#LIKE. THAT'S ONE HALF OF THE JOKE HERE. other half of the joke is just. THE JUXTAPOSITION. LOOK AT THEM.

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 | Jackson!Joel Miller x reader

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summary | Your postcards become a personal journal during patrols with Joel.

author's note | a little late, but this is my entry for @jolapeno's dear-uary! i had very little idea what i was going to do initially, but this kinda turned into its own thing. i hope the postcards are a nice addition to the fic, they were quite fun to make.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, jackson era joel, patrol partners, quiet!reader, enemies to lovers, one instance of choking, mentions of violence, angst, mean!joel, voyeurism, forced orgasm, thigh riding

word count — 7k

“It’s the fifth time I’ve came back and she’s been sleepin’,” Joel gripes a handful of feet below as you feign resting, trying to relax the sneer that threatened to cross your face, annoyed with the exhaustion that never left but loathing the man who couldn’t seem to give you a break, “or writing in that damn book, ignoring us.”

“I’ll talk—” Joel interrupts Tommy once more, with emphasis on the amount, but Tommy reels him in, squeezing down on his shoulder as you peek through one eye over the railing, scoffing under your breath, “I’ll talk to her, alright? S’awonder what a simple conversation can fix, Joel.”

His approach comes later during shift change as the night slowly melted into dawn, the sun rising on the horizon in waves of orange and purple, creating a cotton candy sky, hearing Tommy’s voice carry as he greeted people along the way before the scuff of his boots stopped behind you, you turn to peer up at him sheepishly.

“Not a good look, y’know?” Tommy says redundantly, “I’m not tryin’ to gripe you out, but Joel—”

You nod knowingly, waving him off as you toss your pencil and notebook aside, adjusting your jacket over your shoulders as you sit upright, rubbing the sleep out of tired eyes.

“You can always put me on kitchen duty, hell I’ll take—”

“No—no, I’m not moving you. You havin’ trouble sleeping in the singles?”

The apartments, the singles��it varied, depending on who you asked. A place for the younger, single survivors in Jackson. With the constant sound and rumble of life within the walls, you should feel safe, a subtle semblance of home, but sleeping alone was hard. Trapped within four walls, drowned out by the eventual silence as night fell, it left room for the nightmares.

It was easier here, surrounded by others, sounds to help keep you grounded, the fresh air despite the stale smells and faint fumes of rotting corpses. You couldn’t explain it, but it was easier. Besides, it wasn’t like you were being completely negligent—even Tommy knew that.

“I have trouble sleeping in general,” You feed him a half-truth, “I’ll keep it together, though. As long as it keeps Joel off your ass and mine, I wouldn’t be thrilled to be on the receiving end of one of Joel’s outbursts.”

“Tantrums, more like.” He jokes with a smirk, his teeth peeking out under his thick mustache. “I really don’t mind if you’re dozing off a bit, s’long as there’s others keepin’ watch. Maybe–just maybe, try and keep up the act when Joel’s coming and going.”

“Can do,” You agree with ease and Tommy smiles, pointing lazily toward your notebook.

“I’m curious, though—whatcha got goin’ on in there?”

Your brow furrows until you look over your shoulder and surmise what he’s referencing, picking up the notebook carelessly and flipping through to show him–it was a mix of random doodles and sketches, some vulgar words scribbled in by a mix of immature men who you’ve come to befriend with reluctance on the job, a detailed log of everyone’s schedule as they leave and return, random details of weather patterns, things you’ve noticed along the skyline toward the inner city, several months worth of information that Tommy nods at, thoughtful as he looks over the pages.

“Don’t let ‘em give you a hard time,” Tommy tells you, folding the cover closed.

“Yes, sir,” You say endearingly, mostly as a jest at Tommy’s expense, knowing he despised the word, making a face as he turned on his heels to leave.

“Shit makes me feel old,” He gripes, shaking his head in a mix of disdain and amusement, “stop it.”

You smile at his annoyance as you tuck your belongings away into your pack and trade your rifle off to Jesse, who seemed more than eager to take your shift with bright, well-rested eyes and a grin of his face as greeted you both.

As you expect, there is little sleep to be had as you hit your bed, tossing and turning as you fiddle with the ripped hole in your bed sheet or spend time counting the stains on your ceilings—mold spots and holes, signs of a building that was on the way out, but hanging by a thread.

Tommy wouldn’t condemn the place unless it was in shambles, finding use of just about anything if it still had enough life in it. 

And you follow Tommy’s instructional plea—even if it killed you to appease Joel, who seemed just as critical if not more as he rode up on his horse every few nights.

Their shifts weren’t always regular and Joel often picked up extra patrols when someone else couldn’t, complaining entirely too much for someone who seemed like they couldn’t stand living within the sanctuary of Jackson, like he’d rather tough it out on his own.

Ellie blamed it on his inability to let himself settle—Jackson was home, his family was here, and physically he could exist, but he never seemed quite present.

You catch Ellie on a shift change as Tommy and Joel approach, trading out your jerky for her sandwich as she hurriedly tucked it away like she was going to get caught doing something she shouldn’t, snorting softly at her actions as Joel scowled, pulling at the reigns of his horse as he drew near.

The call of your name has you perking up, peering around Ellie’s head at Tommy with a less than enthusiastic look on his face, rifles held between both of the brothers grips.

“I’m askin’ for a huge favor,” Instantly you knew, posture slumping slightly as your boots sunk into the snow, “Cindy’s sick—caught the same bug that’s been goin’ around. Can you cover another shift? I’ll owe ya.”

“Seems more like you’re telling me,” You retort, stretching the beanie down over the back of your head to cover your ears, the cold biting at your skin, “—it’s fine, I’ll do it.”

“Thank—“

“But I want the weekend off.”

“Done.” Tommy agrees without problem.

The patrol box wasn’t all that bad anyways, insulated enough that you weren’t freezing your ass off, enough room for two people, it could be worse. It was better than walking the strip of the barricade, shivering until you couldn’t even feel your toes.

Wyoming winters were brutal, but it seemed like the end of the world had found a vengeance to fight back with, giving you the harshest versions of every season. A blizzard was expected within the next few weeks and those were never ideal—extra patrols, doubling watchmen, curfews. It sucked.

You find yourself sketching out the same tree line you’ve drawn a hundred times, wispy tendrils and thick trunks that wove together like a web, time drifting by with ease as the night swallowed up the day, the thick blanket of snow reducing both the noise and allowing a soft illumination as you peered off into the distance, almost mesmerized at the glowing orb that seemed to grow closer and closer. 

Tommy and Joel were the last ones out, everyone else having returned back hours prior, keeping in mind that they had taken the furthest patrol out north, so it wasn’t all that surprising.

But, it doesn’t take long for you to realize that Joel and Tommy are not alone, horses trotting quickly toward the gates as a small group of raiders followed closely behind and shot of rifle rounds with no exact target, whizzing by your head as you opened the door and ran to your own rifle, sliding to the wall for cover as you quickly loaded your gun and swung it over the ledge.

It wasn’t often that you had to use it outside of training and target practice, finding that Jackson had always been relatively quiet—except for now, as the brothers tumbled to cover as shots fired from your left and right, a few of the attackers succumbed to their flurry of wounds.

You watch as one raider attacks the brothers head on, short-lived as Joel attacks him with his fists, a hand bunching into the front of the attackers shirt before he’s crushing his skull in with pure rage and strength, eventually ending up with his hands around the other man's neck while he choked on the blood that spilled from his mouth, the light in his eyes slowly fading.

There’s a straggler on the outskirts, though, blending in as he slid through the tree line and attempted to attack Joel from behind, you quickly aim down your sight through the scope of the gun, following a straight and calm line as the man approached, stepping a few feet away from Joel before the bullet slices through his head, falling to the ground in an instant. 

Joel’s head whips toward you, your head peeking over the scope as you examine the body before looking over at him, seemingly stunned but the expression was subdued, quietly mouthing something to his brother who wasn’t as good at hiding his shock. 

Either you had made the right choice in saving Joel’s life or he was going to twist this on you, somehow proving that you could’ve killed him with your carelessness, letting a shot ring out so close to his head.

The dread you were feeling does come to fruition as Tommy knocks on your door that weekend, your soft voice welcoming him inside as you perched against the alcove in your room, a small ledge tucked against the windowsill. 

“I ain’t here to lecture you,” Tommy begins, cutting through your doubt, “feel like I’m constantly askin’ so much of you but Joel and I can agree on one thing. You’re a damn good shot.”

You scoff at that, almost a laugh. 

He leaned against the wall near the small kitchen tucked into the corner of the apartment, arms crossed over his chest.

“We lost James,” from what you recalled, he was a young kind, inexperienced, reckless too, “poor kid never fuckin’ listened, got shot before he could even get his gun out.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask bluntly, looking up at him through a downturned gaze, picking at the chipped paint by your feet.

“We’re down a person. I want you to take over.”

“I thought this was a council decision. Some prestigious thing, putting people through tests before they could—“

“It’s the least of my worries. Maria’s close to her due date too, that storm is creepin’ in. We ain’t got time to waste, we’ll be doubling patrols soon. Are you in or out, kid?”

Tommy’s face screamed desperation, sunken eyes were a telltale sign of lacking sleep, stress rifling his features. He had a lot on his plate, the weight of Jackson on his shoulders, his burgeoning new family growing within a few weeks. You had a soft spot for him unfortunately and it was always your downfall.

“I’m in.”

—

“You listen to every word I say,” Joel tells you, snaking by the others loading up their saddle bags, side stepping the horse’s head as he crowds you into the small space of the stall, “Every single word, got it?”

He’s never been friendly—cordial, maybe. But, Joel wasn’t the type to ask or suggest. It was always order and demand, his harsh tone constricting the words to instill an edge that had your brows furrowing down into your lids, face scrunching up in annoyance.

You agree regardless, nodding your head as you clip the saddlebag closed.

“I need to hear it.”

“Got it,” You retort, sarcasm laced around your tongue, “Every single word. You say run, I run. Jump, I jump. Good enough?”

Joel shakes his head slightly at your tone, looking off toward the entrance of the barn at his brother who was deep into a conversation, displeased with the idea of being paired with you.

But, he was the only one Tommy trusted to train you properly, even if it meant several hours together with a good chance you both might kill each other. 

With Joel, you were safe from everything else but him.

“Yeah, thas’ good.” He relents, turning on his heels before he finishes his sentence.

The weather was only just beginning to pick up, the winds whipping your loose hair over your face, pulling them from the tie you had pulling the majority of it back, hood snug over your head. You hear the distinct sound of leather rubbing against itself as Joel tightens his grips on the reins of his horse, settling beside you quietly as Tommy called off everyone’s posting.

You were assigned to the ski lodge far north, the furthest they patrolled but for good reason. It kept the raiders at bay, staking claim so far out and keeping them away, for the most part. Plus, it gave them an early jump on any of the migrating groups of infected, finding that they often moved in hoards during the colder months, picking off the stragglers that wandered in.

The trip is cold, lips dry and cracking by the time you reach the lodge, but relatively easy. 

“Tie ‘em up,” Joel instructs coarsely, waiting to latch the door closed as you tie the horses up to the makeshift post in the foyer, his foot holding the door open as you step past him, shoulder brushing his elbow as his eyes track the touch silently, clicking the lock into place.

“Beds are up there,” Joel pointed toward the right corner, couches lined with sheets and pillows, “s’better to sleep down here with this weather, place don’t keep out the cold that well unless we got a fire going and even then…”

“I’ll be fine,” You assure him tensely, stripping your jacket off your shoulders and slinging it over the back of a nearby chair, pack falling slack against the floor, leaving you free to wander around.

“Sign us in,” He points vaguely in the direction of the bar, an old leather booklet resting against the wall with a pin tucked around a page, his voice carrying as you walk further away, “I’ll start up a fire.”

Joel was like a ghost, almost forgetting he was there until he’s approaching behind you, that familiar grimace on his face as he finds you scouring through the book, curiosity getting the best of you—it was harmless, but Joel thought otherwise.

“Is this gonna be an issue?” He asks, eyes widened slightly in an expectant manner, waiting for your response.

You wrestle with the urge to roll your eyes, neatly writing your names down into the book, checking quickly at your watch before you snap the book closed and shove it aside.

You move to walk around him, but his palm flattens out against your collarbone, shoving you back into place—he wasn’t letting you move without an answer.

“No,” You answer casually, pushing his hand away gently, “Are you gonna explain how any of this works?”

“We take turns,” Joel says, mirroring your early actions as he strips off his couch, the warmth of the fire already spreading throughout the room, “I’ll take first shift ‘til morning, then we swap.”

“And if we see something?”

“You wake me up,” He tells you, “otherwise, don’t.”

It was a simple but lethal instruction, a warning.

This was going to be absolute hell.

Luckily, the conversation dies out and you wander toward the small gift shop attached to the bar. It was mostly picked through besides the small plush bear sitting alone on the shelf and a revolving carousel of postcards, aged from both weather and time. You spin them around careful, mindlessly plucking a few that still seemed in good enough condition before you’re shoving them away in your bag, ignoring the creak of a chair as Joel sat with his rifle in his lap, leaned back as he stared out the long expansive window that covered the wall, just on the edge of cliff with a substantial drop.

It had a beautiful view, breathtaking, really. But, looking in his direction only made you feel more and more unsettled, taking your seat beside the fire quietly.

“Should get some sleep,” He suggest without turning his head over his shoulder, your eyes glancing in his direction, “don’t need you fallin’ asleep on patrol here.”

And normally, you could find yourself falling asleep easily given the situation. But, you were on edge, fearful, something twisting in your gut that kept you from relaxing. You’ve heard the stories about Joel, how ruthlessly he killed and maimed. A man of action rather than peace.

You pull a single postcard from your back to distract yourself, hoping that it might help lull you to sleep eventually.

And you wished it had gotten easier, but the more you were paired with Joel, the more tension it seemed to cause, always unspoken—Joel never reacted, barely skirting the idea that this was becoming a problem, the lack thereof with communication, speaking only when you absolutely needed to.

His questions were always odd, like a robot attempting to make small talk—and often, it was observations, one-off statements that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as they did.

But, they did.

“Sleepin’ with that knife ain’t safe.” Joel told you on a crisp, stormy night at the end of January, the tail end of it peeking out from under your pillow, one eye peeling open to look at him with disdain.

“Says the man who sleeps with a rifle on his chest.”

Joel chews at his bottom lip, looking down at the bulky weapon in his lap before he ignores your retort, focusing his gaze on the book in his grip, something he’s read through about a hundred times, attempting to give himself a different view, flipping through the pages mindlessly.

“Where’d you learn to use a gun like that?” He asks suddenly, cutting through the silence again.

Another question, one you could leave unanswered. 

“We’re not put in the watchtower without gun training,” You tell him, “seems kinda self explanatory, Tommy trained me himself.”

“That kinda shootin’ isn’t taught.” Is all he replies with—almost like an accusation. 

“I think you’ve forgotten that QZ kids were born with a gun in their hand.”

It was an asinine exaggeration, but still wholeheartedly the truth. You knew every part of a gun before you could even confidently tie your shoes, it was unfortunately second nature when you had a gun in your hand, similar to a knife. Your grip tightened around the handle as you closed your eyes, succumbing to sleep eventually.

You wade in and out, peeking through bleary eyes and always find Joel’s eyes on you, whether purposeful or not, he was always watching. Even as you wandered, no matter where you were—maybe it was his own strange way of hoping that it provided you comfort, that he was always watching out. But, it never made you feel safe. Not really. And, in turn, you find yourself doing the same thing.

He’s more relaxed when he’s sleeping, the familiar scowl non-existent as he snores alongside the crackling fire or roar of wind, his boots untied and loosened but never off, never too comfortable. Joel always slept with his arms crossed, sitting up or lying down, occasionally mumbling in his sleep as he whimpered, his face contorting in the only sign of emotion you see from him outside of anger and annoyance.

You scribble out your thoughts on a postcard to pass the time.

He never asks about the stack of postcards in your bag, remaining blissfully ignorant. It was an unspoken agreement, that prying wasn’t something either of you were going to make an attempt at—you could simply exist around each other, no baggage or stories to be traded.

For now, at least.

–

It was nearly four months of patrols when Tommy lays his plans out and surprisingly, Joel doesn’t seem displeased and truthfully, things had become easier with him than anyone else.

You didn’t have to put on an act for him.

He could tell when you were exhausted or irritated, giving you space with a silent pass of the sandwiches he had picked up before leaving, retreating to his own corner, though his eyes still lingered.

It had taken a few months, but you did feel that safety with him that Ellie often talked to you about—his steadfast personality, knowing that if something were to happen, he’d handle it. 

But, he’s still a mystery.

“Ellie told me ‘bout that time you killed a group of raiders tryin’ to attack her,” You start the conversation bluntly, biting into the steak sandwich, “You like knives more than guns?”

Bold, he thinks. That’s fuckin’ bold.

“Guns are loud,” He replies, “Knives aren’t.”

You think back to the incident at Jackson with another set of raiders, witnessing Joel kill a man with his bare hands and think - maybe he preferred neither, if given another choice.

The prospect shouldn’t excite you or even entertain you, the brute power he holds.

But, it does.

You make a soft nose of acknowledgement as you nod your head, noticing the subtle glint in his eyes as he revisits the memory with Ellie, his face twitching at the sight of the broken glass slicing through a poor kid’s neck, right along the jugular as he choked on his own blood.

“You kill anyone?”

“A few—just…for survival.” You weren’t sure why you lied.

Joel wasn’t threatened by you in the slightest and lying wasn’t going to change that.

You’ve been lucky enough to avoid it until recently, bouncing from place to place until you landed in Jackson. It had been your home for a while now, so long that you didn’t like to think about it, staying in one place for such a long period of time. 

Joel sat a few feet away in the small house nestled on the mountain, a cool breeze stretching through the open window as Spring had taken hold, flowers blooming over the edge of the windowsill where they threatened to creep in.

His feet were near your head, resting against the ledge of the window as he leaned back in his chair, tapping his knife against the wooden leg of the chair as you pretend to sleep, shifting slightly as the blanket drifted down your body, layers shedded and crumpled by your feet, leaving you in a thin top and and jeans as you turned to your stomach, moaning softly, content.

He’s been less shy about his stares, or oblivious, his gaze lingering when you would catch him in the act—but you count the second in your mind from the moment you catch him through your squinted gaze, his eyes drifting along your body curiously.

Ninety-five seconds.

It was a new record.

And you dream of him that night, it wasn't the first time.

But, this time felt different. Usually the dreams drift away the moment you wake, like a distant and distorted memory, but this one is vivid and lingering as you watch Joel, who had caught you in the midst of your wake but he'd fallen asleep shortly after.

Some fucked up and empty part of you wishes it was reality.

-

You end up at the same patrol a month later, the heat of summer creeping in.

You hadn’t been paired together in a couple weeks and Joel seemed lighter as he stepped beyond the threshold of the house and stripped off his pack, busying himself with a quick sweep 

Wiping your hand over your forehead, skin damp and sweaty as your pack falls to the floor, you sigh, fanning yourself with your hand as Joel catches a subtle glimpse of your obvious discomfort.

“Did Tommy ever fix the water?” You ask with a slight hint of annoyance, more than willing to douse yourself in a bucket of cold water to get some relief, “Please say yes.”

Joel chuckles at that, a small sound that you would have missed had you not been paying direct attention to his response.

“Yes, a couple weeks ago,” Joel answers simply, sinking lazily into the couch, allowing himself a moment of well-earned rest after the long ride here, “go on—I’ll cover the first watch.”

It was all the encouragement you needed. 

And the shower is marvelous, leveled at the perfect temperature to let the cool water wash over your skin, cleaning off the thin layer of dirt that had accumulated from Jackson to here, listening to the faint footsteps as Joel traversed the house, assuming he was setting things up in the bedroom—doors opening, floorboards creaking, the sounds were like a comfort. 

Joel doesn’t talk unless he absolutely has to, more settled in the idea of just existing around you—he knew it brought you a semblance of feeling safe, but he was forcing himself to keep that distance, remaining vigilant to the eyes that constantly watched him, occasionally catching himself doing the same.

Even now, it was like a trance, his head bowed as he passed the bathroom, noticing the small crack in the door as he heard your melodic hum filter over the sound of water, singing a song that reminded him of before, his favorite.

Was it your favorite too?

He doesn’t mean to, not really, but then you’re turning your body away from the shower-head, eyes closed and head tossed back as you washed your hair, the gap in the curtain from this angle giving Joel a perfect view of your body, the pristine slope of your breasts down to your stomach, a few faint scars he followed before his eyes landed on your pelvis, the trimmed patch of hair nestled above your cunt, feeling his throat swell as he swallowed.

The faint creek of his footsteps gives him away, he knows, but you don’t react.

It wasn’t until the midnight hour rolled around, falling asleep on your shift, that Joel sneaks out of the house—sometimes he just needed the silence in nature, no birds chirping overhead, the faint distant growl from traversing hoards that didn’t carry out this far, if he closed his eyes, it was almost as if everything were normal, like he was back at his house in Austin, enjoying a moment out on his back porch.

Unfortunately, Joel was a paranoid man; your quiet footsteps catch him off guard, only feeling your presence as you arrive at his back, turning on his heels in an instant as his hand latches around your throat, tackling you against the ground with his knee digging into your stomach, your face pinched in pain as you throw weak punches at his chest, gasping for air.

He seems trance-like, eyes glossed over as you struggle to breathe, vision blurring around the edges as it begins to tunnel, you muster as much strength as you can to wheeze his name.

“J-oel. Joel, s’me.”

Your voice, broken and strained, seems to break him out of his deadlock grip on your throat, dark eyes snapping back into a soft chestnut, his face softening as much as it could while still remaining hardened, scrambling away from you without a word. Like you had attacked him.

You let out a flurry of coughs as you roll to your side, massaging your throat as your sounds come out raspy and weak, feeling slight pain as you swallow and attempt to rise to your feet, seeing Joel hesitate from your periphery for a moment, considering helping you.

“Coulda fuckin’ killed you,” Is the only thing he offers.

“Yeah,” You respond bitterly, “Almost fucking did.”

“You got a habit of sneakin’ up on people like that? The hell were you thinking?”

He rubbed a hand over his graying beard, the other hand cocked against his hip as he kept a safe distance, watching you pick the clumps of dirt and grass from your hair. 

He’s angry. Angry?

Why the fuck was he angry?

“I was worried—you like to leave at night,” You explain through a strained tone, a tic in your jaw as you clench down, eyes sinking into a scowl as you challenge his expression, “the last thing I need is finding you dead and having to explain that to Tommy.”

A tense silence stretches over, a slow and powerful breath through his nose before he relents and stomps past you, leaving you in a similar position to his earlier, watching his figure trail toward the house as your head turns back toward the sky, covered in stars and picturesque.

The kind of sight you wouldn’t believe if you weren’t seeing it in person.

Joel liked simple pleasures, a moment of silence and a place to sit with himself, and you had disrupted it - the only true moment he had alone all day, to sit, to think. The guilt settles in quickly, lingering for a moment before you decide to make the walk back toward the house.

–

What you aren’t expecting to find is Joel, sifting through your bag, items sprawled out on the floor and the thick cards fitted between his calloused fingers, covered in filth as he read over the notes you had left over the past few months, internal thoughts that you wouldn’t dare let slip.

He'd broken the one unspoken rule you both had kept with each other.

Some of them were slightly more embarrassing than others, forbidden to see the light of day until now, meticulous notes about the details of his face as he slept, how you found the rhythmic sound of his breathing comforting or even more damning, how the more aggressive side of him did the exact opposite of what it should.

It excited you. Turned you on, though the cards held more flourishing details about why and how. Because even then, moments prior as his hands pressed against your throat, there was a brief moment of exhilaration, excitement. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you scramble, stumbling toward him and reaching for the cards he holds easily out of reach, a hand pressing against your shoulder and squeezing tight enough to hold you back.

“You wanna explain this?” Joel asks, the type of tone that made you want to shrink.

Your mouth parts for a moment before you find your voice, brow knitting in frustration as you reach for the postcards once more, failing, “Those are private—why are you snooping?”

“You left a mess,” Joel explains away, the items of your bag spilled on the hardwood floor, chuckling as he continues, “Huh, private? Ain’t much privacy to be had when you’re writing about me.”

You can feel your heart racing, knowing if Joel moved his hand an inch further down he would feel it too.

The stack had to be at least twenty postcards thick, some innocently tame and just a means to let your thoughts and feelings flow, most of them answering questions Joel had asked you earlier in the night that you had refused to answer, giving him nothing to work with.

The ones he does recite are damning, tossing them to the floor as he flips through the stack before reading off a particularly recent one from earlier that night, his confidence slowly flagging as the words leave his mouth.

Shower. Watching me.

It felt good.

“Goes both ways,” You sneer, pushing his hand away and making one final reach for the cards as you successfully pry them from his grip, stuffing them away in your bag along with your other spilled belongings.

Joel’s expression shifts slightly, staring down at your kneeling figure as you avoid his gaze. His boots scuff against the floor as he crowds you against the wall, nowhere to run when you rise to your feet. Attempting to scare, to provoke.

Daringly, you challenge him, “I’m not the only one watching, Joel.”

His eyes narrow, searching your face for any sign of a bluff. For a brief moment, you almost expect him to deny the obvious—lie, lie, lie.

But, even he couldn’t deny the strange connection; or, affliction, that had riddled you both.

You could blame it on the close proximity built over months of isolation, often paired together over your willingness to work efficiently and without issue as time went on—Tommy was used to people butting heads, arguing, favoring one person over the other.

With you two, he could send you off for a patrol and not have to worry about things being left behind or forgotten.

You were innately quiet, even in Jackson, never wanting to ruffle anyone’s feathers or stir up trouble—that was left for the rowdy teens and few and far between drunks. Joel almost suspected you as mole for a brief time upon your arrival in Jackson, a worry soothed by Tommy over time.

But now, he doesn’t know what to think. He can’t figure you out and he’s not really sure he wants to, but you’ve got the kind of look in your eyes that calls out to Joel, silently.

He’s never met someone so controlled, knowing when to keep to themselves and when to bite back; it strings, that bite. He feels it in the way your jaw tightens, attempting to shove past him.

He glances down, noticing the knife tucked away in your left hand. A low, threatening chuckle releases from his lips as his hand grips your wrist, holding it up between your bodies.

“What’re you plannin’ to do with this? Stab me?”

“M’not against it,” You try to keep the strength in your voice, but it wavers slightly.

