#and i hope the whole thing makes some sense

[strang3lov3]

Honey-Do

“You’re gonna work on these every day. And I’m gonna check to make sure you did ‘em all, and if you did, you get to put a sticker down. And if we fill this sheet all the way up by the end of the week, I’ll make ya cum,” Joel explains. “That’s how you can earn back your privileges, Pumpkin.”

Tags - one shot, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, orgasm denial, ddlg dynamics, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, sneaking around with bad influence uncle tommyyyyy, joel jerks off, sex before dinner, angst + tension, spankings, rewards and punishments, elements of abuse, hurt/lots of comfort, pinky promises, dark. this is a work of fiction, and all characters are adults.

A/N - have I ever not delivered. here’s your uncle tommy fill, as promised. thank you to two anons who know who they are for helping with the creation of this fic, and thank you to my dear L for editing with me! anyway, it's been a minute but i'm happy to see you all :) hope you enjoy. i wrote this through a splitting headache so i'm going to chill now.

Your bedroom door clicks as Joel unlocks it from the other side, and the hinges groan and creak as he pushes it open. He looks at your figure lying in your bed, warm sunlight painting over your skin. Joel knows you’re not sleeping. You’re just lying in the quiet room, soaking up the sun like a kitten. 

“Hi, kiddo,” Joel greets softly, smiling before taking long strides across the room to meet you. He’s stepping over your clothes and tripping on other odds and ends before he reaches you - you’ve been picking out your own clothes lately. Apparently you’ve been less than impressed with Joel’s sense of fashion. Ooohkay, he thought. You’re such a messy girl with the way you try on all of your clothes, then leave them all on the floor. Those, coupled with old, expired bottles of nail polish and lip gloss. Joel told you not to use those lip glosses, but they’re just pretty to look at sometimes. 

“Jesus, girl. Fuckin’ room’s a pigsty,” he says, and he sits on the end of your bed, springs creaking with the shift in weight. 

You ignore him. Joel leans over and kisses both of your cheeks and then your forehead, then your nose. “Don’t smile,” he teases, “Don’t you dare laugh.” And he repeats this, his facial hair tickling your skin, until you’re giggling and your eyes finally open. 

“Ohh, there she is. Mornin’, Pumpkin,” Joel says, chuckling at the way you squint through the bright sunlight. 

“Mmm…morning, D–” you’re interrupted by your own yawn, which makes Joel laugh. “Daddy.” 

Joel pushes some hair out of your eyes. “Lazy ass,” he mumbles. “Listen, kiddo. M’on patrol today, so you’re gonna be home all alone. Y’gonna be alright?” he asks, softly stroking the skin on your cheek. “Gonna be a good girl?” 

He wonders if he can trust you. If he can give you this inch, and you won’t take a mile. The doors and windows will stay locked, of course, but there’s other things he worries about. Joel knows you, you know. You’re never as sneaky as you think you are. 

“Mhm. I’m always good, Daddy.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. “Uh huh, fuckin’ smartass. You can make eggs an’ toast for breakfast, and there’s leftovers in the fridge for lunch. We’ll figure out supper later, hm? Maybe we’ll go to the cafeteria. See what they’re cookin’ up.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smile. 

“Good.” Joel pats his thighs and then stands up, knees popping loudly. “And I want you to clean all this shit up, alright? Didn’t raise ya to leave messes.” 

You sigh heavily. “I know. I’ll do it.” 

“Good girl.” Joel bends down and kisses your head one last time. “Eat all your lunch an’ have a good day. I love ya.”

You love days where you’re home alone. You used to hate it, and Joel wouldn’t let it happen a whole lot. You hated how lonely it felt, how quiet. You’d hear things go bump that weren’t there, and you’d feel just…nervous. Joel came home once and found you all scared and trembling, and he promised he’d be home with you as much as he could. 

He made good on his promise. And you liked being home with him until you didn’t, until you found it suffocating and boring. Scary. Joel’s house went from being a quiet safe haven away from the horrors of the world to a sort of horror in and of itself. A Sisyphean loop, where nothing ever changes. And it never will, no matter how much you tug on your windows that are bolted shut, or yank on your door that only Joel can unlock. You can never leave. 

You’d stare longingly out the window, hoping to go outside on your own. Just once, maybe. To go in the woods and wander, pick at strange flowers and plants and everything else. Just be alone. Joel grants you so much, and yet, you want so much more than that.

It makes you feel bad, if you’re being honest with yourself. You know what’s out there. What he saved you from. You know you’re safer with Joel, and you know everything he’s done to keep you safe and comfortable and happy. You’re in good hands with him, even if they’re hands that hurt you sometimes. Hit you. Spank you. Choke you. They’re still Joel’s hands, and they’re warm, right? And they love you. 

He said when the weather warms up some more he’ll take you to the lake. You really hope he does. 

You spend the day reading, drawing, watching birds and other critters that come by. Joel thinks it’s cute, the way you’ve named the chipmunks and squirrels that frequent his patio. How you recognize them like they’re your friends. 

Joel tries to leave his bad mood away from home. He knows he’s got a habit of carrying it with him, and regrettably, taking it out on you. You take your moods out on him too, though. Not that it matters. He curses himself for even acknowledging the fact. He’s older, he’s wiser, he’s more patient. You’re not. He’s the parent, you’re the child. But when he comes home, you can tell it was a bad day. You can hear it in his footsteps and in the way he breathes, and it makes you tense. “Y’ready for dinner?” he asks, voice tired. 

“Mhm.” 

“Didn’t hear ya, kiddo. Speak up.” 

“Mhm.” 

