top three glasses and a bottle of scotch, next to it a cigar with a kitchen lighter for Taiju. It was going to be a long night of strategizing plus Taiju seems a little tense so I needed him to let loose, he would have to brush his teeth before bed though don’t want to smell that smokey breath while I’m sleeping. I walked over towards the gentlemen and placed their assigned glasses, pouring a tad bit of booze in each glass. I sit back on Taiju’s lap, grab the cigar and put it in between his lips lighting it up for him. His hand rests on the small of my back.

“Then we just need a person to keep watch in the club” the black head with his hair up mentioned. Apparently Konno was a real pervert and liked the pole girls in the club so they decided it would be good to trap him with one. “I’m pretty sure Mikey has a few girls so set in” the other queried. I was disgusted at trapping that pervert by using another girl, “the club has all types of performers right?” I asked. “Uhmm well yeah, why?” the black head with his hair down asked. 

“then I’ll do it” I said, “I’ll be the performer to trap Konno”. “What’s this sweet cheeks?” Taiju sat up rubbing his hand up and down my thigh whilst taking another drag off his cigar. “Leave those other girls alone, I don’t want them to end up in a dangerous situation therefore I’ll do it” I said, taking a sip of Taiju’s glass. “Besides then we can at least do something together again like we would on your free day” I rub Taiju’s chin seeing him grinning so hard he’s showing off his canines.

“You heard my baby, gentlemen, we’ll see you guys again tomorrow,” Taiju announced, kissing my cheek. 

The two men made their way out the house, as Taiju and I stood by the door. His arm wrapped around my shoulder, the other rubbing my belly. “After this we’re going on a vacation sweet cheeks, we deserve it” Taiju said, kissing my neck with his cigar breath.

“Only if I choose the place” I said as we headed back inside, finally going to sleep together.

Probably not going to make a part 2 this already took a 3 month break in between to make

[dollopole]

I never do this, because it feels like asking money to strangers, (lmao, that’s just me, I’m not judging others who do this) but, DO YOU HAVE MERTHUR FIC RECS?! GOOD FIC RECS?! Every fic is good, I’m not judging, I’m just very picky when it comes to grammar and good dialogues (okay, maybe this is why I don’t do it, I seem a prick😭) BUT, if you have some, with some slow burn, sexual tension, ✨freaky time✨or certain themes, even heavy ones, but that are dealt with in a good way, and some good old hurt/comfort👀… I mean… Who am I to say no?

Is this too specific? Lmao😭.

I just want to know if you have fics recs I stil haven’t read where there is an happy ending, and that tick all my boxes, or a few💀Like, it doesn’t necessarily needs to be rated E or M, but I always go for E and M (don’t be shy and drop your recs even if the fics are rated Gen or other :)!!!) and for hurt/comfort followed by smut🤔Or the opposite.

And if they’re long? Ugh, even better (I read short fics too ;))

Maybe this is too specific.

*giving myself a pat of encouragement and breathing in*

Okay, the things I usually avoid in fics or don’t go for are rape/non con (I’ve read a few, but they weren’t descriptive, and it was dealt with in a very good and serious way, so if that’s the case, drop the recs😤) mpreg, (don’t ask💀) good Uther (I hate fics where Uther is good, even if I read TONS of them and liked them too😭But if the fic is very very very good, maybe I could close one eye or both😔) Merlin written as a fucking idiot or written as invincible and incapable of hurting, and same goes for Arthur (again, I read both of these. I’m not judging, I’m just listing my grocery shopping🤨BDJFIKSXKDJ so drop the recs… Again… This is sounding more desperate the more I go on), awful grammar😭 (I’M SO SORRY, I WRITE GRAMMAR LIKE SHIT TOO SOMETIMES, but I dislike it when I have to read it from others😔I kindly ask for forgiveness😔we’re not all good regarding grammar (me included, so it’s chill🫶) or English native speakers and I’m not judging your for that, AT ALL, TRUST ME! I’ve read fics with a lot of grammar errors and I didn’t even notice at first because I couldn’t care less and because the fics were fire, so again, drop the recs👀) and fics written by others’ pov’s or that aren’t Merthur centred :). But I love lesbian Mergwen as the side couple😌 (I just listed the entirety of the fics in the Merlin fandom LMAOOOO. I won’t read shit, I already know💀) I TRUST YOU, DEAR AND BRAVE FOLLOWERS! AND NOT FOLLOWERS! WHATEVER! KIND PEOPLE! I LOVE YOU!

Oh, fics that you’ve written are valid too😌I don’t consider it spam (it shouldn’t be considered spam, actually💀) so you can recommend those to me too😌. BUT, a warning: if I don’t like them, I won’t, ehm, read them (am I a piece of shit?) Anyway, this does not mean someone else will not like them or that you’re a shitty writer, it means that I’M shitty (this is getting longer than what I expected.)

Every person is different, I believe, I like to support each and everyone’s work, but I have my taste, and I hope you’ll understand that.

Since the parchment is over now, I can end this post by saying:

I’m begging you, if you have fics recs, bring them my way, I.need.them. *feral noises*

P.S.

I’m picky (like that wasn’t clear already💀) so if they’re on another site that it’s not Ao3, I will not read the fics (they can be good, but my eyes don’t get easily used to other types of sites, and I hate dislike Wattpad.)

P.P.S.

This is probably the pickiest ask for fic recs someone ever made😭 (I hope not SNCJSKLXKK)

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Happy Birthday, little finch.

Gif credits

Pairing: Jackson!Joel X AFAB!reader

Words count: 6731

Rating: +18 NSFW, Minors please don’t interact

Summary: Everyone forgets your birthday but you receive an unexpected invitation (wink) that will change the fate of the day.

Warnings: POV second person, smut, little power dynamic, little brat taming, begging, unprotected P in V (please, always use protections in real life!), Reader's age is intentionally unspecified, you can imagine an age gap between her and Joel or not, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), nipples play, Joel comes on reader's tits, just a little of pulling hair, soft!Joel, grumpy!Joel, pet names (little finch, honey, baby, babe), mention of fasting as a sarcastic joke (I don’t condone joking about no one’s eating habits), reader has hair (It is not specified how long they are or what they look like), reader can be lifted by big and strong Joel, reader has a able body, breasts and vagina and she wears a dress, apart from that no other description is given, reader is part of the Jackson community, I don't know anything about Jackson, I only know a few details about second game’s plot (including that detail, yes) so everything I describe is purely from my imagination and may have no bearing on the original Jackson, brief appearances by Maria, Tommy, Ellie and Dina, drinking, swearing, Joel calls reader “little finch” (I came up with this nickname just because my grandpa used to call me with a bird name when I was little and I always found it sweet, so here we go ❤️), Joel can draw (I don't know if it's true but for me it is, okay, allow me). I hope I haven't forgotten anything but if I do I'll add it as soon as I notice.

English is not my first language so please be kind, I always try to do my best, no proofreading (sorry), very little editing, I apologize for any mistakes. I'm writing on my phone, I hope the formatting isn't too bad 🥲

Thank you so much to anyone who will read this, I really hope you’ll like it, kind comments and advices are really appreciated ❤️

I've been listening to Hozier's "Talk" heavily while writing this so here it is, I'll let you know. It's such a beautiful song and I love Hozier so much 🫠

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

You wake up struck by a ray of sunlight that enters faintly through the half-closed shutters and dies right on your face.

You have no idea what time it is and your head feels heavy and confused, you turn over in bed thinking that maybe you can give yourself another 5 minutes but then you hear voices outside already awake and ringing and then you think that maybe it's really late. You sit up and retrieve the clock from the bedside table, it's 7 in the morning.

You get up and go to the kitchen to make some coffee and from the window you see some people already busy doing their work. Some children head towards the building designated as school in Jackson, happily laughing while they chase each others.

You yawn and open the cabinet in the kitchen where you keep the coffee filters, a precious supply recovered during an exploration that you jealously preserve.

The coffee is also the result of a find and therefore it was carefully rationed with the other members of the community.

You are grateful that it exists because this morning you really need it, last night you slept badly, continuing to toss in your sleep and always dreaming of the same thing again and again. You being swallowed up by a hole in the ground and no hand reaching out to help you. Just a great dream.

The coffee maker burbles a few minutes later, releasing the drink you crave.

Temperatures are milder in this season so you no longer need to put on a heavy jacket and snow boots, there is a bit of fresh wind but nothing compared to the harsh winter that has just passed.

Today in particular you feel like dressing better than usual, you go back to your room and open the wardrobe, carefully inspecting the few clothes hanging there.

You obviously don't have much choice because they're all salvaged second-hand clothes, but Maria gave you a nice pair of denim shorts a month ago and they look very nice on you.

You take it out of the closet and place it on the bed along with a white tank top that highlights your boobs just right, it’s nothing particularly fancy but it makes you feel good, you head towards the shower humming softly.

The shower helps you wake up, you dress and you leave the house feeling a bit better.

You meet a couple of people who greet you as you make your way to the library.

You enter, smelling the familiar smell of books and immediately get to work cleaning and dusting the shelves and the floor, like every day.

The morning passes peacefully, only a couple of people come in to borrow books, so after doing your chores you took the opportunity to rearrange thriller’s books section.

You're a bit shocked by the fact that no one told you anything particular but you don't mind, these people have a lot to think about and a lot to do.

When you leave it's lunch time, so you head to the common room.

The crisp air caresses your face and the sun gives you a little warmth that you missed so much, you really love this season in Jackson.

You enter the room filled with chatter that echoes off the walls. You take your place in line and once you have had your portion you sit at one of the tables.

