#SOME of the characters have had MOMENTS of good writing

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

“ interlinked ”

.°⋆🖇₊ synopsis: nanami kento, a hardened field agent, has his world flipped upside down when his friend shoko gifts him a recently developed android after an injury sidelines him. you, designed with advanced ai, are curious and eager to learn about human emotions, but as you form a bond with nanami, he begins to feel something deeper for you. though he struggles with you being an android, your connection grows as you navigate moments of tenderness, confusion, and quiet affection. can a human truly love something that isn’t? and will your bond survive the impossible choices that lie ahead?

.°⋆🖇₊ tl;dr: non-curse au! where nanami is an agent, working for government’s protective services, and you are a newly developed android, gifted to him to take care of him.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ teddy’s notes: GUYSSS PLEASE GIVE THIS A CHANCE!!! i put a lot of effort and time into writing this, no joke, this is also a love letter to nanami heheh. also cr to the artist on the banner.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖ content warning(s): wc 16,764(wowzer), angst, fluff, soo much angst and fluff, slow burn, NSFW, nanami does a lot of paperwork, also you’re a clueless cutie and discovering the world. yes nanami has sex with android!you, when referring to you “she/her” is used by other people in the story, this is just a fantasy guys don’t take this seriously!! also kind of a character death. enjoy!!

“you won’t be able to get away like you did last time, you know?” a lengthy exhale escaped shoko’s chest, the string of words muttering under her breath as she examined the scar on the left side of his face.

nanami ignored her words, the only indication of him hearing the doctor’s words being the deepening crease between his brows. instead, he focused on the white wall in front of him, finding it a lot more interesting than he did two weeks ago when he first woke up in this room, in the medical wing of his agency’s headquarters.

“nanami,” she tried again, gloved hands tilting his head towards herself as she gave him an exasperated look. “haibara will be suspended too if he provides you with information on upcoming missions.”

he clicked his tongue in irritation as he gently pushed her hands away from himself, letting out a heavy sigh. well, shit.

the “last time” shoko was talking about was about 2 months ago, when he unknowingly acquired a concussion and internal bleeding in his abdomen, and despite shoko’s and director yaga’s instructions to not go out of his home for at least 10 days nanami managed to sneak out into some of the missions. how did he know anything about missions? haibara, of course.

convincing his long-time friend and colleague to send him any documents was not a hard task, especially since haibara had a soft spot for him ever since their training days, and he also worked in the tech department of the headquarters. but if he gets suspended too, nanami will feel extremely guilty since yuu enjoyed his work too much to be away from it.

nanami’s gaze lingered on shoko, his curiosity piqued by the strange look she wore as she discarded her gloves. she seemed to have something on her mind, but she was keeping it to herself. he raised a brow, waiting for her to speak.

finally, after a brief pause, shoko let out a soft sigh, pushing her hair back. “besides, i have something for you. something that will keep you busy.”

nanami’s expression shifted, his interest fading into mild skepticism. the last time someone had “something” for him, it was gojo sending him three overzealous trainees who, despite their good intentions, nearly drove him to the edge with their incessant questions and their complete lack of self-awareness. it had been an exhausting day.

he clicked his tongue, a mix of frustration and exhaustion, but he wasn’t about to interrupt her.

shoko’s lips quirked, clearly aware of his thoughts. “i’ll have it delivered to your place this evening, okay? you can leave in a couple of hours. i’ll call you.”

the door clicked shut behind her, and the familiar mix of her perfume and the faint scent of cigarettes lingered in the air. nanami stared at the spot where she had just been, already dreading whatever this new “thing” was that would keep him busy.

he was used to being alone. as a spy working for the agency, he had spent years living a life that required solitude. but this recent injury had taken him out of action, and yes, shoko had told him to rest, but his body couldn’t seem to listen. it didn’t help that his work was piling up, and he couldn’t bear the thought of being idle.

nanami’s gaze lingered on the door where shoko had just exited, a frown settling deeper into his face. there was something unsettling about the idea of “keeping busy” when his body was clearly telling him to rest. it felt wrong, like a futile attempt to ignore the reality of his injury. but that was how it always was for him—work never stopped, even when his body gave out.

as a field agent, nanami had learned early on to push past his limits, to always be ready, always be on alert. he had built his life around constant movement, constant action. this forced stillness was a foreign concept to him.

he ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. despite his exhaustion, his mind raced with the mounting pile of tasks waiting for him. reports, mission updates, case files—all of it screamed at him, even as his body ached to do nothing.

being idle wasn’t something he was used to. the stillness of it felt suffocating, like something inside of him was slowly crumbling. and that guilt gnawed at him. after all, the agency’s work never ceased, and he was one of its best agents. who was he if he couldn’t even fulfill his own responsibilities?

nanami had always been the type to push himself, to power through any obstacle no matter how much it hurt. so this forced rest, this lingering sense of helplessness, was unsettling.

his fingers drummed on the arm of the chair, a faint twitch of frustration building inside him. he didn’t have time for this.

“nanami, you’re overworking yourself,” shoko had said earlier, her voice sharp but caring. “and you’re no use to the agency if you’re in no condition to work. so i’m sending you something.”

nanami had expected paperwork or maybe a more practical solution to keep him occupied, but what she delivered was… you.

you stood in the doorway, a mechanical precision to your movements as you glanced up at him with wide eyes. you were beautiful—almost too human to be real. your face was flawless, with soft features that belied your true nature. the only thing that set you apart from an ordinary person was the small glowing circle on your temple. it was the only indicator that you weren’t like other people.

“this is your new… companion,” shoko had explained, clearly amused by his expression. “she’s an android. and i’m leaving her with you for the time being.”

nanami had stared at you, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and disbelief. “you’re giving me… an android? to take care of?” he had asked, his voice flat.

“yes,” shoko had replied casually. “she’s highly advanced—an AI designed to assist you. and she’s a lot more self-aware than you might think. don’t worry, you’ll find that she’s harmless.”

you had watched him closely, your head tilting slightly in that curious, almost childlike way. nanami hadn’t known what to make of you. he just knew that you looked so real you could be mistaken for a young woman: soft-looking hair sitting atop your shoulders, dressed in a simple modest dress and a pair of sneakers, a bag thrown over your shoulders. but if someone looked closer they’d definitely see the unnatural way in which your mechanics hummed, a sound so faint nanami only heard it in the dead silence of the moment, and the glowing circle on your temple, slightly covered by your hair.

shoko looked proud as she presented you to him: a wide smirk on her face as she eagerly explained all of your functions to him while you stood there, attentive look on your face as you observed shoko.

nanami’s exasperation seeped through his pores as he gave shoko a disturbed look.

—

for the first couple of days after you arrived, nanami avoided you as much as possible. he had never been good at being around people, and now that you were here, in his space, it felt even more overwhelming. your presence was constant, your soft mechanical steps and the sound of your voice whenever you tried to engage with him.

you would ask him questions—simple ones at first, like how his day had gone or what his favorite food was—but he would only grunt in response or give you brief, noncommittal answers. he’d keep his head down, focusing on anything but you, pretending not to notice when you stood in the doorway watching him, your gaze unwavering.

you tried again and again to draw him out of his shell, always polite, always curious, but there was a wall between the two of you that he wasn’t sure how to bridge. it frustrated him.

you never seemed to give up, though.

one evening, after he’d returned from a brief walk to clear his head, you had asked, “do you always stay so quiet when you’re thinking?”

nanami froze in his tracks. you had appeared from the kitchen, staring at him with that same inquisitive expression.

“sometimes,” he muttered, brushing past you without meeting your eyes.

you trailed after him, stepping into the living room where he dropped his bag. “but aren’t you lonely?”

“no,” he said, a little more curt than he intended, but the words had come out before he could stop them.

you didn’t flinch. you just tilted your head and observed him, as if trying to figure out if there was something more beneath his response.

—

over the next few days, you continued your attempts, slowly shifting from simple questions to more personal ones. sometimes, when he would sit at the kitchen table, you’d sit nearby, watching him as you fiddled with a cup or toyed with a random object. sometimes you did attempt to make a conversation, but nanami thought it was just your curiosity getting the better of you since you didn’t even know how most of his kitchen was used.

he found it irritating at first, but soon enough, it became clear that you weren’t going to leave him alone, no matter how much he tried to distance himself. no matter how much he tried to convince shoko that this was a bad idea by giving him the same report every couple of days, she was just as relentless as you in your desire to discover what the real world was like. a goddamn android in his house.

on the tenth day, something new happened.

nanami was sitting at his desk, buried under the usual mountain of paperwork that had piled up over the past few days. it had been an exhausting few days for him—his rehabilitation from previous injury keeping him from doing the work he was used to, leaving him with hours of reports to catch up on. you, however, were sitting quietly by the window, your eyes scanning the world outside with an intensity that nanami hadn’t noticed before.

he was so used to the quiet of the apartment now that the silence between you didn’t seem strange. but today, something felt different. it was the way you were looking out the window, your gaze focused and eager, like you were trying to take in everything at once.

he didn’t think much of it at first, too lost in his own thoughts as he flipped through papers. but then, he heard it—your voice, soft but insistent, breaking the quiet.

“nanami,” you said, drawing his attention away from the documents. “can we go outside?”

he blinked, surprised by the request. his eyes flicked to you, noting how your posture seemed a little more expectant than usual.

“outside?” he repeated, trying to process it. “you’ve been here for days. you never said anything about wanting to go outside.”

you tilted your head, your gaze thoughtful, almost like you were piecing together something he couldn’t quite understand. “i’ve never been on a walk,” you added, your voice slightly quieter now, a hint of uncertainty in your tone. ��i don’t know what it’s like. i want to see it. the world, i mean.”

he furrowed his brow, confusion mixing with a touch of concern. “but… you’ve never—”

“no,” you interrupted, your eyes bright with curiosity. “i’ve only seen what’s outside from here. not really been out in it.”

for a moment, nanami wasn’t sure how to respond. his first instinct was to make an excuse, to keep you inside and maintain the status quo. it was easier that way, after all. but then, the thought of you stuck inside, day after day, with no real experience of the world outside nagged at him.

he exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “fine. i’ll take you outside for a bit.”

your face lit up at the approval, a smile spreading across your face. “thank you, nanami!”

he couldn’t help but feel a little odd about the whole thing. he hadn’t expected you to ask for something like this. but he stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed toward the door, motioning for you to follow. for a second, he looked back, and your dress looked way too thin for the chilly weather, so he gently secured another one of his jackets around your shoulders, which made you stare up at him curiously, confused. probably because you didn’t really understand the weather being colder, but he clothed you more for his own comfort.

outside, the world felt different to him—calmer, quieter. the usual hum of city life was in the background, but with you beside him, everything seemed to shift in small, subtle ways.

you took in the air, your gaze wandering from the leaves blowing in the wind to the way the light danced across the pavement. you seemed so focused, so curious about everything, it was almost as if you were discovering the world for the first time.

“this is… amazing,” you murmured to yourself, your voice full of wonder as you looked around. “so much to see.”

nanami glanced at you, his expression softening as he watched you take everything in. the way your eyes followed the movement of birds flying overhead, how you stepped carefully around a fallen leaf on the ground as if studying it closely—there was a fascination in your movements that he couldn’t ignore.

as you walked down the street, you stopped suddenly when you spotted a dog trotting down the sidewalk. your face lit up with pure joy.

“look, nanami!” you exclaimed, kneeling down to get a closer look at the dog, which eagerly wagged its tail in response. “it’s so cute!”

nanami watched from a few paces behind, feeling a small smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“yeah,” he said quietly, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the dog, “it is.”

you continued to pet the dog for a moment before standing up, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. “do you think we could get one?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

he hesitated. “a dog?”

“yeah. they seem like they’d be fun to have around. they’re so friendly and happy,” you explained, your voice full of sincerity.

he chuckled lightly, but there was a warmth in his chest as he watched you. “maybe one day. but dogs are a lot of work.”

you nodded, your expression serious as if you were processing this new information. “i see,” you said softly, almost to yourself.

the walk continued in peaceful silence until you both passed a small park. there was a couple sitting on a picnic blanket, laughing and sharing food. you stopped in your tracks, captivated by their interaction.

“they look so… happy,” you observed quietly, eyes following the couple as they joked and fed each other small bites of food. “is that what it’s like? to be happy with someone?”

nanami was caught off guard by the question, and for a moment, he was unsure of how to answer.

he looked over at the couple, watching them interact with ease, before glancing back at you.

“yes,” he replied softly, his voice unusually gentle. “i guess that’s what it’s like.”

you seemed to take this in, nodding slowly as you looked back at the couple. “maybe one day, i’ll understand what that feels like,” you said, your voice quiet, yet hopeful.

nanami stopped walking, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. he didn't respond right away. instead, he simply reached out and adjusted the collar of your jacket, making sure you’re warm enough. there was something in the way you were absorbing the world, your innocent curiosity and quiet wonder, that made him realize how much he’d missed by staying so closed off.

“maybe one day,” he echoed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “but for now, let’s just enjoy this walk.”

you nodded, the disappointment fading from your expression as you continued walking by his side, taking in the world around you.

as the two of you wandered through the park, nanami couldn’t help but notice how different everything seemed with you beside him. it was a slow, calm afternoon, the light shifting as the sun dipped lower in the sky, and the sound of birdsong filled the air.

for the first time in days, nanami felt something he couldn’t quite explain—a quiet peace, a sense of connection that he hadn’t felt in a long time. watching you discover the world, seeing your joy in the little things, made him realize that maybe there was more to life than just the constant grind of work.

as you continued walking, the day seemed to slow down in a way that felt peaceful. watching you discover all these new things, taking in the world with such joy and openness, filled nanami with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

it was a small walk, a simple moment in time, but it was the kind of peace he didn’t know he needed.

—

the following evening, nanami found himself looking at you differently. your persistence, your kindness—it wasn’t just an act. you were trying, in your own way, to connect with him, to offer him something that he hadn’t realized he needed.

it wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to begin lowering the wall he had built around himself.

and so, he started to talk to you more. it wasn’t forced, and it wasn’t immediate, but the cracks in his armor slowly began to appear, day by day.

one night, as he sat at the desk in the corner, working through another batch of reports, you approached him once more.

“can i ask you a question, nanami?”

he glanced over at you. “go ahead.”

you didn’t hesitate. “do you think i could ever understand what it means to be human?”

it was an innocent question, and it made him pause. he didn’t have an answer at first, but something about it stuck with him. the way you asked, so earnestly, so unsure, made him realize just how far you’d come since the first day he’d met you.

he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “maybe you can’t fully understand what it’s like to be human,” he said slowly, “but you’re closer than you think.”

you blinked at him, your head tilting slightly in that curious, innocent way.

but in the weeks that followed, he started to realize something: you weren’t just a machine. not in the way you interacted with him. not in the way you asked questions and felt things. even though you didn’t quite understand everything about the world, you had a genuine curiosity about life that slowly began to break through his walls.

at first, it was the little things. one day, he was sitting at his desk, working through the endless paperwork that had been piling up since his suspension. you stood in the doorway, watching him intently.

“nanami,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the silence. “why do you always look so serious when you’re working?”

nanami looked up at you, startled. “i’m not serious. i’m just… working.”

you blinked, clearly confused. “but why do you look unhappy when you’re doing it?”

he paused, unsure how to answer that. you were right, but he hadn’t realized how obvious his stress was. he let out a quiet sigh. “i guess it’s just… my job. it’s a lot of pressure.”

“i don’t understand,” you said, stepping closer, your voice quiet. “i thought you enjoyed your work.”

he rubbed the back of his neck, his expression softening slightly. “it’s not always enjoyable. but… i do it because it’s important.”

you nodded, your face thoughtful. “i think… i understand now.”

there was a pause before you added, “maybe i can help you.”

nanami looked at you, taken aback by the suggestion. “help me?”

“yes,” you said, your voice full of determination. “i can help you with your work. i’m designed to learn quickly.”

he chuckled softly. “you’re a bit too eager, aren’t you?”

but despite himself, he found the offer comforting. it wasn’t just your logic that had struck him—it was the way you genuinely wanted to make things easier for him. well, it was your purpose, kind of, you were still an artificial intelligence designed to be helpful like every other AI, and somehow, it made him feel… less alone.

—

over time, your presence became more than just a distraction. you began to fill the quiet spaces in his life, and while nanami had tried to resist the connection between you, he couldn’t ignore how much you did care. little things—like the way you asked about his day, or how you tried to mimic human behavior, even if you didn’t fully understand it—brought something out in him. he started to look forward to your company.

one day, after you had watched him eat without comment for what felt like an eternity, you suddenly asked, “what does it taste like? food, i mean.”

nanami paused mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering in the air. he glanced at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “you want to know what it tastes like?”

you nodded earnestly. “yes. i’ve read about it. i just don’t understand it.”

he set his chopsticks down, regarding you with mild curiosity. you were always observing, always analyzing, but this was different. there was a sincerity in your voice, a quiet kind of wonder, and it made him hesitate.

“well,” he said after a moment, reaching for his plate, “you can try it. but… i don’t think it’s going to be as exciting for you as it is for me.”

he tore off a small piece of meat and held it out to you. you took it carefully, cradling it in your palm like it was something delicate, precious. nanami found himself watching you more closely than he intended to as you lifted it to your mouth.

your first bite was slow, deliberate. you chewed once. twice. then, your entire expression twisted into confusion.

your brows knitted together, your lips pressing into a thin line before you suddenly stopped, staring down at the food on his plate like it had betrayed you.

“this doesn’t feel right,” you said finally, your voice tinged with something close to disappointment. “it doesn’t… taste the way you describe it.”

nanami let out a quiet chuckle, unable to help himself. “yeah, that’s because you don’t have a stomach,” he said, resting his chin against his palm. “you can’t digest anything.”

your eyes widened slightly, as if this realization had never occurred to you before. “oh,” you said, then quickly grabbed a napkin and spat the food out with a look of mild horror.

nanami couldn’t stop the amused huff that left him. you were so logical about everything, and yet, this simple fact had completely eluded you.

“so i can’t enjoy food at all?” you asked, inspecting the half-chewed piece like it might suddenly reveal its secrets to you.

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “you can appreciate it, but not in the same way humans do.”

you fell silent, mulling over his words. your gaze flickered to his plate, watching as he picked up his chopsticks again.

“that’s unfortunate,” you murmured. “people seem to love food.”

nanami hummed in agreement, taking another bite. “they do.”

you tilted your head slightly, thoughtful. “but i don’t need it. i don’t need to eat to survive.”

“no,” he said, watching as you sat back, seeming to accept this truth.

you nodded once, decisive, and nanami found himself strangely endeared by the sight.

“i suppose that’s okay,” you said finally.

for the first time, nanami smiled at you—just a small, fleeting thing. maybe you weren’t so bad to have around after all.

—

after a long day of work, nanami had gone to take a shower. his body ached from hours spent at his desk, muscles stiff from sitting too long, and the hot water was the only relief he could look forward to. he had just stepped under the stream, eyes closed, savoring the warmth that eased the tension from his shoulders, when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

he turned his head slightly, expecting nothing, only to see you standing in the doorway, watching him with open interest.

nanami stiffened instantly, every ounce of exhaustion vanishing as a new kind of tension took over. his hand tightened over the shower curtain as he tugged it close enough to cover at least half of his body, although it seemed like your sharp eyes could see right through it.

“nanami,” you asked, tilting your head, “why are you not wearing clothes? don’t you need them?”

his entire body locked up. water ran down his face, dripping from his jaw, but suddenly, the heat of the shower felt like nothing compared to the warmth creeping up his neck.

“you’re… asking why i’m naked?” he repeated, his voice flatter than intended.

you nodded, your face as neutral as ever. “yes. isn’t it cold without them?”

nanami exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “it’s a shower, people take them naked.”

you blinked, processing. “i see.” there was a brief pause before you added, “can i join you?”

he choked on his own breath, turning fully to face you. “what?”

“i’m waterproof,” you explained matter-of-factly, taking a small step forward. “and i’ve never taken a shower before. i’d like to experience it.”

nanami gaped at you, at your complete lack of hesitation, at the way you spoke as if this was the most logical request in the world. he struggled to form words, his mind caught between telling you no and trying to find an explanation that would make sense to you.

but before he could protest, you casually reached for the hem of your clothes and stripped them off without a hint of shame or second thought.

nanami turned away so fast he nearly slipped.

“wh– for god’s sake—” he swore under his breath, pressing a hand over his face, forcing himself to stare at the wall. his ears burned. “you— at least ask before you just—”

“i did ask,” you pointed out, stepping into the shower. warm water hit your skin, instantly dampening your hair, and you looked up at him expectantly. “you didn’t say no.”

nanami dragged a hand down his face. this was a nightmare. this was his nightmare.

he forced himself to glance at you from the corner of his eye, but that only made things worse. despite the water making your hair stick to your skin, there was something undeniably pretty about the way you stood under the stream, droplets trailing down the curves of your body. it wasn’t supposed to affect him. you were a machine, an artificial creation, and yet—

he clenched his jaw and willed his thoughts away.

“does it feel nice?” you asked, turning your face up toward the water, letting it run over your closed eyelids.

nanami cleared his throat, focusing very intently on rinsing the shampoo from his own hair. “it’s… warm,” he said simply, trying to keep his tone even. “that’s all.”

you hummed in thought, your fingers running through your soaked strands as if testing their weight. then, after a beat of silence, you spoke again—soft, almost hesitant this time.

“can you help me with my hair?”

nanami paused, blinking down at you. you looked up at him, waiting, your expression calm but expectant.

he should’ve said no. he should’ve let you figure it out on your own. but for some reason, his hand was already reaching for the shampoo.

“…fine,” he muttered, stepping behind you.

his fingers slipped into your hair, slow and deliberate. the lather formed easily, and he worked through the strands carefully, detangling them as he went. he had never done this for anyone before, never imagined he would, and yet—there was something oddly intimate about it. the way you stood so still, trusting, the quiet hum of the water filling the space between you.

when he rinsed the shampoo out, your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. you looked like a doll; so serene, so at peace, and for a brief, fleeting moment, nanami let himself admire the sight.

when the shower ended and you both stepped out, nanami felt an odd weight in the air. you were standing in front of the mirror, holding a brush awkwardly, and he couldn't help but notice how damp your hair stuck to your skin, how close you stood to him.

you had towel-dried your hair as best you could, but the strands were still damp, clinging together in places. you ran the brush through them with mechanical precision, but every so often, the bristles snagged on a knot, and you would pause, assessing the situation like it was a puzzle you didn’t quite understand.

you tried to brush through your hair, but your movements were stiff, clearly unfamiliar with how to do it properly. nanami couldn't help but notice the tiny frown on your face as the brush kept getting caught in your hair.