“I know that look,” Joel challenges, “You ain’t ever killed like this—s’too close, too personal.”

He knocks the knife away with a quick jerk of your wrist as you stumble back against the wall, praying he didn’t hear the small gasp slip from your throat as his chest presses against yours.

“So, you like watchin’ me sleep?” Joel asks in a taunting tone, “Enjoy jottin’ down all those dirty little thoughts thinkin’ I wouldn’t see ‘em?”

“They weren’t meant to be seen. They were private,” You retort, feeling the weight of his body as you exhale, lashes fluttering at his hot breath as it ghosts your face, reiterating, “Private, like my shower? Or, how about all the times I’ve caught you watching me? You know, we could go back and forth about this all night but frankly, I don’t mphh—”

Joel’s hand claps tight over your mouth, effectively silencing you as your face contorts in frustration, hands curling around his thick forearms and fingers, attempting to pry his hand away.

“Look at me,” He goads, repeating it more menacing as you fight against his hold, nodding in satisfaction when you finally relent, “Yeah—now and don’t you fuckin’ lie to me, you left that door open because you hoped I would, right? Stop tryin’ to act so innocent, girl.”

It ignites a fire in you, the demeaning monaker that transforms into enough strength to fist your hands into his shirt and shove him into the reclining chair positioned behind him, a heavy grunt releasing from his chest as you stumble over his boots and into his lap.

“Don’t call me that,” You seethe, not amiss to the immediate instinct of Joel’s to catch you, thighs bracketing his right leg as his hands squeeze your waist, keeping you upright.

Joel speaks your name, almost taunting, “S’that better? Or is that little crush your harboring hopin’ I’ll call you somethin’ a little sweeter?”

You feel the weight of his thumbs as they curl into your belt loops, body swaying with the motion as you take a seat on his lap, ass pressed against his knee and you watch as his chin gradually moves to rest against his chest, his eyeline following your movement.

“Don’t call me anything,” You retorted, his eyes flicking up under a heavy gaze.

Joel was simmering with a controlled rage, his hands squeezing at your hips as he jerked you forward suddenly, your hands grasping onto the back of the chair over his head, the friction at the seam of your denim as it rubbed against your clit, nestled between slick folds that couldn’t hide the arousal you were feeling, how the heat that radiated off of Joel made you sick with want.

“Alright,” He agrees, “then go on ‘head, get off me.”

Something tells you it is definitely a trap.

A moment later, you can feel his fingers gripping around your backside, digging into your ass as he pushes your hips backwards once before slowly guiding them forward, your sneakers scuffing against the hardwood as your lips parted, a silent breath slipping out.

“Go on—get off,” He taunts, the double-entendre making your brain go fuzzy.

“Joel,” It was a weak attempt to tell yourself and him this was a bad idea, but with the pleasure swelling in your core, it comes out more relaxed - you moan his name and Joel hears it.

“You ain’t good with words, but you can show me,” He remedies, the subtle movement as you grind against his leg, denim on denim but you’re almost positive he can feel how wet you are through the fabric, or how the shared heat was almost sweltering, “rub that pretty pussy on me.”

You have half the mind to snark at him, but think back to his eyes on you on the other side of the bathroom door, how he had admired without guilt, no truer words having left his mouth.

Guiltily, you lean against him, forearms resting where your hands were previously gripping, aiding in the quickening pace of your hips as you breathed softly into his ear, one of his hands slipping under the fabric of your shirt, palm spread wide over your back as the chair creaked with the shifting weight.

Your breath hitches, a sharp gasp as Joel’s calloused fingers rub against your spine. The friction against your clit is overwhelming, intensifying with every roll of your hips under his guise, the desperate need for release building in your core, quietly aware of the weight of Joel’s cock through his jeans, hard and neglected.

Your hand slowly moves toward the button on his jeans, ghosting over the swell of his cock before his fingers grip your wrist and return them to their original spot, “This ain’t for me,” He reminds you, “Keep goin’—show me how bad you need it.”

His words spur you toward the ledge you were teetering on, movements increasingly more wild and frantic, soft noises gradually becoming louder as his hands roam your body, the one on your back remaining as a constant while the other roams toward your front, squeezing gently at your breasts through the flimsy bralette, his thumb brushing pointedly over your nipple as you moan.

“Fuck, I’m c—close,” You warn him, blindly finding his hair with your right hand, squeezing at the strands as he grunts, head tilting back against the chair as you moan brokenly, a sob escaping your mouth.

His voice carries you through, his voice enveloping every point of your existence as your orgasm starts and crescendos, “That’s it,” He coos, “s’alright, let it out.”

You obey, weak whimpers cry into his neck as you hide away, hips grinding lazily through the aftershocks as his arms wrap around you silently, holding you steady as the sound of your ragged breath fills the room alongside the quiet chirping of nocturnal animals.

“Gonna write about this later?” Joel teases, whatever hostility he was holding earlier now non-existent, clearing his throat as you lean back, ignoring the obvious thick and permeating tension that was blanketing you both, still unaddressed.

“S’not funny,” You respond, climbing off him unsteadily before you turn your back to him and gather your belongings into a pile and shove them back inside your pack, “You weren’t supposed to see ‘em.”

“We’re partners—you think keepin’ secrets is smart?”

“It’s harmless—and what about you?” You begin, suddenly settling back into your own quiet rage, “Sneaking around, watching me? I notice shit too, Joel.”

Joel sits in quiet contemplation, his permanent scowl growing deeper as his knuckles rub at the spot where your cunt previously was, “Alright—new rule.”

Your eyebrows raise in anticipation, never really prepared for what Joel ever had to say.

“I ask questions, you answer ‘em. For every one you answer, I’ll answer one too.” Fair enough, you think, but then he continues, “It stays between us, alright? And if you want something—ask for it. No sense in bein’ shy ‘round me anymore.”

Not after that.

Baby steps, you say to yourself. 

The thick air between you seems to open, like a weight off your chest.

“Alright,” You reply softly, “I can do that.”

Joel leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes intense as they lock onto yours. "So, those notes. How long you been writin' 'em?"

You smile with a newfound giddiness, though still mostly subdued, biting at your cheek to stop the spread of your grin, shaking your head as you lock down at the stack of postcards stuffed into your bag.

“Only since we got paired up,” You admit, “every other night or so. When I can’t sleep.”

Which was often.

He grunts, processing the information as you fiddle with the strap of your pack.

“Is it my turn?” Joel nods quietly, shifting back in the chair, ignoring the slowly waning bulge in his jeans that he would surely deal with later, “Well—how long have you been watching me? Or, well–why?”

“That’s two,” Joel chastises, but there was no real bite behind it, “Since you came to Jackson, figured you weren’t good—”

You know what he means—mistrusting, suspicious. 

“Does it bother you—that I do? You scared of me?”

You shake your head shyly, avoiding his gaze.

It was the darkest, most sinister parts of Joel that drew you in.

“I think you’d be terrified of the things I like about you, Joel.”

Joel doesn't respond outright, but his subtle grin is enough confirmation for you. He knew exactly what you meant.

[lokidjarin-7567]

Can you write a fanfic (only if you're comfortable of course) pairing kang dae-ho x f!reader, during the lights out. Basically they've developed a really strong connection since the beggining, and she's sleeping next to him while he's looking out for others (ok he's just basically watching you sleep). But you shift your position while sleeping and he sees sh scars on your wrist, and folds your sleeves and he sees multiple cuts and scars. You wake up from the motions and you see him with teary eyes and then you start to cry a lot, like having a panic attack and he comforts you and it's just a lot of fluff basically. (the reason from your cuts can be because you're deeply depressed and you're coping that way since you're 15 but at 21 you still do it)

But, if you don't feel comfortable writing about sh can you please write one also during the light out when dae-ho is on the look out and the reader is trying to sleep, but she's so scared of what's going to happen that she starts crying, he notices it, she has a panic attack and he pulls her to his lap comforting her (again really fluffy).

I'm almost one year clean so I was craving this kind of comfort, thank you <3

Your wish is my command 🫡 (sorry so cheesy)

Creature Comforts

Kang Dae-ho x reader

CW: mentions of self harm, please please do not read if you’re not comfortable with this!!, fluff and comfort

So happy to get this request - my first one!! Please send any in if you have them, I love writing them <3 And please message me if you’re having thoughts about SH or struggling with it at all, my DMs are always open 🩷

Masterlist | AO3

She looked so peaceful when she slept. She was curled up on the mattress beside where he was keeping guard, her chest rising and falling with each breath. It was mesmerising. Her hair was fanned out across the pillow, some straying into her face, strands lying delicately on her cheek. The lower half of her body was covered with a thin blanket, her top half cuddled into her jumper.

He had never seen her this calm. They had gotten close quickly in these games - the fear and horror acting as a catalyst for friendship - and he found himself getting protective over her fast. They’d first met after the first game, when Thanos and his lackey had approached her to join their little group, and he’d felt the inexplicable urge to tell him she was already spoken for. Surprisingly, she agreed with him quickly, saying she had already made her allies and hurried quickly away from that purple-haired joke. She thanked him wholeheartedly when they were out of earshot, confirming that there was something about him that made her uncomfortable so she appreciated being saved (her words, not his.) They had been inseparable since - sharing meals, sticking together in games, voting together, even bunking next to each other. When Gi-hun said that two people should always be keeping watch tonight, they didn’t even have to say they would take their shift together - it was just assumed.

But when the time came, he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. She looked ethereal in the dim light of the room, her hair like a halo, the sound of her breathing a symphony to his ears. Soothing. He could watch her for hours, totally enthralled and at peace. His hand moved to brush a piece of hair from her face, feeling the softness of the lock between his fingers, fingertips lingering just a moment too long on the soft skin of her cheek. So he just sat beside her. He wasn’t tired yet; he could take her shift. Anything to protect her really. A few extra hours can be the difference between life and death here.

The rise and fall of her body suddenly changed rhythm, a deep sigh escaping her lips. She rolled over in her sleep to face him, and he held his breath, scared that the smallest shift might wake her. She settled back in quickly though, and he watched with a soft smile as her arms fell beside her body, head snuggling into the pillow.

He wanted to wake up like this every morning, hearing her gentle sighs and soft snores, to see the peace on her face before she woke. He had only known her a few days, but it felt like a lifetime when they spent every minute fearing for their life. He felt so unbelievably protective of her so fast. He didn’t think she was incapable of handling herself - she’d proven the opposite through this ordeal. But he didn’t want her to have to worry about that ever again. As soon as they were out of there, he would do anything to make sure she wasn’t scared ever again.

Her hair had fallen across her face again, and in the dim light, he worked carefully to move it, tucking it gently behind her ear. Then he noticed her blankets falling down a little, pooling around her waist, so he pulled it up to her shoulders. Then the cuff of her jacket was slipping, so he gently grabbed the fabric, moving to fix her sleeve, when he noticed something. There were a few scars there, barely noticeable in the dim light of the room, so he allowed his curiosity and protective nature get the better of him. Ever so cautiously, he slipped her sleeve down just a little, just enough to see the scars that littered her forearms. Some were newer than others, others long since healed, but they were unmistakable.

His heart hurt for her. Life in these games was hard enough, but he could only imagine what awaited her outside to have to…

He wasn’t sure what to do. If he addressed it, he might lose her trust. She might get embarrassed that he knew and withdraw. If he didn’t, and she somehow worked out that he knew, she would think he didn’t care.

It wasn’t something he understood completely - a few of his friends from the military struggled with self-harm, but he didn’t tend to ask them too many questions. They had PTSD, so maybe she had that too? Or something else that was making her hurt badly enough to… all he really knew was that she didn’t have any healthy avenues to alleviate her stress and emotion. He wanted to help, to hold her and tell her everything would always be okay around him, that she shouldn’t ever hurt herself again… but he knew that was condescending and naive. What he really needed to do was let her talk to him if he wanted, listen, and if there was anyway she wanted him to help, he would…

His plans were foiled though, as she woke slowly, eyes blinking open. He was lost in thought, fingers still hooked around her cuff, and he was frozen as her eyes widened, locking on her arms and where his skin was against her. She started to back away, shuffling quickly as she adjusted, fear taking over her features.

“What’re you…” she muttered quietly, pulling her sleeves back to her hands as tears started to form in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he blurted out quickly, face turning red. “You turned over and I saw something so I was curious, I didn’t mean to wake you I… I’m so sorry.” She had pulled her knees to her chest, shaking slightly. “Hey, listen to me, it’s ok, it’s all ok, I…” he slowed down when he realised she was crying, her whole body heaving with deep, pained breaths, her hands fisting the blankets around her. He muttered her name quietly, but she didn’t respond, her legs falling down as her breathing got more and more erratic.

Oh God, he’d ruined everything.

***

It had happened so quickly. One minute you were asleep, the next, you opened your eyes to see Dae-ho beside you. At first, you were happy just to see him, his face and demeanour and everything about him a comfort to you throughout this game. Then you noticed the way he was looking at you. A mixture of pain and confusion and worry was contorted across his face, and then you saw where he was looking.

Your sleeve must had rolled in your sleep, and he was looking at your now bare wrist, his fingers softly brushing against it. You snatched her arm away quickly, fear clouding your mind as you shuffled back.

He had seen.

Oh God, I’ve ruined everything.

There was no questioning that fact. He knew. One of your deepest secrets, one of the things you were most ashamed of. And now, the person you trusted most in here knew. What would he think? Would he view you differently? As weak? As insane? As someone who didn’t deserve to be here around people who wanted to live more than you?

All you had ever wanted was to be seen as normal. And however awful this place was, you finally had that. You had found someone who viewed you as an equal, an ally even. You weren’t the unstable girl who cut herself, or the friend no one could rely on due to unpredictable bouts of depression or anxiety, or the shitty daughter who kept to herself. You were helpful, normal even. But now?

You hadn’t noticed your breathing start to shallow until it was too late. Your vision started to go fuzzy, mind screaming that you’d let someone too close, that they would never see you the same and it was all your fault. Again.

You heard him call your name, but it felt far away, like you were trapped in a bubble and everything outside was muffled. You were paralysed with an inexplicable terror, tears streaming down your face.

Unsurprisingly, given where you were, it wasn’t the first time you’d had a panic attack in front of him. They’d been pretty consistent, after every game, during some, but now, somehow this was the worst. For some reason, someone truly knowing you was scarier than the prospect of looming death.

It took a while for your vision to come back into focus, and when it did, all you could see was his face.

“Hey, look at me, breathe, ok? Here…” he carefully placed his hand on yours, and when you didn’t pull away, picked it up and held it to his chest. “Follow my breaths, ok? In….” You did your best to follow along, stuttering slightly, but he smiled ever so softly even if you weren’t doing it perfectly. “Good, and out..” He repeated the motion a few times, and you followed until your breathing was steady enough to talk. “There we go.” He muttered gently, a hand straying to your face to wipe away the tears that had fallen.

“I’m so sorry, Dae-ho…” it was all you could choke out, already close to tears again, but he shushed you quickly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s none of my business, but I need you to know that I would never judge you… not for anything. Especially not for something that isn’t your fault.”

“Of course it is, I…”

“It’s not. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. You’re doing your best and I’m here for you. As long as you know that, that’s all that matters.” You were crying again, his words a comfort you had never heard before. Not a moment after the first tear fell his arms were around you, pulling you tight to him and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t even speak to thank him, so you squeezed his arm instead, feeling him smile into the top of your head. You had never felt so much kindness before, so much understanding… and maybe it said something about the people around you, but you couldn’t think about that. Right now, all you could think about was the way he was holding you close, the way his breaths aligned with yours, and the way he made you feel like everything was actually going to be ok.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 42. no need for allat (half-written)

a/n: my go to in mario kart is yoshi and I feel like minji would 100 percent be a yoshi main as well and dani would def be peach or toad or smth cutesy… also yeah it’s getting real Now guys.

you barely have time to knock before the door swings open, revealing hyein grinning up at you.

"y/n! what are you doing here?" hyein asks, stepping aside to let you in.

"oh, hanni invited me over... you didn't know?"

"no," hyein closes the door, then shrugs. "but I don't mind, it's nice to see you during such a busy time. okay, let me bring you over to hanni."

you follow her down the hall, passing by the soft hum of a tv where haerin sits cross-legged on the floor, her phone in her hands. on the screen is the nintendo switch homescreen, but you can't really take in anything other than that before walking down the hall and meeting hyein at hanni's door.

she pushes it open and inside is hanni sitting on her bed lazily scrolling on her bed. she immediately perks up when she sees you, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

"you should've texted me," she says, feigning annoyance.

you raise an eyebrow. "you invited me over. what, did you forget?"

she lets out a small laugh but doesn't deny it. for a moment, you just look at each other, smiling like idiots. neither of you says anything, but the warmth is mutual (and obvious). and then, as if deciding simultaneously, you both move forward, with hanni getting up to meet you in a tight hug.

"missed you." you murmur quietly, feeling her squeeze you just a bit tighter.

"missed you too, idiot." she says, her voice softer than before.

hyein, still standing there, groans loudly.

"okay, wow," hyein suddenly interjects, earning a reaction of you two pulling away comically fast. hyein crosses her arms with a smirk. "cute and all now break it up. y/n, come play mario kart with haerin and I. hanni promised she'd play too."

hanni blinks, her expression shifting as if she just remembered. "oh, right... i did say that."

you chuckle at her sudden realization, but before hyein can drag you both away, hanni stops her. "wait, wait—give us a second. we need to eat first."

hyein sighs dramatically. "fine, but hurry up!" she trudges away, leaving you alone with hanni again.

hanni turns to you, nodding toward the bags of thai food she ordered. "come on, let's eat a little before they start complaining."

"you're so lucky i haven't had dinner yet." you joke.

you follow her to sit at the kitchen peninsula, the smell of the food already making your mouth water. you glance at her as she opens one of the containers, her face relaxed, content. it's familiar. it's comfortable.

—

when the two of you finish eating, you both meet hyein and haerin on the couch. hyein says something snarky about you two taking forever, to which hanni responds with an eyeroll. haerin greets you with a small smile, to which you respond with a toothy grin.

"okay, okay." hanni starts, giving everyone a controller. "don't cry when I beat you all."

haerin scoffs. "right..."

the four of you are now squished together on the couch, controllers still in hand as the mario kart lobby loads up. hanni sits beside you, her knee brushing against yours, while haerin and hyein occupy the other side. you scoot closer when you feel her knee brush yours again.

"mind you, we've never played together." you remind her.

"we'll see then." hanni says with a slight cockiness, making everyone laugh.

everyone chooses their character: hyein chooses dry bones and haerin chooses bowser. without thinking much, you pick luigi, but right at that moment hanni clicks on daisy. the two of you glance at each other, blinking in surprise.

haerin and hyein exchange a glance of their own before subtly eyeing both of you.

"interesting." hyein hums.

haerin just raises an eyebrow, smirking.

"what?" you ask, looking past hanni and between the two.

"nothing," they say in unison, far too innocent to be believable.

shrugging it off, the game starts. the first round is fairly normal—chaotic but nothing too different from the rounds you've played with your university friends at the student lounge. hanni dominates the race, breezing past like she was born for this (or has played too much mario kart to the point that she has most maps memorized). you manage to secure second place, while haerin and hyein trail somewhere between seventh and fifth place.

"wow, you guys are terrible." hanni teases leaning back smugly.

"i literally came in second." you point out.

"exactly. you still lost to me, what did I say?" she grins, nudging your shoulder with hers.

you huff, but there's a smile on your face as you nudge her back, a little harder this time. she giggles, the sound light and easy.

then the next round begins. this time, you manage to get ahead, gripping the controller tightly as you take the lead. the finish line is just within reach—

"what the fuck?" you exclaim after hanni throws a turtle shell at you, your screen flashing red as you spin out. luigi drops from first to third in an instant. "are you serious?" you groan, turning to glare at her.

she just laughs, eyes crinkling in amusement. "oops." she giggles.

you don't think. you act.

in one quick motion, you throw an arm around her, pulling her close as you use that same hand to cover her eyes.

"hey!" she yelps, squirming in your hold. "that's cheating!"

"should've thought about that before throwing a shell at me," you grin, keeping your grip firm while still managing to steer your character with your other hand.

hanni is determined to win. she smacks your hand away and leans over you, practically draping herself over your upper body as she tries to shake you off fully. the two of you struggle—her pushing against your side, you keeping your grip on her while barely paying attention to the game anymore.

neither of you notices how close you are through the shared giggles, too wrapped up in the playful competition to care.

haerin and hyein do notice. they share a long, knowing look, silently communicating through raised eyebrows and smirks. they look over now, barely caring about the game while hanni barely fights out of your arm around her, pushing her down against you in a position that looks more comfy than annoying.

"i'm telling danielle and minji later," hyein mutters under her breath.

haerin nods. "please do."

masterlist ; previous - next

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[qqueenofhades]

fwiw: a lot of people follow @roach-works who just reblogged yo ur comments on history, books, and authoritarian regimes' inability to indoctrinate entire populations.

I'm an ex classics major with a lot of history under my belt, who knows Rome sutmr under a corrupt oligarchy even when it coughed up a hairball like Nero or Commodus. (Of course, it helped that Rome worked on the pragmatic principle, "How can we keep society and infrastructure functioning, given that positions of power tend to be occupied by the rich & corrupt?" I like to joke that Western Rome never fell; it just became the mafia.)

At any rate, my tendency to see the US through the lens of Rome makes me a pessimist: I assume we'll manage even in a dystopia.

I'm working on expanding my knowledge of world history to counteract that, but it's great to check in with a sane historian who will help me resist crowdsourced panicmongering.

Look, as I have said, I 0% blame anyone for being scared. I'm scared. With no exaggeration or hyperbole, Shit Real Bad, and it's undoubtedly going to get worse, at least in some ways, before we have a chance to make it better. It was completely avoidable, but half of America decided they didn't want to avoid it, so here we are.

Nonetheless, as my last reblog also pointed out, there are still basic historical and critical-thinking skills that we can use here, and to acknowledge that even if it is obviously unprecedented to us, it is not unprecedented to others, and we can study those lessons and think about how to apply them to our own situation. Rome is the obvious model for a world empire brought down by corruption, oligarchy, imperialism, endless foreign wars, income inequality, economic upheaval, excessive militarism, etc etc, but it's not the only one, and the "fall of Rome and start of the Dark Ages" is one of those narratives that gets my premodern-historian rant especially exercised. By the time Rome "fell" in 476, the city of Rome wasn't even the capital of the Empire; the western capital was in Ravenna, northern Italy, and the eastern capital was in Constantinople, where it endured for another thousand years. Roman successor kingdoms were founded in Visigothic Spain, Merovingian Francia, etc., and often imported Roman law, religion, bureaucracy/administration, and nobility relatively unchanged, which is why Latin was the legal, ecclesiastical, and educational language of western Europe until as late as 1962 and Vatican II. The "Dark Ages" are likewise at best an extreme simplification and at worst exceedingly misleading imperial-nostalgia propaganda. Etc etc. I will restrain myself.

Rome dominated the (European/Near Eastern/north African) world in the way that the 19th-century British Empire dominated the actual world and American empire dominates now, at least for the moment, and thus we have to recognize that similar dynamics are at play here in a late-stage imperial decline. However, Rome did not just up and vanish in a puff of smoke one day and never appear again, and we also have to recognize that the end of empires is generally a good thing, historically speaking. Yes, absolutely a turbulent, dangerous, and traumatizing time, especially for those living within the imperial core, but still. There's also the blunt fact that America itself has been responsible for a lot (a LOT) of violent regime change, coups, overthrows, bombings, and other disastrous foreign policy interventions for almost the entirety of its existence, and we can't pretend that we are just the shining beacon of unproblematic truth, freedom, and faith that most conservatives, and a lot of saccharine American-exceptionalism liberals, tend to think. If that comes back to bite us and we have to experience the kind of political and social upheaval that we have arrantly and unrepentantly inflicted on other places in the name of our Superior Right... well.

As for the post about history books (here), that was another attempt to push back against the kind of broad-strokes fearmongering that is often prevalent right now. Again: for completely understandable reasons, but still. There is literally no way on earth that the practice of academic history, or the procession of human events, is going to be destroyed because an orange dumbass and his idiot followers took power in America for eight nonconsecutive years. Even if by some miracle he managed to do it in America and the only thing ever officially published was Heritage Foundation balderdash, a) historians in countries other than America would still be writing books about it, and b) again, literally impossible. To return to the history of Soviet totalitarianism that I was addressing in that post, I suggest that people look into the samizdat, the contraband news and literature widely shared in the USSR. They faced far more stringent conditions than we ever will: the KGB controlled access to all word processors and copiers, precisely because they could be used to spread non-regime-approved information, and dissidents had to write and circulate it by hand. If they were caught, they could be disappeared, sent to the gulag, confined in a psychiatric hospital, subject to intensive "state education," etc. But they still managed to pass it around and read it, and it would be literally impossible for this collection of Trumpster chucklefucks to exert even a fraction of this logistical and physical control, when every citizen already owns a laptop and a smartphone. The history books aren't going anywhere.

That all said, of course we are all hyper-alert and anxious and afraid, and we don't want to miss anything that might be important or dangerous or anything else. I get that, I completely do. But we still have to pace ourselves, we still have to apply critical thought and learn how to educate ourselves when something seems huge and scary and unstoppable, and I am attempting to do a small part of that on a niche blue hellsite that won the social media competition by literally doing nothing while its peers all fell face first into being corporate Nazis. The bar is low. But hey, I'm here, and you're here and you're reading it, and we will get through it. I promise.

Courage, etc.

[somerandomcockroach]

*stretches, breathes fresh cold air in, waters eyes, sits down* Here we go again ~

MMMMMMMMM Prowl's birth and existence starting and being described as nothing AHAH, EVEN MORE, the way to kill him if something goes crazy. MAN, MY BOY, YOU WERE BORN COLD AND COVERED IN COLD ALREADY Wait is it like. Half Prowl's pov. I know it can be described this way but I just, loved how the "Warm hands on his head sounds", more like explaining how it feels for him than a simple fact *sudden cackle* Didn't know translation of hitherto and it sounded like a funny mispelling.