No one reaches you yet. You're alone in a room full of people.

You see him in a corner, sitting with Maria and Tommy and you get lost for a while observing the way he moves his large hands, how his hair rests at the base of his neck, his big brown eyes, so communicative, the way his flannel shirt - which has practically become a distinctive trait of Joel - hug his muscles, the way his lower lip slightly twitch while he’s talking.

You’re totally captivated.

You can't help it and you know it.

Every time he spoke to you, even for just a few minutes, your body reacted unequivocally at his deep low raspy voice, his proximity always caused you trouble.

You like this man, much more than you are willing to admit.

Joel Miller.

You're friends, you might say. As much as it is possible to be friends with a man like him.

He's friendly, but always with an undertone of detachment that you can't define, as if he's afraid of letting himself go with someone and let his feelings flow freely.

And just as you're thinking this, he turns and looks at you for a moment.

You are sitting, yet your knees feel weak and you feel your cheeks redden knowing you've been caught.

You turn your eyes back to your lunch, quickly finishing your meal and bringing your tray back. You leave the common room feeling in a bubble.

It's stupid that he makes you feel like a little girl with her first crush but it always happens, by now you're resigned to always making a fool of yourself with him.

You walk home to do your household chores and then go to the patch of garden you've been assigned to take care of.

You meet various people along the way but again everyone just say hello, you see Ellie with Dina and they both wave at you and nothing more. In the meantime, Maria has left the common room and the only thing she asks you is how the courgettes you planted a month ago are coming along.

It's strange, but you shrug your shoulders and think that deep down today is not such a relevant day for others even if you hoped it would be because you now consider these people as your new family.

You stop thinking about it and focus on the things you have to do but a tiny piece of your heart hurts a little, just a little.

What the hell is wrong with people today? Only a month ago they throw a big party for Tommy and now nothing, not even a hint.

Okay, Tommy is higher rank, he is married to Maria, everyone sees him as a guide just as they see his partner.

And he goes on patrols, certainly offering others a greater sense of security and protection, unlike you who deal with less dangerous things.

That's probably why, you're just a minion in Jackson's pecking order.

You let off some steam by plowing your field with more force than necessary, small drops of sweat slide down your forehead and you end up hot and with your arms aching from the effort.

Stupid girl, stop thinking about it, it's not that important to have a birthday, not in a post apocalyptic world where everyone is struggling to get ahead.

But still, they acknowledged every single special day of everyone’s here before, except yours and nothing particularly relevant is happening, it’s been a couple of quiet weeks.

You're wiping sweat from your forehead with one hand when you hear a voice behind you.

"What are you doing tonight?" It's his voice, you'd recognize his among a thousand.

You turn around stuttering “uh, what?”

And there he is, flannel shirt, curls slightly blowing in the wind, mouth curved in a smirk, dark piercing eyes.

Fuck.

“I asked…what are you doing tonight?”

You feel the nervousness rising in your chest, it's the first time he's spoken to you in a week and you weren't ready in the slightest.

“Uh…oh…nothing special, I guess, I think I'll read a book and go to sleep early”

you say trying to maintain a certain apparent nonchalance.

“You didn't mention dinner, are you going to fast?” Oh, great. Sarcastic jokes, classic Miller behavior.

“No, of course not,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles “okay, so, would you like to come to my house? I cook”

Fuck. Is that, a date?

You instantly feel your mouth dry as you try to reply “Well, it’s not like I have something better to do so yes, why not”

You don't want to make it obvious to this man how he makes you feel. There are worse things to worry about in this world, but letting yourself go with someone who always shows restraint only to be rejected - on your birthday, no less - doesn't seem as pleasant.

And that's how you usually communicate anyway, bickering.

Maria often laughs about it, you are both stubborn and neither of you ever wants to agree with the other.

One day she told you that she thinks you'll end up together and you practically laughed in her face. Not because you don't want to, but because you thought Joel didn't even see you that way.

Maybe Maria was right all along, who knows.

“Good, see you at 7”

And he goes.

You watch him walk away for a while, still with spade in your hands.

Suddenly this day became interesting.

You run into the house and take off your dirty clothes throwing them in the basket you keep in the bathroom and go to the shower.

While you're soaping yourself up you wonder what came into his mind.

As you rub your hair, you think that maybe he's making fun of you but Joel doesn't seem like the type to make a prank, he's always quite sarcastic but not a proper prankster.

It's part of his charm, he always looks grumpy but you know he's not bad, the way he looks at Ellie or his brother says everything about him.

He would do anything for the people he loves.

And he’s not mean, he was kind to you too.

You've spent more time looking at him, analyzing every chat you had with him than you like to admit, so yeah, you're pretty sure he's okay.

Once you get out of the shower you open the wardrobe and find yourself contemplating the usual clothes with which you have to make the best of things.

There is a cute dress that you have never worn because you have never found a particular occasion. It's quite short and low-cut, definitely not suited to Jackson's lifestyle, here everyone wears jeans and sweaters or t-shirts.

You think that maybe tonight is the time to dare even if you don't want him to burst out laughing and ask you what you've got in your head.

It's just a dinner.

He never mentioned anything romantic.

You're obviously nervous, because you like him and if it doesn't go well you should continue to see him every day anyway.

In the end you decide to wear the dress anyway but to tone it down with a cardigan and a pair of boots, so as to make it look less like "please fuck me" style.

You shake your head, how much trouble are you going to for Joel Miller.

However, you have to admit that it's the first really exciting thing that's happened to you since you've been here. You thought that surviving was enough so you obviously never complained about it.

You fix your hair after drying it, you look at yourself in the mirror and you think that you're not that bad after all.

It's almost time, you leave the house and walk the few meters that separate you from Joel's house with your heart beating wildly in your chest.

You climb the few steps to his porch feeling insecure and stupid for accepting, who knows what you expect from this lonely man.

You shrug and knock on the door, snuggling into your cardigan in the cool evening air.

You consider going back and pretending you had a mishap, but Joel opens the door.

“Hey, come in” he smiles at you. You cross the threshold timidly as a delicious scent invades your nostrils.

Who knew Joel Miller could cook?

You follow him into the kitchen and Joel pours you a glass of wine.

“Where did you find this?” you ask in surprise. Wine is a luxury that you haven't been able to afford many times in Jackson, usually the only thing they bring back after searches and patrols are bottles of cheap whiskey.

“I found it two km from here in an abandoned shop. It was stuck under a shelf, probably for years”

“Oh, great”

“Well they say that aged wines are better. Like men, don't you agree?” He smiles, winking at you.

He winked.

Fuck.

You try to hide your surprise by taking a long sip from your glass.

While Joel is busy checking on the stew you take a look around the living room.

It's a nice house, simply furnished like all the houses in Jackson, tidy and clean.

There are some sheets with drawings on the coffee table in front of the couch. You know Joel made them because you've seen him several times on his porch busy drawing animals. A squirrel, a deer, a small bird. He's really good at it.

And obviously his guitar, resting on a stand in a corner near the couch.

In a totally cheesy way you would love to hear him play something for you.

“So, do you like wine?”

You turn and see that he is a few steps away from you, glass in hand.

“Uhm, yeah, it’s good”

He gives you a smile “stew is almost ready”

“Can I help you with something?”

“No, don’t worry, you’re the guest”

You see him linger with his gaze on your legs and up to your breasts and you think that the dress wasn't such a bad idea after all.

He is wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans and is breathtaking.

You scan each other for a few seconds, without speaking. You are like two predators sniffing each other to see who will give in first.

“That dress looks good on you” he finally says and for the first time you notice that he is slightly embarrassed. He looks down at his glass and stares at it harder than necessary.

You still don't know why he invited you tonight but honestly at this point you don't even care. He's more handsome than ever, his hair still slightly damp from the shower and pulled back, that little scar on his cheek that you'd be eager to find out the story of, that smile he's giving you and his hands nervously gripping the glass, everything about him draws you in like a magnet.

"Thank you. You're not bad either." You giggle and you know that it’s definitely what you needed tonight. To feel attractive. To feel seen.

He comes back to the kitchen and after a few seconds he calls you “Dinner’s ready”

You sit at the table in the kitchen and he places a plate in front of you that smells of home, of memories and takes you back to when you were little and your mom cooked for you.

It's like Proust's madeleine.

Evoking sweet feelings with food is one of your favorite things to remember who you were, who you loved, and what was before this debacle.

It's melancholy but also comfort in a certain way, it's like holding on to the truest and most authentic part of you, the one that made you who you are today and probably allowed you to survive.

You take a bite as Joel looks at you in anticipation.

“Wow, this is good!” you exclaim “extremely good. Who knew that you were a chef”

“Ha! I’m really not, it’s just a stew and I’ve done it so many time that I can’t get it wrong at this point”

“It's still the best I've had in years, I need to get invited to dinner more often”

You chuckle and then you blush, because you've made it clear that you hope it's the first of many times.

Damn you.

You hadn't had a love interest in years, obviously, there wasn't time to think about that while the world burned and you had to fight to stay alive. But here, in this little bubble, where people have welcomed you and you have recovered crumbs of normality, it doesn't seem too stupid to feel something for Joel.

Is he grumpy? Sometimes. But he is also incredibly generous, to be honest. When you asked him, a formal contractor, to help you create the library he snorted, he told you that it wasn't necessary, that no one would ever go there anyway.

You shrugged and said that you would have done it anyway with or without his help, Maria had already given you permission.

The next morning you got up early to go and clean up the designated building and found him there, he was repairing a damaged window that wouldn't go up or down.