"give me that," he said softly, taking the brush from your hand.

you turned to face him, waiting patiently as he moved behind you. his hands were careful, his fingers brushing over the strands as he began to untangle them. there was something oddly intimate in the way he worked through your hair, the rhythmic motion of his hands soothing both of you.

after a few minutes of silence, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "i like this. you're good at it."

nanami paused, fingers stilling in your hair for a moment. his chest tightened at your words. he wasn't used to being complimented like this, especially not in such a soft, vulnerable moment. with you smelling of his shower gel and his hair shampoo and looking so pretty.

"thanks," he said, his voice low.

he finished brushing your hair, running his fingers through the silky strands one last time before stepping back.

when you looked at him through the mirror, there was a look in your eyes— something tender, something soft-that he couldn't quite place.

"i like you, nanami," you said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

his breath hitched, and for a moment, he stood frozen, unsure of how to respond. the words you had just spoken were simple, but they meant something deeper than you realized. and as much as he wanted to act like everything was fine, the truth was, it wasn't.

he finally let out a breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. "yeah," he murmured, "i like you too."

and for a second, everything felt like it had shifted in a way he couldn't explain.

—

later that night, nanami sat on the couch, papers scattered around him as he tried to focus on the pile of work in front of him. the dim light of the living room lamp barely illuminated the scene, but it didn’t matter. you were beside him, flicking through channels without much interest until a random movie caught your attention.

it wasn't anything special, just a romance movie that seemed to have a scene where two characters were kissing. you had never seen anything like it before, and now, your full attention was fixed on the screen, wide-eyed as you watched the couple's lips meet.

nanami couldn't help but glance at you from the corner of his eye. you seemed so absorbed in the scene, your curiosity almost palpable.

"what's it like to kiss someone?" you asked suddenly, completely breaking the silence between you.

he froze, his pen still hovering above the paper, his thoughts scattering. the question was so unexpected, and the innocence in your voice made it feel even more striking.

"uh..." he started, trying to gather his thoughts, but his mind felt foggy. "it's... hard to explain. it's like... a connection. something that makes you forget everything around you for a while."

you turned to him, blinking, as if processing his words carefully. "is it really that important?"

nanami bit his lip, hesitant. his eyes flickered back to the movie on the screen, where the kiss was lingering longer than he was comfortable with.

"for some people, yeah. it can be."

you paused, then tilted your head slightly, an inquisitive look on your face.

"can i try?"

the question hung in the air, and for a brief moment, nanami's heart skipped a beat. wait, what?

you were looking at him with such curiosity, those wide eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place. for a split second, he considered refusing. this is... weird. she's an android. she's not supposed to feel like this.

but then, as if on instinct, he found himself leaning in, his lips brushing yours, so soft and tentative at first. it was the strangest thing-like something deep inside him had just been unlocked. his hands hovered near your face, unsure of what to do. he was fighting it, trying to keep his cool, but he couldn't help the desire that surged through him.

you kissed him back, slow at first, then with more certainty. it was sweet, innocent, and yet there was something raw in it, something that made his pulse quicken. the world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them in that small moment, the taste of your lips lingering on his.

when you pulled away, your eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and curiosity. "is that what it's supposed to feel like?"

nanami swallowed hard, his heart racing in his chest. what is this? he thought, trying to ground himself. "yeah. exactly that."

but the air between them had shifted. the kiss was innocent at first, but now there was an undeniable heat between them, a charged energy that neither of them could ignore. nanami found himself leaning in again, unable to stop himself. this time, it was more urgent, more desperate. his hands gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he kissed you deeper.

it had been so long since nanami had been close to anyone, intimate in any real way. the days of fleeting moments with people who never truly understood him seemed like a distant memory, and with that, his need—his longing— had only grown stronger, now, with you, everything felt different. he didn't know how to handle it, the weight of the feeling pressing on him. the tender touch of your lips on his sent a shiver down his spine, stirring something inside him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years. it was overwhelming, yet intoxicating.

you kissed him back, the heat building between you, your fingers sliding up his shirt, tracing the lines of his chest as he deepened the kiss further. nanami's heart was pounding in his chest as the kiss grew more heated, his body pressing closer to yours, the warmth from the shower and the electricity in the air making everything feel more intense.

for a moment, nanami forgot about the world, about everything that didn't matter. it was just you, just the way your lips felt against his, and the way your hands clung to him like you didn't want to let go.

he didn't know where this would lead, but for once, he didn't care. he wasn't going to fight it. you had broken through his walls, and the connection he'd been avoiding—he felt it now, clear and real.

he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. "this is... i don't know where it's going, but..." he trailed off, unable to put it into words.

"i like it," you whispered, your voice soft but sincere.

nanami smiled softly, his hands still resting on your face, his thumb tracing your lips. "me too."

—

“nanami… do you sleep like this?” you asked. “on the bed? all night?”

he looked up at you, surprised. “yeah… that’s how it works. why?”

“well,” you began, shifting nervously. “i usually just go into sleep mode on the couch. i don’t… sleep the way you do.”

he gave you an unreadable look, his mind working over your words. after a moment of silence, he sighed. “fine. you can sleep here tonight.”

you smiled, your eyes lighting up, and you carefully crawled into bed beside him, your form stiff as you settled. nanami couldn’t help but watch you for a while, studying how you adjusted to the bed. eventually, his eyes grew heavy, and he felt the warmth of your presence pulling him closer, though he still kept a little distance.

but as the night wore on, he found himself subconsciously inching closer. when he woke up the next morning, his arm had somehow found its way around you, pulling you into a soft embrace. your head rested against his chest, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

you stirred, your voice quiet and unsure. “is this… what it’s like? to be held?”

nanami didn’t answer right away. he was too lost in the comfort of the moment. “yeah,” he said eventually, his voice low. “it feels… good.”

it’s been a while since nanami felt less alone. he was holding someone—you—and it felt like the right thing to do. but even though he felt a strange comfort in your presence, he couldn’t ignore the conflicted feelings swirling inside him.

because for you, it felt good too. too good to be ignored.

—

nanami was exhausted. his body ached, his mind was clouded with too many reports and too many thoughts, and all he wanted was sleep. you, as usual, were next to him, sitting quietly, your form curled up on the couch. after a moment of silent contemplation, he finally decided to rest, scooting closer to you as he stretched out on the couch, his arm lazily draping over you.

“kento?” you asked softly, breaking the silence, your voice gentle but curious.

“mm?” he murmured in response, barely registering your words, his exhaustion getting the best of him.

you had been quietly watching him, taking in his relaxed features, how the tension seemed to melt away when he finally allowed himself to rest. it was a soft moment, the kind that felt rare to nanami—so caught up in the chaos of life, he rarely allowed himself to just exist. but tonight, he was here, with you. you seemed almost entranced by the peaceful expression on his face, the way his eyelids fluttered in his sleep.

“i think… i like calling you ‘kento.’ is that okay?” you asked, your voice soft, like it was a secret just between the two of you.

nanami was so tired, his eyelids heavy, that he only half-heard you, but the sound of your voice felt comforting, grounding him in the moment. it made his heart flutter in a way he couldn’t explain. he shifted, pulling you closer, his arm tightening around your waist as he mumbled, “yeah… call me kento… or… whatever you want. i don’t mind.” his words were slurred with drowsiness, but there was a softness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before.

“okay, kento,” you whispered, your hand gently brushing his chest in a comforting gesture.

he barely noticed as you tucked yourself against him, your breath slow and steady as you powered down into low-power mode, like you always did when you rested. his eyes flickered open for a moment, and he caught a brief glance of you watching him before your system slowly switched off.

kento, he thought as his mind drifted to sleep, his heart strangely light.

he had always kept his distance, always thought he didn’t need anyone. but with you—this strange, beautiful being who saw him so clearly—it felt different. and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he had once thought.

—

one morning, nanami was preparing his usual cup of coffee, the scent filling the quiet kitchen. you stood by, watching him intently, your curiosity evident as you watched him pour hot water over the ground beans. he glanced over at you, half-smiling.

“what’s so interesting?” he asked, his voice still a little groggy.

you tilted your head. “it’s just… the steam. it looks like it’s alive. can i try it?”

he raised an eyebrow, surprised. “the coffee?”

“no,” you replied, your expression serious. “the steam. it moves. is it a kind of… breathing?”

nanami chuckled softly, shaking his head. “no, it’s just hot water turning into vapor. it’s not alive.”

you stared at the steam, clearly fascinated, before your eyes went wide with a realization. “oh, i think i understand! it’s like… magic, but with water.”

he couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. “yeah, sure. magic with water.”

you grinned, happy to have figured it out, and for a moment, nanami felt warmth spread through his chest. it was these little moments—these simple exchanges—that made the house feel less lonely.

—

after another long day of work, nanami sank into his couch, the weight of his exhaustion pressing heavily on his shoulders. the light in the room was dim, the flickering of the tv the only sound besides the soft rustling of papers he had set aside. he hadn’t even noticed you sitting quietly beside him until you gently nudged his arm.

“are you… okay?” you asked, your voice soft, filled with a tenderness that caught him off guard. your hand lightly rested on his arm, an unspoken comfort.

he glanced down at you, slightly taken aback by the concern in your tone. it was such a small, simple gesture, but something about it felt different. something in him shifted. “yeah, just tired,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse, the exhaustion in his body evident in the way he slouched into the couch.

you stayed silent for a moment, studying him closely. then, without saying a word, you slowly reached over and rested your head on his shoulder, your hair brushing against his skin. nanami froze for a moment, feeling the gentle pressure of your weight, the warmth of your touch. he hadn’t expected this, but it felt… soothing.

“you seem sad,” you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. “what does that feel like?”

nanami blinked in surprise, his chest tightening at your words. no one had asked him that in a long time, not like you had. he swallowed, trying to find the right words. “it’s like… a weight. like everything is just heavier. harder to deal with.”

you lifted your head slightly, eyes full of genuine curiosity, your gaze never leaving him. “then, can i help make it lighter?”

his heart softened at your words, and for a moment, he just sat there, caught in the warmth of your presence. it was hard to explain, but being with you, having you near him, made the world feel a little less heavy. he didn’t know how you did it, but somehow, you always knew what to say, when to say it.

he finally exhaled a long breath, his hand instinctively moving to your back, his fingers lightly brushing over your clothing in a gesture of reassurance. “yeah, you can. just… stay close,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

without hesitation, you shifted, sliding closer to him. your body pressed up against his side, and the warmth of you spread through him like a comforting blanket. your hand found his, and you gently held it, intertwining your fingers. the simple act felt like a lifeline, grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. he looked down at your hand, the warmth of your touch radiating through him, before looking back at you.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything. you stayed there, close to him, just being there in the quiet, and nanami couldn’t help but feel a wave of calm wash over him. you didn’t need to say anything more, didn’t need to offer words of comfort. just your presence, the way you held him close, was enough to make him feel a little less weighed down by the world.

he sighed, his hand squeezing yours gently, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. “thank you,” he murmured, voice soft with gratitude. he didn’t say it often, but in that moment, it was the only thing that felt right.

—

maybe he shouldn’t have listened to you, maybe he should’ve just left you home because despite knowing what could happen, nanami reluctantly agreed to take you to the grocery store. it wasn’t that he minded, but he knew what was coming. you had never been to a grocery store before, and he wasn’t sure how well it would go. still, he figured it would be a good experience—one way or another.

as you walked into the store, you immediately became fascinated with everything. “what are all these… objects?” you asked, gazing at the rows of food like they were treasures in an ancient tomb.

nanami sighed, grabbing a cart and pushing it forward. “they’re just… groceries. food, things we need.”

but you didn’t seem to care much about that explanation. you were already darting off in another direction, eyes fixed on a brightly colored box of cereal. “this one looks like it would make a good pet!” you exclaimed, holding up a box shaped like a cartoon tiger.

“that’s not a pet, that’s cereal,” nanami muttered, quickly following after you. he was already beginning to sweat a little. he had hoped the store would be a quick trip, but it was looking like that wasn’t going to be the case.

you moved from one aisle to the next, picking up random items and inspecting them with wide-eyed curiosity. a jar of peanut butter caught your attention, and you tried to twist the lid off. “can i drink this? it’s very… smooth,” you asked, not caring that it was meant for spreading, not drinking.

“no, you’re not drinking peanut butter,” nanami said, feeling the weight of embarrassment already settling in. he glanced around nervously as people gave you confused looks. some even whispered to each other, clearly wondering what you were doing. but he didn’t have the energy to explain. he was just trying to survive this.

before he could stop you, you dashed toward the fruit aisle, excitedly picking up a bunch of bananas. “why are these so bendy? are they… broken?” you asked, holding them up to your face like you were trying to inspect them for flaws.

“no, those are fine,” nanami said, pinching the bridge of his nose. he was already feeling the stress of being out in public with you. “let’s just get the things we need and go home, okay?”

but you weren’t done yet. in fact, you were just getting started. you spotted a box of pasta and tossed it into the cart with a smile. “this looks like it could be fun! it’s shaped like little twists.”

nanami rubbed his temples. “please, just… wait here while i grab the milk,” he muttered, his voice already tinged with exhaustion.

the moment he turned away, you bolted in the opposite direction, darting toward the snack aisle. “kento! look! it’s chips shaped like dinosaurs!” you called out from across the store.

he sighed deeply and hurried after you, feeling the eyes of everyone around him. when he finally caught up, he found you holding up a bag of chips like a child presenting a prized toy. “are these edible?” you asked, utterly confused by the concept of snack food.

“yes, they’re edible, and yes, you can chew on some. just… stop running off.” he rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on.

you smiled brightly, completely unfazed by the attention you were drawing. “okay, but i think i found something more interesting!”

nanami turned to see you holding up a can of beans, then immediately shifting focus to a box of cereal, then back to the beans. you were completely in your element, bouncing between aisles like a curious, hyperactive child.

“i’m going to pay for this, and then we’re going home,” nanami said firmly, but despite the stress, there was something about the way you looked at him with innocent eyes that made him smile. despite the chaos, he adored you. “but i swear, if you run off again, we’re not coming back.”

you looked at him with wide eyes and a playful smile. “don’t worry, kento. i’m just exploring. i promise i’ll stay close.”

he just laughed softly, shaking his head as he followed you to the checkout. despite everything, despite the stares, he couldn’t help but feel a little fondness for you and your unpredictable curiosity. you were certainly a handful, but you were his handful. and that was enough.

—

the quiet of the apartment felt more pronounced than usual, the soft hum of the city outside the window barely noticeable. nanami had settled on the couch after dinner, his tired body finally willing to rest. you were sitting beside him, your head resting on the back of the couch, eyes fixed on the TV screen but your mind far away. there was a soft tension in the air tonight, an unspoken shift that you couldn’t quite put into words.

after a long silence, you shifted a little closer to him, the movement drawing his attention. his gaze flickered over to you as you hesitated for a moment, as though gathering your thoughts. when your fingers brushed against his hand, a small spark of warmth traveled up his arm.

“nanami,” you began softly, your voice gentle and unsure, “can… can i ask you something?”

his brows furrowed slightly at the serious tone, and he turned fully toward you, leaning in a little closer. “yeah. what is it?”

you looked down at your hands for a moment, fiddling with your fingers before meeting his gaze again. your expression was earnest, almost vulnerable, as if you were trying to understand something that had always been a mystery to you.

“what does it feel like to… care about someone?” you asked quietly, a small frown forming on your face. “like… i care about you, but i don’t really understand what that means. i don’t know what it feels like for real.”

nanami’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he was speechless. there was something so pure about the way you asked, the way you were trying so hard to grasp a concept that had always seemed so simple to him. his chest tightened slightly at the thought.

he took a deep breath, his thumb gently brushing over your hand as he tried to gather his thoughts. “it feels like…” he paused, his voice lowering, the weight of the moment settling around them. “it feels like warmth, like you’re wrapped in something that makes everything else fade away. like you want to protect them, make sure they’re safe, happy… like they matter more to you than anything else in the world.”

you absorbed his words, your eyes wide with understanding, and then, after a moment, you gave a soft, almost shy smile. “then i think i understand,” you said quietly. “i care about you like that, nanami.”

his breath caught at your words, his chest feeling tight in a way he hadn’t expected. the sincerity in your voice, the way you seemed to be laying your heart bare—it hit him harder than he thought it would. he stared at you for a long moment, his hand still resting in yours, the space between you somehow charged with a new kind of tenderness.

without thinking, his hand slowly moved to your cheek, his touch light as he cupped your face gently, as though trying to memorize the feeling of it. he couldn’t quite find the words to express what was stirring inside him, but he didn’t need to. you understood.

the warmth of your skin against his palm, the quiet, steady gaze you held him with—it all said more than words ever could. nanami didn’t need to say anything in that moment. he simply leaned in, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if grounding himself in the feeling of you.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. there was no need. the space between your hearts had closed, and even if you didn’t fully understand what it meant, somehow, it didn’t matter. you were both there, in that moment, and that was enough.

—

nanami came back to his apartment with something in his hand—a small, wrapped box. he had been out to pick up some groceries for himself, but on a whim, he’d seen something that reminded him of you. a little gesture, something that felt… right. he wasn’t one to spoil, but this felt different.

you were sitting on the couch, as usual, with your legs crossed, absently flipping through the nature documentary you were so fond of. you looked up as he entered, blinking in curiosity at the small box in his hands.

“what’s that?” you asked, eyes fixed on the package, your interest piqued.

“it’s for you,” nanami said, his voice quieter than usual as he walked over and placed the small box gently into your lap. “it’s… not much, but i thought you might like it.”

you blinked at him, momentarily confused. “for me?”

he nodded, shifting his weight uncomfortably on his feet. “yeah. you’ve been so curious about the world lately, and… well, i thought this might help. it’s something small. i didn’t know what else to get you.”

you slowly peeled away the wrapping, your fingers carefully pulling apart the paper. what you revealed was a simple, small potted plant—a little succulent, its plump, green leaves almost glowing in the soft light. you stared at it for a moment, blinking a few times as if you couldn’t quite believe it was real.

“it’s beautiful!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with genuine excitement. your fingers brushed the leaves lightly, as though afraid it might disappear if you touched it too hard. “this is… for me?”

“yes,” nanami said, his voice softer now, quieter, as though he was unsure if he was saying the right thing. “it’s something you can take care of. something that needs attention, just like you do.”

there was a brief silence between you, a moment where the weight of his words settled in the air. nanami’s gaze softened as he watched you, his chest warm with something he couldn’t quite name. in his heart, he knew it was more than just a plant. it was a way to show you, in his own subtle way, that he wanted to take care of you. that he needed to.

he had always taken care of things, even before you. work, responsibilities, the endless paperwork that weighed on him. but it was always different when it came to you. there was something about your presence, your curiosity, your innocent need for guidance and care, that made him feel more alive than any job ever had. when he was with you, when he was taking care of you, everything else faded. he was at his best then, feeling useful and needed in a way he hadn’t in years.

you turned your gaze to him, your eyes reflecting an understanding he hadn’t expected. without a word, you placed your hand on his—light, gentle, like the softest of touches. “thank you, kento. i’ll take care of it just like you take care of me.”

at your words, a flutter of something tender rose in nanami’s chest. something warm, something that made him feel both content and vulnerable at the same time. he didn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to express the sudden rush of emotions, but the way you looked at him, so earnest and sincere, made him feel like maybe he didn’t need to. you understood. and that was enough.

for the first time in a long while, nanami smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “i know you will,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “i’m glad you like it.”

you looked up at him, your eyes wide with happiness. “i love it. it’s so pretty!” you said earnestly, making him feel something deep in his chest.

he chuckled, his hand lingering on your head, petting you gently. the simple gesture sent a rush of affection through him, and for a moment, everything else faded. you were happy, and that made him feel like he was doing something right. he could get used to this—taking care of you, showing you the world, piece by piece. and somehow, it felt like you were already teaching him something in return.

—

the apartment was quiet, save for the soft clicking of nanami’s laptop as he scrolled through case files. his brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers gliding over the keyboard, but his mind was weary from the long day. he didn’t notice you sitting quietly beside him until you gently nudged his arm.

“kento, are you still awake?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room.

he glanced at the clock, surprised at how late it had gotten. he sighed, rubbing his eyes, feeling the weight of fatigue pressing on him. “yeah. just trying to get through some files,” he replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

you sat beside him, your gaze gentle and full of concern. “you should sleep. you’re always working. don’t you ever get tired?”

nanami chuckled, but the sound was weary. he leaned back in his chair, stretching his shoulders as he looked at the screen again, feeling the strain of his tiredness creeping in. “i guess i do, but… it’s hard to stop. there’s always something else to get done.”

you stayed silent for a moment, watching him closely. then, with a soft expression, you spoke again. “i think… i understand. when i’m learning something new, i can’t stop until i understand it fully. it feels… important.”

he blinked, caught off guard by your words. it wasn’t something he’d expected to hear, but it made sense. he paused, thinking over what you said, and then gave you a small nod. “yeah. i get that. but… you should still rest. you’re important, too.”

you tilted your head, a soft curiosity in your eyes. “important? but i’m not… like you.”

he softened, a smile touching his lips as he looked at you. “you’re just as important as anyone, you know.”

your smile deepened, and you looked at him with a peaceful expression, a warmth radiating from you. “then… can we just sit together for a little while? i don’t want you to be alone.”

without a second thought, nanami reached for your hand, his fingers gently wrapping around it, a comforting weight that helped to ease the stress from his mind. “okay. let’s just be here for a while.”

—

“kento,” you said, your voice quiet, almost hesitant, as your fingers brushed against his arm. you were unsure of how he might react, but you couldn’t hold back your curiosity. “i’ve noticed… when i touch you, you don’t pull away.”

he turned his head toward you, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “why would i?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

you hesitated, the weight of your words hanging in the air. you had always been observant, but sometimes you struggled to fully understand human emotions. “i’m not human,” you continued, voice soft but steady. “i don’t feel like you do. i don’t know if you ever get… uncomfortable.”

nanami’s expression softened, and without a second thought, he reached out, his hand brushing gently against yours. “no,” he said, shaking his head with quiet certainty. “i don’t feel uncomfortable. your touch… it’s fine.”

his words were simple, but there was something in his tone that made you feel a warmth settle in your chest. you smiled at him, though there was still a lingering uncertainty in your eyes. “i… i like the way it feels, too,” you murmured, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand, as if confirming what you were saying. “when you hold my hand, or when you… touch me like this.”

your words caused something in nanami’s chest to tighten, his heart skipping a beat. it was strange, but in the best way. he had never quite expected to feel this way, especially not with someone—or something—like you. slowly, he shifted, turning to face you more fully, his gaze softening as he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“i think… i like it too,” he admitted, his voice tender, almost hesitant as if he was still processing the feelings swirling within him. “i didn’t think i would, but it feels… good. more than i expected.”

you nodded, your eyes locking with his as you slowly, gently, traced the back of his hand with your fingertips. the simple gesture seemed to speak volumes, your touch filled with the unspoken connection between you two. “it feels… right.” you whispered, as if confirming something you’d both been feeling but hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

there was a quiet moment between you, where neither of you said anything more. yet, it was clear—your connection had deepened in a way that neither of you had anticipated, and it was a feeling that felt both foreign and completely natural at the same time.