*INHALES* I listen to "Steel for Humans" and it beat SO WELL I've got shivers "He wasn't nothing. He was a void, but suddenly that void had a direction, no matter how meaningless it sounded." NOT A NOTHING, but still not a something, void created out of will just to serve and not have a will "He became his purpose" I SO MUCH WANT TO SEE IT INSIDE HIS HEAD

G[PDFGOPFOWWJ

OH THIS IS SO TASTY. OTHER VIEW ON TAC NET, SO DAMN TASTY AHEFHJADGH. I WOULDN'T HAVE PAID ATTENTION BUT. "HE CALLED HIM PROWL" NOW THAT DOESN'T QUITE MAKE SENSE PFFFHT OF COURSE HE TOLD HIM TO DISAGREE WITH HIM. OF COURSE HE TOLD A CREATION THAT WAS BORN TO SERVE AND AGREE TO BE AND DISAGREE.

AJHEGHRESJGERS OF COURSE WHY NOT. BREAK HIM.

GOOD JOB, MY BOY, GIVE THEM HEADACHES AHAHA

I need them in one room more often, his own scientific amusement and observation Ah so his very first purpose was to help him bring a peace. YES IT IS A NANNY AHAHA

FRIENDSHIP WILL NOT GET YOU TO COUNCIL FASTER OH THERE ARE OTHER GOLEMS. I kind of was wondering if Orion is the only one who will just... make it different Naaaahhh Prowl is already a big bunch of emotions even if not the happiest ones, no wonder he isn't like them "Not allowed artifacts" *Looks at Shockwave* HGASHDGAEHGEAHG I assist Orion and help him, agree.... actually, do not agree anymore, Ratchet now looks like a good friend to help me keep Orion in place. So golems are widely spread occasion. Keeping places clean and other easy stuff. Double-bottom trap. DAMN I LIKE BODY LANGUAGE DETAILS JAHGGEA not sure if Prowl just now made a joke or stated a fact about processor.

NOW, THIS IS A DYNAMIC WITH THEM I LOVE TO SEE

EWHGFHEWFGEWH OH EHWGREHG MMM OH I LOVE HOW PROWL IS JUST. NO WAY TO GET THAT HE IS A GOLEM. NO MORE.

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZEEEEE W- WAIT. F*** YOU. YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS HIS STUDENTS ARE SAVAGES SAVED AND GOTTEN TO SHOCKWAVE YEEEEEESSSSSSS “Can read, write, speak, even makes music.” Who's that pokemon? ........Okay here comes the bits of their future destruction... and the fact that they will just. Accept it. Of course! Why not! *lies down* ....PROWL. PROWL NO. PROWL WRONG. NOT THIS WAY. NOT LIKE THIS NO.

PROWL STOP THIS IS A WRONG CHARACTER GROWTH

"When...when a mech commits especially terrible crimes against the will of Primus, the very magic of their spark rises up against them and turns them into a demon. And I just learned today what a...demon looks like." lET Me just. There is no shit like "Primus' will. Primus hangs out with atheist and smiles when someone says that Primus isn't capable of everything. It is the council. AH. Council is capable of extracting the spark. CAN THEY ALSO F**KING TURN OTHERS INTO DEMONS?!? ORION THIS IS COUNCIL I DON'T BELIEVE THAT IT IS PRIMUS, ORION YOU ARE DOING RIGHT THINGS.

This bit. Prowl has done things. He has done and might be chased for it. But he doesn't have a spark. I wonder to whom he resembles with the "I hope he doesn't"...

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

___________________

Magical Golem Prowl anyone? ‘,:) This story exists in the same universe as Spellbound au. and Monster hunter au and ties them together so I highly recommend you read all of them.

The fic under the cut⤵️

He seemed to be nothing.

The emptiness that infinitely defined his nonexistent self bounced off the metal plates and glinted in the droplets of still-warm energon. He was nothing, but there was so much around him that the space was like an infinite buzz of cluttered noise. The voices above him sounded excited. The metal slab beneath him was cold and hard.

“Good. Now you need to put a piece of your armor on this. Somewhere it will be in plain sight and easily reachable.”

“Oh...wouldn't it make more sense to hide it under the armor? I mean, it's an obvious weak point.”

He idly thought, his hands felt numb.

“No no, that's the whole point. You're using an artifact you haven't fully studied and you don't know exactly how it's going to turn out. If it goes crazy and becomes dangerous, you should have an easy way to destroy it. Where's the artifact by the way?”

The tinkling of metal.

The sound of a crystal clattering against armor.

Warm hands on his head.

“Here.”

“Excellent. Now. This will be the base on which the entire spell will be held, so you want to hide this artifact very well and secure it carefully so it doesn't break by mistake.”

Did he have hands too? He was nothing, why did he have hands? It didn't make sense.

Orion took a couple steps away from the table and stood pensively.

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave, hitherto distracted by an almost invisible spot on his shoulderplate, glanced leisurely over Orion's shoulder

“Golems don't need much to function. You made a good shell. The magical structure is strong as well, I see.”

Orion hesitantly pointed to the golem's forehead, decorated with a neat sharp chevron.

“I added some things that weren't in your instructions and I think I made a mistake somewhere.”

“Golem making is a complex skill, don't give up if it doesn't work right awa...you know what, actually no, you did everything right.”

Orion shrugged in frustration.

“Then why won't it move?”

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“ Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion walked back over to the table with a quiet “oh” and nervously clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

The emptiness that forever defined his nonexistent self stammered. He wasn't nothing. He had a purpose and that purpose shaped him, put strength into his numb limbs and molded his lack of thought into naked intent.

He wasn't nothing. He was a void, but suddenly that void had a direction, no matter how meaningless it sounded.

He stopped being just nothing. He became his purpose. And it felt so right that it was unclear how he could ever have been anything else before.

He opened his optics.

Orion, who apparently hadn't expected that the thing he'd made specifically for it to move would move, jerked back with a funny sound.

On the opposite side, Shockwave nodded proudly, returning to the spot on his armor that even in the bright lights of the workshop only he could see.

“I believed in you.”

_________

“Oh my god! How do you sneak up on me so quietly every time?”

He wasn't nothing anymore. He was a whole long list of instructions and rules. His creator sat him down at a table and meticulously listed everything he could and could not do. Handed him many books and ordered him to attend a huge number of lectures. He now knew who to bow to if he passed them in the hallway and who to avoid. He had learned hundreds of names and thousands of titles. Learned how to pretend to be a real Mech, even though he wasn't.

The world around him was complex and confusing, but he found that this complexity had its own patterns, linked together in a bizarre web of systems and sequences. It was worth pulling on the right end, and the meaningless facts organized themselves into something much more manageable.

Everything made sense. The planet revolved around a star. Mechs rejoiced when they got something that improved their quality of life. Energon burned, producing energy. Big things tended to be heavier than small things.

The world was divided into Mechs and monsters...and him.

He was inclined to be...quiet.

His creator - he'd asked to be called Orion - twitched when he found his creation standing right behind him.

He was very talented at finding Orion wherever he was. And very light compared to most things his size. Like everything else it made sense. He wasn't a Mech, he was just an empty shell. An armor summoned to life by magic. His footsteps were as quiet as a mini bot's. Whatever Orion called it, he wasn't 'sneaking' on purpose.

A few cycles later, Orion accidentally bent one of its finals when he turned around too quickly, startled by the quiet footsteps behind him.

He named him Prowl. It was...not exactly logical, but there was a certain sense to it. Prowl nodded and agreed. He always agreed with everything Orion said, even if it didn't make sense at all. Orion's opinion took a higher priority than anything else.

Until it didn't.

Until Orion gave him a focused look and told him that he should argue if he thought it was necessary.

Until Orion put the servo on his shoulder and said something along the lines of....

“You can disagree with me if you think my opinion is wrong. I'm not asking you to go against me. I'm not perfect and I can't be the one absolute point of reference for everything. You can and I'm sure will be smarter than me about many things. I want you to tell me if I'm wrong and what I should do about it.”

Like…well….like an absolute fool.

This concept was new. Prowl wasn't built to argue. He was made to obey orders and to serve a function.

Orion smiled slyly. At least it was probably a smile behind his mask that made the corners of his optics lift.

“It wouldn't be considered a disobedience of my order if I ordered you to disobey it. Don't you think?”

Prowl opened his mouth to agree out of habit, but then changed his mind mid-motion and closed it back. It...it didn't make sense. It made sense that was breaking under its own weight. It was mercilessly mixing up all of his pre-learned patterns for talking to Orion. If he agreed with that logic now, it would mean accepting its use. If he protested, it would also mean accepting it, but in a bit more embarrassing way. Just when he was thinking of simply retreating silently to the nearest shadow and banging his head against the wall, he heard a quiet chuckle and realized that Orion had been amusing himself for some time now, watching him struggle.

Prowl decided that verbal responses might be overrated and frowned his face in the most believable expression of displeasure he could portray.

Orion broke out into laughter.

________

“What exactly is my goal?”

Orion looks. Curious. He stops talking to Shockwave and leans back on the bench.

“Right now, to study these journals. I already told you.”

Prowl nods to indicate he heard him and continues

“Studying serves a future purpose. Studying for the sake of studying would be meaningless to me. What is my final goal?”

“To assist me” Orion says slightly confused. ”Within the best of your ability of course.“”

“Аh. Assist in the fulfillment of your goal.”

“Well. I'd say so, yes.”

Prowl nods

“And what is your goal?”

Shockwave, who has been sitting next to them the whole time looks like they're a couple of previously unknown to science species he's just personally discovered.

Prowl ignores him.

“I...you remember the separation between Mechs and monsters, right?” asks Orion cautiously.

“Yes.”

“Mechs...are unfair to monsters. Monsters are cruel to Mechs. It's a needlessly violent situation that I want to...try to. Fix.”

Prowl frowns to indicate that the information isn't completely clear.

“You're a member of the order of hunters. And...” he shakes his head toward the nearest window ”...you have a considerable number of hunters under your command. Your job involves destroying monsters.”

Shockwave makes some sort of quiet amused sound and props his chin up with his hand.

Prowl ignores him harder.

“My job is to bring peace.” says Orion “You don't have to kill monsters to do that. You can negotiate with them. Find a compromise. Coexist. I...I guess basically, I'm trying to make the world a little better?”

Prowl doesn't look impressed. He's actually making a special effort to not let Orion think in any way that he might be intrigued by the whole endeavor.

“You do realize that's a disproportionately large goal for just one Mech, right?”

Orion shrugs awkwardly

“That's why I made you.”

__________

Ratchet puts aside his tools and critically examines his work.

“Don't touch that and it will heal normally.”

Orion smiles gratefully

“Thank you.”

Ratchet is important to Orion. They are close and very valuable friends to each other. The two of them look peaceful now, despite the fact that Ratchet threatened Orion when he first showed up in Sick Bay, so Prowl decides it would be a socially acceptable moment to start talking

“Orion, you're wanted at the Council.”

The second half of his line is drowned helplessly in two startled exclamations at once. Orion, to his honor, calms down almost immediately, but Ratchet continues cursing for a while.

Prowl doesn't wait for him to finish. The Council meeting is earlier than usual today and Orion has already had a few occasions of misbehavior. It's in his best interest to at least show up on time this time.

“Shockwave asked me to tell you to hurry. I will add that showing up at the last minute will not be good for your reputation if you are still hoping to convince the council to let you take more units.”

Ratchet .....stares.

“Primus' rusty hinges, Orion, who's that? Did they assign a nanny to you?”

Orion twitches his finals playfully and immediately crinkles in pain, remembering that one of them should have been left to heal.

“Remember when I wanted to find an assistant? Well...”

Ratchet casts an increasingly more suspicious look at Prowl. Prowl decides that friendliness is overrated and limits his expression to a barely perceptible tilt of his head in response.

“...Shockwave recently helped me figure out how to create golems and I figured if I couldn't find anyone I could trust, I might as well...make one. So. Ratchet meet Prowl.” finishes Orion awkwardly.

Ratchet glares at Prowl for a while longer. Then he turns away and starts tidying up Sick Bay.

“I'm not buying it. I don't know where you found this guy, but you're not playing me. Nice poker face by the way.”

One of Prowl's wings twitches

“He wasn't lying.”

Ratchet snorts grumpily.

“Those...” he waves toward the next room ”...are golems.

There, behind the wall, several golems scurry around. They have medical staff symbols painted on their shoulders, and there is not a trace of thought in their eyes. Two are scrubbing the floors, another wiping the shelves and window sills clean of dust. They occasionally mumble softly under their noses or utter an inane “excuse me” every time they accidentally bump into each other. Prowl knows that if you ask any of them a question with more than one variable, they start babbling guiltily and shrugging their shoulders. They're stupid, but they themselves don't seem to care about that at all. They are their purpose. And their purpose is to keep things clean. They are pride because they are good at their job.

Prowl frowns. He's a headache. Because his "purpose" has been distracted by his conversation with Ratchet and will probably add another tardy to his list in the near future.

Orion begins (thank goodness) to move toward the door

“I've made improvements. There might have been...some not exactly allowed artifacts.”

Ratchet rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. Prowl can see that his face is already starting to wrinkle in that spot. Patient antics probably age Ratchet far more effectively than the passage of time itself.

“I...you know what...go before the Council sends a search party to look for you.”

Orion sighs and without further distraction finally walks out the door.

Prowl decides that Ratchet might be a good ally when it comes to managing Orion.

He nods politely goodbye before leaving.

______________

“I am different from them. Why?”

Orion puts down the document he's been working on and looks first at Prowl and then, over his head, at the other golems scurrying down the hallway with brooms and rags. He doesn't need to interject exactly who he thinks Prowl is different from.

“Do you want a philosophical answer or a technical one?”

Prowl reaches out and pokes somewhere in Orion's document

“ You missed a comma. Both.”

Orion obediently puts the comma in and folds up the document. His finals are twitching faintly. It could be a sign of concentration as well as distraction. Prowl has already figured out that Orion's body language is a double-bottom trap. For a Mech with this level of expressiveness, Orion is surprisingly difficult to read.

“Sometime quite a while ago during one of my expeditions, I found a unique artifact. A fascinating item, granting wisdom to anyone brave enough to use it.”

“I have a feeling a ‘but’ is coming.”

“You're right. The artifact's unique gift was also its curse. It fed so much information through the Mech's heads that it literally caused the processors of its owners to melt.”

“Oh. Good thing I don't have a processor then.”

Orion laughs quietly

“Indeed. You won't have that problem. And about the other part....Think of all the Mechs you know who are savvy enough about politics and available to work together at the moment.”

Orion gives him a moment before continuing.

“ What is the likelihood that the most trustworthy of them would betray me, for their own gain or out of fear?”

“ Twenty-eight percent,” Prowl informs.

And then hesitates a moment.

Orion is obviously a smart Mech. Not smart enough to single-handedly dominate the political arena, definitely not with his ideals and ideas of what's right. But smart enough to realize it. He knows what he wants and he also knows he can't achieve it alone.

Prowl looks at Orion, who just stands there, eyeing him, without in any way trying to continue the conversation.

Orion is idealistic, and therefore often mistaken for stupid. He isn't. Orion doesn't just know that he can't succeed alone, he knows that everyone else knows it too. He thinks this knowledge will be used against him when the opportunity arises. He's right. By Prowl's count, at least three suspiciously clever Mechs were going to sweet-talk their way into becoming Orion's assistant one way or another before... he appeared.

One of the janitor golems runs past them down the corridor. He doesn't turn around, doesn't even slow down or cast a curious glance. His only goal, his only interest is cleaning. The rest of the world might as well not exist at all.

Prowl thinks he's not that different.

Orion apparently reads the understanding from his face, because he nods contentedly and starts walking further down the hall.

“You didn't take yourself into account when you made the statistics, did you?”

Prowl follows him silently on his heels. Not close enough to be familiar, but not so far away that the conversation stops being private.

“The sampling condition was all mechs. I am not one.”

“That's true” Orion shrugs “You have no loved ones that the Council could use to influence you. You have no desires to be bought by their fulfillment. And while I cannot say with absolute certainty that you will never be capable of going against me...” Prowl starts to open his mouth to object but Orion gestures him to stop, “...no no no no, let me finish. And while I can't be sure you'll never betray me, I at least know for sure that before you met me you had no reason to do so. Do you understand?”

Prowl understands. It makes sense. He still feels the need to argue back, because it is part of his function to do that.

“I would never betray you. I'm not capable of it.”

Orion twitches his finals. Without seeing his face Prowl assumes it is a sign of doubt.

“You are a creature of intellect, Prowl. I am a Mech of ideals. Those two things don't always combine well.”

______

“Foolish and presumptuous.”

Prowl ponders that his function could be much easier if he didn't have to constantly try to balance what is right and what is right in Orion's eyes.

“If you were spotted, the Council would have good reason to assume this isn't the first time you've done something like this.”

“No one noticed,” Orion tries, but Prowl doesn't let him finish that thought

“No one has seen you, because you're lucky. You can't count on it being a permanent occurrence! You undermine your own position by giving the Council grounds for suspicion, you...”

Prowl stops, still pointing his finger accusingly somewhere on Orion's chin. Shockwave, who has witnessed the scene, makes an impressed face and steps closer.

“I swear, you're probably the most capable golem maker I've ever had the pleasure of teaching, Orion. If I hadn't seen that guy on your assembly table, I would never know.”

Prowl takes the statement as a compliment, but doesn't feel the need to show it outwardly. Shockwave, as one of the few who knows about him not being a real Mech, doesn't take offense to it in any way.

“Did I interrupt something dramatic?”

Prowl snorts, because the gesture maintains just the right amount of judgment for his situation.

“Orion is once again harboring a monster instead of killing it or letting it escape.”

This news immediately enlivens Shockwave's posture. Prowl knows he's an even bigger fan of collecting suspicious side projects than Orion. Their friendship, frankly, will one day bury either one or both of them. Prowl just hopes his presence will be enough to sway the percentages when that happens.

Orion doesn't try to deny anything.

“One of my squads encountered a ghost near the northern border. I couldn't... listen Shockwave, he's a good guy. He just needs to be given a chance to show it.”

“Can he talk?” there's almost visible stars in Shockwave's eyes..

Prowl slumps his shoulders helplessly, already knowing what's coming next. These two have done this dance a hundred times before. One of Shockwave's favorite side projects was a school for, as they called them, magically gifted and extraordinary Mechs. In fact, it was the largest den of various monsters that Prowl had ever seen. Every time Orion's hunting squads found a monster that could even remotely resemble a normal Mech, Orion would rush with happy optics to hand it over to Shockwave for care. There, the monsters were taught everything they needed to fit into the society of normal Mechs, but more importantly, they were given documents. Precious pieces of paper that granted their holders rights, freedoms, and protections as Shockwave's apprentices.

Prowl could appreciate the noble endeavor. He could also see clearly that with each addition, this school would become more and more of an inconvenient thorn in the Council's side. Just like Orion, Shockwave was happy to paint a brighter and brighter target on his own back for many cycles.

Orion, insensitive to danger that is not immediate, cheerfully begins to recite

“Can read, write, speak, even makes music.”

Shockwave nods happily

“Introduce us?”

Prowl wonders how far Shockwave can stretch the definition of “magically gifted Mech”. One day Orion will pick up a Kraken on the street and then they'll both probably have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to make it's documents. Ugh.

When Orion had asked him to calculate the probability of betrayal, the most reliable mech he was evaluating at the time was Shockwave.

Twenty-eight percent...

Prowl wonders how many students must be on the opposite side of the scale from Orion for Shockwave to choose in their favor. Speculation is actually useless. If the Council decides to nail Shockwave, they will of course use his entire school at once.

In fact, they probably won't even have to force Shockwave to choose between the school and Orion, because Orion himself will choose a bunch of monsters over himself.

This ridiculously dangerous social construct they call friendship rests entirely on their reputation as honest and honorable mechs. Prowl stares at Shockwave's back and wonders how one mech could have so much charisma, that he gets away with keeping a huge number of Council enemies right under the noses of that same Council.

_________________

Orion gently lifts the now graying shell of what was once a monster from the ground

He doesn't even turn toward Prowl.

"Did you kill him?"

Killing...it's a stretch. Does the act of helping a murderer qualify as murder? Or the lack of action that could have saved the now murdered person? In most cultures and languages, “murder” refers to the act of ending someone else's life, but the context implies a physical act. Did you put a knife in his back? Did you push him off a cliff? Did you cut him with a sword?

By those criteria. Well. Prowl never killed anyone. Nor is he likely to, for he has neither the skill nor the strength to do so.

Did he cause death? Absolutely.

Orion's always had this heroic streak that wouldn't let him just pass by the distressed and disadvantaged. Orion has always had a great spark of kindness and principles as strong as titanium alloy as to what is right and what is wrong.

In Orion's world view, murder is wrong. And murder in conditions where it was possible to solve everything by peace is immoral and unacceptable.

Prowl's worldview tells him that Orion could do much better if he stopped wasting his potential on helping those who will only drag him down in the long run. Orion's life depends entirely on the Council's opinion of him. A Council that has been watching him closely lately. Even if Orion doesn't like it, it's Prowl's job to make sure they like what they see.

Orion turns to him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Prowl. That mech tried to escape. Past you. And now he's dead. Were you the one who killed him?"

"No," says Prowl, "he ran into one of the patrols."

That statement is missing a good half of the details. Like mentioning that the patrol wouldn't have been there in the first place if Prowl hadn't sent them an anonymous lead.

Orion doesn't need to know that. Orion lives under the idea that every life is precious and, even more inconveniently, equal.

Prowl sometimes feels like yelling at him for it. Because that shiny perfect picture is simply unsustainable outside of Orion's head. The monster, whose graying body now lies on the ground, would be of little use to society. Likely left free, he would have simply continued to attack and kill travelers.

Whereas Orion spends his life making the world a better place. This is an objective fact confirmed by numerous observations.

They are not equals. And they probably never will be. Orion's life is much. Much heavier on the imaginary scales of statistics.

Orion squints at him suspiciously. He's clearly hesitant.

"You could have just let him go instead of killing him."

The trap is honestly too obvious.

"I didn't kill him" Prowl repeats "he ran into a patrol. You can't blame the hunters for doing their job."

Orion places a hand on the dead creature's forehead in a respectful gesture of regret while simultaneously averting his gaze. It's a habit by now.

Look the other way, don't let the council know what you're doing. Sympathize but not in plain sight, help but in secret.

"They had no right to attack him.This is neutral territory. He has the right to run wherever he wants."

Prowl's mouth is twisting with the urge to argue. To say that according to existing information, this monster would have just continued the attacks if he'd stayed free.

He says nothing. Orion is clearly in no mood to argue right now, and he's already questioning Prowl's claim. It's not worth pushing any further.

Prowl only nods, showing that he's heard Orion's point of view.

__________________

He is surprisingly good at lying.

Of course the skill doesn't just come naturally, but he's been known for his straightforwardness. Mechs automatically expect him to either remain silent or tell the unpleasant truth.

All he has to do is give only certain bits and pieces instead of coherent information without changing his usual behavior in any way and the mechs won't be inclined to verify it, filling in the gaps themselves. As a golem, he can't lie, but he can get others to lie to themselves.

He exploits this a lot. Probably more often than Orion would approve, but Prowl doesn't ask him to confirm. Conversations with Orion tend to narrow down his list of options. Because Orion is a real living mech. With a spark. With feelings. And his complex moral code revolves entirely around what he feels to be right.

Prowl has no spark. Prowl has an empty armor that he considers his body and a wisdom artifact that he considers his worth. Both his and Orion's understandings of what is right...overlap...sometimes.

Not always.

______________

"I saw a demon in person for the first time today."

Prowl politely shifts his posture to show he's listening

"A …demon?"

"Demon" Orion repeats "When...when a mech commits especially terrible crimes against the will of Primus, the very magic of their spark rises up against them and turns them into a demon. And I just learned today what a...demon looks like."

Prowl remains silent, waiting for a continuation that never comes. Orion seems gone in his thoughts....

"And what does it look like?" prompts Prowl.

"Creepy. It looks creepy and unnatural and terrifying. Primus' wrath has a very ugly shape..."

"Ah...I see...what did that mech do to be met with such punishment?"

Orion frowns

"I'm not sure. But what we're doing can't go against Primus' will, right? I mean, all beings are his creations! He can't condemn us for trying to make peace between mechs and monsters..."

Prowl is familiar with the concept of punishment for wrongdoing. But something about the very idea...the idea that punishment will find you no matter how well you hide because you can’t run away from your own spark...he has to admit it's disturbing.

"I hope he doesn't."

——————————

Thoughts?👁

Ahsjfjfj

This is the first half of the fic btw because I don’t have enough time to translate the whole thing in one day. I’ll try to post the second half tomorrow🤞

[sirhamburrger]

worth it - m. kaiser x f!reader in which you decide to give it another shot with with each other.

tags/cw: exes to lovers, crack (see original req ask) || wc: 1k-ish (i have gone insane)

courtesy of kai’s cat café! - 150 followers event café menu || order progress asks closed.

michael kaiser is convinced his life is 100% a joke. there’s no other explanation for why he’s currently sitting in a dimly lit, overpriced restaurant, waiting for a blind date that his best friend, ness, had insisted he go on.

it'll be fun, ness had said. you haven't dated since her, so just give it a shot.

michael doesn’t do blind dates, doesn’t do serious relationships, and he certainly doesn’t do surprises - which is precisely why he’d refused ness’s ridiculous proposition at first. but between his friend’s relentless nagging and his own begrudging admission that his love life had the excitement of a damp sock, he had caved eventually.

and now, as he swirls the wine in his glass like some kind of brooding movie villain, he wonders if this is the universe’s idea of a cruel prank.

because the person who just walked through the restaurant doors - the person he's meant to be on a blind date with - is none other than you.

michael nearly chokes on his drink at the first glimpse he gets of you. you don’t see him at first, distracted as you scan the restaurant, looking for whoever your own meddling friend had set you up with. when your eyes land on him, your entire body stiffens, and he watches as you cycle through the five stages of grief in record time.

he knows exactly what you're thinking, because he’s thinking the exact same -

out of all the people in the world, why you?

your relationship had ended on less-than-great terms. there had been yelling, multiple dramatic exits and even more dramatic re-entrances, and at one point, if he recalls correctly, a very unnecessary but satisfyingly cinematic slow clap. it had been over a year since the breakup, and though time was supposed to heal all wounds, he wasn’t sure if it applied to two people as ridiculously petty as the both of you.

you take a deep breath and approach the table, walking like someone being led to their inevitable doom. “this is a joke, right?” you say, pulling out the chair with a familiar enthusiasm - the enthusiasm with which one might do the dishes, maybe.

michael leans back in his chair, trying to appear nonchalant even though he’s nothing but. you look good, infuriatingly so.

“trust me, if i were trying to pull a prank, it’d be something a lot more elaborate than this.”

you sigh, shoulders slumping. “so, what? our friends thought it would be hilarious to set us up?”