He grumbled when you asked him ironically what he was doing “someone has to stop you from opening a crumbling library”

You smiled, feeling your heart warm.

And so it was every day until the place was ready. Joel showed up early in the morning or in the evening, spent a few hours fixing the steps, eradicating moths, building shelves and cabinets, even a desk for you.

You've never talked in depth about your lives but you still know something you've heard through the grapevine. He's very secretive about his past so you never asked him any uncomfortable questions, the last thing you would want is for him to never share anything with you again.

The time he helped you with the library was the most enjoyable time you've had here so far and that's when you realized that your crush was more serious than expected.

“Do you want another glass of wine?”

“Why not, i don’t have to drive home”

He laughs “Yeah, no fines for you”

“At most a headache, but I'll think about that in the morning”

“Were you surprised when I invited you?”

he leaves you speechless for a moment and then you find, you don't know how, the strength to use irony, like you always do "I've known for a long time that you want me" you giggle and brush your hair away from your face while you say it.

"Oh yes? How strange, I actually thought it was the opposite” the smirk and the deep chuckle he gives to you goes straight to the most private part of you. Right there. It sits on your clit and you feel it tingling.

Fuck, this man.

You never experienced a flirty Joel Miller before and you were actually quite sure he wasn’t even capable of being so but he is.

“Oh shut up, finish eating” you scoff, feeling your cheeks turn on fire.

He lets go for a while and watches you amusedly fill your mouth with his stew.

“It's a pleasure to see you eat, little finch”

He started calling you that when you couldn't move the furniture in the library on your own. "I don't know how you thought you could manage on your own, little finch."

At first you hated it, now you pretend to hate it but you actually like it.

“Stop calling me that!” you still have to keep up a facade after all.

“Oh come on, finch is the cutest bird, don’t be offended”

“I’m no bird” you pout.

“Yep you are, finch. Delicate. Elegant. Pretty. You walk like you’re floating in the light air and your voice is a lovely chirping sound. It gets on my nerves sometimes, but I actually like it. A lot.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You can't believe he said that.

You feel your heart melt like snow under the sun, your lips involuntarily curl into a smile, your hands tremble with the desire to touching him and between your legs a lustful heat invades you all over.

His face is relaxed, his eyes sparkle mischievously and his smile…his smile pins you to the chair.

You raise your glass in an attempt to drink some courage while he doesn't stop looking at you silently.

Just enough time to bring your lips close to the glass and you find yourself coughing, you're too distracted and the wine goes sideways.

Obviously.

You can't help but look like a fool in front of him, you don't even know how he thinks you're elegant.

“Jesus, are you okay?” he asks in alarm as he reaches up to wrap his arm around your back and pat you lightly.

To your surprise, his large, calloused hands can be very gentle.

“Oh my god, yes, yes I’m okay” you reply between coughs "I'll get over it now"

Now that he knows that you will survive he sits back down to his chair and scrutinizes you with an amused expression.

“Did I go too hard on you?”

“What? No, not all” you reply red-faced, while trying to regain some composure.

“Okay, if you say so” he places a hand on yours gripping the table “Has it passed?”

“Yeah, I think it is” You pour a little water into the other glass he has set and drink, this time slowly.

Finally you feel your breathing return to regularity and your cough gradually subside.“Thank goodness, little finch, think if I should have taken you to the doctor in that lovely dress” and laughs.

You've never seen him laugh so much.

He is intelligible most of the time but tonight he is an open book.

“What's wrong with this dress, Miller?” you ask, ironically, you may be clumsy but not to this point and you want to try to get back at him.

"Nothing. You don't see many of them in Jackson, that's all."

“It doesn't look like anything special to me,” you say, as you realize he's staring insistently at your tits. “Do you see anything special, Miller?”

He shrugs “It’s pretty low cut for nothing”

You bend over slightly, resting your forearms on the table smiling at him, exposing your boobs even more. He is sitting in front of you and still watching at them.

“You're pretty good at it after all, little finch” his eyes have become darker and it's as if a small flame is burning inside them.

You feel a certain pride rising in your chest.

“Now you look like the embarrassed one, Miller, have you seen how things have changed?” Your smirk doesn't go unnoticed by Joel who squirms in his seat as if it has suddenly become uncomfortable.

"Can you tell me something? Why did you invite me tonight?” you’re pushing him, and you know it. And actually, you like it, for once you feel like you have the upper hand.

“Isn't it obvious, finch?” he mutter.

“Maybe, but I'd like to hear it from you. Use your words, Miller, I know you can."

“When you asked me to help you to arrange the library I thought you were crazy. Then I realized I was wrong. It was a nice idea. It was a great idea actually. No one here can go anywhere anymore, and in any case there is nowhere you can go so it is comforting to know that there is always a way to take refuge elsewhere, at least for a few hours, reading a great book. So yes, finch, I like you. I like you because you gave us back some beauty.”

“Fuck Miller, you can make speeches whenever you want”

“It's just one of the reasons I like you, you’re also smart and thoughtful and gorgeous but yeah, that’s it, I’ve said it”

His gaze is languid, you'd almost say longing. Maybe you managed to scratch a small piece of the invisible armor he built to protect himself.

One moment you were bickering as usual and the next Joel fucking Miller left you speechless.

No sarcasm, not an ounce of irony, he sounds sensitive and vulnerable.

It's so strange to see him in this light, the only other time it happened to you you were in the library, he found a children's book and held it in his hands looking at it in silence.

For a moment you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes, he looked helpless and hurt and then it was the usual Joel, complaining about the mess and the weight of the boxes you had made him lift that gave nightmares to his back.

You get up from the chair without even realizing it, as if it were an involuntary movement that your body needs.

You stop in front of him, who is still sitting, his arms abandoned on the table, his gaze following you questioningly.

You put a hand in his hair and let it run through his dark curls while he instinctively closes his eyes, abandoning himself completely under your touch.

You would like to say something but you don't want to ruin the moment and in any case you can't find any words suitable to describe how you feel.

Moved, yearning, grateful, overwhelmed?

All these things together at the same time.

You let your hand linger on the base of his neck, stroking softly

“Look at me” you whisper.

And his gaze turns, his whole body turns, and you've never seen him so clearly. He rests his large hands on your hips and his gaze pierces you as he lands on yours.

You feel his grip tighten as you lean over him and leave a shy kiss on his lips. Small. Brief. And another, instinctively. And yet another.

And another until his lips part on yours and fit perfectly in a long sigh. He tastes like wine and loneliness and desire.

It’s manly but tender and demanding for more.

Your tongues meet and it's like an electric shock that surprises you but at the same time it's inevitable like when two surfaces rub together generating energy, it is an unwritten physical law that holds you together despite having used all your strength to keep each other at a distance for months.

Now, all you can do is give up.

You kiss him like it's the last thing you do in your life, his eager hands roam your hips, gripping your ass and squeezing tightly.

He part from your lips just the time to stand up and wrapping you entirely in his arms, his mouth searching for yours again, eager, his hands stroking your back while you feel just like a little finch in the most comfortable nest you could find.

“God, I want you” he mutter in your ear nuzzling at your sensitive skin.

“Take me. Just… take me, Joel”

It’s a dreadful need that you feel deep in your bone, the last shred of love you could find in this broken world, a sweet feeling of release that you desperately wanted.

You can’t think straight and don’t want to.

He take off your cardigan and reaches for the hem of your dress and lifts it up roaming your thighs feverishly, squeezing and stroking, his fingers digging into your flesh as you moan softly into his ear. He pulls it up to your waist and you help slide it off your head.

He bends down to take off your boots and throws them on the floor in an unspecified place, then he gets up and takes you back in his arms. He's still dressed while you're almost naked and exposed in a pair of black lace panties and a matching bra. You might be intimidated but you're not. You let yourself be held and explored by his hands. His calloused fingers, rough but gentle, touch you everywhere, giving you goosebumps. He lifts a hand to one of your breast and squeezes it through the fabric.

You can't help but let out a muffled moan while he is filling his hand with your flesh.

“Do you like it, finch? Me squeezing your boob?” he says in a whisper, looking into your eyes.

“Y-yes” you mumble “give me more”

There's a smug, lecherous smile painted on his face as he reaches for your bra and unclasps it with a single gesture.

He slides it off and drops it on the kitchen floor. Your nipples stiffen in an instant, hit by the air, he takes one between his fingers and pinches it, pulling it gently and then his mouth is on it swirling his tongue and sucking it. You squirm at the sensation, digging your hand into his hair again, pushing his face into your breast “more, more” you stammer. You feel his smile spread across your skin and his teeth bite lightly into you.

“You’re ravenous, aren’t you?”

You pull his hair and tilt his face slightly to regain eye contact. “Do you mind?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“Good, you can continue doing what you were doing” you smile defiantly. You like to provoke him, especially now.

“You're bossy for a little finch, I like that”

he smiles back, his eyes shining bright with thrill and anticipation.

He returns to greedily licking and sucking like a thirsty man on your nipples, another loud moan escape from your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so good”

“I just started with you, you have no idea what awaits you” he whispers.

“Mmm then less talking, Miller, show me”

Without having to be told twice, he picks you up, much to your surprise, and places you on his couch in the living room.

“Woah, Miller, easy”

“You told me not to waste time talking” he shrugs. chuckling.

He pulls you to the edge of the couch “spread your legs”

You open your legs a little but he is visibly not satisfied, he takes your knees and opens them more "Like this. Now stay still” he orders.

He kneels between your thighs and pulls your panties aside.