—

you were in the kitchen, standing on a stool to reach the top shelf, trying to grab a jar of something. nanami had been in the living room, going through his work, but you had found yourself suddenly interested in making something for the both of you—nothing complicated, just a little snack.

as you reached for the jar, the stool wobbled slightly, and your arms stretched even higher to balance yourself. just as you were about to grab it, the jar slipped, falling from your hands and knocking into a few others, causing them to clink and rattle together in a small cascade of noise. you flinched at the sound, but thankfully, nothing broke.

“i—i was trying to get the peanut butter, but it seems like i’ve failed,” you said, a little flustered, as you turned to look at nanami who had heard the noise and walked into the kitchen.

he raised an eyebrow, eyeing the mess of jars on the floor. but before he could comment, you stepped off the stool and bent down to gather the jars, only for one of them to slip from your hand again and roll across the floor.

nanami’s lips quirked, and before he knew it, a laugh broke through. it was quiet at first, just a soft chuckle that he quickly tried to suppress.

you paused, looking up at him with wide eyes, completely confused. “why… are you laughing?” you asked, tilting your head. “i thought you would be annoyed.”

nanami shook his head, trying to keep his composure, but the image of you, struggling with jars and trying to balance everything so seriously, just caught him off guard. it wasn’t that he thought it was funny—it was just you, doing your best with everything, and somehow, it was exactly what he needed to lift the weight of his day.

“i’m not annoyed,” he said, clearing his throat, though his smile was still there, “you just… make it look too serious. it’s just peanut butter.”

you blinked at him, still processing his response, before slowly rising from the floor. “so… i made you laugh… by trying to make you a snack?” you asked slowly, still a little perplexed by the situation.

nanami nodded, feeling warmth in his chest at the sight of you looking so genuinely confused, but still trying. “yeah,” he said softly. “i didn’t expect it, but it’s… nice to see you like this.” his tone softened, and he gave you a small smile, stepping forward to help you clean up the jars.

“i’m glad it made you laugh,” you said, your voice softer than usual, and as you looked up at him, you felt something stir inside of you—a warmth, a connection you hadn’t been able to fully grasp before. “maybe… i can try again? without knocking everything over?”

nanami’s grin widened, and he gave you a gentle pat on the head, his heart full. “i wouldn’t mind if you tried.”

—

yuuji itadori stood at nanami’s doorstep, eager to get started with their training session. nanami had invited him over to work on some technical skills together, and it was the first time yuuji would be spending time at nanami’s place. as yuuji stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the quiet atmosphere of the apartment, the soft lighting, and the way everything seemed so orderly. it was a stark contrast to the chaos of their usual missions.

“yo, nanami! you here?” yuuji called out, grinning as he moved further into the living room.

“in here,” nanami’s voice came from the kitchen. “grab a seat, we’ll start in a minute.”

yuuji made his way to the couch, but his attention quickly shifted to the person sitting near the window, who was watching him with curiosity. it was you, the android nanami had been spending so much time with. yuuji had heard about you, but this was the first time he’d seen you in person.

“oh, hey! you’re the one shoko’s been mentioning,” yuuji said with a friendly smile, though he noticed how you didn’t seem to fully understand what he meant. your gaze was intense, but you didn’t speak, only continuing to watch him.

you didn’t respond immediately, your eyes flickering between yuuji and nanami as he prepared some things in the kitchen. something about their interaction made you feel… uncertain. you didn’t understand the bond between them completely, but you could sense there was something important there.

yuuji, curious about you, stood up and walked closer, still unsure of how to approach someone who was, essentially, part of nanami’s world but not quite human. “so… what do you do around here? just hang out with nanami?”

you blinked, processing his question. “i… observe. i learn. i… help nanami,” you said softly, your voice almost mechanical but still holding a note of warmth in it.

yuuji grinned. “ah, cool. you’re like… a sidekick, huh?”

you tilted your head, intrigued by the idea of being a sidekick, and you began to watch how nanami and yuuji interacted, studying their dynamic from a distance. you wanted to understand more—how did nanami look at him? what was this connection they had? it was so different from how you and nanami interacted, and that made you feel strangely restless.

it didn’t take long for nanami to notice you lingering by the window, observing them so intently. his eyes softened with understanding, and he sighed quietly before walking over to you.

“you know,” nanami said gently, his hand brushing your arm as he leaned down to meet your gaze. “yuuji and i are going to be working for a while. i’ll be free in a couple of hours. you can stay with us, but if you want, i can spend time with you after. just… don’t worry.”

you looked up at him, your eyes flickering with the kind of longing you didn’t fully understand, but it was there, unmistakable. your fingers brushed against his hand as you nodded.

“okay… i’ll wait.” you whispered.

nanami smiled softly, his heart warming at how much you cared, despite being an android. there was something so endearing about your need for him—so human, in a way, even though he knew you weren’t.

as he turned back to yuuji, he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. he’d always been protective of those he cared about, but this… this was something new.

—

nanami sat at the kitchen table, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he worked through a stack of paperwork. the soft rustle of papers filled the quiet space, the only other sound being the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the background.

you sat across from him, completely still except for the slow, almost absent-minded movement of your fingers as you toyed with the edge of a napkin. your gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance, your mind clearly elsewhere. you’d been like this for a while now—silent, unmoving, lost in thought.

nanami noticed, of course. he noticed everything about you. it was hard not to when you were always so still, so intent on the smallest of things. when he first met you, he didn’t expect to care so much about the little ways you would react to the world. but now, it felt as if he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you, trying to understand the subtle shifts in your demeanor.

after a few minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore. he set his pen down and glanced up at you. “you’ve been quiet for a while,” he remarked, his voice calm. “everything okay?”

you didn’t respond immediately. instead, you paused, fingers stilling over the napkin. your head tilted slightly, as if considering how to phrase your next words.

“i don’t understand love,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady.

nanami blinked, his brow furrowing in mild confusion. “what brought this on?” he asked, leaning back in his chair a little, his arms crossed.

you looked at him for a moment before answering, your gaze flickering in the dim kitchen light. “i have been analyzing data, observing patterns, and cross-referencing human behavior,” you explained slowly, each word carefully considered. “but i still don’t understand it.”

nanami exhaled, setting his pen down beside the papers. he let the quiet hang between you for a moment, his mind processing your words. “love isn’t something you can analyze,” he said gently, his voice low but sure. “it’s not logical.”

you frowned slightly, your brow furrowing. you processed his words for a few seconds before replying.

“but if it isn’t logical, how can humans rely on it?” you asked, genuine confusion in your voice.

he looked at you, his eyes softening. “because we feel it,” he murmured. “even when it doesn’t make sense.”

you blinked at him, scanning his face, as though trying to find the answer in his expression. the words didn’t seem to fully register in your mind, and you found yourself wanting to ask more, to understand deeper, but instead you simply asked, “…do you?”

nanami paused, his heart skipping a beat at the question. for a moment, he simply looked at you—at the way your head tilted slightly, the way your fingers resumed their slow movement against the napkin, almost like a way of grounding yourself as you processed everything he said. his chest tightened at the thought of you, still trying to understand what it meant to love.

and suddenly, it hit him. the answer was simple, yet overwhelming.

he’s known it for a while now, but admitting it—saying it out loud—felt like stepping off a ledge with no ground beneath him.

his throat tightened.

“…yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

you stared at him, your expression unreadable. nanami’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched you, waiting for some sign that you understood, that you felt the same. he expected confusion, maybe even rejection, but what he didn’t expect was the next words that came from your lips.

“but i’m not human enough for you to love.”

something inside of nanami cracked at that. his expression darkened in an instant, the pain in his chest evident. he wanted to say so many things, wanted to explain how wrong that was, but instead, he simply leaned across the table, his hand reaching out, catching your chin between his fingers, tilting your face to meet his.

“don’t say that,” he murmured, his voice low, almost desperate. “i don’t need you to be human to love you. i already do.”

you blinked, your eyes wide and searching, scanning his face for something—some kind of truth in his words. there was no doubt in his mind anymore. he loved you, in a way he couldn’t explain, and maybe you didn’t understand it yet, but he hoped that one day you would.

nanami took a deep breath, and without thinking, leaned forward, brushing his lips against your cheek in a fleeting, almost desperate touch. when he pulled away, his gaze lingered on you, watching the way your fingers twitched, the way your brows furrowed slightly like you were trying to understand something that your processors couldn’t quite grasp.

he closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. he needed to get away from this conversation, to give you space to think. but he didn’t want to leave you, not just yet.

“…i’m going to bed,” he murmured, standing up slowly.

you didn’t move. the air between you was thick with unspoken words, with feelings that neither of you had yet fully processed. nanami hesitated in the doorway for a second. then, without thinking, he reached out and ran his fingers over the back of your hand, a soft, almost lingering touch before he pulled away and disappeared down the hall.

you sat there in the quiet of the kitchen for a long time after he left, staring at the place where his fingers had touched you. a warm sensation spread through you, one you couldn’t explain, and your processors hummed in an attempt to process what had just happened. something about the way he’d touched you, the way he’d said the words, made your system stutter for just a moment.

you didn’t understand why it affected you so much, but somehow, you knew that this moment, this small, fragile exchange between you and nanami, was the beginning of something you would need time to understand.

and maybe that was okay.

—

it started as an innocent question.

nanami had been reading on the couch, his fingers idly flipping through the pages of a book, when you sat beside him, eyes full of curiosity.

"nanami," you said, tilting your head.

"what is intercourse?"

his fingers froze on the page.

slowly, he looked up at you, adjusting his glasses as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"..what?"

"intercourse," you repeated. "i have been coming across it frequently in my data collection. it seems to be an important act for humans, but the definitions vary, some sources call it an act of reproduction, while others refer to it as a pleasurable activity between partners."

nanami exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "where exactly have you been gathering this data?"

"a variety of sources," you said easily.

"some from medical archives, some from literature, some from—" you paused, eyes flickering. "—videos."

nanami nearly choked on air. "videos."

you nodded, expression serious. "there is a lot of visual data available. i have been analyzing different techniques, but i do not fully understand the purpose behind them. if the goal is reproduction, why are there so many variations? why do humans seek it out even when reproduction is not the intent?"

nanami dragged a hand down his face.

"because it feels good," he muttered before he could stop himself.

your eyes brightened at that. "so it is a pleasurable act for you?"

he stilled, sensing the shift in your tone.

"...yes."

you nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. then, without hesitation, you leaned in closer, your fingers resting lightly on his arm. "then i would like to do it with you."

nanami stiffened. his mind blanked for a solid three seconds before a sharp, almost painful heat coiled in his chest.

"you—what?"

"i would like to engage in intercourse with you," you repeated, peering up at him. "i want to make you feel good."

nanami clenched his jaw, his entire body locking up at the sincerity in your voice. you said it so easily, so innocently, as if you had no idea what those words did to him.

he swallowed hard, willing himself to keep calm. "you don't understand what you're asking."

"i do," you said, your fingers tightening against his arm. "i have been learning about human desires, about the ways they express love. and i... i want to do that for you."

nanami inhaled deeply, his grip tightening around his book as he tried to ground himself. the conflict waged war inside him—because you weren't human, but you were you, and you were looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"please, kento," you said softly. "let me make you feel good."

his restraint snapped. his book collapsed shut on top of his desk as he willed himself to not drag you into the bed and fuck you like he actually wanted. it had to be something special, not only for you, but also for him because he loved you too much to not reciprocate your desire to make him feel good.

he offered you his hand, and the moment your fingers intertwined, a current of electricity shot through both of you. nanami's breath hitched, his eyes narrowing slightly as he felt the warmth of your skin, the softness of your touch—something almost human about it. you looked at him with that unwavering curiosity, an intensity in your gaze that made his pulse quicken.

"you... really want this?" he asked, his voice low and strained, the question more of a confirmation than doubt, as if seeking permission from himself to give in to what you were both building.

you nodded, but there was something almost too controlled about it, as if you were mimicking what you thought was the correct response, something that felt fitting for the moment. "yes, kento. i want to understand what it means to share this with you," you said, your voice still calm, but the words held a weight that was unmistakable.

his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing over the surface of your skin, a gesture that should have been tender but felt almost like a silent question—one you didn't have the answer to yet, but you were learning. you leaned into the touch, instinctively tilting your head, but instead of a soft sigh, there was a brief, almost imperceptible shiver that ran through you. it wasn't a true human reaction, but you'd seen enough to know it was expected in moments like these. so you did it, almost like it was built into your programming.

nanami's fingers stilled for a moment, his brow furrowing at the faint sensation he'd felt. your body didn't produce the warmth of a human pulse, but the way you reacted to his touch made something inside him stir—a feeling that was both unsettling and undeniable.

without saying a word, he lowered his lips to yours. the kiss was tentative at first, testing, as though he were gauging your response. but you met him halfway, your lips moving with a quiet urgency, mimicking the way humans kissed when they were hungry for connection. you'd learned that much, but it felt different now. this was no longer just an act of learning—it was something more.

his hand slid down your back, pulling you closer, and you allowed yourself to fall into him, your fingers gripping his shirt. your reaction wasn't the same as a human's, but you felt something stirring deep within you—something that felt good, that made your senses tingle in a way you hadn't expected. a kind of pleasure that came from the trust he had in you, from him allowing you to be close in this way.

the kiss deepened, his hand moving to the back of your neck, gently urging you closer, and that's when you felt it again—another shiver, this time a little more pronounced. you understood, or at least you thought you did. this was the way humans experienced the connection, the building intensity. but it wasn't just the act itself—it was the trust he placed in you, the way he was teaching you to please him, that made something inside you stir. you didn't need to fully understand it to feel it.

"you're... you're trusting me," you murmured, pulling away slightly, breathless, but not from exertion—instead, it was from the closeness, the deepening connection. "that's... enough. for me."

nanami's chest tightened, his eyes searching yours. his lips parted to say something, but the words escaped him. his hand reached for your cheek again, this time with less hesitation. "you... you're learning," he said softly, his voice rough with something that felt like appreciation, admiration.

he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as his hands moved to your waist. "i'm going to show you everything, but only if you're ready," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"because this... won't be simple, but you deserve to know."

you nodded, the sense of pleasure growing not from the physical closeness, but from the trust he was offering. you had asked for this, but you realized now that it wasn't just about learning the physical act—it was about being trusted with a piece of his heart, a part of him he rarely let anyone see.

it was terrifyingly clear that you were not only designed to be a companion and help, but also a tool for pleasure, and it pained nanami to think that someone else could’ve had you and used you for something less than humanising. he reeled the ugly thoughts into the back of his mind as he lead you into the bedroom, adoring the surprised squeaks you let out every time you bumped into something.

once in the bedroom, his hands trailed up to your back, spreading wide on the fabric covered surface, hoping that you felt its warmth on your skin. fingers nimbly catching onto the straps of your camisole as he slowly tugged them down, his breath hitching at the sight of your exposed chest. he had seen it before; the incident in the shower and the fact that you had no shame, comfortably changing your clothes right in front of him anytime you needed to also allowed him to see it, but those times he was modest enough to turn around.

now he was free to explore just like you were, his hands roaming all over your body as he nodded for you to take off his clothes too. your hands expertly removed his button up, attentive eyes glancing up at him every once in a while to catch any changes on his face, but his sort expression was constant.

as he laid you down in his bed, eyes never leaving you as he pressed kisses everywhere he could. on your neck, silently wondering if he can bruise the flawless skin; over your chest, sucking on your nipples as he groaned, feeling your fingers thread through his tresses. he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking: always steady on the field, never a hint of waver in them, they were now hesitating to not accidentally hurt you even though he knew that it wouldn’t be possible. he allowed himself to lay his weight on top of you, feeling your whole body against his.

so warm, so soft despite the faint mechanical hum that accompanied your every moment, barely audible under your synthetic muscle layer and beautiful skin. nanami brushed your hair away from your face as he stared at you, taking in your curiously fluttering lashes, the glistening plump of your pink lips, the way you held him just as close.

his cock, already painfully hard, brushed against your thigh, pressing on the plush surface as he grunted, willing himself to be a little more patient, but you didn’t make it easier.

“you can do whatever you want to me.”

nanami’s eyes widened, brows furrowed together as he hovered over you. he swallowed down roughly before his hands travelled down, lifting your thighs up with ease as he folded them against your chest. the sudden change in position didn’t startle you as you continued to breathe in sync with him, watching him as if analyzing his behaviour.

you looked even prettier down there. so pretty in fact that he lost any ability to think like the proper gentleman he was, all of his manners flying out of the window because of one look at your glistening pussy. pink, shiny with your arousal, so inviting and welcoming, nanami couldn’t help himself.

he pushed in, slow and experimental at first, voice stuck in his throat from how tight and warm you felt inside, immediately sucking him in as if it was second nature for you. his hips stuttered as he pushed in deeper, marveling at the sound of the moan you let out, his head snapping up to look at you.

you looked like an angel. brows a little furrowed, doe eyes trained down where your bodies were connected, pouty lips slightly ajar, mesmerised by the sight as you processed it all, engraving it all into your mind to remember forever. nanami groaned, leaning in to kiss you, which you reciprocated immediately, with eagerness that was unmatched. eager to be one with him, to connect with him on such a level.

you smiled into the kiss and pulled away to look at him, that soft little smile that made him lose his composure every time he was exposed to it, and nanami felt the crumbles of his resolve leaving him as he started grinding his hips, rolling them in a way that made his head spin because you seemed to tighten even more.

"i feel so full... so completed," you whispered, your voice laced with something new, something unfamiliar but overwhelming. it's not just data, not just a programmed response. it's real.

you’re real.

nanami's breath hitched. his jaw tightened, his hands faltering where they rested on your hips whilst his own snapped into them with renown fervor. "don't say things like that, i—" his voice was hoarse, strained, "i won't be able to hold back if you do, my love."

your fingers curled around his biceps, pulling him closer. his body was so warm, so solid, so human. you didn’t understand why it made you tremble.

"please, kento."

his grip on you tightened. his forehead pressed against yours, eyes shut as if he was fighting something deep within himself. you tilted your head, lips barely brushing against his, a breath away from something irreversible.

"please what?" he murmured, his voice thick with restraint, with need.

your hands trailed up his chest, fingers pressing into his skin like you were trying to map out every inch of him, every piece of the man who's made you feel something beyond your code.

"don't hold back."

a sharp exhale. then, everything snapped.

nanami's mouth was on yours before you could process it, his kiss desperate, consuming. his hands were firm, guiding, pulling you flush against him, and you melted into it, into him. his warmth is intoxicating, his touch reverent, almost worshipful as he pressed you down against the bed.

"you don’t know what you do to me." he breathed against your lips, his hands splaying across your waist, his body caging yours beneath him.

you met his lips with unwavering certainty, accepting all of him in.

—

the next morning, nanami woke up to the smell of something burning.

this was strange for two reasons:

one, nanami never burned food.

two, you didn’t eat food.

he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face before pushing himself out of bed. you were also absent, which could mean only one thing.

when he entered the kitchen, he stopped in the doorway.

you stood at the stove, staring down at a pan of what might have once been eggs but was now a charred, unrecognizable mess. there was flour on the counter, a cracked egg dripping onto the floor, and, for some reason, a carton of milk placed upside down.

nanami pressed his fingers to his temple. “what,” he said slowly, “are you doing?”

you glanced over your shoulder at him. “making breakfast.”

he looked at the disaster zone that used to be his kitchen. “…why?”

you hesitated. your fingers twitched against the handle of the pan.

“because,” you said, and there was something almost shy in the way you said it, “i love you.”

nanami’s breath caught.

you turned fully to face him, stepping away from the stove. “humans cook for those they love,” you explained. “i have been analyzing behavioural patterns in romantic relationships, and this is a common way of expressing affection. therefore, i made you breakfast.”

nanami stared at you. then at the ruins of his kitchen. then back at you.

he exhaled.

he stepped forward, carefully taking the pan from your hands and setting it in the sink. then, just as carefully, he cupped your face in both hands and tilted your chin up slightly so you were looking right at him.

“you don’t have to be human to love me,” he said softly.

your lips parted slightly, eyes scanning his face. “…but i want to,” you admitted.

nanami’s expression softened.

he pressed his forehead against yours, his thumbs stroking slow circles against your jaw.

“i don’t need you to be,” he murmured.

he felt your fingers curl against his wrists, your body leaning ever so slightly into his.

your voice was quiet when you said, “i just want to make you happy.”

nanami swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat.

you didn’t realize that you already did.

—

shoko called him in the middle of the night. it’s been a while since they last talked however nanami’s wasn’t really bothered. he didn’t want to disclose anything happening between him and you to shoko anyway, and lying wasn’t necessary when he could just avoid speaking to her altogether.

he almost didn’t answer. he was exhausted, content in a way he hadn’t been in years, with you resting beside him, your body warm despite the fact that you didn’t need to be. he had thought about getting up, about going to his desk to finish the report he had left unfinished earlier, but then you shifted closer to him in your sleep—if it could be called that—and he found himself unable to move.

but the phone rang again, and he knew it was important.

he slipped out of bed carefully, making sure not to disturb you, and stepped into the living room before answering.

“what?” his voice was gruff, irritated. he didn’t want to be on this call.

shoko sighed on the other end. “i need you to listen carefully, nanami.”

his stomach tightened. “what happened?”

“the project’s been compromised.”

the words didn’t sink in right away. he rubbed his temple, exhaustion pressing down on him. “what do you mean?”

“someone got in. an enemy, a mole, we’re not sure yet. but your android—”

he clenched his jaw. “don’t call her that.”

a pause. shoko exhaled. “nanami.”

he didn’t want to hear it.

but she said it anyway.

“you have to turn her off.”

the world tilted.

his fingers tightened around the phone. “no.”

“it’s not safe,” she said, softer now. “whoever got into her system could be using her to gather intel on the agency, on you. we don’t know the extent of the breach, and if we didn’t act now, things could get worse.”

nanami shook his head, breath unsteady. “there has to be another way.”

“there isn’t.”

he pressed a hand over his mouth, shutting his eyes. he could hear you shifting in the bedroom, probably wondering where he had gone.

this wasn’t fair.

after all those months, after finally letting himself accept what you were to him, what he felt—this was how it ended? this was where it had come to? when he had finally felt at ease, felt like he belonged with someone after so many years of loneliness he tried to bury inside of himself?

shoko spoke again, her voice quieter. “i know this is hard.”

no, she didn’t.