“looks that way.”

silence stretches between you, heavy with the weight of tense, withering stares and poor life choices, and michael, for all his arrogance, finds himself at a rare loss for words. he should say something clever, maybe. something that would put him back in control of this bizarre situation. instead, he blurts out, “you look... less mad than i expected.”

you blink. “i just got here. give it a minute.”

a beat of silence. then, against all odds, you both snort at the same time.

somehow, you make it through the meal without either of you throwing your drinks in the other’s face. the conversation starts awkward, progresses to dangerous levels of sarcastic, and before long, you’re both swapping old inside jokes, complete with exaggerated impressions of each other. by the time dessert arrives, you’re laughing so hard you nearly snort crème brûlée out of your nose.

reality seems to hit the two of you, then, turning the sweetness of the custard bitter on your tongues.

you poke at your half-eaten dessert with your fork, your voice quieter when you finally speak again.

“do you ever wonder if we could’ve done things differently?”

he pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. he should brush it off, throw out some cocky remark. but instead, he casts his pride aside, sets his fork down and meets your gaze.

“yeah,” he admits. “i do.”

you nod as if you expected that answer. “at least we know our friends are absolutely useless.”

he scoffs. “truly the worst.”

the check arrives, and the night reaches its fated conclusion. you both step outside, the cool air nipping at your skin. for a moment, neither of you move, standing there like two characters in a sitcom finale that never got renewed.

finally, you exhale, pulling your coat tighter. “well. goodbye, kaiser.”

something in his chest tightens at the way you say it. he forces a smirk, shoving his hands into his pockets. “see you around, liebling.”

you roll your eyes at the old pet name but don’t comment. instead, you turn and walk away, down the block. the night seems to swallow you up in seconds.

he watches you go, exhaling. he should turn around and walk the other way. should go home, pretend this night never happened.

but then, just as you reach the corner, you stop.

you hesitate.

and then, as if it takes every ounce of courage you have, you turn back around.

“kaiser.”

he’s already moving before you say anything else, crossing the distance between you with the same reckless abandon he’s always had. you open your mouth, maybe to say something witty, maybe to say nothing at all, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

because before he can overthink it, before either of you can change your minds, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you.

it’s not perfect. it’s a little clumsy, and more a little desperate. but when you kiss him back, fingers tangling in the fabric of his jacket, he swears it might be the best decision he’s made in a long, long time. and when you finally pull away, breathless and a little stunned, you stare at him like you can’t quite believe what just happened.

michael grins, cocky and familiar and maybe just a little hopeful.

“so,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “think our friends would find it hilarious if we gave this another shot?”

you laugh, shaking your head. “they’d be insufferable.”

he hums, tilting his head. “worth it, though?”

you pretend to consider it, but you both already know the answer.

“yeah,” you whisper, smiling giddily. “worth it.”

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt. 6 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: fluff, softness overload and pure romance

Chapter Summary: Soft, effortless intimacy – The kind of love that makes the simplest moments profound. Bittersweet nostalgia – Acknowledging how long it took to get here but knowing they were always meant to arrive. A love that’s anchored, unwavering – No more fear, no more hesitation. Just certainty.

Word Count: 2.3K

a/n: anddddddddd that's a wrap, i had so much fun writing these two even though the slow burn was long as hell lol 😩 i really hope i did their ending justice - thank you to everyone who stuck around 🫶🏾

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4 & Pt 5

Six months had flown by in a blur of late-night unpacking, weekend furniture shopping, and quiet, stolen moments that made a house feel like home.

The place smelled of fresh paint, takeout, and something unmistakably theirs—a warmth that settled into the walls, lingering in every quiet moment.

Moving boxes were still stacked in corners, some half-opened, others untouched. A single wall in the living room remained unfinished, the two of them caught in an ongoing battle over the perfect shade of blue. It was a small thing, but the debate had turned into something else entirely—a running joke, a playful point of contention, another reason for Aaron to grin at her and say, “You just like having a reason to argue with me, don’t you?”

Their home was still coming together, but the foundation was already set. Not just the brick and mortar, but the way Aaron absentmindedly placed her favourite mug on her side of the counter, or how YN instinctively draped a blanket over his chair before he could sit down. Tiny, unspoken habits—proof that they belonged here.

Aaron, halfway through unpacking yet another box, shot her a look when she leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“You’ve been staring at that box for ten minutes,” she teased. “You gonna open it, or are you waiting for it to unpack itself?”

His lips twitched. “Nah, I was just waiting for you to boss me around about it first.”

She huffed, nudging his leg with her foot as she passed by, and he caught her wrist, tugging her close just to press a lingering kiss against her temple.

This was their life now—soft, effortless, intertwined. And as they moved through the space together, something unspoken settled between them. The quiet understanding of how far they’d come.

They were building something, piece by piece.

Aaron lifted a bookshelf into place, his biceps flexing under the strain, and when he turned around, he caught her staring.

His smirk was immediate. “You good over there, sweetheart?”

YN, not even a little embarrassed, simply shrugged. “Just appreciating the view.”

He chuckled, shaking his head before stepping closer, resting a hand against her waist. “You know, you could help instead of just watching me sweat.”

She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. “Mmm. But where’s the fun in that?”

Aaron groaned playfully, pressing his forehead against hers. “Unbelievable.”

Moments like this made it feel real—not just the moving in, but the life they were creating inside these walls.

“What do you think?” YN asked, stepping back and motioning toward the now-filled shelf.

Aaron tilted his head, studying the arrangement. “I think…” He reached forward and moved one book slightly to the left. “Perfect.”

YN gasped, nudging his shoulder. “Aaron.”

“What?” He grinned. “I was just helping.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

A few minutes later, she was sorting through another box when she felt warm lips graze the back of her neck, Aaron’s deep voice murmuring, “What’s ours is yours now, baby.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle into her bones.

This wasn’t just a house—it was home.

As they continued unpacking, YN rummaged through a small box marked personal and pulled out a worn envelope. Her breath hitched when she realised what it was.

“Aaron,” she called softly.

He turned, his expression shifting when he saw what she held.

It was an old, faded note, one he had written years ago—back when their feelings were still unspoken. A reminder of a moment neither of them had acknowledged at the time but both had felt deeply.

As he took it from her fingers, his thumb brushing over the creased edges, he exhaled a quiet laugh.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he murmured.

She nodded. “And yet, somehow, it feels like yesterday.”

They stood there for a moment, the past and present colliding, reminding them of how much they had grown—how much their love had evolved.

Aaron lifted his gaze back to hers, his eyes warm, sure.

“No regrets?” he asked.

YN smiled, stepping into him, pressing her palm flat against his chest. “Not a single one.”

YN and Aaron finally settled on the couch, the chaos of unpacking momentarily forgotten. Two wine glasses sat between them, the soft clink of the glasses marking a brief moment of quiet before the words came rushing in.

“You remember when you swore we’d never work together?” YN teased, lifting her glass to her lips with a knowing grin.

Aaron chuckled, his eyes softening as he thought back to the early days. “Yeah, I thought it’d ruin everything, being around you all the time. But look at us now.” He paused, a more serious look creeping in. “Turns out, I was just scared of having everything I ever wanted.”

YN’s gaze softened, her heart swelling at his words. “What changed?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper as she studied him.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “I realised that it’s not a bad thing to want everything with you. I just had to stop running from it.”

There was a moment of silence, as if they were both lost in the reflection of their own past—those in-between moments where feelings were buried under confusion, where each tiny step forward had been a leap of faith. They were miles away from the days when they had danced around their feelings, avoiding the inevitable, not realising it was already happening.

YN smiled, her thoughts drifting to the time when they had first held hands without thinking, how her heart had pounded in her chest when their fingers brushed. “Remember when you almost told me you loved me, but didn’t?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aaron snorted, clearly remembering. “I was just trying to protect my pride. I couldn’t let you know you had that much power over me.”

Her eyes twinkled with fondness. “And I almost said it too, before I was sure. But once I did... I never wanted to stop saying it.”

Their fingers intertwined, a silent promise between them. Those small moments had led them to this—this life, this love, this home.

The conversation shifted as naturally as breathing, from memories of the past to dreams of what was yet to come. The future seemed endless now, and their plans spilled out between teasing glances and tender words. Their love felt unbreakable, a quiet certainty settling between them.

Aaron rested back into the couch, stretching his legs out comfortably, his hand finding hers as he casually mentioned, “You know, when we’re older, we’ll probably still argue over the right shade of blue.”

YN let out a soft laugh, squeezing his hand before leaning her head on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure of it. But I’ll let you choose everything from now on to save time. We’ll skip all that back-and-forth drama.”

Aaron smirked, his gaze softening as he turned to her. “You say that now. But you’ll be back to fighting me for the final decision once we’re decorating our next place.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him with her elbow. “Only if you promise to let me pick out all the throw pillows. You know that’s non-negotiable.”

He chuckled, the easy banter rolling off of them, but beneath the teasing tone, there was a realness that spoke of the life they were building together. “Fair enough,” he said, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “But let’s get through this one first—no more boxes to unpack, no more shelves to adjust. We’re good here, right?”

YN smiled, resting her cheek against his arm. “Yeah, we’re good. This feels like home.”

There was a soft pause, a moment where the weight of their love hung between them. Then, as if the thought had been in both of their minds for a while, she turned her head to look up at him. “You ever think about a wedding date?” she asked, her voice light but laced with curiosity.

Aaron didn’t miss a beat. “Already picked one. We’re getting married on a beach, somewhere beautiful—just the two of us.”

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. “You’ve already decided?”

He grinned, that familiar, playful glint in his eyes. “Of course. You think I wouldn’t?” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s already in my head, baby. A sunset, white sands, just us.”

Her heart swelled at the thought. “And what about kids? Got names picked out for them too?”

He took a moment to think, his expression softening as he imagined their future. “One boy. Maybe a girl after that. I’m thinking something strong… like Elijah, or Rumani.”

YN smiled, her heart fluttering at the idea of them raising a family together. The thought of their children, her and Aaron’s love passed on to them, filled her with a warmth she couldn’t explain. “I like those names,” she whispered, her voice quiet with emotion. She shifted closer, pressing her cheek against his chest as if grounding herself in the future they were building.

“I used to think love was supposed to be complicated,” Aaron murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. “But you… you make it easy. Waking up next to you every day? That’s all I’ll ever need.”

YN’s heart swelled at his words, and without thinking, she pressed a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her voice trembled as she replied, “I feel the same. I’ve never known love like this, Aaron. It’s everything I never realised I needed.”

The room seemed to fade around them as they sat in that quiet moment, the weight of their love and dreams filling the space. It was simple—no grand gestures needed, just the shared understanding that no matter what came next, they would face it together.

And that was enough.

The evening had settled into a comfortable quiet. The house was mostly unpacked now, the last picture frame waiting to be hung. But for a moment, Aaron and YN found themselves alone by the window, watching the fading light of the day slip away, replaced by the soft glow of their home.

Aaron turned to her, his expression softer than it had been all evening. The playful banter, the teasing about furniture and paint colours—it had all slipped away, leaving only the real weight of their love.

“You’ve made me realise that home isn’t a place,” he murmured, his voice steady, yet vulnerable. “It’s you.”

YN’s heart skipped at his words, the truth of them sinking deep within her. She looked at him, her hand instinctively finding his, fingers intertwining as she searched his eyes.

“I used to worry about what the future would look like. The uncertainty... everything we couldn’t predict,” she admitted softly, her voice a whisper in the quiet room. “But now? Now I know I can handle it—because I’m not doing it alone. I’m doing it with you.”

Aaron pulled her closer, his hand gently cupping her face as his thumb brushed over her cheek, as though he were memorising the softness of her skin. He pressed his forehead to hers, feeling the deep connection between them.

“You and me,” he whispered. “That’s all I need. Forever.”

There was no need for further words. The silence that followed spoke volumes—of the promises they had made, the love they had nurtured, and the life they had built.

With a quiet but shared sense of anticipation, they walked over to the last box, where the framed picture from their first holiday together rested. It was a moment captured in time—both of them smiling, carefree, wrapped in the joy of their love.

YN smiled softly as she held the frame, her fingers tracing the glass. “I think this is it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “This is the moment I want to remember. This is us.”

Aaron nodded, taking the frame from her hands to carefully place it on the wall, their home now complete with a symbol of the journey they had taken together.

They stood back to admire it, taking in the sight of their smiles frozen in time, the image a perfect reflection of their love. The way they looked at each other in the photo was exactly how they looked at each other now—full of love, understanding, and endless possibility.

Aaron wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and they stood there for a long moment, the quiet hum of contentment filling the space around them.

“May we look at each other like that, forever,” they murmured together, their voices soft, but certain. The words felt like a vow, one that would live in their hearts for as long as they both lived.

YN smiled, the weight of the moment settling deep in her chest. This home, this life, this love—they had built it together, and it was theirs. And no matter where they went in the future, they knew one thing for sure: their home would always be where they were, side by side, hand in hand.

With one last kiss, they held each other close, the world outside forgotten as they stood together ready for the future.

As they gazed around their home—now complete in every way—they realised it wasn’t the walls or the furniture that made it theirs. It was the shared laughter, the quiet mornings, the small moments that built the foundation of their life together. They didn’t need to go anywhere to feel home; home was right here, with each other.

Aaron squeezed her hand gently, looking down at her with that same look of certainty, love, and playfulness that had first drawn her in.

“Let’s make this our forever,” he whispered, his voice low, but filled with more than just hope. It was a promise.

YN nodded, smiling up at him. “Forever sounds perfect.”

And in that moment, they knew: no matter where life took them, no matter what came next, they had already found their forever.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @kxllanxtdoor @random-human02

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[shurup-overt]

don't ever let go of what's beloved

these bastards made me cry! THRICE!!

@mari-lair I wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart, also this will be LONG. I'm sorry skdjkls

SPOILERS UP TO CH27 BELOW

(not super detailed but still can ruin the experience)

I'VE FINALLY read ycit after half a year of putting it off it just because I "didn't like the idea of akane being dead&doomed" skslsks I was wayy too superstitious. anyway I'm glad I stopped being stubborn

IT WAS HELL OF A RIDE (positive) and I finished it (27 chapters at that moment) looking like nene in ch107

I'm not even joking

where do I even begin.

the amount of research and thought and love poured into the fic is INSANE. it's always so nice to feel the author's passion through the work and this one overflows with it.

am I being too sappy? I dunno, I speak what's on my mind lol!!

as I said, it's noticeable that it's written with so so much love to the characters and this love is INFECTIOUS!! I didn't know I'd get attached to aka, so fast too. it's like my thought process was almost the same as teru's all the way through chapters 0-20 lmaoo

a small digression from the main topic - the thing is, what I wait for the most in tbhk is a flashback about terukane's first meeting & how the glasses were made. ofc there's always a possibility they were made by teru just for fun and as a way to make akane owe him (although this might be ooc) but the possibility of it is thankfully really really small because teru looks at them and handles the topic very gently. too gently for it to be just a forced prank. also akane has been keeping them with him on his bead near his head while sleeping (not even the bedside table or smth! who the hell keeps their glasses with them on the bed at night?? <- comes from a glasses person)

so, especially because of teru's wording ("he said he wanted to live his life like he used to"), I've been STRESSING over the possibility of akane BEGGING teru for help there, like what if he was struggling with switching forms at first and hence wasn't seen by students? what if the clock keepers didn't explain him almost anything about the supernatural world and so he was scared and confused? what if teru cornered him there and he had to prove he's human? (by the warmth of a touch?) what if he cried? what if teru comforted him? (or tried to lol) what if there were more struggles??

and so I was soo glad to see this topic being expanded!! I know it's an au and all (and the contract's gone worse here) but what I mean is, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks about it!! reading akane's backstory was Painful As Heck but really Good.

my godd I wish the boy had some comfort. I can't look at ycit akane because I start tearing up immediately.

"I hope akane managed to use the bill" "I hope the seals helped at least a bit" I HOPE SO TOO. JESUS. THE POOR BOY WAS LEFT ALL ALONE WITH A TERRIFYING KNOWLEDGE AND THE TWO DIDN'T EVEN SAY GOODBYE TO EACH OTHER PROPERLY

and his backstory hasn't even been fully revealed yet. I feel like I'll die when that time comes. shaking

alright I don't wanna whine here too much now moving on-

this idiot. /affectionate

the attention to the smallest details!!!!

the amount of canon things implemented?? HELLO? I mean it's natural to expect a canon character act according to canon but it's the first time (I think??) I've noticed SO MUCH small facts THOUGHT THROUGH and carefully weaven into the fic to fit the narrative perfectly. sometimes they're really small and almost insignificant but it's like finding easter eggs!!! it fills me with so much joy to feel the love to the kids through the writing (I repeat it again ahahaha). teru's complicated (VERY MUCH SO) feelings towards his father, akane liking raspberry sweets, akane (and aka) liking when pride of a certain someone ( ^^ ) shatters in front of them and their facade falls, teru itching to jump headfirst into research as soon as there's a reason to mess with exorcist tools and invent something (oh I so adore this in canon I can probably ramble about this a lot), teru being eager to play in the snow, teru covering his face when he cries!!!! and that's just the things I remember right now THERE WAS A LOT MORE

it all makes me point at the screen with an "AH!!" expression and think "YES THAT'S MY BOY/GIRL!!"

YAKO AND TSUCHIGOMORI TOO!! I was so glad to see yako being involved so much and her character handled perfectly with all her traits and quirks and sillyness /affectionate hehe I love her so much and although tsuchigomori hasn't showed up as much, reading the scenes with him was a delight as well

also when I said about the passion, I meant not only the love to the fic's main cast, but also the passion to analyze the og medium itself as a whole. (am I making sense? I don't want to sound too creepy) explaining myself: take aka: his character, his quirks, his abilities, his drama, worries and experiences - for it all to be as deep and believable ( = excellent) as it is, it was necessary to take all the smallest bits about ghosts' and supernaturals' mindset we have in canon, be it hanako or sousuke or mitsuba etc, analyze it, and make aka one of their kind but still very much unique and closer to akane than to them, even though he doesn't remember being him. even if you didn't do what I said entirely on purpose, I'm just amazed by how aka is written. it's awesome

squeezes him.

thank you for being the extremely stubborn "leech" you are. mwah

aidairo sadly have given us very little info about exorcism and supernaturals in general (I'm biting the table as we speak) and the way you still took the crumbs, thought them through, added bits here and there, and made it all work perfectly is just amazing. I was overjoyed to read about mimics, other kinds of supernaturals, how spiritual energy feels, how touching a ghost feels in detail, weakening seals, blood pacts, boundaries, etc etc. it's like it's all canon, it doesn't make the reader question it whatsoever, so well-made. I'm clapping.

the description says you've never written a teru pov before and I'd say you nailed it from the very beginning!! you understand his mindset so deeply, reading your works is the best experience. the picky bitch in my ear never goes "he would not say that" and instead is just as amazed as I am

the first chapters before the bonding are HEAVY as heck. they're extremely hard to binge read but I mean this as a good thing. they're extremely painful by just how realistically they are written, so good you can't help but sync with teru and feel the same emotions as he does. And his life is SHIT at that moment so I was SUFFERING with him both the first and the second going through the chapters :'D again though, it's not bad, it's the opposite - it makes the happy moments thrice as good and the overall bonding brings A LOT of warmth. I feel like it healed me in a way after punching me in the stomach 10 chapters in a row

also I love it so much just how much the fic focuses on teru's everyday life before the manga's main plot. I mean, well yeah, it's a 14-15yo teru pov, but still. so detailed, filled me with warmth.

*slaps roof of ycit* this bad boy can fit SO MANY fun ideas and good concepts in it

seriously, the range is insane. a questionnaire, a quarrel (multiple), siblings talk, beach episode, dancing, hugging, both crying, possession?? hello?? BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! summer festival, sleeping on the other, fighting for the other, fighting together, even working in food service together (aka the thing I'd expect out of a trkn fic the least lol). the list goes on. and despite how bizarre and random it sounds out of context, nothing from it feels like a filler, everything fits into the plot perfectly. I have no words mari how are you doing that

ever since I've read the bloodpact chapter, I was worried about how encounters with mimics will go from now on because now aka can go anywhere and, how it was stated before, aka's and a mimic's energy feel the same… the boys will need to come up with a strategy of some sort (which is tricky if mimics learn from the memories) ourghh makes my head hurt! but in a good way. or will mimics struggle picking a target between aka and teru now? what if they're weaker when faced by multiple opponents because of that? that would be fortunate. anyway! mimics leap at the target eventually, so that eases the task. and whether the boys encounter them or not, they will have each other's backs, and it warms my heart.

I've wanderend off the main topic again, oops. as you see, the fic made me think of all sorts of things lol and it's an incredibly good sign.

what if teru did take a picture of the swing set in ch13…..... ourghh I don't even know if it'd be better or worse...... it's over now though, so I'm glad either way

and ch27 has destroyed and rebuilt me several times I think .

I drew this before ch28 but then it came out and oh boy. I don't even know what to say. Good for them. so proud of them

I HAD SEVERAL SONGS FOR THIS but I don't want to make this too overwhelming so I've tried to pick the faves among faves (still kind of failed so . no pressure)

Bullet by Saint Motel (lyrics) for teruaka

The Song with Five Names a.k.a. Soapbox Tao a.k.a. Checkmate Atheists! a.k.a. Neospace Government (A.K.A. You Can Never Know) by Will Wood and the Tapeworms (lyrics) for aka - this one may be too extreme. it kinda clicked for me but I might be delusional

quiet room by ewe (has eng subtitles) for teruaka - makes me feel things similar to the ones 'therefore you and me' does

Yakusoku no Overture by Toki Shunichi (akane's VA hehe) - I haven't found a full version of this arrangement on youtube but it should be on spotify? or other streaming platforms I'm pretty sure? sadly, I've only found a russian translation (as unusual as it is lol) so I've tried to adapt it in english here, hope it looks right!

I might be delusional here sdslkds but what's certain is that I enjoyed the fic all the way from the start. thank you for creating this, truly

p.s.: please let me know if I made you in any way uncomfortable. I myself didn't expect to write so much; I only wanted to express my gratitude but this might be overwhelming. (I'm a very anxious person so I felt like I needed to say this sdskldj) you aren't obliged to respond in any way and this isn't me asking you to continue working on the fic. just saying thank you for the things you've made

that's it! wishing you a great day :)

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "Wrapped Up In You"

Marshall sat at his usual spot in the studio, headphones perched on his head, a notebook full of scribbled lyrics in front of him. The low hum of the equipment and the steady beat thumping from the speakers were the only sounds filling the room. He was lost in his work, his mind swirling with new ideas, melodies, and lines that seemed to demand his attention.

But then, he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.

He turned to find you standing beside him, a slight pout on your face, eyes wide and full of longing.

"Hey," he greeted, pushing the headphones down to hang around his neck. "What’s up?"

You didn’t respond with words, just slipped your arms around his waist from behind and pressed yourself into his back, your cheek resting against his shoulder. You were always affectionate, but today it seemed like you couldn’t get close enough to him. The pull of his presence seemed to wrap around you, and you just wanted to be near him—closer than close.

Marshall chuckled softly at your sudden clinginess. He loved it, of course, but sometimes it made it harder to get his work done.

"Someone’s needy today," he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You huffed, tightening your arms around him, almost like you were afraid to let go. "I just want to be with you," you murmured, your voice quiet and soft, a trace of vulnerability in your words.

Marshall’s heart softened at your tone. He turned in his seat, his hand coming up to gently brush a lock of hair from your face. He could tell you weren’t just being clingy for the sake of it—there was something more. You just needed his presence, his comfort.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his smile growing. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, he stood up, pulling you closer as he slid off his hoodie. He didn’t even have to ask—he could tell what you were thinking. The hoodie was big on him, but he knew it would swallow you up, making you feel wrapped in his warmth.

You smiled at him, the smallest glint of gratitude in your eyes, before you let him pull the hoodie over your head. It was almost comical how the oversized garment consumed your figure, but it was exactly what you needed. You settled into the hoodie, the fabric soft and smelling like him—like home. You felt safe, even with the chaos of his studio buzzing around you.

Marshall watched you, amused. "You good now, or should I just lock you in here and call it a day?" he joked, already knowing the answer.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you shuffled closer to him, burying your face into his chest as you slid your arms around his waist, content to just be close.

He chuckled again, his hands gently running down your back. "Yeah, I thought so." He could feel the warmth of your presence against him, how you molded into him as though you were both pieces of the same puzzle.

“I’m not gonna be able to get anything done like this, you know,” Marshall said, leaning back against the desk, eyes darting to his notepad.

"I don’t care," you muttered into his chest, your voice muffled. "Just keep me close, Marshall."

He sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. With one last glance at the studio equipment, he decided to give in, letting the work take a backseat to the warmth of your presence.

“Alright,” he said, finally giving in. “We’ll make this work.”

You smiled up at him from the safety of his hoodie, content in your little bubble with him. The world outside didn’t matter, not as long as you were wrapped up in him, in his love, in the comfort of just being together. Marshall, with all of his bravado and confidence, was a man who could handle the weight of the world—and you, wrapped up in his hoodie, were all the comfort and support he needed in return.

As he picked up his pen to jot down some lyrics, you snuggled closer, resting your head against his chest as the steady rhythm of his work filled the air. And in that moment, you knew, despite everything in the world, you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And so was he.

[pool-spidey]

The thing about the Ice Box was it could make your skin crawl just thinking about it, let alone being its inmate.

Still, Wade couldn’t really say he regretted ending up in there; given the chance, he would’ve blown off that fucking pedophile’s head a hundred more times. But needless to say, his first mission under the X-Men’s wing didn’t go as smoothly as planned.

What Wade remembered best from being arrested wasn’t the sensation of this fucking collar being clasped over his neck, and his body revolting against the cancer joining the party once again. What carved into his memory even more were Peter’s screams, telling the motherfuckers to get fucking off him, take that shit off, you’re gonna fucking kill him; backing it up with some punches thrown with what could only be taken for a mutant strength.

Needless to say, that got him arrested, too. Which was exactly what he wanted.

And what made up all the regret Wade had about what he’d done.

Wade remembered vaguely joking that it was not exactly how he imagined getting away with Peter for that vacation at last, but it’d have to do. Being taken to the mountains, getting matching outfits and all that.

And he remembered that Peter didn’t laugh.

As the door of their cell locked behind them, Wade had to sit down, but Peter started to pace up and down the small space. Wade’s eyes followed him like he was watching the tennis match.