You feel his fingers trail up your thigh, slowly, taking the time to slide lightly over your skin, causing you a mixture of tickling and excitement.

You writhe when you feel his index finger grazing your pussy lips, wandering up and down caressing for a little bit before sliding it between them and wetting it completely in your juices.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”

You can literally feel your cunt dripping when he keeps going up and down, briefly sinking into your hole with the tip of his finger and then on your clit, moving in circle with two fingers over your bundle of nerves.

You’re whining again, you’re growing impatient and he perfectly knows that

“Joel…”

“Yes, Finch?”

“You're doing it again”

“What”

“You know what. Do you want to torture me?”

"No. I just want you to beg me."

“God, you’re impossible” you roll your eyes out of exhaustion and arousal.

He stops completely.

“So are you, babe. Can you please let me do what I know best?”

He presses on your clit with two fingers and you squirm.

“Fuck. Okay”

He starts teasing your clit again, moving his fingers up and down to gather your wetness and spread it all over your lips.

“The thing is, finch, your pussy is so good. Look at her, I can’t rush it. She deserves to be loved nicely and slowly”

He is sitting on his heels just taking his time with you and you can’t be more eager to have him in your hole but you breath, resigned to wait for his pace.

He teases your entrance again, this time with two fingers, pushing in a little deeper.

His thumb is still taking care of your clit, moving a little faster than before.

“Eyes on me, babe”

And you do, you lock your eyes with his and you see hunger and lust and wonder.

He’s admiring you and you feel flattered.

He brings his face closer and sticks his tongue out, licking you from bottom to top and then again, letting it slide between your lips.

His beard is scratching you, his tongue stops on your clit swirling around it, jerking it slowly, again and again until you see him closing his lips on it and sucking gently.

He’s devouring you at this point and you mewl and cry and scream for more.

“Jesus - fuck - oh my goodness”

Your fingers are entwined into his curls and you’re pushing his face against you as much as you can, his tongue is fucking your hole now, he delves into you and lick all he can and you start to feel an incredible warmth rising from your core, in your tummy, to your chest.

He finally lets his index and middle finger sliding into you, pumping slowly in and out of your dripping wet cunt.

“Joel, oh my God I - ha! - I can’t, oh God”

“Yes, you can. Just like that, baby, give it to me” he whispers softly against your skin.

You’re on the verge of coming, the most incredible orgasm is knocking at your senses, overwhelming and brutally crushing into you.

“I’m com - oh GOD - yes,Joel, fuck”

He praises you again “come for me, soak my fingers, come on”

And you do. You gush all over his fingers like it was the last thing you do in the world, your legs shake and your heart reach an impossible pace that leaves you breathless.

He keeps licking and pumping into you until you calm and you can’t take your eyes off him bowed between your thighs, he drives you wild.

He stands up grunting at his poor knees and you giggle, he raises an eyebrow at you

“I wouldn't laugh considering the fact that I just made you scream my name”

He sits down on the couch next to you, circling your waist with his big strong arm and pushing you against him.

You bury your face in his chest “Aw, you’re so touchy, Miller” and you giggle again.

“You’re such a little brat.” He says, stroking your hair “But see? I wasn’t lying. It's been many years since I last did this but I still know what to do”

You raise your eyes at him “yeah, I give you that. You’re fucking good” and you place a kiss on the hairless part of his beard “but I-”

“What?” he interrupts you, looking at you maliciously

You bite your lower lip, feeling hot again just for the way he’s holding you tightly watching you with lust in his eyes.

“I want your cock”

“Oh. It’s time to beg, baby”

“Joel…”

“Beg for it, little finch” he’s smiling but his voice is firm and slightly authoritative

“I never beg” you scoff

“You will start now, sweetie, if you want to see me naked”

You look at him with exasperation, rolling your eyes immediately after “okay, Jesus. Can you please give me your cock?”

“Manners, babe. Ask gently”

You ask yourself what have you done wrong to fall for such an unbearable man “Good Lord”

“Beg with conviction”

“Joel Miller, could you do me the courtesy of fucking me? Please?”

You’re smirking hard. You definitely love to get on his nerves.

“You’re getting into trouble with this attitude, you know that?” He reaches one of your nipples and pinches it hard making you whimper into his arms.

You turn serious, looking him in the eyes intensely, licking your lip before saying “Fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Mmm yes, just like that baby, it didn't take much”

He finally stands up in front of you. He takes off his shirt, revealing a strong, broad chest.

You can see a thin strip of hair disappearing under his jeans but apart from that he is almost hairless, his skin is delightfully dotted with freckles that make your mouth water.

He throws off his shirt and bends over to remove his boots.

Your eyes linger on his back, on his tense, rippling muscles, you can't believe how gorgeous he is, after all you think it was worth begging for this but you will never tell him.

He unzips his jeans and takes them off, remaining in his boxers. The sight of his deliciously soft tummy drives you completely insane. You’re craving him like you never did with anyone before.

“Kneel on the couch for me, baby” he orders and you immediately do, you turn your head just in time to see him taking off his boxers, freeing his already hard and swollen cock. Your knees sink into the pillows and your hands rest on the armrest, you are completely exposed to his will.

He gets behind you on his knees, gripping your hips and pulling you towards him.

“Fuck me Joel, please, fuck me now” you cry

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock like that. You learn quickly, little finch”

You only feel the tip poking at your entrance, he slides his cock against your dripping folds “Beg once more, babe”

You writhe, it’s more than you can take right now, you want him desperately.

“Please, Joel. Please” your voice sounds distraught but you don’t care, not now.

He enters you with a single thrust that makes you scream “Fuck!”

He’s big, so big that his cock burns in your center.

“I told you you were getting into trouble, baby, if you wanted me to be gentle you should have behaved better”

It's a small punishment you can bear, after a few seconds you already got used to his intrusion, you never felt so full before and right now you couldn’t ask for anything better.

He begins to move slowly, in and out of you, sinking deeper each time and reaching that spot that makes you see stars.

His loud grunts numb your head, his fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts into you, maybe he will leave some marks and the thought excite you even more.

“Oh God, please don’t stop, please”

He’s pounding into you incessantly, every thrust more deep leaving you short breath, you’re so wet that every lewd sounds coming from your cunt is making you feel like you’re on the brink of falling apart.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like that, babe, the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, so perfect for me”

You whine even more at his praises, feeling your pussy clenching hard around his cock.

“Joel please I’m-”

“I know baby, I know, I can feel you, squeezing my cock just right, God you’re taking me so good”

You basically spasm on his cock right now, legs trembling as your sink your fingers in the fabric of the couch desperately trying to hold your posture.

He holds you tightly by your hips, grunting with each thrust into you, hitting your cervix again and again.

“Come for me baby, come all over my cock”

You’re quivering so hard that you almost think of being on the verge of losing your mind.

You cry his name feeling so full and dazed while your orgasm explodes inside you.

He pumps into you until you calm down but he’s still throbbing against your walls “Where do you want me?”

“On my tits - please”

He comes out of you and you lie down on his couch, his throbbing cock is in front of you, he takes it in his hand, milking it a couple of time before releasing his cum all over you. He moans loudly as he paints your tits and chest with his pleasure.

He lies down on top of you, groaning “God, this was amazing”

You feel his sticky seed spreading on your skin but you don't care, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly.

He moves to the side so as not to weigh you down and takes you in his arms again.

You hide your face for a moment in the crook of his neck, inhaling his woody, citrusy perfume, with a hint of the natural sweaty scent of his skin. He smells amazingly.

“I could get used to it” you giggle

“Me too, little finch” and he leaves a kiss on your hair.

“Oh, you made completely forgot about it, do you know what day it is today?”

“No, should I?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you. It’s my birthday.”

His eyes widen, “Really?”

“Yep”

“Well then happy birthday. Did you like your present?”

“It’s the best I’ve ever received”

You kiss him again, knowing how true it is.

“We should take a shower,” he laughs.

“Yeah, you’re… well…all over me…but to be honest, I like it.”

He smiles widely “Come on little finch, I might have another gift for you in the bathroom”

“Oh, then I can’t wait to unwrap it”

[mint-yooxgi]

Yearning - Yandere!Phoenix!Mingi

Yandere AU & Phoenix AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Mingi X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,710

Warnings: Implied stalking, and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Felt like getting this out tonight, so I hope you all like it!! Again, I feel like these are tamer than what I originally had in mind, but some of them are going in a different direction than I though. Hehehe, I don't know, I still like them! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fourth of The Feral Drabbles

You’re a strange one, aren’t you? You don’t let anyone get close to you, do you? At least, not really.

I’ve seen the way you shy away from their touches. It’s like you know that they don’t deserve you, just as I do. Only I should get to caress your delicate skin. Only I should get to touch you. Your body is a canvas meant to be painted by me, and me alone.

You know that already, don’t you?

You’ve seen me watching you. I know you have. I’m much more in tune to your reactions than you think, especially when heat is involved.

Perhaps that’s just the way I’ve always been. Or maybe, perhaps, that’s just the effect you have on me. Either way, I always make sure to watch you carefully. I want to know your every reaction to everything, so I can replicate the good ones as desired. I want you to see me in a good light all of the time. There’s no room for error. Not when you are involved.

I can never help myself when it comes to you. I always want to know where you are, and who you’re with. I long to know what you’re doing, and especially how you’re feeling at all times. It drives me crazy not being able to be by your side at all hours of the day. Watching you isn’t enough, I need to be with you, and I want you to need me, too.