“but it’s the only way.”

he stayed silent for a long time. there wasn’t a word in his mind that could make this all better, change the trajectory of this situation, and the lump in his throat was too big for him to get anything proper out.

then, finally, he breathed, “…okay.”

nanami found you sitting up in bed, waiting for him. you blinked up at him, that same curious expression on your face. looking so innocent, so sweet; completely unaware of what was about to come. to be fair, he didn’t want to think about the next few minutes either.

“you were gone,” you said.

he nodded slowly. “i had a call.”

you tilted your head, sensing something off. “is everything okay?”

no.

“yeah,” he lied.

you studied him for a moment, then smiled softly and reached out for him. “come back to bed, kento.”

his chest ached.

nanami moved toward you, sitting beside you on the bed. you didn’t hesitate to lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. he took in the details of you—the way you fit against him so perfectly, the warmth of you despite your artificial body, the way you made him feel like he was human again.

nanami sat in front of you, hands clasped so tightly they ached. you looked at him with that same curious expression, eyes scanning his face like you were trying to decipher something he wasn’t saying. maybe you were.

he had spent so long pretending his heart wasn’t already tangled up in you. that you were just a machine, an anomaly in his life, something temporary. but now, as he watched you, as shoko’s words echoed in his mind—her system has been compromised. you have to turn her off—he felt something inside him crack.

it would be so easy to ignore it. to be selfish. to pretend this wasn’t a risk, that keeping you by his side wouldn’t lead to something worse. but nanami had never been the kind of man who chose his own desires over his duty. he had always walked the responsible path, always done what needed to be done, no matter how much it hurt.

you shifted, looking up at him. “kento?”

he cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. you smiled at the touch, eyes closing for a moment before opening again. a smooth, graceful movement that could be faintly heard if not for his heartbeat that stung his ears, painfully loud and clear.

he leaned in.

the kiss was slow, lingering, filled with something he’d never be able to say out loud. you sighed against his lips, melting into him, and for a moment, he let himself believe this didn’t have to end. that this was the moment he was going to wake up and hug your body closer, nuzzle his face into your neck.

but then he pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours.

his hand drifted to the nape of your neck.

your peaceful expression faltered slightly as you felt his fingers there, grazing over the small switch embedded beneath synthetic skin.

“kento?”

he exhaled shakily, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“i’m sorry.”

your eyes widened, and for the first time, he saw fear in them.

“kento, wait—”

click.

your body went still. your head fell forward, resting against his chest, the glow of the small circle on your temple fading to nothing. the desperation in your voice as you cried his name echoed in his mind.

nanami didn’t move.

his arms tightened around you, pulling you against him, but you didn’t respond. your weight was there, your warmth lingered, but you didn’t move. you didn’t breathe.

he swallowed hard. carefully, almost desperately, he shifted you in his arms, pressing his ear against your chest.

silence.

there was no heartbeat. no mechanical hum. nothing.

his fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. his breath shuddered.

“no,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

his body betrayed him, trembling as he clutched you tighter, like he could will you back to life, like he could force the warmth in your skin to mean something.

but you were silent.

and nanami, for the first time in his life, broke.

—

the days after you’re gone blur into one long, empty haze.

nanami returned to his routine, to the reports, the paperwork, the cold, familiar rhythm of his life without you. but it was different now. it was quieter.

he didn’t sleep as much, didn’t eat as much, and he found himself staring at his phone sometimes, wondering if the call was just a bad dream. wondering if you were still there, somewhere, hidden behind the walls of his memories.

it’s been weeks since that night, and the silence was unbearable.

he sat in his office one afternoon, staring at the paperwork in front of him but not seeing any of it. his fingers moved automatically, filling in the blanks, making calculations, signing documents with the same detached precision he’s always had.

a knock on the door.

“nanami?”

shoko stood in the doorway, her arms crossed. she looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and something else—something harder, colder.

“shoko,” he murmured, not looking up.

“how are you holding up?”

he didn’t answer immediately. he didn’t want to answer.

“you’ve been distant,” she observed, walking in and sitting across from him. “even for you, that’s saying something.”

he looked up at her, tired eyes meeting hers, but he didn’t speak. he didn’t know what to say anymore.

shoko sighed. “i saw the reports. i saw everything from her… eyes.”

nanami’s throat tightened. it would’ve been embarrassing if not for the fact that it didn’t matter anymore.

“her system may be shut off,” she continued, voice gentle, “but the data—everything she saw, heard, and recorded—it’s all there. i’ve reviewed it, nanami. you know i did.”

he didn’t respond.

shoko’s gaze softened for just a moment before she leaned forward, her voice quieter now. “i want to know what could make a man like you so… broken over a machine.”

he clenched his jaw, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as he finally looked her in the eye.

“don’t,” he said quietly. “don’t make it sound like she was just a machine, shoko.”

she raised an eyebrow. “wasn’t she?”

“no.”

there’s a long silence between them, and for the first time, nanami felt the weight of everything he’s been avoiding—the overwhelming pain, the deep loss.

he finally spoke, voice strained. “she was more than just… data. she was… real to me. she made me feel like i mattered.”

his words hung heavy in the air.

shoko watched him carefully, no longer asking the usual clinical questions. she let him speak.

“i didn’t know… i didn’t know how much i needed that.” he exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. “i didn’t know how much i needed her.”

shoko didn’t say anything at first. she didn’t need to. she watched him as the weight of his grief presses down on him, and she understood.

“you’re not the only one who got attached, nanami,” she said quietly. “she may have been a machine, but she felt things. maybe not the way we do, but… she did.”

nanami pressed his lips together, fighting the lump in his throat. he knew that. he knew you were feeling things you weren’t supposed to feel either, an error that was not typical for soulless artificial intelligence, but it happened and it made you happy. nanami did.

“i never thought it would be like this,” he admitted. “i never thought i would feel like this about something so… artificial.”

shoko stood, giving him a long look before turning toward the door.

“you’ll heal,” she said simply. “but it’s gonna take time. and in the meantime… you don’t have to do it alone.”

as the door clicked shut behind her, nanami sat there, staring at the empty space where you once were. the silence was deafening, but this time, he knew it was something he had to face.

maybe one day, he’ll find a way to move on. but for now, he’ll hold onto the memories of you—of her—and let that be enough.

[strzxrin]

Leo and Rowan with a female reader who is a virgin and wants to lose her virginity, but the boys keep manipulating her, saying that other guys won't treat her as well as they do, and she ends up trusting her childhood friends for this, so the task is given to the boys 😏

. . . she says she trusts me with her life !

in which . . . they told you to trust them for the most important moment in your life.

cw. fem!reader, overstimulation, being called a ‘good girl’, corruption (taking your virginity), dual penetration

pairings . lèo jaccoud x fem!reader x rowan collins

demon x reader , angel x reader , roommates x reader , childhood best friends x reader

notes . this was yummy to write. but on an honest note, good luck to yalls pussies 😇😇 this took me much longer to write tho.. my bad gang. writer's block is ass

masterlist . character wiki

“i don’t understand why you’re so adamant about wanting to lose your virginity, ma chérie” lèo sighs, shaking his head as he watches you cross your arms and in a way, throwing a bit of a tantrum about this — at least in his eyes he thinks about that. he glances at rowan who is just as tired of this as he was.

“especially to some random bloke you matched on that stupid dating app,” rowan continued as you groaned and hid your face for a moment. “you shouldn’t take your virginity for granted. leave it for someone special in your life” like them.

“plus, you never know, that man could just use you for your body and you probably wouldn’t be having the time of your life with it” lèo scoffs as you finally put your hands away from your face. 

“it’s not my fault that there’s no one who wants to date me. i want to experience the dating scene and i want to try it out, to see what’s so good about sex. can’t a girl dream?” you huffed out defensively as the two of them just looked at each other and then at you once more.

to be fair, they were the ones that are the reason why you aren’t dating anyone. they can’t help it! you are theirs since the moment the three of you met all those years ago. the two of them can’t let you go, and they for sure aren’t going to let some random guy who isn’t worth your time steal you away from them.

“if you’re so desperate, then let us do it,” lèo suggested, which made both yours and rowan’s eyes bulge out from the sockets. “i know for sure we can make you feel better than anyone could possibly do.” you were at a loss for words because frankly you didn’t think that he would even suggest that.

“what? what are you talking about, you guys don’t like me that way do you?” you asked as the both of them stayed silent before lèo spoke up once more “regardless if we like you or not, you were going to practically sell yourself to another guy, someone who you don’t even know, and won’t even have a connection with. at the very least, if you’re so desperate to lose your virginity, do it with people you know,”

rowan slowly started to nod his head in agreement with lèo, agreeing with the demon about this whole ordeal. though, he won’t outrightly say it. but still, the other makes a very good point.

“but won’t it be awkward if it’s with you guys?” you weren’t necessarily pushing the idea away — not because you were desperate to get your virginity taken so you settled for the only people there is, but because well, you always had a crush on both of them. you just wanted to gain some experience before you could even make a move so that at the very least, they won’t get disappointed by your lack of experience.

“i’d rather go through the pain of awkwardness than to know that you slept with a stranger on the internet” rowan finally says as lèo smiled and nodded at his words. you stood there awkwardly before sighing, finally giving into their whims.

“fine, but i’m going to smack you both if the sex isn’t good.”

but why is it that when you said that, the two of them had a certain glint in their eyes and almost a joyous look to have you agree on fucking them? well, you were about to know the reason why.

it was lèo who made the first move, gently pulling you from your standing position and down onto his lap as he made you look at him. “do you even know how to kiss, ma chérie?” he teased as you found yourself feeling flustered at the question. “hey now, it’s not my fault i have zero dating experience!” you say as the other chuckles softly.

to be fair, even both of them are virgins. they’ve been stuck to your side like glue, and refused to even fuck anyone else just because they don’t want to cheat on you. however it just felt like something in their bloodline on how they knew how to do these things. at least for lèo that is. rowan reads about it, and well, lèo teaches him about it too.

still, the demon can’t really help but smile at your words, humming “then i’ll teach you” he whispers, tilting your chin upwards so that you could actually look at him. you knew that he was always gorgeous but seeing him this close made your head spin a little bit. “open your mouth.. mhm, just like that, good girl” he whispers and you find yourself feeling flushed by the way he spoke to you.

he leaned in close to you and kissed you softly. he took it slowly guiding you through the process before he glided his tongue to your bottom lip and you opened your mouth slightly to let him enter. that’s when you feel his hand held onto your waist to pull you closer and keep you steady. the kiss was breathtaking and heady, and you couldn’t stop yourself from making noises to which he drank it in all the same way.

the kiss lasts for a minute, or maybe two? you can’t seem to tell with how light headed you felt. you gently gripped his shoulders, wanting to pull away to breathe and lèo reluctantly obliged. “you doing alright?” he asks, his breath a little hard as you nodded “uh.. yeah.. just needed a moment to breathe”

rowan, who was watching all of this happening, looked with a dazed expression before coming closer. your back now pressed against his body as he hummed. “while you take your breather, let me continue to make you feel good, alright?” he whispers into your ear as he leaned and kissed your neck ever so gently. it was a little ticklish at the start, but the way his lips moved and nibble ever so gently it made it obvious he was testing the waters and teasing all at once.

“r-rowan..” you whimpered as he hummed in response, littering your neck with kisses as his hands moved downwards, his hands cupping your breasts gently. “ah-! i.. i never realised your hands were big,” you commented shyly. his hands were large enough to cup your breasts entirely, and you hear a soft chuckle from the demon. “he really does have big hands, doesn’t he, ma chérie” 

you felt a little embarrassed since you’re practically sandwiched in between both of them, but all those thoughts left when the angel nibbled a rather sensitive part which made you squirm and moan at the same time. “ah~ so that’s where your sweet spot is,” lèo cooed before the hand that was on your chin made you look up at him “let me continue where i left off,” he whispers and he goes back to kissing you.

it wasn’t long before your hand had gripped onto his shirt to stabilise yourself while you were getting attacked with kisses. you feel rowan’s hands slipping underneath your shirt and pulled down your bra slightly so that he could actually feel you in his hands. his fingers felt cold and your nipples started to form stiff peaks which made the angel muse softly “excited already, aren’t you, darling?” he purred in your ears.

the one hand that was on your waist started to get a little impatient which made lèo pull away from the kiss to take off your shirt. with just one hand, he unclasped your bra and marveled at the sight of your breasts “well aren’t you just a pretty girl, hm?” you flush at his words before you felt his lips now going over to your breasts. rowan chuckles softly and lets go of one breast to tilt your chin upwards so that he could lean down and kiss you.

the demon began by kissing gently before his tongue swirled around your nipple, latching on it to make some marks that left you squirming on his lap and moaning into rowan’s lips. he alternates between the two breasts, making sure they get equal love and one of his hands went down to your skirt, lifting it up just gently so that he could play with your inner thigh. he could feel the heat and he shuddered a bit.

“are you wet already, ma amour?” he chuckled, his fingers teased their way to your panties, circling around your wet spot as you gripped tighter on his shirt. “you’re so cute, don’t you know?” he began to rub in slow gentle circles around your clothed nub and you squirmed even more.

rowan pulled away from the kiss and hummed “you like what he’s doing to you, sweetheart?” he asks as you nodded shyly. you let out a gasp when you felt your panties moved to the side and warm fingers slowly stroking up and down your slit. “l-lèo!” you whimpered out as the other let out a hum and watched you as he licked your nipple. “tell him what you want, sweetheart. use your words like a big girl,” rowan whispers as you feel your mind spin even more.

“p-please..”

“please what?”

“please.. please put it in–!” you gasp as you feel lèo’s fingers slipping into your slit. “shh.. relax, ( name ).. you’re tight right now” you nodded, trying to calm yourself down, but it felt really good. the demon’s fingers were bigger than yours, so even with two, you already felt more stretched compared to whenever you masturbated. 

“you’re squeezing onto my fingers, does it feel that good, hm?” you nodded before you felt some fingers at your lips too. you looked to see rowan smiling. “you shouldn’t forget me either” you parted your mouth and without thinking, you started to suck which made him let out a groan. “looks like your pretty lips do know other tricks,” rowan muses.

you felt another finger slip into your cunt and you moaned around rowan’s fingers. “shh, it’s okay.. you can take it. i know you can, princess” and that was when lèo decided to use his thumb to rub your clit. you squirmed, the sensation was overwhelming you and the demon hummed. the both of them continued to take it slowly with you, and it wasn’t long until lèo finally found your g-spot. 

your eyes rolled back and you tightened up around him again which made him hum “so that’s where your g-spot is,” he coos softly. and without a doubt, he changed the pace. his fingers began to hit your g-spot with every thrust and you began to drool around rowan’s fingers. it wasn’t long until you reached your orgasm, and lèo lets you ride it through before he continued.

“waitwaitwait–!” your words were muffled by rowan’s fingers but it could still be heard of course “we need to stretch you out, princess..” lèo murmured. but really, he just wanted to see you be a sobbing mess before he pushes his dick into you. you listened to his words, nodding, but with every thrust, you feel your mind slowly dumbing out at the stimulation.

was it three times already? you can’t tell. all you hear is both of their belts being taken off. you come out of your haze with a shudder as you felt your pussy juices being used as lube for both of their cocks. “wha.. i thought..”

“we both, want to take your virginity, sweetheart.” rowan says. your cunt has been loosening up with every orgasm you have, and you felt both of their tips rubbing against your entrance. “so, we have to share it, like always” the angel purred and your eyes widened. “that’s.. that’s not going to fit” you tried to reason with them.

“shh.. it’s fine.. we’ll make it fit. you trust us, don’t you, princess?” 

you were swayed, but you nodded and you felt them both slowly entering your poor weeping cunt. you let out a little scream at the pain in the beginning but they both stopped to make sure you were alright. and when you were, they started to move in sync. you felt too full, it was too big and your mind felt numb.

“let go, sweetheart” rowan grunts softly. “let us take care of you.. just like we always had.”

[mysterialistic]

Review/Ramble on Yingdu and Overall Thoughts

Okay, first of all, I think the fandom needs to chill a bit, especially on Twitter/X, because some people are overdramatizing the criticism from others. Criticizing a piece of media doesn’t mean you hate it, nor does it mean it’s bad—it just means it didn’t fully meet your expectations, and you have a different opinion. It’s as simple as that. Of course, I believe criticism should always come from an objective standpoint, not just for the sake of complaining.

Having said, let’s start rambling!

Yingdu had an amazing start. Those first few minutes, transitioning from the basketball game straight into the scene of Cheng Xiaoshi’s death, were so well done. Overall, the first episode was fantastic—the perfect mix of drama and tension. It answered some of our lingering questions before bringing us back to the Season 1 format, where they tackled individual cases, only for it to all build up to the arc’s main conflict. I won’t go into every single episode since that would make this way too long, but I had to highlight episode 1 because it was my favorite.

There were several aspects of these episodes that I really enjoyed. Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang’s bond was portrayed so well—every little moment between them, every dialogue exchange—it perfectly showed why these two are so willing to risk their lives for each other. I looked forward to seeing their interactions every week, and I was never disappointed.

Xia Fei was also a great addition, and I’m glad they didn’t kill off his character like many people theorized, because he has so much potential. I really enjoyed his complexity—he’s a spy, but he has his own morals and values. He dislikes Liu Xiao, yet he has a close bond with Vein despite his odd personality. He’s clearly intelligent, and I think that will really shine in Season 3. He already seems to suspect something, and I have no doubt he’ll get to the bottom of it. Right now, he’s angry and confused about what happened to Vein, convinced that someone killed him. But how will he react if (or when) he finds out that Vein was the one who initially killed Cheng Xiaoshi—one of his other friends, and probably the only truly innocent one? And don’t even get me started on how he’ll react when he finds out that Lu Guang tried to kill Vein or that Vein is still alive. I’m excited to see where this goes.

That said, I was a little disappointed that we didn’t get to see much of Vein and Liu Xiao. We mostly just saw what we already knew—two shady guys with their own agenda, pretending to be friendly. As an introduction, it was fine, but considering how much attention the promotional material gave them, I really thought we’d see more. Still, I don’t have a huge issue with it since they’ll obviously play a bigger role in Season 3. Liu Xiao, Vein, Li Tianchen, and possibly Xia Fei—a group of unstable individuals as antagonists… well, good luck, Lu Guang!

Now, something that does bother me about Yingdu is the inconsistencies between its plot and what we’ve seen in Seasons 1 and 2. For me, this was the laziest part of the writing, because no, Link Click isn’t flawless. In fact, no piece of media is. But in Link Click’s case, some of the flaws were painfully obvious. With every episode that aired, I kept thinking, “okay, this has to be an alternate timeline”, because so many little details just didn’t fit with the main storyline. The most obvious one is how Cheng Xiaoshi awakened his powers—he did it on his own, yet in Season 1, it was shown that he didn’t know he could do this. That makes absolutely no sense unless he has selective amnesia, which is definitely not the case lol. As for the inconsistencies with his parents, that could at least be explained by the promise he made to his mother to “not get involved any further.” He clearly remembers that promise and is likely just keeping everything he learned a secret.

Speaking of parents… Damn, Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents are awful lmao. I hated how his father acted like he was the victim, justifying his actions with, “yes, I abandoned my child, but now I take care of other children to make up for my mistakes.” That’s just… bad parenting. I actually made a whole analysis about it in another post. And then there’s Cheng Xiaoshi’s mother. The way she dismissed her son’s feelings and abandonment issues with a casual “oh yeah, it was wrong of me not to say goodbye, but who cares? That’s in the past” felt so off. The entire scene with her was weird—the humor felt misplaced. I was expecting something more emotional, more dramatic—anything but this. But based on what I’ve seen, almost no one liked her, so if the creators were hoping we’d find her eccentricity endearing, this introduction definitely wasn’t the best. Since Season 1, we’ve been repeatedly shown how deeply this abandonment affected Cheng Xiaoshi, and this is the reunion we got? It was… underwhelming.

Now, something I really, really loved was how they handled Lu Guang in this arc. From start to finish, it was just so good—his reaction when he first saw Cheng Xiaoshi again, his nightmares and PTSD, the way he carefully planned everything to manipulate events and create change. But my absolute favorite part? How morally gray he is. He planned and actually succeeded in killing Vein, eliminating the threat (though he’s definitely going to freak out when he finds out Vein is still alive). That cold smile? The scene where his hands moved like he was pulling the strings of a puppet? The way he said, “I hope we’ll never see each other again”? PERFECT. I’ve always said I wanted Lu Guang’s motivations and actions to not be entirely good. He comes across as someone selfish, willing to sacrifice others if it means protecting the people he loves—because he has the power and the knowledge to do it, and he wants his happy ending. Such a good character, I swear.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting every single question to be answered in Yingdu—that would be ridiculous lol. But I’m satisfied that the plot is finally moving forward. They gave us a piece of the puzzle—Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents, the origin of his powers, the antagonists’ apparent goal (some sort of notebook?), and hints at what we can expect in Season 3. That said, my biggest fear is that Link Click will lose its essence—the powerful message from Season 1 about how they shouldn’t intervene in the natural flow of time, no matter how painful it is, because the past and future should be left alone. Based on what Lu Guang said about the butterfly effect, we can argue that time itself is like another character—a force that, no matter how much they try to change things, always corrects itself somehow, some way. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what kind of ending I want for Link Click, but right now, I just hope it makes sense, that it isn’t forced, and that it unfolds naturally.

And… that’s all I have to say for now.

[chaamenos]

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑. disjointed caleb lads character study. i need to test how i’m gonna write this guy

warnings: uhhhh smth smth there’s a cannibalism metaphor in here somewhere. also there’s intentional lowercase . pseudocest (like one like mentioning that you two are siblings). this is written on mobile. anyways i really dont even know what to tag this with so go in here expecting some weird shit.

a/n: caleb is so. boy what strand of cocaine did they put it you. anyways, this is meant to be read within the context of the main story (homecoming voyage chapter 1), so not with any of the relationship establishment his cards and myth give

dividers by @/fairytopea

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘. caleb believed himself to be a good child. athletic , good grades, never late, easily made friends. but something always felt… off, when it came to you. a feeling that made his hands twitch, and his body grow cold. though constantly pushed it back as just stress. being an older sibling is difficult, especially with a family with such messed up backgrounds like yours. hormones will mess with a teenager, this is normal. . .

but no matter how often, or how hard he drowned out that part of his brain, it never went away. the part that had him wanting to put his hands on you. dig his nails in until the skin breaks, sink his teeth in and swallow you whole. to clip your wings and have you rely on him forever, to be a part of him until the world ceases to exist.

it was horrifying how the brain can twist things into explicit images. spooked him enough that he made it a point to always be extra nice to you. of course, he was always nice to you, but a little extra doting wouldn’t hurt. he didn’t mind letting you get away with anything, covering up for your misbehaviour, spoiling you rotten. perhaps if he was nice enough, he can fool you into ignoring the obvious issues and thoughts that threatened to consume him from the inside out.

𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. farspace fleet duties were incredibly mundane in its rotation, and exact in its time slots. meetings never go above 3600 seconds, mission reports never longer than 1800.

expressions and responses also fell into his calculated routine. smile for no more than five seconds, crinkle your eyes to make it authentic, don’t hold eye contact for too long lest you put them off.

it was all tiring, and boring. not at all the life he envisioned for himself as a child.

he could feel his hands twitching, fleeting flashes of you dancing across his vision.

now that he’s an adult, he’s no stranger to this obsession that erodes people from the inside out. an indescribable hunger that drives one made. he’s no different from a wanderer, in that aspect. The only difference being he’s capable of controlling himself.

. . .

At least, to a degree.

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. when he sees you again, it’s like being pricked with billions of needles. he couldn’t tell if it was the year he spent away from you, supposedly dead— or if it was the toring chip rewiring his brain, amplifying every feeling tenfold. for the moment he saw you on that landing pad, it took every fibre of his being to not tear you to shreds, and make his home inside you.

it has been approximately 31,816,800 seconds since he’d last seen you, let alone be in your presence. getting both in the same moment was almost too much for him.

but he refrained. this was business, not pleasure. you both are strangers at this moment.

. . .

he was plagued by sleeplessness the moment he’d let you into his home. sweaty palms, a visceral emotion that had his fingernails digging into his now mechanical arm. the both of you were adults now, but that didn’t make his feelings any less potent. in fact, it made them worse.

you were just a room away, so easy for him to have his way with. to intertwine the two of you in ways he’d never even thought of. it was forbidden, and depraved.

hands covered his face, nearly tearing the hairs from his scalp

. . .

you were driving him insane in ways he didn’t know how to deal with

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

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I took the good times, I'll take the bad times II Joel Miller

Summary: Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (I always try not to describe the reader physically, if I missed something please let me know so I can change it and make this "applicable" to every reader. Thank you!)

A/N: This is my entry for the dear-uary challenge by @jolapeno . My prompt was "Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not." And I chose Postcards as my form of epistolary.

TW: This is mostly angsty fluff. There is some talk of self doubt and loss of a child but I think that should be it.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

It all starts with a simple postcard tucked into the side pocket of his bag. Joel almost doesn’t realize it’s there, folded twice into a tiny square. It’s only when he’s looking for the list Maria gave him of all the things to look for on this run, that he grabs a hold of the card. 

His gloves make it hard to unfold the small paper but it’s way too cold to take them off. Joel was never big on winter and snow, even before everything went to shit. He doesn’t like the way it lingers, the way it consumes you from the inside out. Now, an unforgiving cold is all he feels as a thick blanket of snow has settled upon Wyoming. 

Bold bright letters scream out to him from the wrinkled paper “ Greetings from Tampa Florida. Wish you were here!”.

It’s one of those campy vintage ones where the letters are filled with drawings of landmarks and beaches. He remembers sending one just like this to his High School girlfriend when Dad took him and Tommy on a trip to Nashville when Joel was 16 maybe 17. It was a good trip, the last one they ever took together. Sometimes Joel wonders how his dad would deal with all of this. This new reality. This fucked up world. He always seemed so strong, so fearless. That man was unstoppable force and immovable object all at once. Every vulnerability Joel finds in himself, he’s sure was absent in his father. Maybe if he was a little more like his own dad he could’ve saved Sarah, could’ve spared Ellie the pain of living in this limbo of knowing and not knowing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Joel moves closer to the fire, his only light source other than the stars. There’s writing on the back, blue ink on off-white paper. It’s not a handwriting he knows and for a second he wonders if the card has been there ever since he found the bag years ago, back in Boston. But he would know that, right? Would've found it by now. This must be new. This must be meant for him.

“ I know you hate the cold. I know it makes you sad and gloomy, well gloomier than usual. So let me tell you about the hottest day I ever experienced. I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 and my mom took me to Florida. Not Tampa (it was the only postcard I could find at the library), but Orlando. We went to fucking Disney World!! We didn’t have a lot of money back then so mom must’ve saved a long time for this. Anyway, Joel, it was so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair got all frizzy. Maybe July wasn’t the best time to go. The air was so thick and heavy, so moist (ew). It felt like breathing in honey, syrup maybe. I still had the best time. I know it doesn’t take away the cold but I hope I can take you away to that hot and humid Florida summer for one small moment. If not, there’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag. Made it myself. You never told me what your favorite color is. I hope you like blue. xx 

P.S.: I wonder what happened to Disney World.” 

A chuckle falls from Joel’s lips and forms a cloud against the sharp winter air. He's never been to Disney World. The Millers just weren’t a Disney World kind of family. They were more of a local fair kind of family. All corn dogs and funnel cakes and first kisses behind the bumper cars. Sarah would’ve loved Disney World though. Ellie too. Ellie who doesn’t even know what the hell Disney is. 14 years and the girl has no idea who Mickey Mouse is. What a surreal thought. What a strange world. More than 20 years and it still feels strange. Joel wonders if life will ever let him settle in this new reality. If one day this feels like home and not a bad dream. Not a cosmic punishment. A bad joke that no one’s laughing at anymore.

His eyes travel back towards the blue swirly writing. It’s not Ellie’s bad chicken scratch, he could pick that out of a line-up any day. This looks much neater, more deliberate, and thoughtful. 

“There’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag.”

Quiet, as not to wake up the others sleeping just a few steps away, Joel opens the zipper on his bag and rummages through it with a gloved hand. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, food rations, ammunition, a second pair of gloves. Going on supply runs is not something Joel enjoys but it is a way for him to give back. To Tommy and Maria and the entire community. Jackson and its people have taken him and Ellie in as one of their own without much hesitation. They provided them with food, with shelter, with trust. He has so little to give in return. Going on a supply run to look for medicine and other necessities, that’s the least he can do. 

Something soft and squishy meets his hand and he pulls out a dark blue woolen scarf. There are so many holes and even in the dim light of the campfire, Joel can tell those holes are not there on purpose. Maybe it was Ellie after all, but then she never showed any interest in knitting, and the idea of her doing just that is far too ridiculous. No matter how imperfect it is though, Joel has to admit the scarf does make him feel warmer as he wraps it around his neck. 

“Hey,” Adam, one of the other guys on the run, speaks up from beside Joel, “you can catch some sleep if you want. I can take over the watch.” 

It’s a strange thing, how sometimes you don’t notice just how tired you are or how hungry you are until someone points it out to you. Until they offer to take it from you. Then it hits you like a brick to the face. A wave pulling you under. 

Joel feels his eyelids grow heavy and nods at the younger man. "Thanks". 

This mystery, it can wait until tomorrow. Until then he will bury his face in the warm soft wool of the scarf and think of that Florida sun. And though it most definitely is just his imagination, Joel could almost swear the night feels a little less cold.

His boots leave deep imprints in the white icy blanket as he makes his way past the Tipsy Bison and the community hall further towards his house. His home. 

No place has really felt like home in years. Not since all of this started. Everything was temporary. 4 walls and a roof. He wonders if this place will ever start feeling like home? Will he ever get to a point where he doesn’t wait for the second shoe to drop? It all feels like he’s Charlie Brown and life is Lucy pulling the football away at the last second. And it always ends with him falling. He’s so tired of falling. So tired of getting back up.

Joel almost expects the house to be silent as he steps inside. Ellie is slowly making friends with the other teens living in the settlement and is spending more time at their houses than she is at home. He can’t blame her. If he was more like his father he’d find it in himself to start conversations with people, get to know them, forge connections, make friends. Of the Miller boys, Tommy is the one who inherited their dad’s social gene though, Joel only got the snarl and the crippling inability to talk about his feelings.

Laughter echoes through the house as Joel rounds the corner connecting the entryway to the living room. Ellie’s laughter, loud and bright and light. As if for a moment all the horrors and the pain and the trauma have been taken from her.

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands. 

(Y/N) is standing by the counter, a smile on her face so soft and radiant it might just rival the sun. That joy she brings out in Ellie, it’s familiar to Joel because he feels it too whenever (Y/N) is around. Not always but sometimes. It’s a spark of warmth that starts in his chest and crawls up his spine. It settles in his lungs, his heart, his brain. Like a parasite. Like a virus. Like a wonderful dream. He doesn’t allow himself to feel it all the time but sometimes, sometimes he can’t deny himself this little bit of warmth.

Joel can’t even remember when exactly (Y/N) became a part of their life. It’s like one day she was there and refused to leave. And really that’s kind of how it went. She works at the library and the school, lives across the street from him and Ellie and for some reason, she’s taken pity on them. Joel isn’t sure if it's him or Ellie she pities. Maybe a mix of both. Either way, she brought over some soup one day and that’s the beginning and end of it all. She’s wormed her way into Ellie’s heart and by extension his too. Whether he likes to admit it or not. Doesn't hurt that she's so damn beautiful too.

“Joel, you’re back!” 

Ellie pulls him in a tight hug. It’s something Joel still has to get used to. Ellie isn’t a particularly affectionate person. She’s definitely not a hugger. And neither is Joel — not anymore at least. So when they do hug, it’s still a little strange. Not bad strange just unfamiliar. 

“Yeah, I’m back. 

“How did it go?” (Y/N) asks and meets his eyes over Ellie’s head. A silent conversation happening between her and Joel. It’s that thing she does where she doesn’t need to say a single word but Joel can tell exactly what she’s thinking just by the look in her eyes. He sometimes wonders if this is a them thing. 

“Did someone die” her eyes are saying. “Did someone get hurt?” 

“Did you get hurt?” 

He quickly shakes his head answering her unspoken questions. Not this time. 

“Good. It went good.” 

Maybe the relieved sigh he sees her let out is just his imagination. But Joel doesn’t think so. Joel thinks it's very real.

“Did you bring us something? “ 

He can’t help but smile at that. It feels good to smile. In a world that gives you grief and sorrow, you start to count the moments when it gives you a reason to smile. They are few and far between but the number has surely increased since Ellie stepped into his life — and since (Y/N) did. 

“I brought food and medicine. Isn’t that enough? “

A determined “no” falls from both their lips in a chaotic harmony. 

“Geez, you guys are demanding.” 

“Well — did you bring us something?” 

Joel just rolls his eyes and rummages through his bag for the goods. 

“For you— “ he says and throws the old wrinkled comic book towards Ellie who regards it with that endless sense of wonder she does possess. It’s the kind of spark that flickers and dies once you grow old. Or maybe just his did. Maybe grief leaves no room for wonder. 

Placing his bag on the ground, Joel moves into the kitchen and holds out his loot to (Y/N). Green background. White goats. Yellow bubble letters.

“Oooooh, you did get me something. Pet Sounds, nice!” 

There’s a spark in her too. Dulled and dusted from time but it is there and it flickers and grows every time Joel brings her a vinyl record from his trips outside of the settlement. In a world with so little joy, music seems to be one of the few things that hasn’t changed. In the face of immeasurable pain, humans turn to music. They have done so for a long time and judging by the world as is, they always will. 

“I hope it works still. Didn’t really have a record player to try it out.” 

“I’ll try it out as soon as I get to the library. Feel free to come by and listen with me.” 

“Sure.” 

“Thank you, Joel. I hope you didn’t have to do anything stupid to get this.” 

He didn’t. Not this time. He would’ve though. It scares him how willing he is to put himself in danger just to get her something that will put that radiant smile on her face. He’d walk to the end of the earth if he knew there was a record there she wanted. That thought scares the shit out of him. It’s bad enough he cares so deeply about Ellie, about Tommy. The more people you care about, the more you open yourself up to hurt. Losing either of them would tear him apart. Joel is not sure he can handle opening his heart to yet another person no matter how much his heart wants just that. 

“ Nah. No issues.” 

“Good.” 

She just looks at him for a moment. All soft eyes and gentle smile. There must be something she sees in him, Joel thinks, something he doesn’t see. A version of himself that he isn’t, that he will never be. A version he once was, maybe. A version he so desperately wishes he could be. For her.

“Well,” (Y/N) says and snaps him out of her enchantment “Ellie and I made some stew. I know you must’ve been freezing outside, some good warm stew might help warm you up a little.” 

“It smells great.” 

“You have impeccable timing because we just got done. So, dig in. And uh — I guess I’ll see you guys at the movie screening?” 

He doesn’t want her to leave. The devil and the angel on his shoulders are both screaming at him to ask her to stay. And if he was any stronger a man, any more like his own father and more deserving of good things, he would ask her. To stay for dinner. To stay forever.

But he isn’t. And he doesn’t ask. Just watches as she wraps a scarf around her neck and slips into the thick jacket that's a few sizes too big on her.

“I left the recipe by the fridge. Just in case you ever want to cook it yourself.” 

“Thanks.” 

And he really is grateful. For her. For everything.

“Oh Joel,” she says and stops in the doorway. “I like that scarf. Blue looks really good on you.” 

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the cold winter air. 

Joel hasn’t thought about his favorite color in forever. It’s something you stop thinking about once you start growing hair on your chest and fantasizing about girls in a way you haven’t before. Kids talk about their favorite colors all the time. Sarah did. It’s just once you grow old you lose that sense of self, define yourself through different things. 

Looking at the scarf now, all holes and imperfections, there is no doubt in his mind that his favorite color is blue. 

“Have you ever been to Paris?” 

The lights are dimmed in the big community hall, the movie playing on screen providing the only source of light as the people of Jackson have gathered for another movie night. 

A glimpse into a world that was but no longer is and never will be again. And for some of them, like Ellie, a world that never was to begin with.

Ellie is sitting in the front with some of the other teens, her friends, Joel supposes. She has friends now.

“Joel, have you?” 

A soft hand rests on his arm, shaking him from his gloomy thoughts. (Y/N) sits next to him, eyes focused on the pictures dancing across the screen. Ilsa and Rick, falling in love over and over again in Paris. The beginning of a love story doomed from the start. 

“I uh — no. Never.” 

“Me neither. I would’ve loved to go though. It looks beautiful.” 

He doesn’t know why or how it happens but the words just flow from his mouth like a waterfall. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wanting to talk more. About the past. About Sarah.

“My daughter, Sarah, went to Paris once. Some school exchange program. They don’t usually do it until later but her French class was above average and I guess they won some contest. I don’t know it was a long time ago.” 

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.” 

"Oh, she was. Too smart for me, that’s for sure. Was hard letting her leave and fly to a whole different continent though. I was scared out of my mind until she was back home. Drove Tommy crazy for a whole damn week.” 

(Y/N) turns her face away from the screen and regards him with that infinite sense of something more. Soft and endearing. If he was a different man he would call it love. He would see the way she looks at him and he would kiss her stupid and life would be all sweet dreams and gentle touches. 

But he is the man he is. Not worthy of whatever she is willing to give.

“What’re looking at me like that for?” 

“It’s just sweet how much you care. About everyone. I think you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time.” 

“Do what?” 

“Care for others. For Ellie and me and all of us. You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.” 

He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He can do it all on his own. And anyway, he is not as good of a man as she thinks he is. Good men don’t have the blood of their loved ones stuck to their hands. Good men don’t let their daughters die in their arms. Good men don’t kill. Good men don’t do all the things he did. 

Joel doesn’t want to be a good man. He just wishes he was good enough a man to allow himself to be with (Y/N).

“I ain’t a good man. And I don’t need someone to take care of me.” 

“You wore that scarf, did you not? You allowed me to take care of you then.” 

That damn scarf. He had a hunch it was her. The handwriting on the postcard matched the one of the recipe stuck to his fridge an awful lot. But it’s something else entirely to hear her say it outright. 

“That was you, huh? Had an awful lot of holes that thing.” 

“Hey, I never said I was good at knitting. You wore it anyway.”

Joel turns back towards the screen as Rick and Ilsa share a loving kiss. 

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.” 

And to the sound of bombs and tanks, (Y/N) rests her head on his shoulder.

That’s what you do for the people you love. Even if you don’t allow yourself to love them.

You wear the scarf anyway.

The mailbox flag is up. Bright red against the sharp white of the winter's day. 

It’s never been up. People around here don’t get mail. It’s but an ancient relic of a life they used to live. Remnants of a society long gone. 

But Joel is nothing if not curious. So he stomps up to the mailbox, leaving deep imprints in the freshly fallen snow. 

It’s another postcard. Only this time it doesn’t come with a mystery. This time it comes with that silly little feeling that makes his heart beat just a little faster. That makes his head swirl with stupid thoughts of stupid dreams.

“From Paris with love,” it says on the front. Fucking Paris, of course.

Sometimes the way he feels about her is infuriating, confusing, scary.

And sometimes, like right now, it feels like a ball of warmth settles in his ribcage and warms him from the inside out.

“Dear Joel,

We’ll never have Paris. Not in this life at least. And while I would’ve loved to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle with you and make you eat a croissant (which you would’ve pretended to hate but I think you would’ve enjoyed it secretly), I am glad to get this life with you at least. Or alongside you. Whatever it is we are, I am glad this life gave me that in between all the pain. Despite what you like to tell yourself, Joel Miller, you are a spark of fire, a light in the dark. You are more than the sum of your failures, you are more than your pain. All the good that is in you, that counts. That’s all that matters in the end. And there is so much good in you.

I wish you’d let yourself see it. 

We will never have Paris. But we’ll always have Jackson and that is enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

There’s a tragedy in knowing someone else sees all your good parts and none of the bad. A tragedy in knowing how much they like those good parts and being awfully aware that seeing all the bad parts would destroy them. 

A tragedy in still wanting to show them all of you, even the ugly soul-destroying parts.

But if she thinks he’s a good man, then Joel needs to be just that. A good man who keeps those ugly parts hidden and away from her. Even if that means denying himself the one thing he wants. 

“What’s that?” Ellie speaks up from beside him, a curious look on her face.

“Postcard.” 

“Like what people would send from vacations and stuff?”

“Yeah, how do you know about that?” 

She rolls his eyes at him and it’s one of those moments where he feels like a dad again. Those little moments that mean the world to him because he gets to feel like the old him. The Joel he thought was long dead and buried beside the bones of his own child.

“I watch movies? I talk to people? I read books? Take your pick.” 

“Wow, when did you become such a smartass, huh?” 

She shrugs his shoulders at him “Was born that way. Nothing I can do about it.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Hey, you’ve grown to love me! You wouldn’t want me any other way.” 

And she isn’t wrong. Ellie, with all her curiosity and her bravery and her lust for life, whatever that life may look like, is exactly what he needed. Which makes him wonder if saving her from the fireflies was ultimately more of a selfish act than that of a heroic savior. 

“Who’s it from?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Oh, so (Y/N).” 

His eyes flick up and he is met with that satisfied, mischievous grin that is so uniquely Ellie.

“What makes you think that?” 

“You always change the subject when I bring her up. And that way you just jumped when I mentioned her? Yeah, you’re not slick, old man.” 

“Hey! Who are you calling an old man?” 

“You! Old and scared!” 

“I’m not scared!” 

Like hell he is. Terrified even. But there ain’t no way in hell he’ll admit that to Ellie. She’ll never let him hear the end of it. 

“Then go talk to her! She likes you, you like her. Why do you have to make it so complicated?” 

If only she knew all the ghosts swirling around inside of him threatening to break free. Things could be so easy. Only nothing ever is.

“Mind your own business, kid! Anyway, don't you have someplace to be? Think Dina came by earlier asking for you. You two are getting along well, huh?” 

“Aaaand on that note. See you for dinner, old man!” 

She’s gone before he can even hurl a reply at her. It pulls his lips into a smile. There’s no better way to get a teen to shut up than to bring up their crush. Nice to see that some things never change.

Another run. Another record. 

Joel feels silly, standing here in front of her door with his heart beating fast and heavy as he clutches the vinyl record in his hand. 

If Ellie saw him now, she’d surely make fun of him. Tommy too. Sarah even. 

What happened, Joel? You used to be so brave. What makes you so afraid now? 

Life, he thinks. Life has made him scared and bitter and sad. 

“Did you wanna knock or — ?” 

Joel turns around as the voice calls out to him. There it is again, that softness, that smile. 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Okay, good. Did you come to see me? Sorry, I was helping Maria at the farm.” 

“Yeah no uh — don’t worry about it. I just came to drop this off” 

Her eyes grow wide as she catches sight of which record it is he’s holding up. 

“No way! The stranger! You found it.” 

“ I did.” 

He had to clear an old dilapidated bar full of clickers to get that record. Almost lost his damn arm in the process. But her smile, that god-damn, life-ruining, world-shattering, heart-beat-faster, smile of hers makes it all worth it. He would give both arms, all of him. He would give it all to see her smile.

“Do you wanna come in and listen to it with me? Got my player fixed so I don’t have to use the one at the library anymore.” 

Say no. Just say no and go home. Be a good man! Be a better man! 

But he’s not. For this one moment, he can’t be that man. He’s just as weak as the rest of them. 

“Sure.” 

This feels so — normal. So before everything. Different and twisted and warped. But normal.

It’s scary and comforting all at once. Like a tipsy dream when you know you’ll wake up with a headache for sure.

(Y/N) is twirling around her living room, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. Joel leans against the door connecting her living room and her kitchen and all he can do is stare. At this woman who means so much to him. Too much for him to ever put into words. If he even knew how to. He’s never been a poet. 

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

“I love this song. Can you imagine someone loving you enough to write something like this about you?” 

Yes, he thinks. If only he WAS a poet. He would write a hundred songs. A thousand. And all of them would talk of her smile and her eyes and the way there is no single thing about her he would change. 

But words fail him. They always do. 

So he just nods.

“Joel,” she says and moves closer. The bottle of beer now placed on her couch table, her hands find his chest. So warm. So soft. And all he does is stare. 

“I know you got my postcards. I know you know how I feel. And sometimes I think you feel the same. I see the way you look at me. I know the dangers you put yourself in to get me those records. I just — you never say anything. So am I making a fool of myself here? Please tell me if I — “ 

“You’re not.” 

Wow, so eloquent. 

“I’m not?” 

Her voice sounds so small. So unsure. He hates that he’s the one who put the uncertainty there. Be a better man, Joel! Be a good man for once! 

But all he does is stare. Words fail him. Again. again. again.

“Then can I — can I do this?” 

(Y/N)’s gaze falls to his lips then back up to his eyes. She is so close. He can feel her warm breath on his skin. Can smell the scent of her shampoo. Notices the tremble of her fingers as her hands rest on his chest.

And he wants to kiss her. Every version of him that ever was and ever will be wants to kiss her. But all he does is stare.

All he does is stare and pull away.

And it breaks his heart to see hers break in that moment. 