Peter unzipped his yellow prison garb and let it loose around his legs, revealing a white undershirt, same as Wade had underneath.

It made the collar on his neck even more visible and Wade felt rage crippling through his cancer-ridden body.

“You, fucking stop it.”

Peter froze in place and looked at him.

“What?”

“Wolverine was supposed to be the only one looking this good in a wife beater. So you better fucking stop it.”

Peter snorted, a shadow of a smile on his lips. It sounded a little bit relieved and a little bit more like he wanted to cry.

“You forgot Freddy Mercury”, he said, walking up to sit beside Wade. He left no space between them and Wade took the chance to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder.

He quickly sat back up though, feeling that Peter was shaking. He pressed a hand to his face, covering his eyes and leaving no doubt now that he was crying.

“Hey… what’s up?”

“I’m so sorry, Wade.”

“What? Why?”

He took a hand off his face and looked at Wade, whose heart immediately smashed to smithereens at the sight of sadness overflowing his eyes along with the tears.

“I talked you into this X-Men shit… If you weren’t there…”

“Hey, boo, stop it. Really, life would always find a way to fuck us stiff bareback, don’t you know it? Stop crying, this is not your fault.”

“That’s not why I’m crying.”

“Then why?”

“Cause you’re…” he started in a tone like he couldn’t believe Wade had to even ask, but then cut it abruptly and said something else than he’d intended: “Cause you’re in pain.”

Cause you’re dying.

Vomiting felt like all of Wade’s insides were going out – or rather wanted to, but couldn’t.

All he had inside of him was pain, and it felt like Wade was the one his body was fighting, not the cancer.

He wiped his mouth with shaking hand and used the rest of his energy to get away from the toilet and crawl a meter away of it, towards his pallet. Peter was sitting by it on the floor, waiting for him to come back and lay his head on his lap. Which Wade did, curling on the floor and burrowing half of his face in Peter’s thigh. Peter gave him his hand and Wade took it with both of his, pressed it to his chest like he was a child squeezing a teddy bear. The other hand Peter laid on his head, petting it slowly, like he was a mother of said terrified child.

“Here we fucking go again, I guess,” Wade groaned.

“Only the first time you fled on me, remember?”

“Yeah. And I’m sorry.”

“And you’d do it again.” There was no accusation in his voice; there was only the warmth in his hands.

“Probably, yeah.”

It wouldn’t be like them if they didn’t get into even bigger shit than they were already in.

It was the first time they were in prison cafeteria, poking around for something edible among the crap they had on their platters. They were sitting alone by their table, face to face, and Wade was trying to imagine that Peter was the only one out there, the only person in a thousand miles radius; lines of his bare biceps like a balm for Wade’s aching insides.

It took him a good minute to notice the group approaching them.

“I’ve seen you earlier, pretty face.”

Black Tom didn’t look as much of a threat. And maybe it wouldn’t have ended so badly if he didn’t touch Peter.

“Thanks, I was thinking about acting, actually.” In his current state, Wade wasn’t that much of a threat either. But least he could do was try to keep their attention on himself.

But they didn’t take it, told him to shut the fuck up – they’re talking to the twink right here.

“Your name here’s gonna be Gentle Mouth…” Black Tom said, putting his dirty paw on Peter’s face.

There were plenty of times before when they were in danger, when they were dealing with far worse than fucking Black Tom and his boys.

But all these previous times were different.

Now Wade couldn’t fight them and he knew it.

So maybe that was why his eloquence left him high and dry, and the only way to let out his rage as he saw Peter stiffening under Black Tom’s touch, was noncreative and point-blank:

“Keep the fuck away from him.”

“Why, he’s your bitch?”

“I am his.”

“Oh shee-it!” Black Tom smiled, turning to Wade. “I see you’ve got something in your teeth. His pubes?”

“Jealous much?”

You moron, Peter would tell him later, all resigned. Couldn’t you keep your mouth shut for once? I was trying not to provoke them.

In exchange for what he said, Wade got some laughs, and a nudge in the gut from Black Tom; which combined forces with the cancer and was enough to leave him breathless.

And as for Black Tom, what he got in exchange was Peter’s platter right to his fucking face – a beautiful hit that set both Black Tom and Peter’s untouched excuse for a meal flying around in all directions.

After that it went painfully and fast, and soon enough they were all escorted roughly to their cells, Peter helping Wade walk to theirs, almost carrying him. 

As soon as they were in, Wade would’ve collapsed right then and there if Petter didn’t make the extra effort to lay him on the pallet; to put the pillow under his dizzy head.

Then he lay down behind him, hugging him gently; somehow holding Wade in place – this bundle of different pains all stitched together.

Peter was also beat up, even worse than Wade given the fact that this whole fight was practically him just trying to keep others away from Wade who was only lying there on the floor and getting kicked. But he took it better; even the last part when he just clung to Wade on the floor, shielding him with his body; taking the kicks to his own ribs.  

Now Wade was glad to be the little spoon – he didn’t have to see Peter’s bloodied face.

“Sorry”, he said. “I know you didn’t want to provoke them. But I just…”

He didn’t know what to say, so he stopped, the pain and the blame getting the best of him. And for a moment Peter wasn’t saying anything, but then Wade felt warmth on the back of his head, so gentle, and again. And again.  

Peter kissing him there.

“It’s okay”, he said quietly, and held him closer. “I’m just sorry you’re hurt.”

Not long after – and not a moment too soon – Cable was there, fucking the shit up and chasing a fourteen-year-old.

It came pretty much without saying that Peter and Wade were gonna help the kid. That is: it came without saying for Peter, so also for Wade.

Some plain old chaos and ass beatings were involved, during which Cable’s fuckass weapon fired right into Wade’s collar, breaking it just in fucking time for Wade to survive his not so pleasant fall on a table which practically broke him in half.

He had a moment of a black out, and the last thing he heard before it was Peter tearing his throat on Wade’s name as he watched him fall.

Wade was glad it didn’t end up the last thing he's heard in life; and also that it wasn’t the last image of him burned into Peter’s mind.

Not his best look, for sure. Also, breaking a spine? Wade wouldn’t recommend.

But what came after was, not to exaggerate, motherfucking awesome.

Welcome back, superpowers.

After that it went pretty fast.

X-Men showed up in their hovercraft to check up on the fuckery that was going on there. They were too late to meet Cable, but at least they gave Peter, Wade and that kid Russel a lift.

And Yukio, that sweet girl, took the collars off of Peter and Russel as well.

During the flight, Peter gave them a piece of his mind about not doing anything to prevent the mutants from being held in such conditions, and not coming earlier to prevent Wade from dying there of cancer. Wade sat there with his head on Peter’s shoulder, listening with a smile to him telling Colossus where he could shove his rules.

Russell was taken to the X-Men mansion and soon enough Cable showed up for him; but there he met Wade and Peter.

There was some talking and some more beating the shit out of each other, and also some more shooting, but eventually they came to terms.

They made raid on the facility where Russell had been held and abused. They killed some pedos together, and in the end it was Dopinder, sweet sweet bloodthirsty Dopinder, who ended that fucking turd of a director of that dump; not Russell.

Orphans were saved and friends were made, and Russell stayed at X-Men mansion, while Cable came back to his loved ones.

Peter and Wade also came home – to spoon, finally, in their own bed.

Being even more of the ­f-word than before.

[efexumukoroxlc]

Efe smiled. "Hey, that's fair. If it helped you, that's a good thing. But I lived in a big city for ten years. Nobody's apartment's that nice," he joked. "I think some people do try to be. Just want a rise or whatever. Hell. My mom used to tell me if you don't have something nice to say, don't say it. I don't have to sugarcoat if I just keep it to myself, I guess. What if you flipped that, though? What do you have to gain by telling it? I had to teach myself to think that way. To tell people what you want them to know so something good might come out of it. We can't afford to leave things unsaid anymore around here. S'why honesty is admirable, I think." He was rambling a little bit, buzzed, but he hoped he was making some kind of sense.

Efe laughed at that, throwing back his head. "Yeah. Yeah. I volunteer everywhere. It's why I have so many charity 5K t-shirts. But I help teens with their homework. There's this mentorship program that leans toward humans. It can be tough growing up here. Not feeling...special. I read to the little kids sometimes too. Whatever I can." He shook his head. "I mean, you have a damn cute nose, but it's not just the nose. You're also nice. And funny," he hummed. "And that's just one side of me. But yeah. Yeah. Right! I'll text you. Tomorrow. We can...we can plan it." He gave a sharp nod. "Well, you can tell me whatever you want to tell me about it. But it'd be sad if you left." He shrugged.

Efe smiled, giving a low chuckle. "Badger likes to play. He doesn't really get that fetch requires letting go of the ball, though. What breed is she? Badger's a little bit of everything. He's a rescue." He nodded along. "Uh huh. Uh huh. See, table manners are something different. I eat with my hands all the time," he joked. "But sure. Jonah's a cool guy. We're in the Coalition together."

Efe caught the way her face changed, and he allowed his own features to soften to match. "Oh. Well, it's not your fault nobody in this town wants to go to it. Therapy, I mean. Besides, everyone's good at something. And that doesn't have to be what you do for a living. I thought I was going to be a professional wrestler." He sighed, giving a shrug. "I mean, it was less of that and more of this...competitive thing. They knew each other as kids, so they were always trying to one-up each other. I found it sort of exhausting, to be honest." He sniffed. "Hey! Gym date!" He grinned before half-singing a little more. "Last Dance, last chance for....Yeah, I won that talent show, and now everyone wants to be my talent agent. I don't think disco's my genre, do you?"

"Fair, but what if they speak english real nice and slow?" She offered up in Friends defense. "Oh. I hope I'm not one of those people. I don't try to be. I guess I've just never been all that good at sugarcoating things. That's nice of you though. I guess for me, I don't really feel like I have much to lose by not telling the truth. But, I also don't really have many people or any people outside of Nico. So, that may be part of it too."

"You know you do look like someone who can read," She smiled. A bright and warm smile as she found herself beaming up at him. "You volunteer in the library? That's cool. What do you there? And thank you. It's probably the nose. I had it done when I was eighteen." Her uncle had always told her she would look better with her nose done and he must not have been wrong. "You're really easy on the eyes though too," She promised him. "Kinda. Yeah. I wonder why that is. Wait- did you say date? Oh, um, okay! Sure! We can go on a date," She nodded along happily. She couldn't remember the last time she had been asked on a date before. But, dates were supposed to be fun, weren't they? "Sort of? It's kind of a long story though."

"That would be fun! We can have the pups go on a date too. Luna's super friendly. Sometimes too friendly. She still thinks she's a puppy, but she's huge now and I'm pretty sure she'd plow down a burglar to give them love," She let out a small laugh at the thought. "They could try? You might tear the sleeves though. But, then again, that could be a look. Good for you. I've been told I'm not very good with manners or keeping my elbows off the table, but I try. You should talk to Jonah. I've heard he loves submarines and he seems like he reads too."

"Oh," Her face drooped as she thought back to the camp retreat. "I quit my job after that," She mumbled quietly under her breath. "That's sweet of you to say, but it doesn't change the fact that I was bad at therapy. I'm learning I'm not that great at most things."

"Huh?" Her brows creased at the mention of Nico. "What kind of rivalry? Like they didn't like each other?" She asked, already preparing herself to hate this unknown woman on the simple principle that she didn't get along with her best friend and nothing else. "You're not wrong there. I can bench a lot too! I might even be able to lift you," She assessed, if only because of super strength, but she could certainly try. "Do that again. The song? You're a really good singer."

[niniwritesxo]

ahhhhh i love ur fics sm!! ur such an amazing writer! if ur taking requests could u do something w roh jae won and reader crushing on eachother on the squid game set? have a good one !! ❤️❤️

‘you told me last night’

hope you like it !

꩜ —————————————————————————

filming squid game season 2 was already intense, but dealing with a growing crush on roh jae-won? that was a whole different kind of high-stakes game.

it had started small, things like stolen glances, playful teasing, the way his laughter always seemed to linger in your ears longer than anyone else’s. but lately, it had escalated. the late-night rehearsals, the dramatic tension during scenes, the accidental touches that sent electricity through your veins, it was becoming unbearable.

꩜ .ᐟ ————

“again?” you groaned, stretching your arms over your head. the entire set was nearly empty except for a few lingering staff members. the two of you had volunteered (or rather, been forced) to stay late and rehearse an upcoming emotionally charged scene.

“you’re the one who kept messing up,” jae-won teased, tossing you a water bottle.

“oh, excuse me, mr. perfect actor. maybe if you didn’t keep staring at me like that, i wouldn’t forget my lines.”

his eyes widened slightly, and for a second, he looked caught, like he hadn’t realized just how obvious he’d been. but then he grinned, leaning in slightly. “like what?”

your heart nearly stopped. was he actually flirting back?

“you know what,” you muttered, turning away, trying to pretend your face wasn’t burning.

jae-won chuckled, but instead of pushing further, he exhaled and straightened. “okay, let’s be serious, one more take.”

the scene required raw emotion, desperation, anger, and heartbreak. and somehow, despite your mutual teasing, when the cameras weren’t rolling, jae-won had a way of locking eyes with you that made it terrifyingly real.

by the time you finished, the room was silent. the tension was so thick you could almost touch it.

“that was… intense,” you breathed out.

jae-won didn’t answer right away. he just looked at you, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest second before he shook his head with a soft laugh. “yeah. you’re good.”

did he almost say something else?

you’d never know, because at that exact moment, yim si-wan (one of the senior cast members) poked his head in. “you two still here? wow, the dedication.”

you and jae-won jumped apart like you’d been caught doing something illegal.

si-wan raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. well, don’t stay too late, lovebirds.”

you spluttered. “we’re not—”

“okay, okay, scene partners.” si-wan winked before leaving.

you risked a glance at jae-won, who simply rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you.

꩜ .ᐟ ————

days later, during a break, you were lounging around with kang ha-neul and lee jin-wook, waiting for the next scene to be set up. the conversation had somehow drifted into embarrassing crush stories.

“oh, I have a good one,” ha-neul said, leaning forward with a smirk. “i once confessed to someone by accident because I was sleep-deprived. full-on I love you situation. worst part? they thought I was joking.”

you laughed. “that’s horrible. imagine confessing by accident. couldn’t be me.”

“you sure?” ha-neul teased. “i feel like that’s exactly how you’d do it.”

“no way.”

“actually…” jae-won’s voice cut in from behind you. “you kinda already did.”

silence.

your entire body went stiff. slowly, you turned to face him. “what?”

jae-won crossed his arms, lips twitching like he was trying not to smirk. “you told me you liked me last night.”

the room erupted.

“omg, y/n?.” Jin-Wook nearly choked on his drink.

ha-neul looked at you like you’d just given him the juiciest gossip of the year. “wait when?!”

your brain short-circuited. “that’s a lie.”

“nope.” jae-won looked far too amused. “you were half-asleep, though. i think you thought I was a dream or something.”

tou groaned, burying your face in your hands as the others howled with laughter. but through your fingers, you peeked at jae-won

his expression was different now, softer, almost… hopeful?

“don’t worry,” he said, just loud enough for only you to hear. ‘‘i like you too.”

you almost stopped breathing.

but before you could say anything, the director called, “alright, back on set!”

jae-won winked at you before walking off, leaving you stunned, blushing, and fully aware that this wasn’t just a crush anymore.

꩜ .ᐟ ————————————————————————

hope you enjoyed it!

(english is not my first language so my apologies for any mistakes i may have made)

[weird-an]

For the wonderful @ihni <3 Sorry I'm late.

Jim's a petty motherfucker and he knows it. He has been putting Callahan on the lamest jobs and made him all the reports ever since the guy accidentally dented his car.

Now, because Joyce somehow became his conscience and told him to be a better both, he finally caved and offered to take a shift himself.

He already regretted it when he drove to work. He's regretting it even more now.

"Can I help you, officer? Billy Hargrove asks, batting his eye lashes like Jim's a lonely housewife. His lip is split and his car smells like hairspray and booze.

"It's Chief," Jim grits out. That little shit. "You've been loitering here for the third time this month and you're too young to drink. "

Billy raises his hands, giving him a boyish smile and wink, which makes him seem even younger. "Just a bit of fun, what's wrong with that, Chief?"

Billy's idea of fun is getting in trouble, Hopper knows that. The kid has been in Hawkins for half a year, but already has a fucking file.

"Licence, please." Jim stretches out his hand.

"You know who I am," Billy states.

Jim rolls his eyes. Fuck being a good boss, next time it's the other's turn again. "I still need your licence."

"Callahan has seen it many times." Billy argues. The word's are slightly slurred. The kid is drunker than Jim thought. Great. More paperwork.

"I don't give a shit."

At least the boy seems to notice that Jim's patience is running out. He hands the licence over.

Oh.

Jim's stomach sinks a little. He thought finding Billy here was annoying. It's actually sad.

"Happy birthday, Billy," Jim hears himself say - and he can't think of anything else, because asking "why aren't you home with your family?" is a question Billy's split lip probably answers.

Billy blinks. "What?"

"Happy birthday," Jim repeats.

"Thanks," he mumbles, face a little flushed.

Jim's got an idea. "There's muffins at the station."

Blueberry muffins and chocolate chip, because El wanted to bake both.

"So, I'm arrested?" Billy's shoulders slump like he was sure he could've charmed his way out of it.

"Well I should." Jim shrugs. "But I'm getting you muffins instead."

Billy squints his eyes like he isn't sure it's a joke.

"I don't need pity," he scoffs.

"I'm not offering you any," Jim grumbles. "Get in the wagon." He points at the station wagon behind him.

Billy slightly sways on the way to the car. Jim puts him on the passenger seat and lights himself a cigarette.

"Can I get one?" Billy asks, fumbling with his seatbelt. Maybe Jim should give him some Advil for the hangover instead of fucking muffins.

"Not offering that, too."

"It's my birthday," Billy argues.

Kids these days. "You're not gettin' arrested, that's your present, don't get pushy."

"My lucky day." Billy purses his bottom lip, not unlike El when she doesn't get her way.

Later, when the kid's face lights up when he stuffs himself with way too many muffins, Jim catches himself thinking that he needs to drive past Cherry Lane more often to check on Billy.

[velting]

-`♡Our Manager♡´-

U-20 x Manager!Reader

╰┈➤. .Synopsis: You are the new U-20 manager! You try your best and connect with the players in the team, hoping this job and experience would go well and help them succeed!

╰┈➤. .Warnings: None

╰┈➤. [Featuring]: Oliver Aiku - Sendo Shuuto - Itsuki Watatsuki - Kento Cho- Gen Fukaku- Teru Kitsunenzato - Miroku Darai- Nio Kazuma-Neru Teppei- Haru Hayate (Separate)

The air in the training facility buzzed with the chaotic energy of the players. Sweat beaded down their faces as they gathered around the large, open space, the smell of freshly cut grass lingering from their recent drills. The sound of cleats scraping the floor echoed as the team members huddled together, some still stretching, others chatting loudly. It was the end of another grueling training session, and there was no shortage of banter and horseplay among the young athletes.

"You think I could totally outpace you, right?" one of the forwards boasted to a defender, his voice thick with mischief.

"I’ll believe it when I see it," the defender smirked back, tossing a water bottle to his teammate.

Laughter broke out, filling the room with the usual banter that had become part of their routine. But just as one of the midfielders was about to make a sarcastic comment about how bad the others' aim was with the ball, the door to the locker room swung open with a loud thud.

The room fell silent in an instant.

A tall man stepped into the space, the sound of his boots clanging heavily against the floor. Coach Kato—tough, no-nonsense, and always commanding attention—had arrived. His sharp eyes scanned the group with an intimidating focus. He was a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to make people listen, but when he did, it was enough to make anyone sit up straighter.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Coach Kato's voice cut through the noise, firm and commanding.

A collective shush ran through the team as they turned to face him. The playful energy quickly dissipated, leaving an air of expectation. It wasn’t often that Coach called for attention after a training session unless it was important.

[Name] stood at the door just behind him, her hands nervously clasped together as she waited for her introduction. Her hair swayed by the wind as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to expect. Her heart raced—not from nervousness about speaking, but from the weight of the moment. She was about to meet the entire U-20 soccer team as their new manager. Despite her usually easy going personality, this felt like a big step.

Coach Kato finally broke the silence. “This is [Name] [Surename],” he said, gesturing toward her. “She’s the new manager of this team. She’ll be helping with your schedules, maintaining your fitness and training routines, and keeping you organized. She’s not here to play your babysitter. You’re to treat her with respect, just like any other member of the team.”

[Name] straightened a bit, her heart beating faster at the mention of her role. She couldn’t help but smile, even though the pressure was mounting. It was a new experience for her, stepping into a professional setting like this one. Her cheeks flushed lightly under the attention, and she felt the weight of all those curious eyes on her.

“Hey, come on, Coach! We can totally handle ourselves,” one of the players called out, his tone half-joking, half-challenging. He was a forward with a reputation for mischief, always looking for an excuse to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, she doesn’t have to tell us what to do!” another player chimed in, grinning.

The coach raised an eyebrow, his voice darkening. “You think you can handle yourselves? Last time I checked, none of you could keep track of your own socks, let alone your schedules."

A few chuckles rippled through the group at Coach Kato’s remark, but there was no mistaking the authority in his tone.

[Name’s] cheeks flushed deeper, but she knew this was her moment to shine—no matter how intimidating the situation felt. She took a small step forward, standing a bit taller, and offered a bow to the team.

“Hello! My name is [Name] [Surename],” she began, her voice slightly more chipper than she felt, but she did her best to stay confident. “I’ll be managing everything behind the scenes—from your training schedules to making sure you have all the right gear. I’m really happy to be here and excited to get to know all of you!” She beamed, her smile as bright and genuine as she could muster.

As she stood there, nervously twiddling her fingers together, there was a slight, awkward pause. The players exchanged glances, trying to size her up. Some of them were still skeptical, while others were intrigued. [Name’s] towering height and striking appearance—especially with her hair and her eyes peeking out from her clear glasses—made her stand out in a way that was hard to ignore.

One of the more bold players, a striker known for his cocky attitude, tilted his head and shot her a playful grin. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry, Coach!” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Another player snorted in laughter, and the team’s usual rowdiness began to creep back in, despite the coach’s stern presence. But before the jokes could escalate, Coach Kato’s voice rang out again.

“That’s enough,” he snapped, a warning in his tone that made even the most rebellious players freeze. “You’ll treat her with respect, and that means no teasing, no messin' around, and no distractions during practice. If I hear anything out of line, you’ll be running laps until your legs give out. Got it?”

The locker room went dead silent again. The team knew better than to challenge Coach Kato, especially when he used that tone. Some players even shuffled their feet uncomfortably, realizing they might have crossed a line. [Name] swallowed and glanced nervously at the floor, hoping she hadn’t caused too much trouble by being the center of attention. But she was also grateful—this was the kind of environment where everyone would know she meant business, and perhaps they would give her a chance.

Coach Kato gave one last stern look to the group before turning his attention back to [Name]. “You’ll report to me for any issues, and we’ll work together to make sure this team stays on track. [Name], I trust you’ll keep them in line?”

She nodded enthusiastically, trying to shake off the nerves. “Yes, Coach! I’ll do my best.”

Coach Kato gave her a brief, approving nod. “Good. Now, get to know each other. We’re a team, and that starts with everyone pulling their weight. [Name], we’re counting on you to make sure things run smoothly. Welcome aboard.”

With that, the coach turned and walked out, leaving [Name] standing at the front of the room as the players slowly began to stir, murmuring amongst themselves.

As the door clicked shut behind the coach, a murmur of disbelief spread across the team. Some exchanged curious glances, while others made their way toward [Name].

“Well, [Name]-san, huh?” The bold striker from earlier swaggered over, a teasing smile on his face. “Not what I expected, but I guess we’ll see what you’ve got. Can you keep up with us?”

[Name] chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “I hope so! I’m pretty good at staying organized… and I’ll be cheering for you guys from the sidelines!”

Her response, a bit shy but sincere, earned a few raised eyebrows, followed by polite nods. The first test had been passed: she wasn’t just another manager. She was part of the team now, and the journey to get to know each player was just beginning.

But what she didn’t know was that, despite her air-headed nature and awkwardness, the seeds of admiration had already been quietly planted.

Aiku Oliver ➺

The crisp sound of sneakers pounding against the field was constant. The U-20 team was deep into their daily training session, the field now painted with the streaks of sunlight breaking through the clouds. The players, drenched in sweat, were focused and determined, running their laps with precision. [Name] stood off to the side, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she diligently took notes on the team’s performance. A clipboard was clasped tightly in her hands as she wrote down the times each player completed their laps, tracking their stamina and ensuring no one pushed themselves too hard—or too little.

Every so often, she would call out to one of the players, handing them a water bottle as they slowed to catch their breath, offering encouragement.

“You’re doing great, Hanako! Just a few more laps!” she cheered, passing a bottle to a panting midfielder.

“Thanks, [Name]-san!” Hanako said with a quick, grateful nod, before jogging off again.

[Name] smiled, but it was starting to feel like the time was stretching on forever. The sun was growing warmer, and the field’s intensity was starting to wear on her as well. Still, she had a job to do, and she wouldn’t let herself slack off. But just as she glanced back down at her notes, she saw one of the players approaching her, a bit slower than usual, his tall frame cutting through the group of running athletes.

It was Oliver Aiku, the team’s defense specialist.

Oliver was hard to miss, his dark purple hair with lime-green tips a standout against the backdrop of the other players. His muscular build was clear under his training gear, and his confident stride had a commanding presence that drew the attention of anyone nearby. As he approached, he shot a playful grin in [Name’s] direction, his heterochromatic eyes—green on the left, purple on the right—glistening with a mixture of confidence and mischief.

“Hey, manager,” Oliver said, his voice smooth with an almost teasing undertone. He slowed to a walk as he neared her, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. His eyes narrowed in an appreciative gaze. “You look stunning out here, you know? It's not often we get someone like you on the sidelines.”

[Name] blinked, a bit taken aback by the sudden attention. She knew Oliver was the team’s resident heartthrob—he had a reputation with the ladies, no doubt. The way he was looking at her made her cheeks turn pinker than she’d like to admit.

“Uh, t-thank you,” she stammered, fumbling with her clipboard. Her mind scrambled to stay focused. Stay professional, [Name], she reminded herself. She quickly pulled out a water bottle, offering it to him. “You’re doing well! Drink some water, stay hydrated.”

She handed it to him with a polite smile, trying to hide the fact that her heart rate had sped up at the compliment.