You’re guarded, that much I can tell. I mean, you certainly live up to your nickname of Ice Princess, wouldn’t you say? You hardly give anyone the time of day. It’s as if no one is worth your time.

Good. They don’t deserve you, anyways. At least you know how much value your life has, and how important you are.

I wouldn’t expect anything less from my twin flame.

I want you to know, that I am worthy. I will make myself worthy.

I have a theory: you don’t give anyone the time of day because the treat you like a princess. 

It’s the princess part, isn’t it? You long to be treated like the Queen you are, don’t you?

You don’t have to worry much longer, My Queen, a fitting King is on his way.

You know, my kind… we mate for life. We’re extremely territorial and possessive of our mates, especially once we’ve imprinted. You’re lucky I haven’t had a chance to court you yet, otherwise those friends of yours… well, let’s just say ‘burnt to a crisp’ would be putting it lightly.

They don’t care for you. I’ve seen the jealousy in their eyes when you turn away from them. They always want what you have, and they hate how effortlessly it comes to you. You’re too smart for them. Too beautiful. Too desirable.

I must admit, taking out my competition lately has been a bit difficult, but I’ve made tremendous progress this past month alone. You’re even acknowledging me on your own, and going out of your way to start conversations with me! I knew playing it cool would work - that seems to be the type of people you’re drawn to. None of this loud and boisterous displays of passion some people attempt to smother you in.

I have to admit, though, there are times where I wish I could scream my love for you from the rooftops. I want everybody to know how much you mean to me, and to be jealous that only I can have you, and only you can have me. 

I’m not blind, I see the way your friends look at me when you all walk passed. I hear them whisper as their heated stares lock onto my figure. I know I’m desirable, too.

The only one I care about, though, is you.

Oh, how I revel in your gaze when I feel you looking at me. Honestly, it’s embarrassing how much I preen myself just for you. I’ll admit, my posture has never been the greatest, until I met you.

It’s almost comical how obvious I can be; my friend tease me about it all the time. My kind, we’re not subtle in our ways, but either you don’t notice, or you choose not to.

Perhaps you don’t want to believe I could ever fall for someone like you…

Is this why you don’t let anyone get close to you? Because you’re afraid of getting hurt?

Well, My Little Dove, you don’t have to be afraid any longer. I will never hurt you, because I will never leave you. I only want you, and I will only ever want you.

Do you want to know the dangers of my love for you? It’s a little thrilling, isn’t it? To know that there’s always risks when it comes to love. At least, I find it amusing, and once you feel the same as I do, I know you will, too.

See, my kind, as I said before, we mate for life. But, not just this life. 

Every life.

Our love is reborn through the ashes with each incarnation. No matter how far apart we are, or who we are, we will always find each other. That’s what it means to love a Phoenix.

Once an imprint, always an imprint. Nothing can change that.

My heart is yours. It burns for you. It yearns for your cold touch to quell the flames that have long since kindled the fires of my passion for you. I am devoted to you in every way imaginable. You just don’t know it, yet.

I desire you, My Dove. I have desired you from the very first moment I heard you utter my name. Never has it sounded so pure, so perfect falling from any other’s lips but your own. It was meant to be yours. I was made to be yours, and you were always meant to be mine.

Fuck, I want to know what my name sounds like falling from your lips after I’ve kissed you breathless. I want to wrap you in my embrace and ignite that same spark of desire in you that has always burned within me for you. I want to feel you gripping at my hair, pulling me in closer to you as you cling to my body as I light the fires of my passion upon your own.

Fucking tug on my roots as you pull me back into your core for more. I want to feel you dripping down my chin, suffocating me with your luscious thighs as I get lost in your pussy for hours. Let me make a beautiful mess of your cunt, lick it clean, and then do it all over again, and again, and again.

I want you to moan for me, like I’m your one and only salvation, and you’ll find rapture in my every touch. I want our breaths to become one, never knowing where one ends and the other begins. I want to taste you until I become drunk on everything you have to offer, and then I want to drown you in an ecstasy so deep you’ll never want to come back up for air.

I want my touch to sear across every dip and curve of your skin, so that you feel my desires for you even when we’re apart. If you cannot feel my love for you by the time we’re done, I haven’t finished fulfilling my duties of your perfect lover. By the time I’m finished with you, my name will be the only thing on your lips, my body the only thing you can feel, and my devotion to you the only thing on your mind. 

And your heart…

Your heart will be mine.

Long have I desired to burn my mark on your heart, just as I know you’ve already branded mine. I will accept no other. I cannot.

My greatest desire, though, is far tamer than any of this. Yet, it is probably the most significant. The most intricate and intimate of experiences I could offer you.

I want to show you my wings.

I want to show you my wings, and watch as that wondrous expression of yours lights up your face. I want to see you in awe of the colours, and the contrasting feathers which are quite plush and so delicate to the touch. I want to watch you reach out to feel them, but hesitate slightly, unsure of if you should or not, and then I want to smile and nod at you, encouraging you to fulfill your every desire.

And, oh, how encouraging I would be!

We don’t let just anybody touch our wings, you know. It’s a sacred practice, reserved for the most intimate of lovers.

That’s how much you mean to me. I want to share in that intimacy with you, and only you.

Fuck, and then once you’ve traced the contours of my wings and run your fingers through my feathers, I would make the sweetest love to you. I would hold you so fucking close, whispering how deeply my affection for you lies with every movement I make, my wings on full display as I bring us both to ecstasy together.

I can practically hear the way your voice calls out my name so desperately for me now…

Many nights have been spent playing out this fantasy, but I’m afraid it never fully captures the full effect of the moment. I know it’ll be even more special and intimate when the time comes, and I can only imagine how your delicate hands will feel gripping me, and stroking along my wings during the moment.

Just thinking about it now gets me so sensitive.

You truly have no idea what you do to me.

I just have to get closer to you. You’re starting to open up to me, I can feel it. I’m slowly but surely melting that cold exterior of yours. Or maybe, you’re just cooling me down to your level. We’ll be together soon. We have to be, or else I don’t know just what I might do.

I’ll be wrapping you in my embrace soon enough. 

I’ll make sure you can handle the heat.

[sturn1olo-ffics]

- JUST PRETEND -

- Matt Sturniolo x Fem reader (she/her pronouns used)

- Warnings: use of y/n, angst, argument, kissing, some swearing, I think that’s it??? (Lmk); NOT PROOFREAD

- About: Matt feels uncomfortable at a party back in Boston with his hometown friends. His friends keep messing with him about being single, so he tells y/n to “just pretend you’re his date,” but things go a little differently after that.

—————————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV):

“Y/n!! Do you have any pain medicine? My head is killing me.” Nick says, walking into his bedroom where I was staying.

“Yeah, check the side pocket of my bag.” I point towards the purse on the floor and turn around to face my suitcase. “I have no idea what to wear.” I say as Nick opens the medicine.

“Wear that outfit you showed me earlier, you ate that shit up.” He exclaims.

“Okay okay, I just don’t want to wear something Matt doesn’t like-” I start to say before Nick slaps his hand over my mouth.

“Y/n. Absolutely fucking not. Do not start with that bullshit. He’s gonna like whatever you wear. After all, y’all are just friends aren’t y’all? Because you’re too scared to tell him for absolutely no reason because I’ve been yelling at you to tell him?” He stated, backing away from me with his arms crossed.

Nick knew I liked Matt. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. But he also knew I was too much of a pussy to actually tell Matt that I liked him. So that leads us here.

I put on my outfit, did my makeup and hair, and started to walk out of Nick’s bedroom.

“Woah, y/n. You look really nice.” Matt says, walking towards me.

“Oh- thank you! So do you!” I responded nervously. Matt had always complimented me, but lately it just felt, I don’t know, stronger? Maybe I’m delusional.

“I was just coming in here to tell you we were gonna be in the car, but you’re actually ready for once.” He joked.

“Only because I had Nick yelling at me earlier to hurry up.” I laughed back.

We walked outside, got in the car, and started to make our way to the party. I was nervous because this was the first time Nick, Matt, and Chris had brought me to Boston, and I had never met their friends back home before. Not even Nate.

We arrived at the party and everyone stepped out of the car.

“Y/n, follow me this way. You’re meeting Nate first.” Chris exclaimed, grabbing my hand.

We walked into the party and I saw crowds of people. But Chris led me to one person that I had seen before on social media. Nathan Doe.

“Hey y/n! What’s up? It’s so great to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much.” Nate says, dapping me up.

“Hey! I’ve been waiting to actually meet you bro they talk about you non stop.” I laugh and Nate joins in on the laughter.

About 10 minutes later, Chris and Nate start talking to some other guys as I turn around to find Nick or Matt.

After scanning the room for about a minute, my eyes land on Matt, talking to a group of guys from his high school lacrosse team.

“Hey- do you know where Nick is?” I asked, grabbing Matt’s right shoulder.

“Woah Matt. You’re friends with this pretty lady and you’re still single??” His friends started to joke with him.

“Actually, she’s my date.” Matt replies, putting his right arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him.

“Matt finally got a girlfriend. Never thought we’d live to see the day, as handsome as he is.” One of his friends laughed and Matt turned to me.

“Just pretend to be my date, and I don’t know where Nick is.” He whispered in my left ear.

“Okay- well- I’m gonna go find Nick.” My expression dropped and I felt a pit in my stomach. Matt could clearly tell something was wrong and decided to walk after me as I turned away.

“Y/n- I’m sorry if that just made you uncomfortable. I hesitated and honestly, I didn’t mean to say that-” Matt began as I walked down the hallway and into a quiet, empty room.