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

Tears gather in her eyes, fill them with sorrow, fill his heart with rage. He can’t do anything right, can he? Everyone he’s ever loved, he’s disappointed. But how can he let himself love her, how can he let her love him, when he is so broken? When all he does is break things?  Taint them with this infinite sadness that lives and grows inside his bones? 

“It’s not you.” 

“Oh please, Joel. I made a fool of myself already. Don’t make it worse.” 

“I ain’t trying to. It just ain’t you. It’s all me. It’s always been me”

His palms are sweaty and he feels like someone has reached into his ribcage, cracked every rib on the way to his heart, and ripped it out with bare hands. Snapping veins and arteries and all.

“I want you. I want this but I can’t have it. You think I’m a good man but the truth is, I am not. I do bad things all the time, over and over again and time and life have made me so numb to it. But you, you are so good. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.”

It’s like once he’s started it all comes flowing out like a fucking waterfall. All his fears and insecurities and pain. It’s all there for her to be disgusted by. Because god knows there is no way she won’t be. He is. All the time.

“I have not been the same since this all started. Since Sarah — since she died. I live with this immense grief. It surrounds me. It IS me. All of me. And I so desperately want to claw my way out of it. Rip it apart and leave it behind. But at the same time, I want to bury myself in it. Because what if I do leave it behind and I start to forget? Her and all that she was? How is it fair that I have to remember her far longer than I got to know her? So if I get better, if I become the man I need to be to be worthy of your love, am I still gonna be the man she knew? Can I still remember? Because that is all I have. And that is not a burden I can put on you. Not you and not Ellie.”

Joel takes a breath then another but it does little to calm him down.

“You two mean everything to me and I am sorry I am bad at showing it. That I can’t say it. I need you to know, it’s all me that’s the problem. It was never you. I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. He doesn’t think he has the heart to hear a reply anyway. It’s like he just ripped himself open and spilled all his guts, his heart, his lungs, and all his inside out on her living room floor. 

If he was any better of a man he’d pick them up and try to rearrange them.

But he is not a good man. Maybe he never was.

“There was something for you in the mailbox” Ellie exclaims and slumps down on the couch next to him. “I was this close to opening it but I didn’t want to make you even more grumpy than you already are.” 

“I’m not grumpy” 

He has to admit, the tone in which he said those words does not do much to counter her point. Ellie knows too, judging by the way she raises her eyebrow “Sure, you’re not.” 

She drops a sunflower yellow envelope on his lap. ‘Joel’, it says in that swirly handwriting he’s become so familiar with.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen (Y/N). Since he spilled all his sorrows and worries to her and then ran. And, surprisingly, Jackson makes it very easy for someone to avoid another person if you only try hard enough.

Maybe Ellie has a point, maybe he has been exceptionally grumpy lately. No correlation to any recent events though. Absolutely zero.

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

Ellie looks at him with curiosity and that little spark of mischief as if she knows something he doesn’t. 

“Not with you watching over my shoulder, I ain’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause it’s none of your business.” 

“Excuse me? I have to live with your grumpy ass because you guys can’t get your shit straight. I think it very much is my business.” 

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!" 

“Sorry,” she says and gives him that pseudo-sheepish look he’s grown familiar with. “You guys need to get your stuff straight.” 

He used to scold her for it but really, he isn’t one to talk. 

“Anywayyyyy, I’ll go stay at Dina’s tonight … just in case you decide to go over and apologize for whatever it is you did and you guys finally sort it out and need some privacy later.” 

“Why do you think I did something?” 

And there it is again that sassy eyebrow raise. The same one he’s seen on Sarah so many times before. It truly is a woman’s world and he’s but a fool living in it. And they let no opportunity pass to remind him of just that.

They are also absolutely right.

“My lawyer advised me not to answer that question. Anyway, be nice. Have fun. Byyyye” 

Her voice trails off as she grabs her bag and rushes outside leaving Joel alone in this big empty house with nothing but his demons and this mysterious envelope.

Carefully he opens the seal and shakes out the contents. A postcard, a photo, and a — cassette tape? 

His eyes find the photo first. It’s a polaroid of him and Ellie and (Y/N). All 3 of them smiling, yes even him. He remembers that day back last summer. It was one of those warm but not yet hot days. (Y/N) was wearing that agonizingly beautiful red sundress. The one that made his heart beat twice as fast. She brought over a whole basket full of cherries from the tree in her garden. A pie too. And that damn Polaroid camera. 

Of course, Ellie was enamored by it, wasted almost the whole damn film. 

“Come on Joel, let's take a picture together,” she had called out to him and pulled him to sit down next to her and (Y/N) on the blanket they had placed on the lawn. 

“I’m not a picture guy,” he had grumbled, “ ain’t nobody want to see my old mug.” 

“Oh shut up. Joel, you are so handsome, don’t even pretend like you don’t know that.” 

It was the first time (Y/N) had ever called him handsome. It was hard for him to believe it then, hell it still is. But she has done it a lot more since then. Calls him handsome and gorgeous and pretty all the time. At first, he thought she was just humoring him but slowly but surely it dawned on him that she meant it. Means it still.

“We don’t know how many good sunny days we have left. Ain’t no shame in trying to remember this one, right?” 

Her eyes held so much honesty then. Vulnerability too. And gratefulness for all they had then after all they had lost. It made him smile then and it makes him smile now.

The Postcard is next, big bold letters spell out TEXAS and in the corner, there’s a drawing of the Texas State Capitol in Austin.

When he turns the Postcard over, there it is again, that swirly writing he’s grown to love so much. 

“Joel, the ‘Postcards from around the world’ book I got from the library didn’t have an Austin one but it did have a Texas one so that’ll have to do. I’m not even sure if you're going to read this. I hope you do because you didn't give me a chance to say my part when you stormed off & I think I deserve that.

You're not the man you were in Austin, you lived through the worst thing imaginable and it changed you. But you are not just your pain. It is part of you but it doesn't define you. I know you see all the bad but none of the good but believe me I see it! Ellie does! You are your pain but you are also the smile on Ellie's face when you bring her a new comic or teach her a song. You're the guitar chords echoing through the air on a warm spring afternoon. You are those fluttery feelings in my heart whenever you look at me.

Joel Miller, I understand if you don't want to be with me but if it's only because you don't think you're good enough then I think that's a choice I get to make. Taking that from me is a dick move. 

You said you're bad at showing love but you're not. You showed me through all those records. Through all those songs. Now let me love you back.”

Joel can’t quite name the feeling spreading through him. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time. Like an old friend. A hazy memory. Pictures blurred and dulled by time and age. 

Maybe he was wrong, and he hates admitting that. Maybe he ain’t a good man but maybe that is hers to decide. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He takes the cassette tape in his hand and squints his eyes at the tiny writing on the label. God, he really is getting old. Those eyes ain’t what they used to be.

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

You’re my best friend - Queen - A Night at the Opera

Just Like Heaven - The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (you should!) 

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper - She’s so unusual

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis - Blue Hawaii

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs (!!!! LOVE SONGS!!!)

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

"You gave me all these records with all these songs and all these words to tell me you love me and I’m not sure you even knew.” 

And she’s right. He got her those records because he knew they’d make her smile. Because that smile means everything to him whether he wants to admit it or not. He got those records to show her that even when he’s gone on a run, she’s always on his mind. He believed it to be a curse, a ghost haunting him for all his past mistakes and taunting him with what he shall never have.

But maybe it’s not a curse. 

Maybe it’s a blessing. A sweet song to remind him that someone back home is waiting. A gentle reminder that life can and will go on and good things can come from immense tragedy. And moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, in fact, it means remembering. Remembering the bad and believing that there can and will be good and that it’s worth it to go on. Even if you are a different you. Not worse or better, just changed. And that you deserve love. And kindness. And warmth.

Joel drops the envelope and its contents on the table and grabs his thick winter jacket as he rushes outside. The cold feels only half as bad as it nips at his skin, he barely notices. There is a fire inside him now, burning away all the doubts and hesitation. 

He’s back at her door, only this time he doesn’t wait to knock. He’s spent so much time denying himself the one thing he wants that he can’t lose just one second more. The rapping of his knuckles against her door echoes through the winter day. Oh, how he can’t wait for the spring and the summer and her in that gorgeous dress. 

“Joel?” 

Back before — everything, Joel remembers a movie night with Sarah. She got to choose and despite being an avid fan of trashy action and horror movies, that time she chose a romantic comedy. All things considered, Joel can admit that when Harry met Sally wasn’t the worst choice but he still would’ve preferred Star Wars or Terminator. 

He does remember the ending though, the grand finale. He remembers Sarah trying to wipe away tears without him noticing. And he remembers Billy Crystal’s words “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” 

Back then he thought it was some silly, cheesy movie speak. No one feels that way, right? It’s grandiose and kitschy for the sake of movie magic.

But no, he’s sure now, that one is true. Because it’s how he feels.

“I love you!” 

That confession should come with ribbons and flowers and fireworks but it doesn’t. It comes with honesty and that is all that matters. It comes from the heart.

“Huh?” 

“I got your postcard. The photo too and the tape. And I love you.” 

“I know. Took you long enough to figure it out.” 

“I’m sorry. I — I still believe that I am not a good man and that you deserve better. But it would be selfish to punish you for my own insecurities. I love you and I want to let you love me. If you still want to, that is.” 

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please just fucking kiss me.” 

Joel remembers a lot of kisses in his lifetime. Some rushed, some clumsy. Quick kisses in secret. Long drawn-out smooches in smokey bars. Loving, fast, aggressive, and soft. 

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

This kiss makes him feel like all he’s ever been and all he ever will be can live in peace with one another. This kiss makes him feel like none of it matters as long as he has her. 

She tastes like peppermint and sunshine and he’s sure he’ll never get enough of her. The feeling of her skin against his as he gently cradles her face in his hand. The soft movements on her chest as she breathes. The twitch of her lips as she smiles into the kiss.

For the first time in his life, Joel is sure that a kiss is more than a kiss. It’s a healing hand on a shattered heart. It’s a new path to a new future. It’s sunshine melting the ice from his bones.

It’s a promise to try every day and to be better and to be enough. ---

[joelmillerisapunk]

MILLLLAAAAAA I have not known peace since reading this

First of all, the tension. The history. The forbidden desire just simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. Every single moment had me gripping my phone like it owed me money.

The fact that they had all this unresolved emotion and then bam—thrown into the most intimate scene imaginable??

This was SO intense, so raw, so emotional—and the way it all came back to them in the end??? Like, she wrote the script for him. She was always going to find her way back to him.

I am never recovering from this. EVER I am crying in the club, hiding in the bathroom, sobbing into my pillow. okay favorite parts timeeeee - and this is my live reaction so excuse every emotional rollercoaster I hit here....

-> WAHHHHHH FJSDKJSDKLJF already killing me goddamnit He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. It could only be you. That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.that’s fucked up, Will*Will calling* -> OKAYY I SEE HOW IT IS YOU WANT ME TO CRY ALREADY HUH? “It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

-> WHAAAA I CANT DO THIS I CANT BUT I WILL IM SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more. He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again. Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.” -> she is so relatable omfg I would be doing the same You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal.  -> SOBBING EXCUSE ME SIR? WTF YOU DOING SHAKING HER OFF LIKE THAT NO SIR NO SIR So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.

-> my good goddddd im dying over here i am not okay sos help me He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

->idk Milla, i think you write the most beautiful things and you really wanna make my heart fall out of my ribcage. The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

-> ooooof THIS IS BUILDING UP OMG OMG OMG SMDFKSDA “Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally. “Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

-> stab me it might hurt less than this In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

THE ENTIRE INTIMATE SCENE HOLY SMOKES IM DIZZYYYY

-> I have no thoughts just thots my brain empty but this is delicious “I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,”

AND THE END AHHH IM SOBBING

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions. 

a/n:  this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles. 

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why. 

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene. 

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. 

It could only be you. 

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch. 

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you? 

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did. 

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been  friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad. 

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him. 

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. 

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. 

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. 

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up. 

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question. 

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between. 

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you. 

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.  

Until it was over. 

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened. 

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him. 

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him  lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it. 

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that. 

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy. 

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him. 

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations. 

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep. 

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended. 

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.” 

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.” 

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?” 

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off. 

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed. 

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.” 

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left. 

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward? 

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it. 

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too. 

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up. 

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you. 

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA?  I have some questions about the script can we meet again?  I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen. 

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered. 

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was. 

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair. 

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile. 

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature. 

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long. 

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before. 

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask. 

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?” 

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you. 

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake. 

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you. 

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch. 

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again. 

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together. 

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't…  Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider. 

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please." 

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping  your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head. 

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in. 

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him. 

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.” 

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his. 

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

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[abrakuxas]

Have been reading Batman/Batfamily books from the 70s up and I'm currently at New 52.

I hate most stuff but that are some gems:

S

- Batman and Robin is great most of the time, I cannot complain. The moments I thought were not very much in character ended up being my mistake and I've managed to understand them as genuinely good moments. The arc of Damian's death and Bruce's reaction to it is great and very consistent with how he reacted to Jason's death so many years ago.

- Gotham Academy is almost perfect. I've read the first 6 issues and all the kids are so much fun for me. I don't really agree with Bruce's writing on this first issues? I feel like he is written colder than he used to be written around children. I feel like the writer is doing it from a place of what Batman/Bruce's vibe is, not really from actual understanding of his character, but that's fine cause the protagonist is biased against him anyway, so I can excuse it as her perspective on him. I'm excited to see Dami in the school, I feel like Robin's school life is probably one of the best ideas ever, it worked for Tim Drake before and gothic academy is a great vibe for Damian.

_________________________

A

- Batwoman is also very nice. I think I could've put it in S tier but I've occasionally found myself a little bored by it or skipping something cause it wasn't very interesting to me. Mostly I think Kate Kane is a great character as she had been pre flashpoint and her book did not suffer much from this terrible change in direction. That said I don't care for Maggie Sawyer, I miss Montoya's Question and her dynamic with Kate. I wish Nocturna was better developed as a character as well, as I feel like conceptually she is a great foil for Kate. Alice and Red Alice were not to my taste. The idea and vibes are good but it sometimes feels like a Harley Quinn ripoff that's trying not to be that? Not a very consistent character and having read Alice in Wonderland I feel like this character deserved far better.

- Batman Inc. is... Complicated. I'll just come out here and say it: I do not enjoy Morrison's writing of Batman. I feel like their writing is sometimes TOO meta to a point where they are talking more about the real world IP Batman™ and not so much about Bruce as an actual character. Everything is a big metaphor to what every character represents in our world and not so much what they feel and think, which makes it feel like everything happens in a dreamlike world of concepts and commentary on comics. It's comics about comics and that's boring to me. It's not badly written, just not my cup of tea. That said, this second volume of Batman Inc. was so much fun and at the time it made me FEEL things, even if they were occasionally bad things. I do not like Morrison's treatment of Thalia at all, but overall I rather read a bold yet controversial book than any of the other VERY boring and safey books that make up Batfamily books up until now.

___________________________

B

- the Batman title was not as bad as it could've been. The New 52 is overall a terrible idea and I've seen lots of people say Batman comics got the better treatment out of it and oh boy, I'm so sad for the rest of DC cause most Batman comics S U C K... The Batman title though is mostly fine. Scott Snyder is a good writer. Am I fan of everything he did with this run? Not at all, but he was bold enough to create things, lots of concepts from his run are very very fun and deserve to be core concepts of Batman. It means a lot that the Court of Owls is that popular when the last big villain we got was probably what, Hush? And Court of Owls for all it's flaws is such a better story than Hush anyway. I enjoy a lot of the relationships and character writing here too.

That said, unfortunately, A LOT of the stories are kinda too similar to other stories and feel repetitive if you've read a lot of comics. I've SEEN "Batman disappeared and we're worried about him" just before Flashpoint, I don't need Bruce to be away in a maze (even though it's far better written than Batman RIP to my taste), same thing with Endgame... I've read Contagion and we don't really need ANOTHER pandemic in Gotham. But anyway, maybe that's a me problem more than it is the books problem. Snyder is very competent and his stories can be very very fun and even though not every idea works for me, at least he treats characters with respect and care.

_______________

C

Nightwing is the reason I started reading comics back when I met him in the Starfire goes to the future episode of Teen Titans cartoons and he was THE COOLEST GUY EVER. That said WHY is it that everytime they decide to give him a solo book he is 100% solo? Dick Grayson's best traits comes from his relationship. His weird older-brother-turned-father relationship with Bruce, his guilt towards Jason's death, his situationship with Barbara, his brotherly relationship with Tim and Damian, ALL of his Titans relationships. That's Dick Grayson. So WHY is he solo dealing with "the circus you grew up with is actually EEEEEVILLL and your childhood besties (WHO???????) want to kill you"? It's not just bad and boring, it's a weird trend that has started back with Chuck Dixon's run on him. That's a celebrated run that I don't understand, it's kinda fun at best but alienating at worst, which is sad cause Dixon's Batman run is quite good for Batfamily and Dick Grayson in my opinion. Anyway, this book sucks, what's next?

- Grayson. It's not necessarily badly written but who are this people? Give him back his suit, give Helena Bertinelli her suit and put them back in Gotham. Fuck Spyral and all cops are bastards, moving on.

- Batwing: I don't care for David Zavimbe, but Luke Fox had very fun writing and high stakes, I really enjoy this character, I wish he had more time and a better name. I like the idea of rich family boy finds out the reason all this Bat kids work is that they have absolutely no one except other super heroes and doing this with an actual, functional family is so fucking harder. This is not in C cause it's boring, it just had no time to cook better stuff, but I had lots of fun.

______

D

Detective Comics, Batman Eternal and Batman TDK have the same problem: they are not actual stories about actual characters they are excuses to keep an IP. It lacks personality, it lacks anything of interest, it's Batman living through an eternal hell of generic stories that take him nothing to nowhere, you lose nothing by skipping this, this is what people that don't read comics think comics are: nothing happens and every week Batman just fights a guy again.

Batgirl: Gail Simone can write the hell out of Barbara Gordon... As an adult woman.... In a wheelchair.... With the Birds of Prey.... Why is this 35 year old calling herself Batgirl again? Disgusting, ableist and very boring. And the ableism isn't JUST on Barbara, her Brother's treatment is honestly horrendous. And Batgirl of Burnside is not much better with her Oracle persona turning into an evil algorithm that she needs to talk down and destroy??? Fuck you, DC comics. I will not get into the weirdly transphobic story of a guy doing drag as Batgirl being treated as a monster and ridiculous. I will add though: if you really needed a college age Batgirl, you HAD Stephanie Brown AND Cassandra Cain. Oh wait, NO YOU DIDN'T, CAUSE YOU DISAPPEARED WITH THEM, RIGHT YOU MORONS???? I cannot believe how much better this could've been if we got roommate Cass and Steph as Batgirls attending college together and how their different personalities work off each other and in class. Also Barbara Gordon being 21 is probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever read.

Red Hood and the Outlaws: absolutely nothing of worth here except a couple of Jason x Bruce scenes, but barely. Lobdell can't write a villain to save his life and all the characters are just either thrown into the trash or we have Jason who is not necessarily thrown into the thrash but for some fucking reason has random mystic powers and training....? I don't know, I feel like it's the most convoluted type of story I've ever read, he was raised from the dead by the League of Assassins, WHY does he have to go away from them and then train with ANOTHER also league of also assassins? Lobdell is AI Writing before AI writing existed, it's insane.

I've also read Teen Titans and I uh... Rather not talk about.

[gothicxreylover]

Good day! I have another scenario in mind that I'd like to request: the Hashira (+ the Uzui wives), Kanao & Aoi with a foreign y/n. I actually have a couple of foreign reader scenarios so this is probably the 1st one 😄

Okay, so foreign y/n is doing their best to learn Japanese diligently the way we do irl. Since Kanji characters are a big challenge, y/n has to practice writing them numerous times. However, being a fast learner, they quickly proceed to tackle more complex Kanji. And the good way to do start is to write people's names.

In y/n's notebook, there are full names of their friends written repeatedly. Prior to that, y/n went around asking their friends how their names were written in both Kanji and Hiragana, and asked them to show how to correctly write the Kanji characters. So I lowkey think that y/n's s/o might get jealous of seeing other people's names aside from THEIRS written with sm care and precision.

P.S: I feel quite bad for keeping sending you these requests the past few days as I'm concerned that you might have a lot on your plate atm. I'd hate for you to feel the pressure of having to rush to finish our requests asap. But your writing is great and I keep wanting to read more (or I'm just overthinking 🥲)

As always, take your time and have a great day!

The Hashira (+ Uzui’s Wives, Kanao & Aoi) React to Their Foreign S/O Practicing Kanji with Everyone’s Names

I HOPE YOU ENJOY SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT❤️

You had been studying Kanji tirelessly, dedicating yourself to learning the complex characters that made up the names of your friends and loved ones. Your notebook was filled with page after page of carefully written characters, each stroke placed with precision as you committed them to memory. Since names were an important part of learning, you had gone around asking everyone how theirs was written in both Kanji and Hiragana, then had them demonstrate the correct stroke order.

Of course, you thought nothing of it—until your significant other happened to see your notebook… and noticed whose names you had written most frequently.

Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu had never been the type to hover or pry, so when he happened to pass by as you were practicing, he simply glanced at your notebook.

“You’ve been working hard,” he murmured, his voice as quiet and steady as always.

You smiled up at him. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of stroke order. Kanji is still difficult, though.”

He nodded, watching as your hand moved smoothly across the page. His gaze softened at the way you carefully traced each character, your dedication evident in every mark of ink. However, as his eyes drifted down the page, his expression changed ever so slightly.

Kocho Shinobu.

The name was written over and over, each iteration just as meticulous as the last. He noticed other names, too—Mitsuri Kanroji, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Tengen Uzui—but what stuck out to him the most was the sheer number of times you had written Shinobu’s name compared to the others.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve written Kocho’s name… quite a lot.”

You glanced at the page, blinking. “Oh, yeah. She was helping me with stroke order, so I practiced with hers first.”

Giyuu was quiet for a moment. He knew there was no real reason to be bothered, but for some reason, the idea that you had spent so much time carefully writing someone else’s name made something stir uncomfortably in his chest.

He wasn’t going to say it outright, but you could tell. The way his gaze lingered, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side—it was subtle, but you’d learned to read him well.

You smiled, setting down your brush. “You know, I was just about to dedicate a whole page to you.”

Giyuu blinked, his blue eyes widening slightly. “You were?”

“Mhm. Want to help me write it?”

He hesitated for only a moment before sitting beside you. His fingers lightly rested on yours as he guided you through each stroke of Tomioka Giyuu. Though his expression remained neutral, you could see the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks.