Oliver smirked, taking the bottle from her hand, but instead of immediately drinking, he lingered a moment longer, his grin widening. “You know, I could use a few things outside of just water,” he said, his tone smooth, almost flirtatious. “How about I take you out for a nice dinner sometime? You deserve it for all the hard work you’re doing for us.”

[Name] felt the heat rush to her face. What did he just say?! she thought in a daze. She’d heard stories of Oliver’s way with words, but hearing it directed at her was a whole new level of awkward.

“W-well,” she stammered, trying her best to keep it cool, “I-I’m really just here to help with your training… And, you know, make sure everyone’s staying on track. But, uh…” She fidgeted, her heart thumping in her chest. She wasn’t sure what to say. Her usual confidence was slipping away. “I’ll consider it… after the training,” she added quickly, her words coming out almost like a nervous whisper.

Oliver’s smile grew, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with a playful spark. He stepped back a little, ready to continue his laps. “I’ll be looking forward to it, [Name]-chan.”

He gave her a knowing wink, and for a moment, [Name] stood frozen, her face bright red. No way… Did he just wink at me?

Trying to regain some composure, she quickly jotted down the time for his lap. “D-Don’t push yourself too hard, Aiku,” she said, her voice shaky. “We don’t want you overexerting yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Oliver said, his voice turning soft, almost teasing. He gave her a final look over his shoulder as he started to jog away, his eyes lingering on her with that mischievous glint. “But if you ever want to talk more, just let me know, okay?”

[Name] watched him for a moment, her mind still reeling. Did I just get flirted with? By Oliver Aiku? She shook her head, trying to focus back on the task at hand, though her thoughts were still a swirl of confusion and surprise.

As the training session continued, Oliver’s behavior toward [Name] became more and more evident. He began to seek her out during breaks, hanging around her as she handed out water bottles to the players. Each time, he would make some offhand comment about her looks, her work ethic, or how much she seemed to stand out in comparison to other managers.

His compliments, though laced with a lighthearted, teasing tone, had a subtle sincerity to them that [Name] couldn’t ignore. She had to admit—he had a way with words. But it was also clear that Oliver wasn’t just flirting for fun—there was a growing admiration in his eyes. The way he’d wink at her, or the moments when he’d seek her out to engage in small talk, made it feel like he was trying to carve out moments where he could connect with her outside of just training.

[Name], however, remained mostly oblivious to the deeper meaning behind his words. She was so focused on her responsibilities that she didn’t notice how his attempts to charm her were slowly changing into something more serious. She was a little unsure of how to react, not just because of Oliver’s flirtations but because, in the back of her mind, she still had worries about her appearance, especially compared to someone as striking and confident as him.

And so, Oliver’s charming yet somewhat playful nature became a puzzle she found herself unwillingly drawn to.

As Oliver finished his laps, he slowed down and jogged back to the group, glancing over his shoulder once more at [Name]. She stood there, a little flustered but trying to focus on her clipboard. Oliver grinned to himself, shaking his head.

“Guess I’ll just have to make sure I see you more often, manager,” he murmured under his breath, his gaze lingering for a second longer.

[Name], still caught up in the haze of his attention, blushed deeply as she wrote down his final lap time. Oliver Aiku, she thought, glancing at him as he jogged away. ‘Definitely a lot to deal with, but... I guess he’s not that bad.’

Sendo Shuuto ➺

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the soccer field. The players had finished their laps for the day, but the air was still thick with the scent of sweat and grass, as some of the more energetic team members continued to practice on their own. The golden light caught the edges of the goalposts and the sleek blades of grass beneath them. [Name] stood at the sidelines, clipboard in hand, keeping track of the final practice sessions.

She had become accustomed to the rhythm of the players by now. The way they pushed themselves, their laughter, their teasing—all of it felt strangely familiar. Still, she stayed focused, occasionally making her way toward a player who needed a quick drink or a few words of encouragement.

It was at that moment that Sendo Shuuto, the star striker of the team, caught her eye. With his lean build and confidence practically oozing from his every movement, he was impossible to miss. He stood a few meters away, adjusting his position for a shot at the goal, an intense focus in his pale red eyes. [Name] smiled to herself as she watched him, knowing that he was known for his impressive skills—his talent was undeniable.

Sendo had been a little quieter around her than the others, but there was something in the way he observed her from a distance, the slight blush on his face whenever she offered him a compliment or encouragement. It was clear that he had taken a particular liking to her, though he hadn’t yet made his feelings known outright.

With a determined look on his face, Sendo kicked the ball with impressive force toward the goalpost, trying to show off his skills. But, as if fate had a different plan, the ball ricocheted off the post and unexpectedly flew straight toward the wall on the far side of the field.

There was a brief, almost comical silence, followed by a loud thwack as the ball bounced off the wall and came straight back toward Sendo. The ball hit him squarely on the head with a soft thud.

“Ow!” Sendo yelped, stumbling back a step, his face scrunching in pain as he tried to steady himself. His body rocked slightly as he rubbed the back of his head, wincing from the unexpected hit.

[Name], who had been walking toward him with a water bottle in hand, immediately froze. Her eyes widened in concern as she rushed to his side. “Sendo-kun! Are you alright?!”

Her voice was filled with genuine worry, and Sendo, still slightly dazed from the unexpected blow, couldn’t help but notice how close she was standing to him. His heart skipped a beat. ‘Oh no… did she see that?’ He tried to act tough, but his face flushed redder than he ever thought possible. “I’m fine... I mean, that wasn’t exactly part of the plan...” he muttered, still rubbing his head. He tried to smile it off, but the pain was more than he wanted to admit.

[Name’s] eyes softened with concern, and without a second thought, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “You really should be more careful! That looked like it hurt.”

Sendo couldn’t help but notice how soft her voice sounded, how close she was to him now. Her warm presence was so calming, so… beautiful. He tried to stand a little taller to impress her, but his head still throbbed from the impact.

She noticed his slight unsteadiness and, without thinking, gently guided him down onto the grass. “You should rest for a moment, Sendo-kun,” she suggested, her tone kind and caring. “I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

Before he could protest, [Name] kneeled down beside him, lifting his head gently onto her lap, a soft gasp escaping from his lips as the reality of the situation hit him. He could feel the warmth of her thighs against his cheek, her delicate fingers brushing through his hair as she checked his head.

The world around him seemed to slow. His heart pounded in his chest, and his thoughts went blank. ‘Wait... is this really happening?’

[Name’s] face was now directly above him, her soft, comforting voice reaching his ears as she spoke, “Just relax for a moment. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

But in that instant, something inside Sendo snapped. He blinked rapidly, feeling his face grow hotter with each passing second. ‘Her... her lap?’ He could feel his pulse racing, his breath caught in his throat. He had been this close to girls before, sure, but never like this. Never with a girl who was as… perfect as her.

[Name’s] gentle touch, her concern for him, and her calm demeanor were like a dream. The way she looked down at him with those soft eyes... It was almost too much. The sweet scent of her hair, the sound of her voice, the closeness—it was overwhelming. ‘She’s so beautiful…’ he thought, his mind swirling in a sea of thoughts.

His heart was hammering now, and he felt something stir deep within him. His thoughts began to drift, and before he could even stop himself, his eyes fluttered closed, and he passed out.

[Name], still unaware of the full extent of what had just happened, blinked in confusion as she noticed his face grow pale and his body go limp. “Sendo-kun?! No, no! What’s going on?!” she exclaimed, panic rising in her chest.

She quickly shifted her position to check on him, her hands gently shaking his shoulders. “Sendo-kun, wake up! Are you okay?!”

His expression remained serene, almost too calm as if he were in a deep, peaceful sleep. But [Name] couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She waved her hands in front of his face, trying to snap him back to reality, but there was no response.

Meanwhile, in the depths of his mind, Sendo Shuuto was lost in a dream. His mind was filled with images of him and [Name], the woman who had so suddenly and unexpectedly captured his heart. They were standing side by side at the altar, in a beautiful church with delicate roses scattered around them, the soft glow of candles lighting the way.

“I do,” he whispered, his voice smooth with confidence as he gazed into her eyes.

[Name], dressed in a stunning wedding gown, smiled at him, her eyes sparkling with affection. “I do, too,” she responded softly, her voice filled with warmth.

As they exchanged vows in his dream, Sendo felt his heart swell. In his fantasy world, nothing was more perfect than this moment. ‘This is how it’s supposed to be…’ he thought, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

But then, just as he leaned in to kiss her, the dream blurred, and a sharp, unexpected voice broke through the fantasy.

“Sendo-kun!” [Name’s] voice called out to him from the real world, pulling him back from his daydreams.

Sendo’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and he let out a weak groan, his head still in [Name’s] lap. His heart was racing, and his face burned hotter than it had ever felt before. ‘What... what just happened?’ he thought, trying to focus his thoughts.

[Name], still looking down at him with a concerned expression, tilted her head in confusion. “Sendo-kun, are you okay now?”

For a moment, he couldn’t form any words, his mind still trying to catch up with the rapid beat of his heart. But then, his lips curled into a sheepish grin, despite the overwhelming embarrassment. “I-I’m fine… Just... a little dizzy,” he stammered, his voice still soft from his dream-induced haze.

His face was still flushed, but it wasn’t from the hit. It was from the way [Name] was looking at him, the way she cared for him. He was too embarrassed to meet her gaze directly.

[Name] smiled gently and helped him sit up. “I’m glad you’re okay, but maybe you should take it easy for the rest of the day, okay?”

Sendo nodded, still feeling the weight of her touch in his mind. “Yeah… I’ll take it easy. But... thank you, [Name]-chan.” His voice had an underlying sincerity that he didn’t quite realize until now.

As she stood and walked away, he couldn’t stop the dreamy look in his eyes. Maybe one day... he thought to himself, his heart racing once more. ‘Maybe one day, she’ll really be mine.’

Kazuma Nio ➺

The air in the gym was thick with the sound of weights clanging against each other, mixed with the sharp breaths of players pushing themselves. The team was in the middle of their strength training session, and despite the hot, humid air, there was an undeniable energy in the room. The sound of machines being used, grunts of exertion, and motivational shouts filled the space, all blending together to create an atmosphere that was equal parts exhausting and inspiring.

[Name] stood to the side, her clipboard in hand as she made her way through her task of observing and noting each player's progress. Her gaze shifted over the team, each member focused on their individual exercises. Her eyes landed on Nio Kazuma, who was positioned at the far end of the gym near the bench press, his broad shoulders and powerful build evident as he gripped the heavy barbell.

Kazuma was known for his raw strength and the competitive streak that ran through him. His sweat-drenched shirt clung to his body, and the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he pressed the barbell upward with ease. He was in the middle of a set, his face contorted in concentration as he pushed through the weight.

[Name] couldn't help but feel impressed by the sight. His confidence and sheer physicality were something to behold, but it was also clear from his focused expression that he didn’t take his training lightly.

As Kazuma finished his set, he released the bar with a loud clank, letting it drop back into place on the rack. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, exhaling deeply. [Name], seeing an opportunity to show some support, made her way toward him, her light footsteps barely making a sound on the gym floor.

Kazuma glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of [Name] walking toward him. His lips curved into a confident, cocky grin. He wiped his hands on his gym shorts and adjusted his posture, trying to make himself look even more imposing as she got closer.

[Name] gave him a friendly, genuine smile. “Kazuma-kun, I have to say, I’m really impressed with how much you’re pushing yourself,” she said, her voice filled with admiration.

Kazuma’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the attention. He straightened up, flexing his chest slightly in a way that made his muscles pop even more. “Ah, well, you know. I don’t settle for being just ‘good’ at something,” he said with a wink. “If you want to be the best, you’ve got to give it everything you’ve got.”

His voice had that usual confident edge, and there was an unmistakable arrogance in the way he spoke. But [Name] didn’t mind. She admired his enthusiasm and the way he carried himself—his confidence was contagious.

“You’re definitely showing that you’re giving it your all,” she said, her voice light but sincere. “It’s really inspiring to see someone put so much into their training. It makes the team look up to you.”

Kazuma chuckled, clearly pleased with the praise. He swiped a towel off the nearby bench and draped it over his shoulders, holding it like a trophy. “Well, I can’t let the guys think I’m slacking, can I? They need to know who the strongest guy in the room is.” He looked at her, his dark eyes glinting with that same cocky confidence. “And that’s me, of course.”

[Name] giggled softly at his boastful nature but couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of respect for him. His confidence wasn’t unfounded—he was clearly one of the strongest players on the team, and there was something about his attitude that made him stand out.

“I can tell,” she said, her eyes bright with admiration. “It’s hard to ignore the guy who pushes himself so hard.”

Kazuma smirked, clearly satisfied with the compliment. He stretched his arms above his head and gave a slight nod, as if acknowledging her words. “Well, someone’s gotta set the standard,” he said, lowering his arms and flashing her another confident smile. “And why not let it be me?”

[Name] chuckled, her cheeks flushing slightly from the ease with which Kazuma commanded the room. His personality was loud and assertive, but it was also oddly charming in a way that made him hard to ignore. “I don’t think anyone would argue with that.”

Kazuma took a few steps toward her, wiping his face with the towel. He seemed to grow even more comfortable with her presence, his posture relaxed but still brimming with self-assurance. “Hey, you’re doing a pretty great job keeping track of everything, [Name]-chan,” he said, his tone casual but tinged with genuine appreciation. “It’s gotta be tough, managing all these guys.”

[Name] smiled, a little flattered by the compliment. “It’s not easy, but I enjoy being part of the team,” she said, trying to sound modest. “I really like getting to know everyone and helping out however I can.”

Kazuma gave her a look that was half teasing, half approving. “Well, it’s clear you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, that’s for sure. Anyone with brains and a little charm like yours can do pretty much anything.”

The compliment hit her harder than expected, and she felt her face warm. Kazuma-kun, always so confident, she thought to herself, a little bashful but also genuinely impressed.

“You’re too kind,” she said, trying to regain her composure. “But I’m just here to make sure everyone stays on track. I’m just doing my job.”

Kazuma smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, if it’s your job to make sure we’re all doing our best, then I guess I should show off a little more,” he said, his grin widening. “You know, just to make sure I’m living up to your expectations.”

[Name] laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “You don’t need to show off for me, Kazuma-kun. You’ve already proven yourself plenty.” She tilted her head slightly, adding, “But I’m happy to see you take pride in your work.”

Kazuma chuckled, clearly pleased by her words. He gave her a playful shrug. “What can I say? It’s just in my nature. But don’t worry, I’ll leave some of the spotlight for the rest of the team too.”

[Name] smiled warmly at him, appreciating his straightforwardness. “I’m sure everyone appreciates that. It’s great to see you leading by example.”

Kazuma gave a quick nod, then glanced down at his watch. “Well, I should get back to it. Can’t let the rest of the team think I’m slacking off, right?”

“Of course,” [Name] said, watching him with a genuine smile. “Keep up the great work, Kazuma-kun. I’ll be cheering for you.”

Kazuma gave her a final grin, his cocky demeanor still very much intact. “You’ve got it, manager,” he said, before turning back toward the bench press. “I’ll make sure to keep impressing you.”

As Kazuma returned to his workout, [Name] stood off to the side, a small smile on her face as she watched him. His confidence was infectious, and despite his cocky nature, she couldn’t help but admire his drive. His ability to be both serious and relaxed in the same breath was something she found fascinating.

He really does have a way of making everything look effortless, [Name] thought, her admiration for Kazuma growing. I can see why he’s a leader on this team.

The gym felt a little quieter as the sound of weights and grunts took over once again. Yet, for [Name], Kazuma’s boldness and confidence lingered in the air. She could only hope that his energy would help lead the team to greater heights, just as his personality did for him.

Hayate Haru ➺

The late afternoon sun cast a soft golden light over the soccer field, creating a tranquil, almost dreamlike atmosphere. The sounds of the team’s training had started to die down as most of the players were finishing their workouts, their laughter and voices fading into the distance. The occasional breeze ruffled the leaves of the nearby trees, sending a refreshing coolness through the air.

In a quiet corner of the field, far away from the commotion of the others, Haru Hayate was laying on his back, eyes closed, arms stretched out at his sides as he enjoyed the peaceful solitude. His spiky light yellow hair seemed to glisten in the sunlight, and his tall, lean figure was perfectly still against the soft grass. Hayate was a person who valued calmness and quiet—he found solace in the simple act of soaking in the environment around him, far from the chaos of the training ground.

The world around him was peaceful, almost serene. The gentle rustling of the leaves, the faint chirp of birds in the distance, and the occasional flutter of a butterfly’s wings—these were the small things that he appreciated, the things that allowed him to reset and recharge.

[Name], having finished her rounds and ensuring everyone else was doing okay, was walking through the field, clipboard in hand. She was scanning the area for the last few team members to check in on, making sure everyone was hydrated and feeling good. Her eyes fell upon Hayate, who was still stretched out on the grass, seemingly undisturbed by the hustle and bustle around him. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him—his peaceful aura was a sharp contrast to the usual high-energy atmosphere of the field.

She quietly approached him, stepping lightly on the grass, not wanting to disturb his calm. As she drew closer, she looked down at his resting face, her gaze softening. There was something about the way he lay there, completely at ease, that made [Name] feel… relaxed. She admired how effortlessly he seemed to embrace tranquility.

The warmth of the sunlight made her feel at ease as well, and for a moment, she stood there just admiring the scene before her. The wind tugged at her hair, and she thought to herself that it was nice to have moments like this, where everything seemed to slow down and feel right.

Without thinking, [Name] leaned down slightly, wanting to get a little closer.

At that very moment, Hayate’s calm was interrupted by the faintest shift in the air. He felt a presence above him, a quiet disturbance in the atmosphere. His eyes fluttered open slowly, as if drawn to something. When he met [Name’s] gaze, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Ah!" Hayate gasped, his head jerking up instinctively in the direction of her sudden presence. His motion was too quick, and before he could stop it, he collided with her forehead with a soft thunk.

Both of them yelped in pain, the sound echoing across the otherwise quiet field.

“Ow! That hurt!” [Name] exclaimed, her hands immediately flying to her forehead. Her eyes were wide from the sudden shock, and she stumbled back a step, rubbing her head.

Hayate, also wincing from the accidental collision, quickly sat up, his hand going to his own head where it had made contact. “Ah, I’m sorry!” he said, his voice calm, but there was a hint of fluster in his expression as he glanced up at her. "I didn’t expect you to be right there…”

[Name] blinked in confusion but then let out a nervous laugh, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “I was just checking in on you, Hayate-kun. I didn’t mean to startle you…” She winced slightly as she touched her forehead, still recovering from the bump. “That was quite the greeting.”

Hayate, rubbing his own head with a slightly sheepish expression, shook his head. “No, it’s my fault. I should’ve noticed you approaching. My bad…”

[Name] smiled gently, reassured by his calmness despite the accident. “It’s okay, really. I should have been more careful, too.”

Hayate gave her an easygoing smile, his eyes softening as he relaxed again. “Well, you’ve got me up now, so… what’s up? Was there something you needed?”

[Name], now standing fully upright, took a step back, her expression softening as she observed him more closely. “Actually, I was just making sure everyone was alright. You’ve been out here for a while, and I wanted to check in and see if you were feeling okay. You looked so at peace that I thought I’d let you enjoy it, but I guess I startled you…”

Hayate chuckled quietly, leaning back into the grass and letting out a deep breath. “It’s fine. I’ve just been enjoying the quiet for a bit. I like the feeling of the sun on my skin, and the wind…” His voice trailed off as he looked up at the sky, his eyes half-lidded in contentment. “I guess I needed a little break from all the noise, you know?”

[Name] nodded, understanding. She could see that he wasn’t just physically relaxed but mentally rejuvenated by the peaceful atmosphere. “I get it. Sometimes, the noise of everything can get overwhelming. It’s nice to just take a step back and breathe for a moment.”

Hayate turned his head slightly to look at her, his eyes softening with a rare warmth. “Exactly. That’s why I come here sometimes. It helps me clear my mind.”

[Name] smiled brightly at him, her eyes glimmering with interest. “I think that’s really nice. I mean, I always feel like I’m running around trying to make sure everyone’s doing alright, but there’s something special about taking time for yourself and just appreciating the moment.”

Hayate’s lips curved into a small, quiet smile at her words. “Yeah. It’s important to find peace wherever you can. And it’s not just the quiet; it’s the little things. The plants, the wind, the sky… it all works together to help me stay grounded.”

[Name] tilted her head curiously. “Plants?”

Hayate nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the small patch of grass surrounding them. “My grandfather’s a botanist. Growing up, I spent a lot of time with him, learning about different types of plants and the importance of nature. Being around plants helps me feel more connected, more… calm.” His voice took on a slightly nostalgic tone, as if remembering something meaningful. “The scenery here reminds me of the peace I found in those moments.”

[Name’s] expression softened as she took in his words. She hadn’t known that about him. “That sounds wonderful. I think it’s amazing how plants can bring such a sense of calm. Maybe… I should get you a little potted plant as a gift sometime.” She chuckled softly. “It seems fitting.”

Hayate looked at her in surprise, his lips twitching upward into a small, genuine smile. “I’d appreciate that,” he said quietly. “It’s the thought that counts.”

[Name’s] heart warmed as she smiled at him, her fingers gently brushing through her hair. “I’ll make a note of it. Maybe something that can help you feel even more at peace.”

Hayate stretched out his legs, his posture still completely relaxed. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

The peaceful atmosphere settled around them once again. [Name] stood there for a moment, enjoying the stillness, as the sounds of the team’s training slowly faded into the background. It was nice, she thought, to have this quiet moment with him. His calm, collected nature was something she admired, and in a way, it made her feel just a little more grounded herself.

“Well,” she said, after a moment of quiet contemplation, “I’ll let you get back to your peace and quiet. I just wanted to check in.”

Hayate gave a slight nod, his expression still calm and serene. “Thanks for checking in, [Name]-chan. I’m good here.”

[Name] smiled brightly at him, nodding in return. “Alright then. Take care, Hayate-kun.”

As she walked away, Hayate lay back down on the grass, closing his eyes again, the soft breeze carrying his thoughts far away. [Name] couldn’t help but smile to herself, thinking that it was nice to see someone so at peace with themselves. She’d have to get him that plant one day.

Neru Teppei ➺

The day was slowly winding down, the sun beginning its descent and casting a warm golden light across the field. The sound of heavy breathing and the thud of soccer balls slowly faded as the last few players finished their grueling training sessions. The air felt slightly humid but refreshing, the smell of freshly cut grass mingling with the faint scent of sweat and determination.

[Name] had taken it upon herself to prepare some hearty meals for the team, wanting to ensure everyone refueled after such an intense practice. She had spent the better part of the morning making a large pot of curry, along with some other snacks, and now it was time to distribute the food to the players. She walked through the field with a large container in hand, her eyes scanning for players who might be in need of a break.

As she passed by the others, she saw many of them eagerly waiting for their meals, but her attention was soon drawn to Neru Teppei. He was sitting off to the side, leaning against a bench, looking completely drained. Sweat glistened on his forehead, and his normally bright eyes were half-lidded, a clear sign that he was struggling to keep his energy up.

[Name’s] heart softened at the sight. Teppei was always so energetic and cheerful, and seeing him this tired made her want to help him even more.

She walked up to him with a bright smile, trying her best to lift his spirits. “Hey, Teppei-kun! You look like you’ve been working really hard! Want something to eat?”

Teppei, whose eyes were barely open, immediately perked up at the mention of food. “Food? Did you make food, [Name]-chan?” His voice was a little raspy from exhaustion, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes at the thought of getting something to eat.

[Name] couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction. “Of course! I made curry for everyone. I figured it would be perfect to help everyone get their energy back after all that running.”

Teppei, despite being on the verge of passing out, sat up straighter, a wide grin forming on his face. “Curry?! That sounds amazing! I’m starving!”

[Name] smiled warmly, her heart swelling with affection for the team member she’d come to care so much about. She bent down slightly, holding out the spoon with a hearty helping of curry. “Here, Teppei-kun, let me feed you! You’ve earned it.”

Teppei’s face immediately turned a deep shade of red as he blinked up at her, surprised by the gesture. His usual cheerfulness didn’t seem to do much to calm his nerves in this moment—being fed by his manager was an overwhelming experience, and he couldn’t help but feel flustered. “W-wait, [Name]-chan, you don’t have to—!”

But before he could finish, [Name] was already bringing the spoon closer to his lips, her eyes full of care and warmth. “Don’t worry, Teppei! You’ve worked so hard today. Let me help you out.”

Teppei’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth without thinking, and before he knew it, the warm curry was in his mouth. The flavors instantly hit his senses, and he couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, his eyes closing in satisfaction. “Mmm… this is so good, [Name]-chan! You’re amazing! I never knew you were such a good cook!” He smiled at her, his cheeks still flushed, both from the food and the moment itself.

[Name] chuckled softly, happy to see him enjoying the meal. “I’m glad you like it! It makes me happy to know that it’s helping everyone.”

Teppei couldn’t stop himself from looking at her with admiration. He had always thought she was kind, but this… this felt different. He felt a warmth growing in his chest—not just from the food, but from the kindness she was showing him. It made him feel special, and he couldn’t deny the butterflies in his stomach as he watched her smile.

As she fed him the next spoonful, [Name] looked down at him and asked, “So, Teppei-kun, tell me something about yourself. What do you like to do when you’re not training?”

Teppei’s eyes lit up as he eagerly replied, “Oh! I love Pokémon! They’re the best! My favorite is Pikachu. He’s just so cute and full of energy, like me! I’ve always wanted to be like him—positive, always there for my friends, and ready for any challenge!”

[Name’s] smile widened. “I love Pokémon too! My favorite is Pachirisu. I think she’s just adorable and so full of spirit. And she’s always so kind-hearted!”

Teppei’s face lit up even more, his excitement clearly evident. “Pachirisu! That’s a great choice! They’re both so cute! I bet they’d make an amazing team!”

[Name] giggled. “Right? I think they’d be the perfect pair. Maybe Pikachu and Pachirisu could be like… you and me!”

Teppei’s eyes widened in surprise at her words, and his heart skipped a beat. Did she… did she just compare herself to his favorite Pokémon? He blushed even harder, his mind racing. He couldn’t help but picture Pikachu and Pachirisu together, and for some reason, it felt right. In his mind, it was almost like a perfect metaphor for the bond he felt with his manager—he, the energetic and cheerful Pikachu, and her, the sweet and kind Pachirisu.

“You think so?” Teppei asked, his voice slightly shaky as he looked up at her with wide eyes, his blush deepening. “I… I like that idea a lot.”