“Y/n.” He said, grabbing my hand and turning me around after closing the door behind him.

“What?” I asked.

“Y/n, what’s going on? Are you okay? Did I do something? Do you need me to find Nick? Do you wanna go home?” He started questioning every possibility as to why my attitude changed, but I cut him off as the list got longer.

“Just pretend?” I laughed, tears swelling in my eyes.

“Matt, how do you expect me to ‘just pretend’ to be your girlfriend?” I pulled away from him.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I didn’t realize that it would-” He started before I interrupted.

“Don’t you realize I’m in love with you?” I blurted out, instantly regretting it and thinking of a way to cover up my words.

Matt instantly grabs my hands and pulls me closer to him.

“You’re in love with me?” He questions, voice lowering in volume.

“Hasn’t it always been obvious? Every single time you-” I began explaining before he cut me off with his lips on mine.

Grabbing my waist with his right hand and my cheek in his left, both of my hands flew around his neck, pulling him in.

“That’s good because I am too.” Matt pulled back as we gasped for air, then tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

“Huh?” I said, breaking the kiss.

“Don’t worry about it right now.” Matt mumbled against my lips before leaning back in.

After kissing for about 5 minutes, we gathered ourselves and made our way back into the hallway.

He placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked around, searching for Chris and Nick.

We found the boys and spent the rest of the party talking to their friends, me and Matt catching small glimpses of each other whenever we could.

2 hours later, everyone hopped in the car and we started to make our way back to the boys’ house.

“Y/n, you sleeping in my room tonight?” Chris asked sleepily.

“Nah, I already promised Matt we’d have a sleepover tonight. We can have a sleepover tomorrow night, Chris.” I giggled as he rubbed his eyes.

“Alright, whatever.” Chris turned around and made his way to his room.

“Sleepover with Matt, huh?” Nick questioned, slapping my left shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it.” I laughed as Nick turned to his room.

“I’ll worry about it tomorrow.” He said, throwing his hands in the air.

Matt walked in the front door after locking the car and getting everything out.

After giving me a quick peck on the lips, he made his way towards his room and I followed him.

“Whatchya doing?” He turns around and giggles.

“I’m gonna sleep in your room tonight.” I stated, walking past him to open his bedroom door.

“Fucking finally. Never thought I’d live to see this day.” He closed the door behind me.

We both changed into our pajamas, then made our way over to his bed, climbing in.

“Come here.” He stated, grabbed me by the waist and pulling me close to him to cuddle.

“Good night, Matt.” I whispered.

“Good night, y/n.” He whispered back, kissing me on the forehead as I drifted off to sleep.

—————————————————————————————

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it took me so long to write this 😭😭 I’ve been so busy with school and stuff. I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know any requests you may have!

[thecoolerliauditore]

THE SHEPSCAPADES COMIC! That was to me (and from my perspective to the fandom) the turning point of “ok, im not imagining this”. It doesn’t change any dialogue or anything, it just gives the characters facial expressions and yet it’s almost impossible to interpret the interaction in any way other than the relationship not being good.

The dl era, to me, was a lot of trying to ignore the implication of ranchers fanon lore being that, for once, someone is being nice to Jimmy. People could see the difference in their interactions, which made the abusive behaviour all the more difficult to ignore, and yet acknowledging this directly would be labelled shipping discourse and no one wants to be THAT fan, right? But the tension growing was palpable.

I also would like to add that once I decided to scroll through anti-toxic fh blogs to try and understand why they think like that and… a lot of it was just “well it makes me feel gross”? And I get it. Cannibalism and mass murder are, to most of us, a very distant concept, so it’s more comfortable to engage with than the horrors of the mundane, especially when applied to a queer character. But that doesn’t mean it’s any better than talking about domestic abuse.

The last paragraph is phrased weird but i don’t know how to write it better so i hope it’s understandable.

That comic was patient zero in "oh my god other people see it too" for so many of us, I think. And yeah like you said it sticks very close to what happened taking into account tone of voice and everything. Adaptations of that sequence are like an almost surefire test to figure out what someone's interpretation of FH's relationship is and I think that's wonderful.

Big agree on the ranchers lore and I would argue Pearl's POV also has a similar effect where it forces you to acknowledge Scott not being the best ever. Funnily enough I watched the ranchers pov before the FH pov and didn't really see any of the post-FH horrors until I watched FH. I just kind of assumed when people said Tango was the first person who treated Jimmy as an equal they were putting "and Scott too but that was a season ago" in footnotes. But no they meant full-time and they'd be right lmao

My favourite example of Jimmy expecting the worst is this interaction he has with Bdubs where he essentially gets a bucket for free when the ranchers were struggling for iron and tells him to not tell Tango because he's scared he'll get yelled at. Like there is literally nothing Jimmy has done here that would be remotely considered reasonable to yell at him for but he's so afraid of having agency and making his own decisions at this point he just defaults to assuming his partner will be upset at him. (FYI I think this is more a result of how everyone treats him - Southlanders certainly did not help - but getting mad at Jimmy for doing literally anything except sit still was something Scott was especially privy to)

Don't worry I think your point was clear enough on that last paragraph, I kind of roll my eyes when people try to use distance as an excuse to justify why some dark topics are okay but others aren't, but I can't talk too much about this because I find it annoying and will probably end up saying something that feels mean lol.

Redirecting this once again to Bree's post about how hostile the language people use when talking about this discourse is to abuse victims e.g. "why can't you be NORMAL and write about NORMAL relationships and let them be NORMAL" which I think partially comes as a direct result of refusing to engage in abuse storylines and thus not being sympathetic to these portrayals or the people who write them.

And aside from that it's not even like. abuse and toxic relationships themselves are the issue sometimes. Obviously generalizing here a bit but I see a lot of the same people who find toxic fh "gross" gas up interpretations where Jimmy cheats on Scott or otherwise treats Scott horribly. Not to mention Pearl and her storyline getting turned into "girl who is mad gay man won't date her".

It just uh. sometimes feels as though the "grossness" is coming from a need to defend Scott's honour than a need to disengage with these themes entirely, which rubs me the wrong way.

(not to mention that I do think calling abuse storylines "gross" in of itself might have some unfun implications attached but I've said enough)

[hardtofindneuro]

hello friends, i am here to follow scoops’ idea, and other writers, in ranking my own fics from least favorite to my absolute favorite. sex-mas isn’t in here because shiv and i co-wrote it, but go check it out!

i’ve also been writing a lot behind the scenes. i have so many wips in progress but im excited to share those with y’all in 2025!! also just so everyone knows, im so shook by how much i wrote this year?? didn’t i take a break? like multiple breaks? how did i write 20 fics, plus literally 19 wips? i don’t know. i really don’t. so sorry this is long!!

in last place, 20th: wrong costume. i actually had fun writing this fic! it was just like, a little insane and i was laughing the entire time i wrote it. definitely just a fun little thing i wrote for halloween season while learning to love writing again.

19th: a new meaning to halloween. this was cute! i had fun writing this one too, but it was just a short thing i ended up throwing together for halloween again. i don’t dislike it at all, actually i really like it, but i wrote so many fics this year that were very meaningful to me so that’s why this is at the caboose. dnf mpreg and gender reveals are always fun to write though.

18th: teach me. listen, i know a lot of people loved this fic and it has a special place in my heart, but it’s not my favorite. i was pushing myself to write it and post it while going through some stuff, and my writing has changed a lot since then. this fic was based on a real life excel sheet shiver shared with me that she was sending tinder men, btw. yes, you read that correctly. shiver canon.

17th: take control. this was just fun to write inspired by dnf being in minecraft lol. this was the first time since like, january, that i wrote smut and it wasn’t so extremely painful. it was finally fun again to write it and i wasn’t having to push myself to do it.

16th: gift a kiss. dream’s birthday fic. i wrote this super last minute but it was still really fun to write!

15th: first times. another one i liked writing, inspired by the hurricane. i wrote this so fast it’s a little ridiculous tbh but i like the final version i posted. i loved watching dream’s hurricane stream lol

14th: same day, different george. this was cute and i enjoyed writing something for the little anniversary. can’t believe george has been in florida this long already!

13th: fear. this fic has a special place in my heart. it was personal in a way that most things aren’t for me, and i was terrified to post it so i kept it off twitter & whatnot but im proud of how it came out in the end.

12th: life is a hardship. another one that was really personal and close to the heart. learning a lot about self care and love this year, and i know these types of fics aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but those who do like them seem to relate and find comfort in them which means a lot.

11th: it’s just hair. idk why i enjoyed this one so much. i think i just liked writing the dnf dynamic in this one and playing around with the idea of dream’s haircut to cope with the loss of curls, however i do like his hair now lol. it was just a shock before

10th: embrace the differences. this fic was just so out of my comfort zone i can’t believe i even got this idea out of the “idea” phase lol. it was a bit hard for me to finish but once i got into the groove, it was cool to play with it. i almost always write canon divergent so this was completely different and i’d love to try something like it again!

9th: it’s not a wedding. i don’t know why this was so hard to write but this took me so, so long but the end product was something i enjoyed. definitely fun to get started and i was glad to persevere on it, even though i was frustrated at the end.

8th: drowning. i just hold this this fic close to my heart. it was the first thing i wrote in second pov and again, not everyone’s taste, but something about writing in second pov makes it feel more personal to me and it was nice to switch it up. at this point, i was very unmotivated and the pov change made writing something i wanted to do again.