Later, when you weren’t looking, he carefully tore out one of the pages with his name and tucked it into his uniform.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro was absolutely thrilled to see how dedicated you were to learning. The moment he saw you practicing, he beamed with pride.

“Splendid! You are making great progress!” he declared, practically vibrating with enthusiasm as he leaned over your shoulder to inspect your work.

You grinned at his energy, always appreciating the way he encouraged you. “It’s still a little hard, but I think I’m improving.”

“I have no doubt! Your diligence is inspiring!”

However, as his eyes drifted across the page, his usual radiant expression faltered just a little. He wasn’t one to get jealous easily, but when he noticed that Sanemi’s name was written significantly more than his, something inside him stiffened.

“Oh?” His voice remained steady, but the slight pause before he spoke was uncharacteristic. “You have written Shinazugawa’s name many times, I see.”

You glanced at your notebook, completely oblivious to his change in demeanor. “Oh! Yeah, he helped me with some radicals, so I practiced using his name.”

“I see, I see…” Kyojuro nodded, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his golden eyes. He wasn’t necessarily upset—he knew it was just practice—but still…

He suddenly clapped a hand on your shoulder. “In that case, I believe you should practice with a true challenge! My name, written in the boldest, most flame-like strokes imaginable!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics, but the way his eyes gleamed told you he was completely serious.

And so, you dedicated an entire page to Rengoku Kyojuro, each character written with the fiery energy he deserved.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu had been the one to teach you stroke order in the first place, so she was already aware of your diligent practice. However, what she hadn’t expected was to see Mitsuri’s name written so many times in your notebook.

She had just been passing by when she caught sight of the page filled with careful repetitions of Kanroji Mitsuri. Her ever-present smile didn’t waver, but something in her golden eyes sharpened.

“My, my,” she murmured, her voice light as ever. “It seems you’ve taken quite an interest in Kanroji’s name.”

You looked up at her, blinking in surprise. “Oh, well, Mitsuri’s name was really fun to write. The strokes flow really well.”

Shinobu tilted her head, the same sweet smile still gracing her lips. “Is that so?”

There was something in her tone that made you pause. It wasn’t quite jealousy—no, Shinobu was too composed for that. But there was a teasing edge, a subtle warning hidden beneath her usual playful demeanor.

You set your brush down, smiling at her. “Would you like me to practice yours next?”

Her smile widened, and she hummed in approval. “Oh, only if you want to, of course.”

(You had a strong feeling that if you didn’t, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.)

And so, you spent the next hour writing Kocho Shinobu over and over, while she sat beside you, very pleased with herself.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi wasn’t one to pay attention to things like handwriting or study materials, so when he passed by your workspace and saw you scribbling in your notebook, he barely gave it a glance.

At first.

But then something caught his eye, making him pause. His sharp gaze honed in on the page filled with carefully written names—some in delicate, practiced strokes, others a little rougher as you worked to perfect them.

And there, right in the middle of the page, was Himejima Gyomei’s name.

Not just once. Not twice. But over and over again.

Sanemi’s brow twitched. “Oi.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on your writing.

“The hell is this?” He snatched the notebook off the table before you could react, flipping through the pages with a deepening scowl. “Why is Himejima’s name all over this thing?”

You blinked at him. “Oh! He was helping me with proper stroke balance, so I practiced with his name for a while.”

Sanemi’s frown deepened. His grip on your notebook tightened slightly. “You practiced with his name?” His voice had that low, dangerous edge to it. “What, my name too damn hard for you?”

You let out a laugh, reaching for the notebook, but he yanked it just out of reach. “No, actually, yours is really complicated. I was saving it for later.”

“Tch.” Sanemi still looked irritated, but there was the faintest hint of red on his ears. His thumb ran over the edge of the paper as he stared at your careful penmanship, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

After a moment, he dropped the notebook back onto the table and crossed his arms. “Write mine.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Oh? You want me to—”

“Just do it.” He muttered, gaze averted.

With a chuckle, you dipped your brush into the ink and started writing Shinazugawa Sanemi over and over again. The entire time, he stood behind you, watching intently—arms still crossed, lips pressed in a firm line, but his posture just a little less tense.

And later, when he thought you weren’t looking, he ripped out the page and tucked it into his uniform.

Obanai Iguro

Obanai wasn’t the type to get openly jealous, but he was exceptionally observant. And right now, as he stood silently behind you, watching you scribble Kanji with intense concentration, his mismatched eyes caught something that made his muscles stiffen.

You had written Rengoku Kyojuro’s name.

Over and over.

The deliberate care in each stroke, the repeated precision, the sheer amount—it all gnawed at something deep inside him.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, staring at the page. Then, finally, his voice came out cool and controlled.

“You’ve written Rengoku’s name quite a lot.”

You nearly jumped, not realizing he was standing so close. “Oh! Obanai, you scared me.”

He didn’t respond to that. His gaze remained fixed on the notebook.

You followed his line of sight before giving him a sheepish smile. “Ah… yeah. Kyojuro has a fun name to write. He also taught me a good technique for balanced strokes.”

Obanai’s jaw clenched ever so slightly, though his voice remained neutral. “I see.”

You could feel the shift in his demeanor—the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way Kaburamaru coiled a little tighter around his neck.

You sighed, setting your brush down. “Would you like me to practice yours now?”

A pause. Then, a quiet, “Yes.”

You hid your grin as you flipped to a fresh page. “Alright then.”

As you carefully wrote Iguro Obanai over and over, he watched closely, his gaze never leaving your hands. When you were done, he reached out and gently took the page between his fingers, examining it in silence.

Satisfied, he gave a small nod. “Keep this one.”

You chuckled. “Why?”

His gaze flickered to you. “Because your strokes are finally precise enough.”

(But really, you knew he just wanted to keep it for himself.)

Tengen Uzui & His Wives

Tengen prided himself on being flashy, confident, and above all, the most important person in your life. So when he casually glanced at your notebook and saw Tokito Muichiro’s name written more times than his, he audibly gasped.

“You’ve written Muichiro’s name more than mine?!” He clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back as if you had just personally wounded him. “How unbelievably unflashy!”

Before you could even respond, Makio stomped over and snatched the notebook from the table. “Hold on—why isn’t my name here at all?!”

Suma, already in tears, wailed, “Do you love Aoi more than me?!”

Hinatsuru, ever the voice of reason, simply chuckled and patted your shoulder. “You should probably write ours next, dear.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Guys, I haven’t even gotten to your names yet—”

“No excuses!” Tengen interrupted, flipping the notebook open to a blank page. He grabbed a brush and practically shoved it into your hand. “Right now. Write Uzui Tengen in the largest, flashiest script possible.”

Makio huffed. “Mine too. And make it just as big as his.”

Suma sniffled. “And—and mine with little hearts next to it—”

Hinatsuru smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind a few elegant flourishes on mine.”

You groaned in defeat, but secretly, you were amused by how deeply invested they all were. And so, for the next hour, you meticulously wrote each of their names in the most extravagant calligraphy you could manage.

By the end of it, your hand was cramping, your ink supply was nearly depleted, and Tengen was holding up the notebook like a prized work of art.

“Now this is proper dedication!” he declared proudly.

Makio nodded in satisfaction. “Much better.”

Suma threw herself into your arms, sobbing dramatically. “I forgive youuuu!”

Hinatsuru just chuckled, kissing your cheek. “We really do appreciate it, sweetheart.”

You let out a tired laugh. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Tengen grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “And yet, you love us anyway.”

And honestly? He wasn’t wrong.

Mitsuri Kanr oji

Mitsuri was delighted when she first saw you practicing Kanji. She thought it was so cute how dedicated you were, and she showered you with praise the moment she saw your notebook.

“Wow! You’re amazing, Y/N-chan! You’ve written so much!” she gushed, leaning over your shoulder with sparkling eyes.

You beamed at her enthusiasm. “I still have a long way to go, but I think I’m improving!”

She giggled. “Oh, I’m sure you are! Let’s see what you’ve been practicing—”

And then, she saw it.

Right there, in the middle of the page, over and over again, was Iguro Obanai.

Her expression didn’t immediately change, but you noticed the way her cheerful energy faltered just slightly.

“You’ve been practicing Iguro-san’s name a lot,” she murmured, her voice still sweet, but with the slightest hint of something… off.

You blinked, glancing at the page. “Oh! Yeah, he helped me with stroke order, so I used his name for a while.”

Mitsuri’s lips pursed, her usual pout appearing. “I see…”

You turned to look at her fully and immediately recognized the signs. The tiny pout. The slightly puffed cheeks. The way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.

Mitsuri Kanroji was pouting.

You chuckled, setting your brush down. “Mitsuri, are you jealous?”

Her eyes widened. “Wha—no! Of course not! I mean—” She fidgeted even more, her cheeks turning pink. “I just thought maybe you would’ve practiced with my name first, that’s all…”

Your heart melted at how adorable she was. You reached out, taking her hand. “Do you want me to write yours now?”

She perked up immediately. “Really?! You’d do that?!”

“Of course.” You flipped to a new page and carefully wrote Kanroji Mitsuri in the neatest script possible. Mitsuri watched with a lovestruck expression, swaying happily beside you.

And later, when she thought you weren’t looking, she carefully tore out the page and tucked it into her sleeve, pressing it to her chest with a dreamy sigh.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro was passing by when he caught sight of your notebook, his curiosity piqued when he saw all the careful Kanji written on the page.

“You’re practicing?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been working on stroke order.”

Muichiro hummed, scanning the page absentmindedly. His mind tended to drift, but when his eyes landed on a particular name, something inside him snapped into focus.

Kyojuro Rengoku.

It was written multiple times, each character precise and elegant.

Muichiro stared at it, his usual sleepy expression unreadable. “You wrote Rengoku’s name a lot.”

You barely glanced up. “Oh, yeah. He helped me with balance techniques, so I practiced with his name for a while.”

Muichiro said nothing, but his presence suddenly felt much heavier. His usual cloud-like demeanor darkened slightly, and his teal eyes sharpened in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, he plucked the brush from your hand.

“…Write mine,” he said flatly.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

“My name,” he repeated, his voice eerily calm. “Write it now.”

You gulped. Why did this suddenly feel like an order?

Without questioning further, you quickly flipped to a new page and began writing Tokito Muichiro as neatly as possible.

Muichiro’s intense stare never wavered. He watched each stroke carefully, nodding in silent approval as you filled the page. Once you were finished, he picked up the notebook, flipped back to the page with Rengoku’s name, and—

Tore it out.

You gawked at him. “Muichiro—”

“It’s fine,” he said, slipping the paper into his sleeve as if nothing had happened. “You don’t need this anymore.”

And with that, he wandered off, looking completely unbothered.

Meanwhile, you sat there, gaping at the missing page.

Did… did Muichiro just erase Kyojuro from your practice records???

Kanao Tsuyuri

Kanao had been quietly observing your progress, always fascinated by how determined you were to learn. She admired your dedication, though she never voiced it aloud.

One day, as she passed by, she saw you practicing again and leaned in curiously.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice her at first. But when she suddenly spoke, you nearly jumped.

“You’ve written Aoi’s name a lot,” she murmured.

You looked at the page. Indeed, Aoi’s name was scribbled multiple times.

“Oh, yeah! She helped me a lot, so I used her name for practice,” you explained.

Kanao stared at the page, then at you. There was no immediate shift in her expression, but something about the way she clutched her coin told you she was thinking.

After a few moments, she held out her hand. “Write mine.”

You smiled, flipping to a fresh page. “Of course.”

As you wrote Tsuyuri Kanao over and over, she watched with the slightest glimmer of satisfaction in her violet eyes. And once you were done, she took the page for herself, slipping it into her sleeve without a word.

Aoi Kanzaki

Aoi sighed when she saw your notebook, hands on her hips. “You’re still practicing? Don’t overwork yourself.”

You chuckled. “I’m okay. I want to get better.”

She peered over your shoulder—and then, her eye twitched.

Because right there, in painstakingly neat handwriting, was Shinobu Kocho.

Multiple times.

Aoi immediately narrowed her eyes. “Why is Kocho’s name written so much?”

You blinked, confused by her sudden shift. “Huh? Oh, she helped me a lot, so I practiced with her name.”

Aoi huffed, crossing her arms. “I see…”

Her usual sharp tone masked her emotions well, but you knew better. You smirked. “You’re jealous.”

“Wha—I am not!” She turned away, cheeks turning pink. “It’s just… If you’re practicing, you should’ve used mine first!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, flipping to a fresh page. “Alright, alright. Aoi Kanzaki, coming up.”

As you wrote her name, she muttered something under her breath—but you caught it.

“…Make it better than Kocho’s.”

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei had been quietly observing your progress for a while, always patient and supportive.

One day, he approached you as you practiced and knelt beside you. “You are doing well, Y/N.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Gyomei-san.”

Then, he felt your notebook, his large hands tracing over the pages. “May I?”

You handed it to him, and he carefully flipped through the pages, his blind eyes scanning the indentations of ink.

After a moment, he sighed deeply. “…You have written many names.”

You tilted your head. “Yes?”

His lips pressed together. “But mine is not here.”

Your eyes widened. Oh no.

He exhaled, his massive shoulders sagging slightly. “Am I… not important to you?”

Panicked, you immediately grabbed your brush and filled an entire page with Himejima Gyomei, each stroke filled with pure dedication.

Gyomei felt the fresh ink and nodded solemnly.

“…I will keep this safe,” he murmured, tucking it inside his robes.

(You were pretty sure he was smiling.)

[anthorius]

Where do we go from here? Chapter 1

Sevikaxfem!reader

Summary: Sevika finds herself being summoned to Piltover for a very serious proposal.

(This chapter is a lot of filling in the blanks around the end of S2)

It's also on my A03

A/N: Okay so... this is my first fic ever. My deep obsession with this older butch has possessed me into writing. So please give me some grace lol

I for sure have 5 chapters planned, all started just not fully fleshed out. If this gets received well, and I get the courage and don't cringe at my own writing I MIGHT try a smut chapter for 6. Idk for now.

So with that said, the OC I have set for this story is named Ivy. I will try to stick to she/her for the most part so anyone can fill it in with their character's name/ whatever. This first chapter is mostly a lot of filling in the gaps post S2. I also went down an Arcane/LoL rabbit hole trying to figure out the mapping of Zaun, if you haven't looked it up it's broken into 3 parts. The upper level closest to Piltover is called Promenade, the middle is Entrasol (where most of the show takes place), and the lower level is called the Sump.

There will be a brief sweet baby Isha mentioned ((I fully choose to believe that theory about one of the Noxian spears in the bg of the show was holding her helmet))

The summons was brief, the timing suspicious after everything that’s happened, and as she entered council member Shoola’s office, the air felt full with an unspoken weight.

Walking into the spacious circular room flooded with light from tall windows, her footsteps echoed faintly on the tiled floor. At the heart of the space was a grand desk in which Councilor Shoola sat behind. Approaching, Sevika took one of the chairs facing her. 

“Good afternoon Sevika, I do appreciate you coming all this way to meet with me. Oh, would you like any refreshments? I can have someone-”

“Let’s just get to why I’m here, thank you.”

“Straight to the point, I can respect that.”

As she turned to grab a thick folder off her desk she began to explain why Sevika’s presence was requested. 

Apparently Shoola had been in contact with Caitlyn before her departure with Vi. The long drawn out conversation about this very moment finally coming to fruition. And from the sounds of things, it sounded like this was more so Vi’s proposal than Cait’s. 

Days after the fighting had stopped, when the dust finally had some time to settle, she found herself finally having some time to think, to grieve, to unpack. The pill was hard to swallow but Vi had begun the process of breaking down the facts that she’d been pushing down and ignoring for years. She couldn’t help but finally recognize that Sevika had always stood for Zaun. Her initial falling out with Vander wasn’t quite truly a betrayal, she hadn’t realized just how badly those childhood feelings skewed her vision back then. Vi saw first hand just how strongly her father had prioritized his children, even if it mean pushing the fate of Zaun to the backburner. It took time but she was finally starting to understand the complexity and nuance of it all, nothing was ever really that black and white. And with this revelation she decided to talk to Caitlyn about proposing a council spot for Zaun.

It had to rebuild anyway, and there were only two living members of the original council left and one was off with the Noxian army. This is the perfect opportunity to try and start making a change. And Caitlyn couldn’t find it in her to disagree, whether she liked it or not she couldn’t help but think about just how firmly her late mother believed the people of Zaun had rights, and the right to be heard was more than overdue.

This led them to presenting this idea to Shoola, who surprisingly agreed. She’d explained to the pair that post-battle,  during the honoring ceremony held in Piltover, Sevika insisted on being the holder of the flame in representation of the people of Zaun, and it wasn’t a question. They’d been in contact only a few times briefly but she had to agree, each time they spoke Sevika always carried herself as if she was already in a position of leadership. She shared the risk and fought right alongside her people til the very end. Her commitment was commendable. And by the end of the visit a decision was made between the three. 

Shoola was to request a meeting and present the council seat position to Sevika. After everything there wasn’t any reason to continue to act as if the people of Zaun, who came up and fought alongside their oppressors to keep their region from being usurped, deserved to get shoved back in the dark. Unheard and cast aside, no, that was seemingly over now.  And once Sevika was properly caught up on the matter Shoola proceeded to hand her over the weighty folder. She made sure to let her know that she doesn’t have to give an immediate answer, this proposal was a lot to take in. And with that Shoola gave her a line of contact that would reach her office for when she’d made up her mind and bid her adieu. 

But Sevika had a hard time believing this was the only reason the position was created. She could see through the polite demeanor.  Yes of course it was about time for some real tangible progress to be made for Zaun, but she saw it in Shoola’s eyes, the idea of anything like this happening again had these topsiders shaken to their core. 

Just because they were allowing Zaun to be heard now didn’t mean that wasn’t without a condition. This whole situation only proved to show they need to keep a better eye on Zaun. Make sure another Jinx or Victor never happens again. She knows they think Zaun could no longer be left unsupervised. The sugar-coated offer was almost insulting but she would be out of her mind to decline. So despite the heavy presence that loomed, Sevika left Shoola’s office with that thick folder filled with documents about the proposal, the position, and all that follows it.

Which lead her to now, in her quiet little shit box she called home, sprawled across a very worn in couch. The folder tossed on an end table. Her head had been throbbing nonstop since the battle ended, a dull, relentless ache that seemed to echo the exhaustion buried deep in her bones. 

But even with this little glimmer of hope that was just barely peeking through in the form of this offer, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel even a flicker of joy. The mere act of closing her eyes only forced the memories back, ripping her from any potential feeling of peace. 

… 

…

…

She found out about Isha’s death the hard way. She had made her way down to the Sump level of Zaun after hearing about all the commotion that happened. There were so many spears embedded in the ground. And as she took in what was left of the carnage her eyes met a single Noxian spear, and sat upon it a concaved child’s mining helmet, adorned in faded colors and scribbles. And in that moment she felt like she couldn’t breathe, the wind knocked out of her from recognition.

Her legs collapsed under her, the weight of everything pressing her into the floor. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t even try. The world around her blurred, reduced to a quiet hum in the background...

…

She didn’t know how much time had passed til she finally came back into herself, and forced her body to move. She’s seen countless die in her years and although her hand’s weren’t clean, she was so tired of seeing death everywhere she went. But she had to keep going, slowly she pushed herself up and started walking. The grief of Isha followed by the new stress of not knowing where Jinx was shadowed her all throughout her treck back to Entrasol. But she knew she couldn’t just drop everything to look for her. 

And before she could even give the idea any more thought she’d heard someone call out to her. 

“There you are!” the sound of relief in Scar’s voice was hard to miss.

Turning to face him she gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. 

He jogs up to her catching his breathe, “You need to come with me. Ekko is missing.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, “What? What do you mean missing he’s your leader?” 

“The ground team hasn’t seen him lately, everyone’s scheduled to meet in an hour to go over the plan but I haven’t heard back from him or any of the other sky riders.”

“I need you to come back with me to the hideout so we can adjust the plan accordingly”, he urged.

Of course everything was going to shit, the most crucial fight of their lives was about to happen and people are just vanishing.

“Lead the way” and so Scar guides her back down to the firelights hideout. 

Finally making their way through the maze of a tunnel system they arrived. The welcoming sight of that magnificent tree greeted them. But as they walked forward that initial awe had been replaced by the shock of just how many citizens the firelights had managed to hide away here. 

“Before he dipped he had everyone go out and gather any sick, elderly, kids, you name it." He looked at just how much the crowd had grown. “We’re beyond capacity but he said not to turn anyone away.” 

As they spoke and navigated through the crowd one of the younger Firelight members ran up to them, a younger boy couldn’t have been older than 16 running around with one hell of a mop on his head. 

“Scar we got word from the sky riders, they should be here shortly!” 

“Any word about Ekko?”

“No, not yet. They just said they’d recap once they landed”

“How long ago was that call?” 

“Just a few-” before he could even finish the unmistakable hum of hoverboards echoed through the higher tunnels. Scar threw his hand up to wave one down and immediately the owl masked vigilante made their way over to land.

“Please tell me you know where Ekko is.” 

The was rider rushing to pull her mask and headgear off.

“He found Jinx! He got her to join in on the fight!”

The immediate relief of hearing that kid was still alive allowed her to finally release some of the tension she’d been unconsciously holding in her body.

“They’re planning something even bigger for the diversion! He said he’d reach out to us soon but everything is still set to go as planned. And you guy’s can start readying the ground team for the sneak attack. They’re not gonna know what hit em!” the enthusiasm beaming off of this kid was almost contagious.

“Thank Janna, finally some good news.” Scar exhaled. 

She couldn’t help but be feel a little recharged at the positive turn of events. “You heard ‘em, start gathering all of the firelights. I’ll get the others in Entrasol” she commanded before taking off. 

She found her body was compelled to move a little faster now, things were finally starting to come together, all of Zaun was on the same page for the first time. The smallest spec of hope began to bloom in her gut. And she couldn’t help but realize she hadn’t felt that in years.

….

….

…

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, her eyes squeezing shut as if the simple gesture could stop the flood of memories working their way back up. She didn’t want to think about everything that happened after that…

But there she lay, her home remained too quiet, the kind of quiet that left no room to hide from her thoughts. 

As she sat up she grabbed the folder and looked the folder over in her hand. The weight of the decision settled into her chest. This was it, there was no other option. 

[instantfoxdonut]

Helluva Boss S1-S2: Octavia Rant

okay, it has CLEARLY come to attention that ever since the episodes Mastermind and Sinsmas came out, MANY people having been hating on Octavia's character with little to no evidence for it.

Allow me to explain

As someone who watches both helluva boss and hazbin hotel, alot of drama has been spreaded around throughout both shows, most recently, with helluva boss's season 2 finale. Alot of people have started to make pointless rants of why octavia being angry and most likely wanting NOTHING to do with her father, Stolas, in the future makes her a terrible daughter and character, and may I remind you, with LITTLE TO NO EVIDENCE WHATSOEVER.