[Name] smiled warmly at him, feeding him another spoonful of curry. “I’m glad! You’re such a hard worker, Teppei-kun. It’s nice to see someone with so much energy and spirit.”

As Teppei ate the food, he couldn’t stop thinking about her words. His heart was fluttering in his chest. There was something so comforting about [Name]—about her kindness and the way she made him feel special. He didn’t want this moment to end. He didn’t want her to go.

As she finished the meal and started to clean up, Teppei couldn’t help but ask, “[Name]-chan, do you think… we could hang out again sometime? Maybe talk a little more? I’d love to chat with you again…”

[Name] paused in her cleaning, turning back to him with a warm smile. “Of course, Teppei-kun! I’d love that. We can talk more once everything’s settled. It’ll be fun!”

Teppei’s heart soared. “I’ll be looking forward to it! Thanks, [Name]-chan.”

As [Name] walked off to clean up the rest of the mess, Teppei sat there, his heart racing, his mind filled with thoughts of Pikachu and Pachirisu—of him and his manager. His smile grew wider as he daydreamed about their next conversation.

Miroku Darai ➺

The gym was unusually quiet, the distant sounds of soccer balls bouncing and players shouting faintly in the background. The air was thick with a serene, peaceful atmosphere as sunlight poured through the large windows, casting soft shadows over the gym floor. There were weights neatly arranged in one corner and a few yoga mats scattered around, but the real center of attention was a single, calm space where a young man sat with perfect stillness.

Miroku Darai, the U-20 team’s spiritual soul, sat cross-legged on a yoga mat in the center of the gym, his black eyes closed in deep meditation. His dark skin contrasted against the faint golden light around him, and his henna tattoos along his arms and neck gave off an aura of calm, almost sacred presence. His breathing was slow and steady, the rhythmic hum of his chant adding to the peaceful energy of the room. He was completely absorbed in the practice, tuning out everything around him as he focused on the stillness within.

[Name] walked into the gym, her usual light-hearted energy trailing behind her. She had a small notebook tucked under her arm, planning to jot down some things for the team’s upcoming schedule. She didn’t expect to find anyone here—let alone Darai in the midst of his peaceful meditation. However, her intentions to keep things quiet were thwarted as she accidentally pushed the door just a little too hard, causing it to slam shut.

The loud thud of the door breaking the stillness made Darai’s eyes snap open, his sharp gaze now fixed on the source of the disturbance. He exhaled sharply, the calm that once enveloped him momentarily broken. The tranquility of the gym seemed to vanish in an instant as he stared at the person who had dared to interrupt his peace.

[Name’s] eyes widened in realization, her cheeks turning red from the embarrassment. She quickly bowed deeply, her words tumbling out in rapid apology.

“I-I’m so sorry, Darai-kun! I didn’t mean to disturb you! I didn’t see you there! Please forgive me!” She bowed again, the sincerity in her voice clear.

Darai let out a long, deep sigh, his lips curling into a slight smile as he observed her flustered form. He had always been a man of few words, and though he had a natural gravitas, his personality was far from harsh. He exhaled slowly, then spoke with an air of calm that returned to him quickly.

“It’s... fine,” he said, his voice deep and soothing, though tinged with a hint of exhaustion from having his peaceful moment interrupted. “It’s not the end of the world, just... a little disruption.” His tone was almost dismissive, as if not holding any ill will, yet still clearly yearning for the peace he had lost.

[Name] straightened, her bowing ceasing, though her expression was still full of concern. “I didn’t mean to bother you while you were meditating. What were you doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Darai’s eyes flickered slightly, considering her question. Meditation was something deeply personal to him, a moment of reflection and calm in a world full of chaos. His thoughts paused for a moment before he spoke again.

“I was meditating. Trying to find balance in the chaos,” Darai replied quietly, his gaze thoughtful. “The world is constantly shifting, filled with... noise. I need peace to clear my mind.”

[Name’s] eyes softened, sensing the sincerity in his words. She had always admired how Darai seemed to possess an inner calm, as if he had mastered the art of controlling his mind. It intrigued her, and she found herself drawn to the peacefulness he radiated.

“I can understand that,” [Name] said gently. “It’s hard to find peace in the middle of everything, isn’t it?”

Darai slowly nodded, his gaze turning back to the floor, as if grounding himself again. He didn’t speak for a moment, allowing the room to fill with silence once more. But then, [Name] took a step forward, her voice light but eager.

“Would you mind if I joined you? I don’t know much about meditation, but... I think it would be nice to try.”

Darai’s eyes opened once again, and he glanced at her with slight surprise. For a moment, his usual reluctance to engage in conversation was evident, but he seemed to take in her genuine interest, and his gaze softened. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“If you wish,” Darai said, a rare warmth in his voice. “The peace is not exclusive. Anyone who seeks it is welcome.”

[Name] smiled in return, grateful for his openness. She moved to sit beside him on the mat, copying his posture as best as she could. She folded her legs underneath her and straightened her back, though her mind was racing with excitement and curiosity.

As they sat in silence, the only sounds were the rhythmic hum of Darai’s chanting and the soft sound of breathing between them. [Name] couldn’t help but feel that even in the silence, something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, a bond.

“You have a really calming aura, Darai-kun,” [Name] said, her voice soft and sincere as she sat with her eyes closed, attempting to focus on the stillness. “I can see why so many people gravitate toward you. Your meditation… it’s beautiful.”

Darai’s eyes flickered open, a hint of surprise crossing his expression. He felt his heart skip a beat, a rare sense of fluster hitting him. Why is my heart racing? He thought to himself, as the sudden compliment caused his usual calm demeanor to waver.

Her words echoed in his mind—beautiful. The way she appreciated his practice made him feel a little more seen than usual. It wasn’t often that others took interest in his spiritual side, especially in a world so focused on the physicality of soccer. But [Name’s] earnestness felt different.

“Thank you,” Darai murmured, his voice almost a whisper. He cleared his throat, attempting to refocus. “I believe in balance. Yin and Yang. Life needs both sides to work harmoniously. You can only find peace once you accept both the calm and the chaos.”

[Name] nodded, her eyes still closed as she let his words sink in. She could sense that Darai had a wisdom beyond his years, a quiet strength that came from within. It made her feel connected to him in a way that went beyond mere words.

They continued to meditate in silence, the room becoming even more still as time passed. [Name] found herself relaxing deeply, her mind becoming clearer with each breath she took. For the first time in a long while, she felt completely at ease, sharing a peaceful moment with someone who valued serenity as much as she did.

Cho Kento ➺

The locker room was quiet except for the faint sounds of the occasional rustle of towels and shoes. It was a dimly lit space, the golden glow of the setting sun filtering in through the windows, casting long shadows on the polished floor. The air carried a faint, musky scent of sweat and the lingering freshness of a workout just completed. In the corner, there was a small area with padded mats where players sometimes took a moment to rest or stretch.

Kento Cho, the tall, handsome, and stern member of the U-20 soccer team, sat on one of the benches. His expression was serious, but his furrowed brow hinted at the discomfort he was feeling. His dark hair was still damp from the practice, and his body, which was perfectly sculpted from his rigorous training routine, seemed a little tense. He had been pushing himself hard lately—staying disciplined in both his training and diet, always striving to improve—but something had gone wrong. He felt a sharp, painful pop in his lower back earlier while working through an intense set of exercises, and now the discomfort had settled in.

He was used to pushing through physical pain, but this was different. It felt like something needed to be addressed, or else it could get worse.

Looking over at the door to the locker room, he caught sight of [Name] [Surename], the manager of the team. She was busy tidying up and checking her clipboard, her usual cheerful expression on her face. She had been a steady, supportive presence for the team, always there to help with anything they needed.

Kento hesitated for a moment, then walked over to her. He could see she was immersed in her tasks, and he almost didn’t want to bother her. But the pain was becoming harder to ignore. He cleared his throat.

“[Name],” Kento said, his voice calm but tinged with discomfort. “I... I think I hurt myself during training. There’s this tightness in my back. Do you think you could help me with it?”

[Name] looked up, her eyes widening in concern. She noticed the slight grimace on Kento’s face and immediately put down the clipboard she had been holding.

“Of course! What happened? Is it bad?” she asked, her voice full of concern as she stood up, walking toward him. Her genuine care was apparent, and she was ready to offer her help.

Kento rubbed the back of his neck, his usual stern demeanor softening slightly under the weight of the discomfort. “I think I might’ve pulled something, or it just... popped when I was stretching. It’s a bit painful now. I was hoping you could maybe give me a massage or something. It’s nothing too serious, but... I just need it to feel better.”

[Name] nodded, her brow furrowing with empathy. She had seen the way Kento worked—always so focused, so determined—and she hated to see him in pain. She gestured for him to sit down on the bench, where she had already noticed the soft cushions. She felt a little nervous, but she knew she could help. After all, she had experience with giving her friends and teammates massages before.

“Alright, please take a seat. I’ll do my best to help you out,” [Name] said with a reassuring smile, trying to keep her own unease in check. She gently patted the spot next to her on the bench, encouraging Kento to sit.

Kento did as she asked, slowly lowering himself onto the bench. His eyes closed for a moment, silently grateful for her willingness to help him.

[Name] stood behind him, moving around to his back. Her hands were slightly trembling as she touched his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles that were tense from the strain he had put on them during his workout. Her heart beat a little faster, realizing how close she was to him, how his shirtless form gave her a view of his well-toned body, and how she was about to touch him in a way she had never done before.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, pushing aside her personal thoughts, focusing on her task. She began by gently massaging his shoulders, her fingers pressing into the tight knots in his muscles. Kento let out a small sigh of relief at the pressure being applied to the spots that had been causing him pain.

“That’s... better,” Kento murmured, his voice low and calm. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing away, and it brought a quiet sense of peace. “You’re really good at this, [Name]. I didn’t know you were trained in this sort of thing.”

[Name] smiled, though her cheeks flushed slightly at his compliment. “I’m not exactly trained, but I’ve helped out with my friends before. I’m really glad it’s helping.”

Her hands moved further down his back, applying gentle but firm pressure as she worked on his lower back. As her hands made contact with his skin, she couldn’t help but feel the warmth radiating from his body. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the clean, sweaty scent of post-practice—it was almost intoxicating. [Name] quickly turned her attention back to her task, focusing on the sensation of his muscles relaxing beneath her touch.

Kento leaned back slightly, his eyes closing in relaxation. He could feel his body letting go of the tension, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to relax fully. “You’ve got a really good touch,” he murmured, his voice now almost quiet, filled with appreciation. “I think... I think I might’ve been too hard on myself lately. I don’t always know when to stop pushing.”

[Name’s] hands paused for a moment as she heard his words. She could hear the underlying frustration in his voice, the weight of his dedication to always strive for the best. “Kento, you’re already working so hard. You don’t have to do everything all at once,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “It’s okay to take breaks when your body tells you it needs one.”

Kento stayed silent for a moment, and then he exhaled deeply, as if he were releasing some of his own internal tension. He didn’t usually talk about his limits. He always had this intense drive to be better, to be perfect. But hearing [Name’s] reassuring words, he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a sense of gratitude. “You’re right.”

[Name] smiled softly, her hands continuing their soothing motions. She had never expected such a heartfelt moment to arise from something as simple as helping him with a massage. It felt like she was getting to see a different side of Kento—one that was more vulnerable and human.

As she continued to ease the tension from his back, [Name] couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by the proximity and the way his muscles shifted beneath her touch. She had always admired Kento’s strong and disciplined nature, but this more relaxed side of him was... surprisingly endearing. It made her realize just how much she enjoyed being close to him, even in such an intimate moment, helping him to feel better.

Kento’s eyes opened after a few minutes, and he shifted slightly, turning his head slightly to look at her. “I’m really grateful for this, [Name],” he said quietly, his voice almost soft. “I’ll... try to take things a little easier from now on.”

[Name] nodded, her smile widening. “I’m glad I could help. Take care of yourself, Kento. You’re doing amazing, but even the strongest people need to rest.”

Kento looked over his shoulder at her, his serious expression softening with a hint of admiration. “Thanks. You’re always so kind... I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two shared a quiet moment of understanding before [Name] finished the massage. Kento stood up with a slow stretch, feeling the relief in his back. He was grateful for the care she had shown him and the peace she had given him during his moment of pain.

Wakatsuki Itsuki➺

The soft hum of the night was the only sound that filled the dormitory. Most of the team had long since fallen asleep after a long and tiring day of training. The quietness of the building felt peaceful, with the occasional sound of distant crickets outside. The cool night air seeped through the slightly cracked windows, adding a calm, almost serene atmosphere to the space.

The lights in the hallway were dim, casting soft shadows along the floor, and the quiet murmur of the wind outside was the only thing that could be heard. Inside one of the rooms, Wakatsuki Itsuki lay on his futon, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. His body was still, but his mind was restless.

Itsuki had always struggled with sleep. The quiet of the night was supposed to bring comfort, but instead, it only amplified the thoughts racing through his head. He flipped over onto his side and pulled the blanket tighter around him, trying to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't find any peace. The quiet was deafening, and his insomnia was taking its usual toll on him.

Finally, after what felt like hours of tossing and turning, he gave up on trying to sleep. He quietly slipped out from under his blanket, careful not to wake his teammates. The cold wooden floor felt oddly comforting under his bare feet as he padded softly to the door.

He crept down the hallway, his black hair falling over his eyes as he tried to sneak past the others' rooms. His footsteps were light, but his mind was still racing with thoughts he couldn’t quite shake. He made his way toward the kitchen area, hoping a glass of water might help soothe the restlessness that refused to leave him.

But as he turned a corner, his hand brushed the doorframe, and he stumbled slightly. He lost his balance, and before he could steady himself, he collided with someone else.

“Ah!” a startled voice exclaimed as both figures bumped into each other. Itsuki’s heart skipped a beat as he quickly took a step back, trying to apologize for his clumsiness.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Itsuki stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He immediately looked down at the floor, feeling awkward and unsure of what to do.

[Name] [Surename], the team’s manager, was standing there with wide eyes, clearly surprised by the collision. Her face softened, and she giggled softly, brushing a few strands of her long black hair out of her face.

“No need to apologize, Itsuki!” she said with a warm, reassuring smile. “It’s no big deal. Are you okay?”

Itsuki looked up quickly, his gaze meeting hers for a brief moment. The contact made his heart race even faster, and he felt his cheeks burn with a sudden, intense heat. He quickly nodded, too embarrassed to say much else. The warmth from her smile made him feel even more self-conscious, and he found himself frozen in place, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m... I’m fine,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. The quietness of his words made him feel even more timid and small.

[Name] tilted her head, her smile still soft and kind. “You’re sure? You look a little tired,” she said gently. “It’s pretty late, too. Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Itsuki was caught off guard by how perceptive she was. He nodded again, though his head was lowered slightly in embarrassment. “I... I can’t sleep,” he whispered, the words barely leaving his lips. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was feeling vulnerable now. “I just... I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

[Name’s] eyes softened even further as she stepped closer to him. She could tell that Itsuki was trying to hide his discomfort, but she could see right through it. She didn’t want him to feel alone or restless, especially when the team needed to be well-rested for the next day’s training.

“Well... if you’re feeling restless, maybe you could come with me to my room?” [Name] offered, her tone warm and inviting. “It’s a little quieter there. I could make sure you get some rest, if you’d like.”

Itsuki froze for a moment, his mind racing with uncertainty. The idea of being in a room alone with [Name] was both comforting and terrifying at the same time. He wasn’t used to being so close to someone else—especially not someone as warm and friendly as her. But he didn’t want to refuse her kindness. After a few moments of internal hesitation, he finally whispered, “I-I don’t want to be a bother…”

[Name] smiled gently and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s no trouble at all, Itsuki,” she said softly, her voice soothing. “I just want you to feel comfortable and get some sleep. I’ll be there if you need anything.”

Her kindness eased his anxiety a little. He nodded, though he still felt a little flustered. “Thank you...”

[Name] led him down the hallway toward her room. The door creaked slightly as she opened it, revealing the cozy, quiet space inside. A futon was already set up on the floor, and there was a faint scent of lavender in the air from the small sachet near the window. The soft lighting from a nearby lamp created a peaceful, calming atmosphere.

“There we go,” [Name] said with a smile. “This should be a little more comfortable for you. I’ll just sleep here on the futon too. You’re not bothering me, I promise.”

Itsuki hesitated for a moment, his cheeks turning pink again. The idea of lying next to her was almost too much for him to handle, but he knew she just wanted to help. “I... thank you,” he whispered again.

[Name] made sure to fluff the blankets and settled down beside him on the futon. “Just relax, okay?” she said gently. “You can rest now.”

For a moment, they both lay there in the soft silence, the only sound being the gentle rustle of the sheets and the soft rhythm of their breathing. Itsuki tried to calm his racing heart, feeling incredibly self-conscious and nervous next to her. But [Name] didn’t seem to mind. She just smiled softly and looked over at him, her eyes sparkling in the low light.

After a few moments, she began humming a gentle tune, one that was soothing and peaceful, like a lullaby. Itsuki felt his eyelids grow heavy as the soft melody lulled him into a peaceful daze. The soft, calming sound was like a weight being lifted from his chest, and soon, he found himself drifting off to sleep.

His breathing slowed, and he let out a soft sigh of relief as he finally succumbed to the sleep he had been fighting for so long. [Name], noticing that he had finally relaxed, gently tucked him in, her fingers brushing the top of his head as she smiled to herself.

As she lay down next to him, she hummed softly again, the sound filling the room like a gentle breeze. Soon, she too drifted into slumber, her own heart warmed by the quiet peace of the moment.

Kitsunenzato Teru ➺

The day had been long, filled with intense training sessions and moments of both frustration and triumph. The team had worked hard, pushing themselves to their limits, and now it was time for a brief break before heading to dinner. The locker room buzzed with the sounds of teammates chatting, some laughing, and others still catching their breath from the workout.

[Name] [Surename] was standing near the door, her notebook in hand, jotting down notes about the day’s training and team dynamics. She’d always been so caught up in organizing and helping out the team, but there was something special about these small moments she shared with each of the members. Tonight, though, she found her gaze drawn toward one particular player: Kitsunenzato Teru, the cheerful and optimistic forward with light salmon-colored hair and his signature panda-like nose.

Teru had been chatting with a few of his teammates, but as soon as he noticed [Name’s] presence, he waved at her with a bright smile, his signature blue doe eyes sparkling in the dim light of the locker room. [Name] waved back, her usual grin spreading across her face as she walked over toward him.

“Hey, [Name]!” Teru greeted her, his energy always so infectious. “I was actually hoping you could help me with something.”

[Name] tilted her head, genuinely curious. “Sure! What is it?”

Teru’s smile widened, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Well… it’s my hair. I’ve been trying to tie it into a bun for a while, but I just can’t seem to do it the way I want.” He sighed dramatically, his eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Do you think you could help me out?”

[Name] couldn’t help but laugh softly at his cute antics. Teru always had this ability to make things feel lighthearted, no matter the situation. She nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! I’d be happy to help. Let’s see what we can do.”

Teru led her to a nearby bench where he sat down, giving her an exaggerated bow. “Thank you so much, [Name]! I’ve been really struggling with this.”

[Name] chuckled and knelt down in front of him, her fingers already reaching for his soft hair. She picked up a brush from her bag and started to run it through his light salmon strands, gently untangling any knots that had formed.

As she worked, they began chatting, sharing stories and exchanging jokes, with Teru constantly offering playful comments and making her laugh. The atmosphere was warm, comfortable, like a quiet bubble where it was just the two of them, outside the chaos of the rest of the team.

“You know,” [Name] said, as she worked on the final touches, “I think you’d make a pretty good hairstylist with how much you care about your hair.” She smirked teasingly.

Teru blinked in mock offense, his hands going to his hips. “Hey, I take my hair very seriously, alright? Gotta look good on and off the field, you know? It’s all about presentation!”

[Name] giggled, her fingers deftly tying the final loop of the bun. “I can tell! But honestly, it’s not bad at all. It suits you.”

Teru beamed at her, a proud twinkle in his eye. “Really? You think so? I’ve never had someone tie it for me before. I think I might even keep it like this for the next game.”

[Name] smiled, stepping back to admire her handiwork. His bun was neat, secure, and definitely looked more polished than the usual messy style. “There we go,” she said with satisfaction, brushing her hands off. “I think it looks great.”

Teru jumped up from the bench, his face lighting up with joy as he twirled in front of her, showing off the new hairstyle. “Wow, this looks awesome! I can’t believe I’ve been struggling with this for so long!”

[Name] watched him with a fond smile, her heart warmed by his unbridled enthusiasm. “I’m glad you like it! You look amazing, Teru.”

Before she could react, Teru took a step toward her, and in a sudden burst of affection, he wrapped her in a tight hug. [Name] froze, taken aback by the sudden warmth of his embrace, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Teru’s hug was sincere, his energy and gratitude pouring into the simple act.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he said, his voice muffled as he held her tightly. “I’m so happy with it, [Name]. You really helped me out!”

[Name] blinked, her face flushing slightly, but she quickly recovered. She smiled warmly and returned the hug, her arms gently wrapping around his back. “I’m happy I could help, Teru,” she said softly. “I’m always here if you need anything.”

The hug lasted just a moment longer before Teru pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re the best, [Name]!” he exclaimed. “I’ll owe you a snack or something later, okay?”

[Name] laughed, brushing a few strands of her own hair behind her ear. “No need to owe me anything! It was fun.”

Teru winked at her, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. “I insist! A snack is definitely in order for such a fine hairstyle.”

She chuckled, feeling her heart warm at the interaction. Teru always knew how to lift her spirits. “Alright, alright. But only if it’s something really sweet.”

Teru gave a mock salute, his grin growing wider. “You got it! A sweet treat for the sweet manager!”

As the two of them laughed and continued their conversation, the locker room felt just a little bit brighter. Even with the chaos of the training sessions, moments like these—where the team came together, laughing and supporting one another—were what truly made [Name] feel that she was part of something special. Teru’s kindness, like the rest of the team’s, filled her with warmth, and she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the chance to be a part of their lives.

Gen Fukaku ➺

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow through the windows of the training facility. The last of the players were finishing up their cooldown exercises, some stretching on mats and others talking in groups. [Name] [Surename] was in the corner of the room, organizing her notes on the day's training, but her thoughts were somewhere else. She had spent the day with the team, bonding with each player, but there was one player she hadn't spent much time with yet: Gen Fukaku, the team's serious and reserved goalkeeper.

Fukaku had always been somewhat of an enigma. His serious demeanor, combined with his tendency to keep to himself, made him hard to approach. While the other players seemed to have their personalities shine through in their interactions with [Name], Fukaku remained a mystery to her. But she knew he was just as much a part of the team, and she wanted to show him that he was seen and appreciated as much as the others.

As she stood up, deciding to take a small break from her work, she looked around and spotted him. Fukaku Gen was sitting near the far end of the room, his tall frame hunched slightly as he tied his shoes. His expression, as always, was serious, and his eyes focused on the task at hand.

[Name] took a deep breath and walked over to him, carrying a small tin of homemade cookies she had baked earlier. She had been looking forward to sharing them with the team, but something about Fukaku’s quiet nature made her especially want to offer him a sweet treat.

When she approached him, he didn’t immediately acknowledge her presence, his attention still on his shoes. [Name] hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Hey, Fukaku,” she said softly, her voice gentle yet filled with warmth. “I made some sweets for the team today. Would you like one?”

Fukaku paused for a moment, his hands still holding his shoe laces. He glanced up at her, surprise flickering in his brown eyes. “You… made these for us?” His voice was low, almost hesitant, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

[Name] nodded, offering the tin with a smile. “Yeah! I thought you might like one. They’re cookies. I hope you like them.”

For a moment, Fukaku just stared at the tin, his expression unreadable. [Name] felt a bit nervous under his gaze but held the tin out for him, her smile never wavering. Finally, he sighed softly and slowly took the tin from her hand. He opened it, picking out a cookie and inspecting it carefully as though evaluating its quality.

[Name] stood there, watching him with a soft, patient smile, her hands clasped together in front of her.

Fukaku didn’t say anything right away. He broke off a small piece of the cookie and took a bite. [Name’s] heart raced a little as she waited for his response. The silence between them stretched for a few moments before he finally looked up, his brown eyes meeting hers.

“…It’s good,” he said, his voice as serious as ever. “Very sweet. You did a good job.”

[Name] beamed at the compliment, feeling her cheeks warm. She had been a little unsure if he would even enjoy the cookies, considering how reserved he was, but hearing him speak so honestly about it made her feel a sense of accomplishment.

“I’m glad you like it!” she said enthusiastically, her voice brightening. “If you want, I can bake more for you sometime.”

Fukaku’s expression softened just a touch, and [Name] noticed the slight change. It was subtle, but it was there. He placed the cookie tin down beside him, and for a moment, he just looked at her quietly.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost as if he was trying to make himself more vulnerable. “But... thank you. No one’s ever done something like this for me.”

[Name’s] heart ached a little at his words, and she bent down slightly to get on his level, her eyes filled with genuine care. “Well, I just wanted to show you that I appreciate you, Fukaku. You’re a big part of the team, and I’m really glad you’re here.”

Fukaku blinked, his eyebrows furrowing as if processing her words. He wasn’t used to being so openly praised or shown kindness. His brow furrowed slightly, and he looked down at the tin again, his fingers brushing over the cookies.

“…I’m not good at talking,” he admitted after a beat, his voice more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. “I don’t… say much. But I do care about the team.”

[Name] smiled softly, understanding that words weren’t always Fukaku’s forte. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a simple gesture meant to convey her appreciation. “I know. You don’t have to say anything to prove how much you care. Your actions speak louder than words.”

For the briefest moment, Fukaku’s face softened, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He looked at her, then back down at the cookie tin, his fingers playing with the edge. “You’re different, [Name],” he said quietly, more to himself than to her. “Most people just see the expression, the quiet... they don’t see beyond it.”

[Name’s] heart fluttered, and she nodded gently. “I see you, Fukaku. You don’t have to be anyone else around me.”

The air between them grew comfortable, and Fukaku slowly took another cookie, this time without hesitation. He didn’t smile, but the small gesture—him accepting the cookie and acknowledging her presence in his own way—spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” he said again, this time with a quiet sincerity that made [Name’s] heart swell. “I’ll… I’ll try to make more time for these things.”

[Name] smiled brightly, her chest feeling warm at the unexpected bond they were forming. “Anytime, Fukaku. I’m always here if you want to talk—or if you want more sweets.”