7th: label-less. not tons of aroace representation in fics so i thought it would be nice to give it some rep, especially because we all kind of have different views and experiences with it. i’m pretty open about my sexuality here but this was the first time i really wrote about it and it just kind of felt freeing, and during pride month!

6th: love big, love easy. hurt my heart in the way i love when angst hurts my heart to write. got to bring in old lore and stuff to play around.

5th: football BINGO. this was inspired by a tweet and that tik tok trend going around. top tier excitement and joy when writing this, just complete fluff which isn’t usual for me but i enjoyed this one for sure!

4th: going through the motions. this was the first thing i wrote and posted after all the drama in january, and march. it was also the first thing i really wrote and posted that was so personal, which was terrifying, but everyone was extremely kind to me about it and im proud that i took the risk to post it.

3rd: comeback, baby. literally so much fun to write. i had started this a million years ago and then george’s birthday stream ended up being so dnf insane that i ended up speedrunning the last 10k of it in less than a day. awesome stream and dream is insane for saying he was going to impregnate george. that’s all.

2nd: erase. this fic is just so personal and so different from my usual stuff. it’s not something many people read and that’s totally okay, but the people that did read it seemed to really be impacted by it and that’s all i could ever ask when anyone reads my fics. especially ones like this one.

and at number 1, surprise (not), is love you always. as many of you know, i decided to post this fic after my grandfather passed. this fic means the world to me and i recently just lost my grandma as well. i’m really hard on myself about pretty much everything but im truly proud of this fic. everything about posting this sucked and it really fucked me up, but it was worth the impact it made on others & how proud i am of it.

[otherone12]

Fuck Off!

Gerard Way × Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! Well, i took too long to post this, 'cause I was busy with school shits. I hope u like it, anyway. And i want to say thank you for all of you who interact with my fics, you're fucking awesome <3

Summary: Your parents discovered that you’re dating Gerard, and they definitely don't approve of it, because of the way he acts on stage. Anyway, They ask you to bring him to meet them, you did… this end up in the worst way possible.

- Word Count: 2.200

- Warnings: Legal Age gap (‘cause i love age gap <3) angst and confort; family issues;

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

- Hello?

I answered the phone trying to figure out why my mom called me that late on a random monday… and she never calls me for nothing. Before I could get worried, she started to talk. 

- Hi, sweetheart! - She didn’t seem nervous - How are you doing? 

- I’m fine, I guess… - I said, confused -  is everything okay right there? 

- Yeah, your dad and I we’re great. - The calmness she has in her voice got me even more confused about the point of the call - Why?

- Well, you not use to call… So I got a bit worried. - I explained with some relief, but still curious - So… if everything is fine, why did you call? 

- Your dad was on his phone, reading some magazine, I guess. And he saw you in some headline photo. - She got really serious and I could feel the disgust on her way to talk. - You and a man… a man who was dressing like a cheerleader! 

My breath stopped for a second, I didn't know what to say. I keeped my boyfriend a secret ‘cause I knew that my parents would freak out if they found out. Gerard isn’t exactly the kind of guy my parents wanted me to date. 

- Mom, i-

I tried to say something, i wasn’t sure what, but i tried to stop her to keep pointing thighs she didn’t like about what she searched about him in somewhere. 

- AND i went to google and found out that he has the SAME AGE as your dad! - Her serious voice turned angry but not angry enough to get me scared  - Can you explain why you’re dating this guy, and why you did NOT tell us about it?!

Frozen with the accusatory tone and my fear that I would get scolded, even though I was an independent and responsible adult, I took a deep breath and thought as quickly as possible of the simplest excuse to get out of this conversation

- Mom, i knew how you would react, so i was waiting for the right moment to tell you and dad about me and Gerard… 

It clearly didn’t work.

- Well, the next weekend is the perfect moment to bring him here! - When I heard her say those words, I choked on my own saliva and my eyes widened. - So your dad and I could meet him. 

I got shocked. I definitely didn’t want them to talk with Gerard. They’re insensitive, and really rude with people they decide they don't like. My mom is just impolite and says she ‘has a strong personality’. My dad is nice, but he knows how to be a dick when he wants.   

- I don’t know… I'll ask him if he’s up for it, okay? 

- Fine, but if he said ‘no’ I would need to hear a good reason.

She was mad. 

- Sure… so, I'll text you as soon as I get his answer, mom. 

- Okay, sweetheart. I love you!

- I love you too, mom! 

I turned off the phone and breathed heavily, with my head in hands, desperately trying to not explode or something.

Holy shit. Now, I have to think of how I will ask him to go with me meet my parents that already hate him. And more, how will I act in front of them, knowing that no one will be comfortable with this situation?! I’m fucking screwed.

I walked into the room and saw Gerard layed on the bed, reading just to distract himself after a long day. He turned his attention to me the second I crossed the door, looking up from his comic and matching my eyes.

-Hey, sugar! - He said, lovely as always, but his smile disappeared as he looked more closely at my face, which showed concern - Is everything right?

- Hi, babe! - Kindest as possible, I was still thinking of how I could start - Well… I wouldn't say i'm ‘right’...

I sighed and sat on the bed, Gerard got close to me and wrapped his arm around my waist. 

- What happened, hun? 

His head layed on my shoulder and I felt my body getting warm, almost forgetting what I was nervous about.  

- Remember that show, where you brought me to the stage and said that we’re dating?

I spoke slowly, while caressing his thigh. 

- Yeah… - He sounded confused, but soon a small smile appeared on his face and he kept talking. - Was one of my favorite moments of our reunion tour… why?

I giggled, knowing it was one of mine too. I took a second to keep going, ‘cause I was remembering the way I felt on that stage. Loved. Not by a crowd, but by him. Back to reality, I got serious again.

- My parents saw the headline where we were kissing…

- And that's bad because…?

- Because they wanted me to date a man who doesn't wear skirts, and was my age.

I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for his reaction, but Gerard was totally fine with what I said.

- I get it… but why is this a problem? 

Sometimes, I wonder if he is that naive, or he just doesn't care about what people think.

- ‘Cause they want to meet you and-

Before I could finish, he put his head up and looked at me with such a confused gaze.

- Fair… but why are you that nervous?

- ‘CAUSE THEY AREN’T NICE, GEE! - I had a lot of things in my mind, and now, I felt blamed for screaming at him. With my hands on my face, I keep talking. - Sorry… Just… They will be rude and I don't want them to make you feel sad! 

- I’ll be fine, sugar… - His sweet voice confort me, while he caressed my back - I can deal with this, I’ve been doing this my whole life, actually. 

- Are you sure?

- Totally! Don't worry, my love. 

Gerard looked deep in my eyes and his cute smile got closer to my mouth, shocking with a kiss. 

 ***time skip***

The week passed normally, except for the growing nervousness that hovered and grew over my head as the weekend approached.

When the day of the visit finally arrived, I tried to remain calm. Put on my clothes, not too casual, but pretty, and Gerard did the same.

- Does this look good? - He asked, walking my way - I wasn't sure which jacket to choose... I always end up picking the green one, anyway.

- You always look good… - I get closer to him, pressing a kiss on his lips - No matter what you dress.

We smiled at each other, and got in the car, to drive to my parents house. 

I knocked on the door after seconds that seemed like an eternity, trying to remain calm. I maintained a somewhat forced smile as I squeezed his hand tightly and waited for someone to open the door.

My mother opened the door and grabbed me with a hug that I wanted at all costs to get away from. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but I definitely wasn't in the mood.

- Sweetie! I was waiting for you! You look so pretty!

She looked at me up and down, but looked like she was pretending that Gerard wasn't there.

- Hi mom! How long, right?

- yeah yeah, come in! - She signaled for us to enter, and I still held Gerard’s hand, guiding him inside. My mother closed the door and turned her attention to him. - Oh, and you must be Gerard. 

He greeted her and we sat down at the table, which was set.

To avoid the awkward silence, we began a quiet conversation, then my dad left the living room sofa and joined us at the table. 

- Hi, dad!

I said, noticing the looks of seriousness and annoyance he had when he sat down in front of me.

- How you doing?

I'm used to his kind tone, but I felt that something was wrong when he dropped this with his dislike tone. 

- Everything's fine. - Even though I was calm, I couldn't help but add my severity to my answer. And, like removing a bandage, I didn't think twice and mentioned what I knew was the reason for this rudeness. - Dad, this is Gerard, my boyfriend.

I held Gerard's arm and rested my head in it. Without breaking the eye contact with my father, i heard Gerard saying:

- Nice to meet you, sir. 

My dad gave him a deathly look, contrasting with Gerard’s hopeful countenance. I was waiting for the worst, but not prepared for what was coming.

- I wish I could tell you the same.

My stomach turned and I swallowed hard. I didn't dare analyze all the features around the table in detail, but the tension in the room didn't last long, as I broke it with a bang.

- DAD?!

We hadn't even started eating, and I already wanted to go home. Unlike me, who was clearly angry, my father remained calm, and with his typical air of superiority. Again, I didn't dare look at Gerard’s face.

- Sorry, but that's the truth. - the pride in his voice made me want to throw up. - Don't think that your mom and i we're happy with this.

He kept his voice low, but I'm not that calm.

- With ‘this’ what?

- Your “relationship” with him. - The way he said ‘relationship’, the contempt in his voice was just too much.  - I'm sorry, but I can't understand what you see in him. 

I got up from the table with my body overcome with fury. I couldn't take it, and neither would Gerard be forced to take it.

- He's perfect. In every single detail. He's kind, smart, pretty, funny, talented and most importantly, he loves me as much as I love him.