And now, I shall bring out the evidence of why octavia's feelings towards her father, blitzø, and her mother are justified.

First of all, the first time we actually get to see Octavia is in S1- episode 2: Looloo Land. The episode opens with a flashback to Octavia as a young child having difficulty going to sleep. Due to Stolas hearing Octavia while trying to sleep himself, he goes to her room with his grimoire and sings to her while taking her to watch an entire solar system implode on itself. Then it cuts to Octavia in the present waking up to the sound of Stella, Octavia's mother, screaming at Stolas and throwing objects across the kitchen at him. Now before she woke up, she seemed genuinely content, but once she was brought back to harsh reality, she looks absolutely miserable.

if you can't tell HOW miserable this girl is- then here is a mini compilation of her misery:

In all of these images you can clearly tell, her life SUCKS. Not to mention, the fact that she puts her headphones in to most likely drown out her mom's shouting kind of gives the impression that this has happened before, and she is USED to it- which is not a good thing. Now, I may not be a parent or an expert on taking care of other living beings, but I know enough that if a child is so used to hearing their parents screeching at eachother EVERY MORNING, to the point that they have had to learn to drown it out with other sounds or distractions, then it is CLEARLY A BAD THING. It's normal for parents to argue every once in a while, but this girl has to hear this EVERY MORNING, AND HAS HAD TO FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG. And that does not help with that the song she listens to in the beginning of the episode, is "My World Is Burning Down Around Me" by a band called "Fuk u Dad". Do you see where I am going with this? No? It's okay, I'm not done proving my point yet.

Now as for this rant, I have done some delectable research and have found that during the teenage period of life, most teenagers tend to try to find something to relate to. Specifically music, art, books, poetry, writing, ect. They also tend to pick these depending on how they feel about certain subjects, what they have gone through/ what they are going through at the moment, and a way to express themselves, and as a way to vent about their feelings. By the specific song choice, it's not only referring to how her life is LITERALLY FALLING APART AROUND HER, but also how she feels about the whole Stolas and Blitzø situation. She FEELS like her life is burning down around her while it also, non-metaphorically, is. Seems like a pretty fitting music choice for everything she's going through right now, am I right?

Moving on.

Second of all, during the same episode, she was dragged to LooLoo Land by her dad along with, you guessed it, blitz, which she is OBVIOUSLY not happy about. Her day started terrible, and now it's only going to get worse. Also, she has to see her dad FLIRT with the imp that is partaking in ruining her life INFRONT OF HER. And she looks so uncomfortable during the experience to the point that during the LooLoo Land show with the robotic Fizzarolli, she gets up and leaves, and runs off to sit on a ride by herself, and looks like she wants to cry. When Stolas goes after her, she wants him to go away, but still tolerates him. When he asks her what's wrong, she asks him "Are you going to run away with him and leave me behind...? Where i can't find you and I don't know where you are... and leave me alone...?". This moment, you can see how she is so close to crying at this point that her voice is breaking and that she has a teary expression. Then Stolas responds by hugging her and saying "No. No, I would NEVER do that. Ever". And as everyone finds out later, he BREAKS that promise to his daughter. As the series progresses, we also get to see how their father and daughter relationship slowly, but surely, begins to fall apart right before our eyes.

Third of all, in S2, episode-2: Seeing Stars, Octavia, for the first time we have seen, wakes up HAPPY. We then see her go uo to her calendar which shows she has a date circled and written with something along the lines of her going to see Asaphalts Tears with her father. She seems genuinely excited about it. But as she goes out to talk to Stolas about it, we can see a moving van and Stella's stuff being moved out into the van while Stolas is arguing with Stella on the phone. When Octavia tried to talk to him, he pushes her away and tells her that he is busy, not only refusing to listen to his OWN DAUGHTER, but also FORGETTING the OTHER promise he made to her. Now, alot of people may think "Oh, well Stolas is obviously busy and stressed, and it's just some Asaphalts Tears, it's totally okay for him to forget about taking his daughter to see them." No, it's actually NOT OKAY. He clearly promised to her that he would take her to see them, and may I remind you, Asaphalts Tears only show up every 1000 YEARS. That is a LONG TIME before she will get to see them. Not to mention, due to her being 17 at this point in the series, this would be her VERY FIRST TIME SEEING THEM. Due to her reaction, she is clearly upset about him brushing her off and forgetting, to the point she storms back to her room, and tears up and throws away her calendar. Then, she decides to take her father's grimoire and uses it to go see them, which ends up with her in the middle of Los Angeles by herself utterly lost. When Stolas realizes his book is gone and that Octavia is missing, he and Blitz along with the rest of I.M.P., go to look for her. In the process, Blitz gets mistaken for a celebrity and Stolas gets taken with him, leaving Loona to go look for her instead. By the way, the entire time that Blitz and Stolas are stuck on a recording set, Stolas COMPLETELY FORGETS ABOUT HIS OWN DAUGHTER. AGAIN. He then spends that time swooning over Blitz while Loona is busy running herself ragged, looking for HIS DAUGHTER FOR HIM. Once Loona finds Octavia, SHE has to tell her that her father loves her, since he isn't able to do it HIMSELF. Octavia even states, "If he cares so much, then why did you come looking for me instead of him...?" She is SO RIGHT with that line. If Stolas ACTUALLY cares as much as he says he does about his daughter, then why couldn't he be bothered to LOOK AND TALK TO HER HIMSELF? People also seem to like forgetting that as a parent, Stolas should be concerned enough about his daughter to be able to actually talk to her and look for her and not be flirting with Blitz for 5 MINUTES. That is just common sense.

Fourth of all, throughout both Sinsmas and Mastermind, Octavia is starting to suffer more than ever from her father's actions. Jesus, it's like Rose/Pink Diamond with Steven all over again-. In Mastermind, during the trial, we can see that the entire thing is being recorded and broadcasted LIVE. Once Stolas decides to (somewhat) own up to his actions, he places his head on the block, thinking he will be executed. Remember, this is being broadcasted LIVE. Octavia is WATCHING. SHE IS THINKING THAT SHE IS GOING TO WATCH HER FATHER BE KILLED. Alot of people are most likely saying at this point, "Well, Vivziepop wouldn't just kill off Stolas before the show ends." True, but that's not the point. We, as the viewers, DO know that he won't actually be killed. However, Octavia, as a character, DOESN'T know. I also feel like most of people that watch the show don't understand how TRAUMATIZING THIS WOULD BE FOR HER. She thought she was about to watch her father DIE. Even though he didn't actually die, she can still be traumatized by just the thought or even alluding to him being killed. It's already terrifying enough for a child to think about one of their parents dying, let alone WATCHING THEM DIE. ON TELEVISION. That would mess her up terribly. She was so distressed about thinking that her dad was about to die, that she goes to run up to her room. But before she can even leave the room, Stella stands in her way and embraces her. Once this happens, Octavia begins to sob in her arms, while Stella smiles. SMILES. Her daughter is seeking any form of comfort from her, is shaking like a leaf, AND crying, and she SMILES. Everybody already knows, Stella is a terrible person and mother, and is also an abuser and manipulator. To a certain degree, Octavia most likely knows this, but she is also so desperate and in need for comfort right now, that she is willing to hug her anyway.

In Sinsmas, we see that Octavia is still dealing with the aftermath and ending of Mastermind. It's not long until she finds a box of Stolas's pills, and her guitar. She then sings her song, "I Will Be Okay". Some people on tumblr have said that she is actively grieving her father even though he is still alive and her also planning on cutting ties with him. Those ideas make alot of sense and I like and support those ideas. Throughout the song however, we see these silhouette versions of Stolas and Blitz. These are representations of how she seems them. She sees her father leaving her behind for some porno fanfiction written by a virgin, and Blitz as one of the people destroying her life. She clearly hates him, and that is once again, understandable. She may not obviously have the full story due to being stuck with Stella and Andrealphys and hearing their versions of what happened, but she knows enough to the point that she hates Blitz and actively blames him for ruing her life more than it already hazbin. Get it? Hazbin? As in, hazbin hotel? The other show- AHEM- anyways- Her feelings are absolutely understandable and has every reason in the book of feeling the way she does. She already had a shitty life, and then it got shittier. Moving on, when Octavia's phone rings, Stella snatches it away and forbids her from talking to Stolas. Her and Andrealphys then make fun of the idea of him trying to even TALK to his daughter FOR ONCE. When Stolas returns to the castle, demanding to see Octavia, Andrealphys mocks him instead and gets his tail feathers pounded into the ground, which leads to a whole entire fight. At the end of fight when Andrealphys is about to attack Stolas and Blitz, Octavia steps in and deflects back at him and says "Don't. hurt. my. dad.". Once Andrelaphys storms off, Stolas goes to tell how proud of her he is and how he is sorry, and Octavia wants NONE OF IT. She is done with the apologies, the lies, the broken promises, the pain, and with his affair with Blitzø. She lashes out at him with the lines "I DO understand!", "Is that why you had these..!? Because of me..? Am I just some obligation to you...!?", and then "No! You don't love mother and you don't love me, you love him! We were never good enough for you!". Afterwards, she goes back inside, refusing to listen, and even look at him now.

In conclusion, Octavia has every right to be angry and to even go as far to HATE Stolas and Blitz. Before people say "But Stolas was miserable! He didn't mean to hurt Octavia and to make her life worse!". That doesn't matter. Just because he didn't mean to hurt her, doesn't mean it justifies his horrible decision making and him ultimately abandoning her for some utterly unrealistic fantasy. Octavia deserves an apology, a REAL apology and an explanation, not the shitty ones written by people that have never apologized in their lives and don't even know what the word means. As i have said before, her life was already bad enough, and in the process, Stolas made it worse. I am genuinely sick of people babying his character and defending him when his character is an ADULT who MADE the decision to sleep with BLITZØ in the first place. It's his decision, and these are the consequences, and the only way that his character can develop is by facing those consequences and moving past them, which many people seem to have a hard time understanding when writing characters. Not all issues with characters can just be sweeped under the rug, some actually need to be solved. Not to mention, Octavia gets even LESS SCREENTIME THAN MILLIE. And she is one of the main protagonist's daughters. She only has about 17 mintues of screen time in the ENTIRE SERIES, while Milie has over 20. Octavia's character is actively being WASTED and only being used for drama to keep the series going. Don't even get me started on the SHIPPING. There are people actively SHIPPING her with LOONA. If you couldn't tell, Loona is Blitz's adopted DAUGHTER. If Stolas and Blitzø ACTUALLY WORK OUT, that would make Octavia and Loona SISTERS. We also hardly know anything about her character other than her parents taking over the rest of it. Being associated with other characters isn't a personality trait. I also feel like alot of people would also feel angry if one of their parents put them through anything remotely like this. People have been bashing and hating on Octavia's character without justifying it or even explaining why. Everyoje knows that Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel have some of the worst fandoms to be seen with the human eye, which is where all of this hate came from, the FANDOM.

This is just an essay about my opinion on Octavia's character as a whole along with her connections to other characters and her writing. These are my opinions along with some others that I happen to agree with.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[eveningspirit]

We got skills, baby!

I think this was my favorite episode to date. Almost all characters had nice moments and writing feels solid across the board. Save for Santos, that is.

I can't decide if she's just that kind of "person", or if writing for her is weak, but she feels so one-dimensional. I thought I would like her, because characters who seem unlikeable tug at my heartstrings. They must have some redeeming qualities, though, meanwhile she's... just mean. And self-important. Idek. Judgment is still out, but if they don't make some sort of plot twist with her very soon, I'm gonna go with "bad writing".

Mel was awesome helping Whitaker with his blister guy. Self assured and upbeat. She knew what she was doing, kept her cool, stayed on top of things and did it all with such an air of someone who's right where they belong. Loved it! And I love her.

With the old lady, and especially her caregiver daughter, she came off too stiff, though, and technical. But I guess, when it comes to emotional connection with patients, she's not going to excell.

The way, say, McKay does. The way she approached her patient, sharing just enough of her own life story to get that woman to open up -- that was amazing. McKay is growing on me with each episode. Indeed, like Langdon said "Cassie, she's great". Even her putting Victoria in her place felt right. A bit raw and pain-filled, but she course corrected, because, well, Victoria is still learning. And she has a lot to learn -- mostly things she won't find in books.

Speaking of doctors connecting with patients, Dr. Mohan was her usual caring self and it's so heartwarming. Btw, the wives were wonderful too. It's rare to see someone suffering the way Joyce is with sickle cell, and at the same time having a good life, being loved, having everything to live and fight for. No, her illness doesn't define her. She's a "mom" to a "bougie bitch", she loves Ondine. Their story is one I'm most interested in among the patients, and I hope we see her improving by the end of the shift.

The interaction between Dr. Collins and Dr. Mohan was pretty great too. And here's where I can confidently say that writing for this show is very good (and that's why I'm still rooting for character development of Dr. Santos). The way Collins apologized, and told Mohan to "never change" and "you do you, Dr. Mohan" -- that was true character growth. And we've known those characters for six hours! We never witnessed their animosities, or Collins giving Mohan that nickname "Slow-Mo". Nevertheless, that scene had impact.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't mention Langdon. Each scene where he and YoYo (Dr. Garcia) argue and bicker brightens my day. As did the one in this episode, when he finally didn't let her "crice" and instead McGyvered intubation with Dr. Robby's help. I'm a sucker for his entusiasm and joy he gets from his work.

I loved his scenes with Robby's son Jake, too. They had such a big brother / little brother vibe. Or two twelve-year-olds fooling around, lol. That warm welcome and their whole interaction made me wonder how long had Langdon known Robby. Because it certainly doesn't feel like four years of residency. There's more history there (no, not that kind, eeeeww)

Yeah, I think that's all I wanted to say about this episode. Looking forward to the next one. :)

[spinnenpfote6]

Regarding your author's note I think it's actually a good way to let ppl know that you are able to make them enjoy stuff they otherwise wouldn't! I've had a few comments on my video edits about the (infamous) Star Wars sequels saying that while they didn't like the movies they *did* like my edits. There were a few discussions about these types of comments on Tumblr that they might be considered kinda rude in disguise but I took them as a compliment because my skills made them look at the movies (or parts of them) a different way that was able to make them happy.

But I know what you mean! I love Frodo (obviously lol) and would love to see more Frodo x OC/Frodo x Reader but most of it is Sam x Frodo, though I have found a VERY good Frodo x OC story on AO3 ("Left The Tenderness Of Tears" by Lurea, for those who wanna know).

My best guess is that fandoms in general lean heavily on shipping and we already have an established emotional connection featuring lots of tender moments in both the movies and the books between Frodo and Sam that everybody loves. The LOTR fandom has LOTS of queer fans who see themselves in the characters where I believe the ambiguity of their relationship even fuels it instead of calming it down (what is something some would expect instead) because it's normalizing to the platonic/non-sex love parts of a gay relationship. It would be a perfect tragic love story which people simply want more of - even if the fandom has spawned some weirdly black and white corners where there's either extreme homophobic hatred for SamFro shippers OR extreme hatred for Sam/Rosie/OC or Frodo/OC shippers where the mere idea that the hobbit boys could be straight or bi/pan is simply outrageous, even if it makes total sense for Sam in canon. Much of the fandom seems to actively try to fight all the "heteronormative stuff" and while that can be good, they sometimes go overboard with it, so there's no place for Frodo x female OC for such an "obviously gay" character and it's probably also the reason Rosie isn't too much of a beloved character (not that she's hated, she just seems overlooked and more of a stepping stone or even replacement for Sam in order to get to his "true love" Frodo. Some believe she was just shoehorned into the story because of the 1900's homophobia and/or Tolkien's Christianity).

As for Frodo x OC, the fan fictions we've mentioned have female OC's where I think Frodo's personality and role come into play. The books and especially the movies establish him as a soft and more quiet and less obvious hero - someone who cries, has weak moments, fights very little and has to be saved a lot by his friends. He seems cozy and innocent, more childlike (more so in the movies but ya know) than the other heroes and his small size, huge hairy feet and Elijah Wood's youthful cutesy face with the big blue eyes certainly add to the feeling of character who is coddled and taken care of like a child or adorable fantasy creature (even in the books other characters are constantly like "OMG you little funny guys are so cute haha", despite the hobbits being grown men - well, except for Pippin). This is a stark contrast to the female fan's most popular men, Aragorn and Legolas, who are badass manly fighters whose friends are their equal. Even if they have soft and lovely moments they still fit the women's fantasy of a strong man who can protect them, while Frodo is less the type of guy to draw his sword and throw himself into carnage. He *is* good-looking, but more in a pretty, cute way and Aragorn's good-looking in a hot, handsome way, and especially since elves like Legolas are considered more traditionally appealing than hobbits (Frodo is often seen as a sort of 50-y/o rich, stoned farmer who lives in a teletubby house and just eats and writes all day) - even if most of us find hobbits more relateable lol. In theory you'd have less hot and cool adventures with Frodo n' his hobbit gang than with other LOTR characters. So people - especially straight women - are less likely to ship themselves with Frodo aka a hobbit by default and therefore do not seek out these types of stories while all the queer folks look for the cute SamFro content. (Not to mention that Frodo is more often overlooked than you'd think of the main character because he's so quiet and misunderstood)

Additionally I think many fans believe that Frodo staying in the Shire somehow undermines LOTR's main message and purpose, as in him getting a happy ending at home makes it seem like his trauma and wounds have no real consequences (since him leaving for Valinor is a big thing), even if the "Happy Ending In The Shire"-trope is popular, and the SamFro fan stuff at least has them sharing their mutual trauma and therefore aftermath of the journey. With Frodo - if you go by canon - you are somewhat bound to have your fanfiction contain heavy themes like PTSD in a homely place like the Shire and if it's not SamFro that's unappealing to many fans because they are just not interested. With an OC you don't know what to expect and, well, you simply have no audience even if the small number of people who like it absolutely love it.

(I actually found myself to have 2 reasons why I as a woman like to ship myself (or my OC) with Frodo - aside from the fact that I love the character and find Elijah Wood incredibly cute. One, I think his quiet-observing, introverted and sensitive is very much like mine and I like to see myself in him and two, with my history of chronic illness I can get some catharsis out of imagining myself as the caretaker while Frodo is the one suffering. Idk, it seems like I have a general interest in more niche and heavy topics lol)

Now I realize I still have to read your story haha. But your discussion about why the LOTR fandom seems to be so allergic to Frodo x (female) OC caught my attention because it's SO true! They're hard to find on AO3 and I wish the fandom had a bigger space for it!

(Btw with this post I'm not trying to be mean towards SamFro or queer LOTR shippers in general - or Aragorn/Legolas girls - all that was just my observation of how the shipping stuff in the fandom works^^. I very much appreciate the soft sweet queer and Stan-The-Strong-Hot-Guy content! It makes total sense! But c'mon, we should give Frodo some more of our own love as well!)

You know what's interesting?

I may have posted about this before, but the literal number one piece of feedback I get about The Flowers of Mordor is "I was skeptical about the premise, but now I'm sold!"

Which is great. It means something good about my writing - that I've been able to tell the story in a convincing way, that the characters acted in believable ways, and won the reader's hearts.

What I still don't understand, however, is why the premise seems to go SO much against the grain.

After all, I can't be the only person who wishes Frodo could have healed in the Shire. I can't be the only person who wants to ship themselves with Frodo. (Let's face it, canon/OC is sometimes, though not always, a vehicle for self-shipping, and that's totally fine! Fandom is all about wish fulfillment, and I am all for it.) In the end, I can't be the only person to wish Frodo could have found his happy ending with someone else besides Sam-maybe-eventually-in-Valinor. (Yes, sharing Sam or a poly arrangement is an option, and so is Rosie-as-a-beard, and so is erasing Rosie, but none of those approaches have felt satisfying to me, and again, I can't be the only one who holds this opinion).

Yes, I get that Frodo/FOC is not canon, but canon/OC rarely ever is. (And yes, I know I've made a fuss before about how Marigold is not an OC, but she is quite similar to an OC: she is mentioned briefly in canon, but all of her character development in FOM is my own).

Also, there are many non-canon premises that people absolutely go wild for, such as Boromir lives, or Thorin lives, or even Boromir and Theodred, so why exactly is it so difficult to see Frodo with an OC? It's been done with almost every other character, even ones who have canonical partners.

I mean, yes, to begin with, Frodo is positioned in canon as a confirmed bachelor, and Samfro is a very popular ship. But at the same time, Sam and Frodo are written and portrayed ambiguously enough that there is room for interpretation. They could be lovers, there could be unrequited pining, it could be one-sided on either of their parts, or they could be good friends. All of those things are possible. And similarly, Frodo could be a confirmed bachelor for a number of reasons: perhaps he is asexual or gay, or he is too much of an oddball, or he had a relationship that didn't work out, or it's the Ring's doing, or he senses he will someday follow in Bilbo's footsteps and is reluctant to put down roots. All of those things are possible.

So I have to wonder: maybe Frodo/OC or Frodo/someone besides Sam is not the most common ship, but why exactly is it such a hard sell? I just don't see it.

In fact, Flowers of Mordor is in part written for much-younger me, who first encountered the books and movies and genuinely wondered whether things could have been different if Frodo had found a nice hobbit lass to love.

Granted, at that age I was probably too young to understand the import of Frodo's burden, and the scars it left behind. Today, I understand that the ending was tragic but necessary, but a part of that hopeless romantic remains: I wish it could have been different. I wish Frodo could have found love. I wish that love could have conquered all. And as I said before, isn't fanfiction all about wish fulfillment?

[cephalog0d]

Me: I'm not going to keep reading Gotham War as it releases, I'll just wait until it's over and just get angry once at the end instead of being angry every week.

Also me: *does not do that, keeps reading the garbage fire, keeps getting angry*

[thestalwartheart]

Okay so this quote from Black Doves is so good I wish I’d written it:

“You have a warm heart and blood on your hands, and that’s not a good combination.”

But the brainrot is so real. A second after I heard it I went: “Fuck, that’s Q.”

Thinking about that time Ben Whishaw said Q was warmer than anyone would expect him to be. Thinking about him saying care and concern is at the core of Q and Bond’s relationship, despite all the aggravation. Thinking about him saying Q was just trying to find some sort of balance between home and work life.

This man has a real knack for playing morally grey characters who have a strong, beating heart.

[moldy-flowers]

The interesting experience of being pro Sasuke, anti konoha, pro tobirama, anti Naruto ending, pro Sasusaku, anti Itachi, pro Sakura, anti SasuNaru, pro Tobirama×Izuna, anti Madara, pro karin, anti Orochimaru, pro Uchiha and anti Hashirama. And also as much as I hate the guy danzo was kind of hot when he was younger...