Fukaku chuckled softly, his expression still stoic but with a slight softening in his eyes. “Maybe just a little more.”

As she walked away to continue her rounds, [Name] felt a renewed sense of connection with the team. It wasn’t always about grand gestures or words; sometimes, just sharing a simple moment of kindness was all it took to make someone feel seen.

-`♡´-

-`♡Our Manager♡´-

The day had been long—too long, if [Name] were being honest. She had spent hours tracking the players' training progress, handing out water, taking notes, and making sure every one of them had what they needed to perform at their best. It was rewarding, of course, but the exhaustion was starting to catch up with her.

As the last few players finished their individual drills, [Name] took a moment to sit at the table in the team office. Her head rested in her hands as she tried to catch her breath. The hum of the lights and the occasional shuffle of feet filled the otherwise quiet space.

She yawned, stretching her arms overhead. Her eyes were heavy, and despite trying to stay alert, she couldn’t fight the pull of sleep much longer. Slowly, her eyes fluttered closed, and her head drooped toward the desk. The paperwork that had piled up throughout the day became too much for her to keep her focus on, and in the end, she simply succumbed to the fatigue, drifting off to sleep on the table, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

The room was still, save for the occasional sound of footsteps echoing down the hall. Unbeknownst to her, the team had noticed her fall asleep, each one of them quietly observing their manager as she rested.

-`♡´-

Haru Hayate was the first to notice. The tall, calm player glanced over from the doorway, his usual serene demeanor softening with concern. Seeing [Name], slumped over at the table, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. He knew how hard she had worked that day. Without a word, he stepped quietly into the room, a light breeze of calm following him as he moved to cover her.

Gently, he draped a blanket over her, ensuring she was comfortable. The soft fabric rustled as he settled it over her shoulders. He paused for a moment, just watching her as she slept, a small smile tugging at his lips. The peace that surrounded her in that moment was rare in the busy training facility, and it reminded him of how much the team appreciated her.

As he left, he whispered, “Rest well, [Name].”

-`♡´-

Kitsunenzato Teru was next to come in. His bright and cheery energy had a slight hum of excitement even now as he saw [Name] sleeping. The sight of her exhaustion struck him, and he wanted to do something nice for her, something small to show his appreciation.

He quickly found a small snack on the counter, a bar of chocolate that he knew would provide a burst of energy once she woke. He placed it beside her on the table, with a small note that simply read, “A little treat for the best manager!” He grinned at his handiwork and took a step back, admiring his thoughtful gesture.

“Sweet dreams, manager,” he whispered with a wink before quietly leaving the room.

-`♡´-

Miroku Darai, always in touch with his inner peace, stood outside the door, observing with quiet understanding. He saw how [Name] had given her all to the team that day. Her exhaustion was clear, and while she may not have asked for help, Darai felt the need to offer her something soothing.

He entered the room and quietly prepared a cup of tea—chamomile and honey, the perfect remedy for a long day. He placed the warm cup next to her, the steam curling up in the air, the aroma soothing and calming. A small note accompanied it: “For rest and relaxation. May you find peace in this cup.”

With a quiet nod, Darai left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

-`♡´-

Sendou Shuuto walked in next. His loud and boisterous personality had been subdued for once, replaced by a quiet concern as he surveyed the sleeping [Name]. He couldn’t help but notice how much she had taken on during the day. In an act of kindness, he gently gathered up the scattered papers she had been working on and neatly organized them into a pile, ensuring everything was in order.

As he worked, he couldn’t resist glancing over at her. She was still so serene in her sleep, and it made him smile softly. Before leaving, he jotted down a quick note, scrawling, “For the best manager ever—don’t overwork yourself!” and placed it on top of the papers. With a final smile, he quietly exited.

-`♡´-

Oliver Aiku, always the flirt, couldn’t help but notice [Name’s] peaceful slumber as he passed by the open door. He stopped for a moment, watching her, and a small grin spread across his face. As he entered, he silently watched her for a beat, before picking up a sticky note and scribbling something quickly.

“You’re amazing. Don’t push yourself too hard. Take care of yourself!”

He placed it gently on her desk, right by her hand, and with a last glance at the peaceful manager, he quietly slipped out of the room, his heart swelling with a protective feeling he rarely showed.

-`♡´-

Kento Cho, ever the serious one, took one last look around the training facility, his eyes scanning for any unfinished tasks. As he passed the office, he saw [Name] resting on the desk. He paused, walking over to her silently. His hand hovered for a moment before he gently placed a bottle of water next to her.

The note he left was short and simple, but meaningful: “Stay hydrated. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

He sighed, shaking his head as if to remind himself to take his own advice. With one final glance, he turned and quietly left.

-`♡´-

Neru Teppei was next. He grinned as he spotted the sleeping manager, her exhaustion clear. Unlike the others, Teppei couldn’t resist one more playful gesture. He grabbed a bright sticky note and scribbled something silly: “Pikachu and Pachirisu forever! Rest up, manager!”

With that, he quickly grabbed a sweet treat, a small cupcake he had stashed away, and placed it near her hand. Teppei gave one last, heartfelt smile and crept out of the room, his heart light with the affection he felt for their manager.

-`♡´-

Itsuki Wakatsuki had been standing outside for some time, uncertain if he should enter. But seeing everyone else leave, he decided to slip in quietly. As a gentle, introverted person, he didn’t want to disturb her rest, but he wanted to leave something behind to show his appreciation.

He quietly placed a small note by her side, written in his delicate handwriting: “Thank you for always being there for us. Please get some rest.”

With a deep breath and a tiny, bashful smile, he left the room without a sound.

-`♡´-

Fukaku Gen, ever the serious one, took a moment to consider the situation. He saw his manager sleeping soundly, her exhaustion apparent. He silently stepped over to her desk and placed a simple note beside her: “Take care of yourself. You’re appreciated more than you know.” It was brief, but in his usual quiet way, it conveyed everything he wanted to say.

Fukaku turned, leaving the room with nothing more than a soft sigh.

-`♡´-

Nio Kazuma, the final one to peek in, stood quietly at the doorway, watching his manager sleep. He had witnessed her effort firsthand that day. He could tell that she was the type of person who always gave everything, even when it wasn’t asked of her. With a small smile, he left a note beside her with a few simple words: “Rest well, manager. You’ve earned it.”

-`♡´-

[Name] slowly stirred from her nap, stretching lazily as she blinked her eyes open. Her body was sore from the long day, but there was something oddly comforting about the scene before her. She looked around the desk and found that the chaos of papers was now neatly organized. There was a warm cup of tea by her side, a blanket gently draped over her shoulders, and a sweet treat waiting for her. A small smile tugged at her lips as she read the notes that had been left for her.

“For the best manager ever—don’t overwork yourself!” “Stay hydrated. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.” “Pikachu and Pachirisu forever!” and many more words of encouragement and care from her players.

Her heart swelled with gratitude as she took in the small gestures from each of them. She silently thanked her team for being so thoughtful, for looking out for her, and for making her feel appreciated.

As she stood, stretching once more, she felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and affection. Though the day had been long and taxing, this quiet moment made it all worth it.

-`♡´-

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© 2024 Ｖｅｌｖｅｔｅｅｎ 平和な目覚め— do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform without my permission!

[disgruntled-blacksmith]

💜 — By the underside of the Bridge of Progress... was a nice, cozy nook none of the dock workers bothered with. Flouride sat within the nook, a dimming and short cigar between his fingers that he was taking puffs out of.

His other hand fiddled with a pencil, hunched over, for once he was using one of the several sketchbooks Yvette gave him to actually plan out his designs rather that bullshitting everything.

Beside - or rather, behind Flouride - was a satchel-bag full of random snacks and some water.

The water was calm. Night approached and .. the dock was empty. This felt like a reoccuring issue of trust - a deep thing Flouride never talked about - but he felt this was such a display of trust. One of them could easily kill the other here with the circumstances they met up at. One of them could easily fold the other in half..

Flouride didn't know if Sirius carried a weapon with him when he went out. He never asks, but the Chirean doesn't think that he needs to.

The scratches of the pencil's charcoal against the well-roughed paper was the only thing occupying his mind right now, aside from sometimes lifting the cigar for a puff - until he hears the familiar, heavy footsteps approaching, then he quickly snuffs the flame, tossing the finished shimmer butt to the side and waving away the purple smoke.

"Took y'long 'nough." the mechanic chuckles, "Was startin' to think you were gonna leave me out here."

It was a joke, of course.

Right?

"Got held up or just got lost again, Sirius?"

(Hii :] no need to respond right away.)

“Got held up… a client dropped in while I was working on something and had the audacity to complain about shit in their lives….”

Sirus can smell the shimmer, but he’s not gunna be a dick about it.

“Brought some alcohol, some less sweet stuff and more sweet stuff”

[miss-noo-na]

Take What You Can Get (Yeonjun x Reader)

Title: Take What You Can get

Featuring: Choi Yeonjun (TXT) x Reader

Rating: Mature/explicit

Warnings: Verbal degradation and name-calling (slut, whore, etc), dubcon because consent isn't verbally given but insinuated. Rough sex/hate-fucking, dirty talk, choking, biting, yearning.

Word Count:  4000

Summary: You have been pining for Soobin, even though he doesn't return your feelings. You can't stand his best friend Yeonjun, but he notices, and he's going to make you forget all about him. Whether you want to or not.

Notes: It's been a long time since I posted something to Tumblr, so I thought I'd do it for funsies. Also to remind everyone that I'm still alive and update on AO3 now (check my pinned post for links) Love you guys <3

You didn’t expect much when Soobin invited you over. Sure, there was always a small part of you that hoped maybe today would be the day. The day he got the hint that you liked him and had for some time. The day he returned those feelings, or at least was curious to get closer. For the sake of your friendship you would never confess to him the crush you had been harboring for so long, unless you got that hint.

But you never imagined that standing in his kitchen he would introduce you to the girl he had been seeing. You had no idea he was dating anyone, especially not someone so pretty. It was early in the relationship but you thought for sure you would have known about this sooner, if not from him than one of your mutual friends. You smiled wide and happy when you shook her hand, even though inside you could feel the weight of the disappointment crushing down on your heart.

To make matters worse, halfway through the get-together they had left. He assured you and their other friends they would be back in a bit, they had something they needed to do together. You don’t know why they hadn’t done it before you bothered coming over, but there you were, alone in his bedroom trying to work out a problem with his computer. He had mentioned in passing that he was having some issues with a program you were familiar with, and it would be great if you could take a look at it while you were there.

“I’d really appreciate it.” He said with a gentle crease in his eyes that made you melt, and you nodded all too willingly. Now you just felt like an idiot, doing his tasks for him while he was out with his new girl doing whatever it was you didn’t want to think about.

You were vaguely trying to solve the issue, more so lost in your thoughts and clicking around idly. The door being nudged open loudly by someone’s foot startled you.

You swiveled halfway in the chair and locked eyes with Yeonjun, who half-smiled at you but not in a kind way. You rolled your eyes and turned back around without a word.

The baggage of pining for Soobin came with the unfortunate add-on of having to be around Yeonjun. From the moment you met, there was something about him that bothered you, and the more you got to know him that something turned into many things. He was arrogant and loud and always needed to be the center of attention. He thought too highly of himself and dominated conversations with his obnoxious presence that he was under the impression was charming to others, but not you. You tried ignoring him at first, but over time started to speak up whenever he was too extra, and cracking jokes and roasts at his expense had him glowering at you from across the room. You bickered like rivals even when it wasn’t that serious. Every time he opened his mouth in a group setting you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just as you had done when you saw him enter Soobin’s room.

“Does he know you’re in here?” He asked as he made himself at home on the edge of Soobin’s bed.

“Of course he does.” You said in a biting tone, trying to focus now.

“Got you doing his work for him, eh?” He asked with a laugh and the sound it of it went down your spine like nails on a chalkboard.

“I’m just doing him a favor.”

“Naturally, you’re always doing him favors.” He said off-handedly, and you fought the urge to turn around. You said nothing.

“Tell me, do all your little errands feel stupid now that he’s fucking someone else?” He asked in a voice that dripped in condescension and you could feel yourself getting hot with anger. Yeonjun had caught on to your crush long ago, far more attentive than Soobin had ever been. It was something he liked to bring up whenever he felt like getting under your skin. Usually in retaliation for the times you told him to shut up and stop pestering everyone.

You continued to ignore him, typing more furiously and glaring at the screen, mentally cursing him out but not allowing it to reach your tongue.

You heard him get up and hoped he was leaving, but instead you felt him behind you, his presence looming over your shoulder. He turned his head and his hot breath ghosted your neck.

“Does it make you crazy thinking about him and her in this room?” He laughed low and it tickled your ear. “I bet you get all worked up wishing it was you.”

You weren’t going to sit here and be mocked, the anger bubbling up inside but also the pin-prick feeling of something else you didn’t want to address. You shoved the chair back, bumping his chest and making him stumble back. You headed for the door, figuring you could do this later when he wasn’t here.

“Hey! Hold on.” He grabbed at your wrist and you snatched it away, turning and glaring daggers into him. He sat back down on Soobin’s bed and he was grinning.

“I’m just messing around.” He said, but it didn’t ease your fury. Then his voice changed, it got a little softer and deeper.

“Come here.”

You blinked, his smile had faded and his eyelids drew down. The way he was looking at you was different. Usually it was smarmy or annoyed, but this looked like….

“Why?” You asked, still angled toward the door.

“Because.”

He gestured to the spot next to him and you hated that you were curious about what he had to say. The day was already ruined, so you relented and went and sat next to him.

“Look, I’m the only person who knows how you feel right now.” He said, surprisingly understanding, but you wondered about his angle. He wouldn’t be the type to comfort you.

“And I think maybe you should take this opportunity to do something about it.” He leaned a little closer. “That I could help with.”

You pulled back and scowled at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about letting me,” He pointed at himself, “Make you-“His finger touched the center of your chest, below your throat, “feel better.”

You guffawed at his proposition, but the hysterical laughter was hiding the way your blood started rushing to your ears when you heard him say it.

“You think I’m desperate enough to do that?” You asked.

Instead of being offended, like you might assume, he smirked.

“I do.” He stated plainly. “I think you’ve been following my best friend around like a pathetic puppy and someone needs to snap you out of it.”

Your smile faded at his words and you didn’t know how to decipher the mix of emotions. It hurt, first and foremost. But it hurt in a way that made your breath pick up as Yeonjun stared you down. You wanted him to keep talking.

He put his hands on the bed and moved forward in a sudden motion, making you lean back so far that you fell onto your back and he was now hovering over you.

“I think someone needs to get it through your dumb head that he doesn’t want you.”

He sounded mad. Frustrated by your behavior and intent on letting you know.

“And I know that you hate me,” He said with a wry smile, his eyes taking in the sight of you beneath him for a moment. “So I’m the perfect person to fuck it out of your system.”

Despite yourself and everything your instincts told you, you trembled at his words, your eyes widening and hands going clammy.

“What’s in it for you?” You asked, irked by how weak your voice now sounded.

He laughed, almost gleefully. “Making the bitch who hates me squirm under me is satisfying in its own way.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’ll think about it next time you try to humiliate me in front of our friends.”

Your chest was rising and falling quickly now, as he talked it got harder to deny what it was doing to your body. It took you a moment to recognize that the more he degraded you, the more it turned you on. And even the shame of that revelation was exciting you.

“So,” He started, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, just under your jaw. “Are you going to let me ruin you or what?”

His kisses moved to your throat and then down to your collar bones. You stared at the ceiling, breathing hard and pressing your hands into the covers. You suddenly remembered where you were. This was Soobin’s room and his best friend was kissing down your neck in his bed.

His mouth moved to the crook of your shoulder where his teeth sank into your flesh. Not enough to break skin, but enough to make you yelp in surprise. Your hands shot up to grab his arms, holding on to him. He laughed against your neck.

“Take this off,” He said, toying with the hem of your shirt. You couldn’t understand yourself when you did exactly what he asked without hesitating.

“You might as well take your pants off, too.”

As you worked on removing your clothing, a voice in your head was asking what exactly you were doing, letting someone you couldn’t stand 5 minutes ago strip you down to your underwear. It was overpowered by a louder part of you that needed this. Needed to be taken and consumed and punished.

“You may be stupid,” He said, his tongue swiping over his lower lip as his vision grazed your body, “But you’re not bad looking.”

His half-lidded gaze, plump mouth and imposing form over you made you realize you thought the same of him. Maybe when you first saw him you recognized how attractive he was, but it was quickly replaced by a seething dislike. However here, in the afternoon glow of Soobin’s bedroom and his smoldering eyes, he looked like everything you’d desire.

In one harsh movement he grabbed your leg under the knee and pulled the limbs apart, settling himself between them. He attached his mouth onto your neck once more as his fingertips started a delicate dance down the front of your body, stopping to fondle your breasts through your bra.

“Maybe I should mark you up, huh?” He breathed against your skin before latching his lips to it and sucking hard, nibbling with his teeth. “Make him wonder where you got these from.”

He moved to the other side of your neck and did it again, and without seeing it you could tell he was leaving vicious marks in your skin that would be obvious to anyone.

“Then again, he probably won’t care.” He chuckled. “You’ll want him to. You’ll leave them out for him to see and he won’t give a fuck.” He hissed before capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

It took you by surprise, and you made a sound against his mouth. However, it didn’t take you long to reciprocate, opening up to him and letting his tongue lap against yours. Your hands found their way over his shoulders, drawing him closer, and he pressed his hips into you in response.

He pulled back but kept close, staring down at you as one of his hands came up and took your chin, his thumb pressing against your moist lips.

“Look at you.” He murmured, pushing up on your chin to raise your head. “Your body is begging for attention. He’s ignored you for so long, hasn’t he?” His voice baby-talking those harsh words and his hardness grinding into you made you whimper. Your brain felt like it was being emptied out and all that mattered was what Yeonjun was doing to you.

“Aren’t you glad I was here?” He smiled, a devious edge to his sweet voice. “To take advantage of a pathetic, touch-starved whore.”

His words were like electricity jolting through you. No one has ever talked to you like this before, and never did the thought occur to you that you might like it.

Because he was right. You had followed Soobin around for ages, hanging off his words and vying for anything you could get. You hadn’t been desired or looked at by anyone else in that time nor did you want to be, until now. Until Yeonjun forced you to take what you had been lacking.

His hand on your chin trailed down your body once more, his large hand cupping over your clothed sex. He squeezed you, hard, and you cried out from the painful ache that it caused.

“I could’ve just stripped you down and fucked you raw and gotten it over with.” He commented nonchalantly. “You would have let me, too. But teasing you is so much more fun.”

You looked up at him with wet, wide eyes, lips pouted and wanting to say something.

“You’re so quiet now. Usually you never shut the fuck up.” He laughed, now gently rubbing his hand over you, feeling your wetness seep through your panties.

“What do you want to say, baby?” He leaned closer and his voice fell to a whisper. “Tell me.”

Some of your deep-seated anger was coming through as you heard him talk without changing pace in his motions. Even in the moment of actually doing something useful, he was still so goddamn annoying.

“I hate you.”

A smile grew over his mouth as his eyes narrowed, and you didn’t know if you detected anger or passion. Maybe both.

“Your mouth says that,” He started, then slipped his hand under the band of your underwear and sank down toward your wetness, his fingers pressing between the folds and stroking up toward your clit. “But your body loves me.”

When his fingertips grazed agonizingly over the sensitive spot, you moaned, your hips twitching.

“See?” He commented triumphantly, and you were too lost in the feeling to argue it.

After teasing you another minute, his middle two fingers sank inside you, pressing to the second knuckle and making your back arch up off the bed toward him. He kissed up your neck to your ear and breathed, making you shiver.

“I’m gonna make you forget all about him.” He said in an unusually serious tone. He curled his fingers up and massaged a place inside you that made your eyes roll back.

Yet just as you were starting to surrender to it, he retracted them, and you whined at the emptiness that followed. He ripped your underwear down your legs as he sat up, then grinned down at you before removing his shirt.

“Stop whining, you’ll get something much better.”

You watched him quickly strip away the rest of his clothing and before you could do anything else, he was grabbing your legs and pulling you down toward him, surprising you with his strength.

You looked down between your bodies, your knees trembling as he took himself in his hand and aligned it with your entrance, but didn’t enter quite yet. Instead, he ran the tip of his cock between your folds, all the way up to your clit and slowly back down again. He repeated the motion as he spoke.

“Do you want me to fuck some sense into you?” He asked, meeting your eyes. “Or do you want to save yourself for your precious Soobin?”

“Shut up.” You whined, not sounding as strong and biting as you usually did when you told him to shut up.  “Just fuck me.”

His eyes that once danced with amusement dropped down into a glare you were familiar with. “Fine.”

He grabbed your hips at either side and sank himself inside you in one fluid motion, pressing all the way to the hilt until he bottomed out inside you. Your eyes snapped open and you grabbed onto his forearms, digging your nails into his skin. It was overwhelming in both pleasure and burning pain but you didn’t want him to stop.

Then he started to move, his hips drawing back only about an inch before snapping back in. He made sure he pulled you flush against him each time, showing you just how deep he could go.

As the grimace melted away from your face and twisted into pleasure, he leaned forward.

“What happened to all that attitude?” He asked, his breath coming out in thick pants. “You sure don’t look like you hate me now.”

You dug your nails even deeper into his skin and he hissed, snatching your wrists and forcing them over your head, pinning you down and never faltering in his rhythm.

“How does it feel?” He asked, squeezing your wrists and breathing down your neck. “How does it feel knowing I’m fucking you into the mattress of the man you love?”

You tugged at your makeshift restraints and knew you were trapped, he was stronger than he looked, but even if you could break free you didn’t really want to. Your face burned in embarrassment, hearing him mock your feelings.

“What would he think about you?” His voice got lower and closer to your ear. “What would he think knowing that you long for him, and you fucked the first person who showed you any attention because you’re just that desperate. “

He punctuated his words with hard thrusts, sweat forming on his brow and temples as his hair fell into his face. He swallowed up your needy moans in a kiss.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He laughed breathlessly as he pulled away. “Look at what I’m doing to you. You could have had this all along.”

Something about that sentence rattled your brain, and you tried to focus on what he meant, but the way he was driving into you and holding you down made it difficult to concentrate.

“All this time running after Soobin when I was right here.” He growled, and a very real anger clouded his eyes. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, but he made it very clear he wasn’t joking when his motions became more purposeful.

“I wanted you as soon as I laid eyes on you.” He huffed out a breath. “And you couldn’t stand me.”

You were caught between listening to his confession and trying to hold on to your sanity with what he was doing with your body, and hearing the pure and unmistakable wanting in his voice spurned on your arousal.

“Now look at you,” That deviant smile came back. “You’re mine now.”

He let go of your arms and one hand encircled your throat. He didn’t squeeze too tight, just enough to get your attention and make you moan in approval.

“Isn’t that right, pretty girl?” He asked, and the tiniest hint of praise that hit your ears made you squirm and cry out under him.

“Yes.” You responded without hesitation, rocking against him and letting him grind down into you.

“Yeah? You like me taking care of this aching cunt and making it mine?”

You moaned in response, nodding your head in his hand and gazing up at him with a wanton stare. You realized the power you held in that moment, giving him exactly what you didn’t know he wanted.

“It’s all yours.”

The fire that lit up his eyes was worth it all, and his mouth crashed down on yours to kiss you with a new kind of fervor, grinding down deeper until his pelvic bone was in the perfect place to stimulate you. He knew exactly what he was doing, rolling his hips up and hitting the right spots until you could feel your release building up inside you.

He could see it in your face, and it only made him work harder. “I want you to come undone. I want to break you.” He rasped, his own ecstasy mounting right behind you.

You latched onto his shoulders and let him guide you to it. “I’m so close, Yeonjun.” You said his name in a way that drove him crazy.

“Then come for me, slut.” That sly grin found its way onto his features, “show me who it belongs to.”

With that it didn’t take long, fingers digging into his shoulders as your back arched and your orgasm hit you hard, washing over you in waves. He leaned down and panted in your ear “that’s it, baby,” and “All for me.”

Relentlessly fucking you through it over-stimulated you until you were a babbling, drunk mess. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down, feeling the vibration of his moans against your collar bone.

“Fuck, I’m-“ He hardly had the time to warn you before it hit him, he slowed down into a gradual, pulsing thrusting motion as he whined out his release in the sweetest way.

He came to a halt and panted against your skin, your limbs all tangled up and chests rising and falling together. It took a long time for your heartbeats to slow down.

He lifted himself up on his hands and looked down at you, softening and twitching inside you still. After the haze of the arousal and the hormones wore off, you felt exposed under his gaze. You wondered if he was angry at you.

But there was a softness in his eyes that worried you more than anything, and you reached up to push his hair back so you could see him better. You locked eyes for a long moment and said nothing.

Finally, he slipped out of you and came to lay down next to you. You grabbed at the nearest cover and pulled it over your body. When you looked over, there was a small smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“You can’t hide from me.” He said in a tired, husky voice.

“I can try.” You said, tucking yourself down into the cover, concealing part of your face. He rolled to his side and pulled them up, joining you underneath. Before you could speak again, he reached out and held your cheek in a surprisingly tender motion, and placed an even more tender kiss to your ravaged lips.

“I really didn’t mean for it to go that far.” He said in a near-whisper under the covers. You could only kind of see his face, and his dewy eyes and pouted mouth looked delicate.

“That’s hard to believe.” You whispered back, even quieter than him.

“Well I didn’t expect you to give in so easily.” He chuckled, and you felt yourself get hot with embarrassment.

“Did you mean what you said?” You asked curiously, knowing this was probably the only time he’d be honest about it. Who knows how either of you would feel once the adrenaline wore off completely.

“About you?” He said, and before you could confirm he nodded. “Yeah.”

“You could have just told me.” You offered, and he laughed louder this time.

“My pride wouldn’t let me do that.  Not with how you were always yearning for my best friend.” He sighed and rested his head on his arm.  “Also you hated me, remember?”

“Hate is a strong word.” You offered.

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Either way…”

He trailed off and you were both quiet for a moment.

“How do you feel about me now?” He asked, and you thought about it for a moment.

“Hmm, you’re slightly less unbearable now.” You said playfully, and luckily he laughed, too. He reached over and pulled you over by the waist, making a surprised squeak come out of you.

“Well, we’ll have to do this a couple more times. Just to make sure.”

He kissed you, and for the first time in a long time, someone other than Soobin made your hands shake and your heart beat faster.