Gerard looked up at me, don’t giving a shit for what was happening, apparently, his only worry was keep me calm, so, he said:

- You can be sure of that. 

His smile helped me to calm down, but it didn't last long, ‘cause my mom came with a passive-aggressive sentence.  

- Honey, you know we don't think that you and him should be together, right?  

What really pissed me off was that I had some expectations. Deep down, I knew that the only reason for any type of invitation they had made was for the sole purpose of creating an uncomfortable situation.

- you could at least pretend… - I said, not screaming yet, but almost. - Remember that YOU asked us to come here, not the opposite.

When I thought I had put an end to the situation, my father raised his voice.

- And you could ‘at least’ chose a MAN to date, not this fucking fag!

Paralyzed, I stared at him with such hatred, and a scream came out, almost making the house shake.

- SHUT THE FUCK UP! - I was still standed up, so I walked toward my dad, pointing my finger to his face. - I'm done with this! After all, why did you invite us?! To make us feel bad about this? Guess what, I DON'T CARE and neither does he!

Gerard got up the second I stopped talk. I grabbed his hand and we walked fast through the door. My parents didn't bother to go after us, which was great, I didn't want to fight any more than I already had. My eyes were full of tears, we went to the car and I finally broke down. The wind hit my face, leaving me cold, but I was soon comforted by Gerard's arms around my body. 

- I’m sorry. - I started, still in his arms, with my voice choked from the crying I let out. - I’m so sorry. I knew that wasn’t a good idea.

Gerard passes his finger through my hair, caressing my back. As he kept his body pressed against mine, the guilt I felt for all this shit began to dissolve, but I kept crying. 

- That’s all fine, babe. I told you that I didn't care about this. And I really don't care. - He rocked me slowly while his sweet voice crossed my ear - And thank you for defending me, babe.

I looked up for him, with my arms still around his body and my chin in his chest. 

- It was the least I could have done after putting you through that.

He wiped the tear that ran down my cheek with the back of his hand, which remained holding my face.

- Babe, everything is alright. - He rolled his thumb on my cheek - I mean, for me it is… is it for you?

- I don’t know… - My feelings about what happened were a mix of regret and disappointment - I'm so mad with myself… like, why did i think this was a good idea?!

- Wasn’t your fault, by the way, you dealt perfectly fine with this situation. 

 One of his hands on my hips, the other moved my hair out of my face, then he tenderly kissed my forehead.

- Now, let’s go back home, okay? - His soft smile and bright eyes made my tears stop. - Then we can buy dinner, cuddle and marathon some Star Wars movies. What do you think, hun?

- I thought it was impossible, but I think I love you even more than I loved you seconds ago.

___________________________________________

~That's it! hope u enjoyed. ;)

[kings-highway]

Hi King!!! I absolutely adore your fics my dude, I found your trapped in the wilderness fic like a year or two back, forgot about it, and then found your Daichi time travel fic. So you can imagine my delighted surprise when I looked at your ao3 account and found out this was the same author! I was like “0o0, I KNOW YOU!! :D” Suffice to say I love your Haikyuu fics they are an absolute gem to read (Time Enough to Risk it All and Paranormality are my personal faves)

I had a question for you, similar to a previous ask you got about tips on writing? Not general tips mind you, I’m trying to write a Haikyuu fanfic myself starring Oikawa, and I wanted to know if you had any writing tips regarding character writing specifically? Like, in regards to getting into a character’s head and how that influences the POV? I’m probably going to have multiple POVs in different chapters, but I don’t want to run into the old trap of, “These are two separate characters but they sound like the same person” y’know? Also want to make sure I’m avoiding OOC territory, while taking any potential plot developments and how that would change a character into account. And I know you’re good at that, all your interpretations of the Haikyuu cast feel distinct yet true to the characters at their core!

aaaaaaaaaa oh my god thank you so much 😭 I'm very glad you've liked my silly stories so much. I will do my best to provide advice for your question here...

**Keeping Characters In Character - this is VERY fanfic specific!!**

[obv. writing original work requires strong character voice but the question and this response is super focused on characters that you have source material to work with]

1. my immediate first thought, and the thing I default to the most, is **Pay Attention To How Other Characters Talk About Them** yes, its all fine and dandy to go off and say "oh theyve got these secret other side-" because yeah!! they probably do!! everyone is multiple people depending on the circumstance!! but the way other characters talk about them or act around them really will define how your character is behaving, because it shows how they are *choosing* to behave (and what can be seen from the outside) Paying attention to the relative relationships of these characters describing them matter too. Here are examples (all from Haikyuu) of how I do this:

1. Daichi

[in early season 1, when Daichi gets mad at the duo, Suga and Tanaka both start trying to fuck off out of scene in preparation; similarly, both Suga and Tanaka try to hide their secret practice from him.] = People are generally afraid of him, or aware that getting yelled at is on the table, but he's predictable. They both start acting afraid BEFORE he gets angry because they are familiar with his patterns. [Suga and Asahi comment on it feeling weird when he's nice to them, and he snaps at them to say he could be mean instead.] = His casual conversational tone isn't very complimentary. Since we dont see him being overtly mean, I asssume this means he is on the quieter side, probably very reserved, and typically speaks up to correct someone or direct and take control of a conversation. Being overtly nice is seen as a deviation is his conversational habits. [Noya acts very distinctly interested and pleased when he learns Daichi has given him a cool nickname] = People hold a lot of respect for him. Given the previous details, we can assume this is at least in part due to him often withholding such praise, but also we can use it to temper the previous notes. His "meanness" is not coming across as malice, but rather something worth respecting or justified in some way.

Application in Writing: Dialogue should be direct and consistent, use shorter sentences and have him think before he speaks. He finds annoyance and anger easier to express and will likely withhold affectionate conversations from everyone regardless of closeness of friendship level. While he comes across mean, he is not insulting, belittling or cruel, and since people have significant respect for him, he likely avoids situations that would make him look foolish, and will probably be the last to join in on the fun.

QUICKER EXAMPLES:

2. Suga [Every character describes Suga as nice and kind, there is no "bad review" of him.] = No matter his opinion of someone, Suga will use kind, gentle language with them and avoid giving them a reason to dislike him.

3. Oikawa [Iwaizumi, in voice over, says something to the effect of: "despite how he might seem, Oikawa is actually a pretty goofy guy."] = While not given the opportunity often, Oikawa is playful, unserious and silly - the word "goofy" is important to note. Its not funny. Comedians are funny. Dogs with long floopy ears are "goofy" - However he either intentionally or unintentionally chooses not to behave this way often. Either way, he has distinct "sides" to him that can be identified. However, his natural state is far more goofy than we give him credit for, so he will likely be the first to crack jokes, laugh at dumb things, or general want to lighten the mood. He doesnt like things to be gloomy and may actively resist that kind of conversation or situation.

4. Leon calling Ushijima a "super volleyball idiot" says way more about his behaviour off the court than anything Ushijima ever did. Oikawa and Kageyama and Hinata and Atsumu get to be monsters but no, Leon says its the term "we" are most "satisfied with". Did they pitch other names? They do not take Ushijima seriously at all. So his terrifying persona is probably very superficial. None of the team has ever had an actually bad experience with him, and he is very consistent in his likes and desires: probably doesnt have a (conversationally) confrontational bone in his body. "We could call him a monster but nah, he's too fucking weird for that." Like what more of a character study do you need!! Leon STOP.

This is dragging on longer than I want it to. I apologize. I could have more to say on the matter but to sum it up quick:

People, humans, are multifaceted, but ultimately are most defined by how they are remembered, and how they choose to present themselves to the world. This is will affect that "voice" that you're worried about sounding the same. Ultimately, all your characters will be the same. Everyone is insecure, everyone wants to be seen as attractive, everyone things theyre not good enough, everyone worries their lover will grow tired of them, everyone thinks they are the only person to have ever felt that way. The change, that voice, is how they want everyone else to look at them.

Using the previous notes, we can answer the question: "Oh my god, You look really good today!!" 4 ways. Internally, they're all very happy to receive a compliment because they wore a new shirt and they weren't sure it looked good. Externally...

Daichi: "Oh. Thank you."

Suga: "Ohh, Thank you! That's so sweet of you to say."

Oikawa: "I look really good today? Did I not yesterday? Ah, just messing with you - I know I looked good yesterday."

Ushijima: "I do? Good."

LAST TANGENT:

if you are NATIVE ENGLISH and youre writing fanfiction for NON-ENGLISH SHOW. IDC if youre a subtitles purist, WATCH IT IN ENGLISH. being able to (in your native language) use the characters voice in your head to read dialogue makes a world of difference. I DONT CARE if you can head Sugas Japanese VA perfectly - UNLESS YOU SPEAK JAPANESE IT WONT HELP.

Whenever I'm struggling with writing Sugawara, or a l think he's OOC, I just mentally replay the soundbite from the dub of him going "Good Grief!" like a goddamn oeanuts character and then its like "oh yeah. he's back. i know how to write him now."

I have a few of these little soundbite grounding things for some of them. Its REALLY helpful to be able hear the characters voices saying the lines (sorry if youre deaf..) and if you CANT (and you normally can) then maybe the dialogue is ooc.

WAIT ONE MORE TANGENT:

"King, you've only talked about dialogue??? what about-" Dialogue controls actions!!! if you can get a characters conversational tone and linguistic habits down, you'll have NO ISSUES keeping their physical habits in check.

thus concludes another advice corner. i am working on the other questions atm but i have limited time and cannot do more than 1 after work without my brain melting so :)

thanks for reading :) happy writing

xx