“No, no mumblin’. Use your words and tell me, yes or no,” Joel demands, feeling his blood pressure begin to spike. 

“Yes.” 

Oh, you fucking…you. You’re always going to match Joel’s temper. You stare at him and he glares back, balling his fists before turning on his heel to get changed. You both need something to eat, before this goes from zero to one hundred. 

But then Joel goes upstairs, and he walks past your bedroom and sees that nothing - nothing is picked up. He’s back downstairs before he even thinks it through. Before he showers and takes a moment to breathe, even. 

“What’d I fuckin’ tell you?” 

Your stomach drops at his tone. “What?”

“I asked ya to take care of your room, and I come home to see you’ve done fuck all.” 

“I guess I just forgot, Daddy. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Joel scoffs, “Yeah, uh huh.” He pauses for a moment, then puts his hands on his hips. “We talked about this, Pumpkin.” 

“Talked about what?” you ask, and it makes Joel fucking irate that you won’t turn your head to look at him. 

“Look at me when you’re speakin’ t’me,” he barks, startling you. Looking at him from across the room, you can see he means business. Joel’s eyes are already dark to begin with, but they’ve gone black - so depthless and so endless that you can’t tell what’s behind them. 

“You’ve been slackin’,” Joel says in a low tone, breathing heavily as he takes heavy steps toward you. “S’gettin’ old, kid.” 

“I know, I just–”

“Jus’ what?”

You pick at your chipping, poorly-applied nail polish as you roll the answer around in your mind. “I don’t really want to do chores. I mean, I know my room is…but the other stuff, I–” 

“Tough. You live under my roof, y’live under my rules.”

“Then it’s your roof, your mess.” 

The words come out before you can even think about them. You press your lips together immediately, shrinking in your seat a little at the way Joel cocks his eyebrow and puts his hands on his hips. “Wanna try that again?” he asks, and you know what this is, what it is he’s doing: he’s giving you an out. And it’s awfully generous of him, considering. “Don’t make this a bad night,” he warns.

You pause this time, thinking about what you want to say next. I’m sorry, Daddy is that fucking close to rolling off of your lips when you notice that little wren sitting on the windowsill. She’s a frequent visitor, and Joel says she’s just like you. Fiery, assertive, sometimes. Vocal. A pistol. 

She looks at you for a minute, then flies off. It sends a pang of longing through your heart, and perhaps even jealousy that that beautiful little bird can spread her wings and fly away and you…can’t. Not with the locked doors and windows, not while eternally existing under Joel’s fucking microscope.

“I didn’t ask to live here, Joel,” you bite. 

“Oh, s’that’s how we’re doin’ this? This is how tonight’s gonna go?” 

“Yeah.” You get up from your place on the couch and shove into Joel’s shoulder, but he shoves you right back down. He glares at you, and you glare back as hard as you fucking can. Staring at him like you wish you could fucking…you don’t even know. You’re blinded by the same rage and upset that Joel is at this moment, but without the agency to do one fucking thing about it. Joel, on the other hand. 

He takes your jaw in his hand, squeezing your bones tight enough to bruise the soft flesh that covers them. When you jerk your head away, he squeezes tighter. “You don’t get to walk away from me,” he growls, leaning in close enough that you can feel his hot breath on your face. “I do a lot for ya. Done a lot for ya,” he says in a low tone.

“You never let me leave,” you argue. “You trap me.” 

That gets Joel, wounds him a little. His face changes when you say that, before twisting back into something darker. “That’s what you think, huh? That I trap ya?”

You swallow thickly, then part your lips to speak. Joel cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “I keep you safe,” Joel whispers. “Fed. Happy. An’ all I ask is that you follow a few simple rules. That’s all. You wanna go back out there on your own, with the fuckin’ raiders and clickers, I can make that happen. Watch.”

Joel’s jaw ticks as he glares at you, fuming at the indignant little look on your fucking face. He could hit you right now, right across your cheek. Or maybe he’ll bend you over his knee and beat you until your ass is fucking raw and bleeding. That’ll teach you, that’ll fuckin’ teach you…

The anger flows through his veins like a fucking poison, and only when one of Joel’s knuckles crack, startling him, does he let your face go. He didn’t realize he was holding you so hard.

“I don’t like you,” you whisper. 

Joel makes a face at the statement, then nods, because he’s heard it all before. It hurt the worst the first time you said it, but you came back to him crying, hours later when you’d had a nightmare and needed him. Not want - that wasn’t the word you picked. You said you needed him, Daddy, and you were so sorry. You didn’t mean it. You love him and you need him. 

He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “M’not too keen on you either, right now, Pumpkin.”    

The room is tense as you and Joel stare each other down, and neither of you budge until Joel tells you to go to your room and stay there. He tells you that you can forget going out to dinner, and you can stay in your bedroom until he feels like looking at your face again. You’re grounded, too - he doesn’t say from what. Now get out of his sight before he fucking hurts you.

You’re in your room forever, the hours alone spent alone passing like days. The sun went down forever ago, and you can’t stop yourself from crying. You held it together long enough downstairs while fighting with Joel but the moment you stepped foot into your room, you burst like a dam. 

And it sucks to cry alone, to not have Joel there to hold you and wipe your tears. But is that what you’d want? Is that what would make it all better? Maybe. Joel has a special way of being your heaven and hell, all in one man. He’s both your nightmare and your solace after a bad dream. What are you supposed to make of that? What are you supposed to do other than cry like this?

You don’t bother wiping your tears when there’s a double knock at the door. “S’me,” Joel says. “M’comin’ in.” 

You keep your back turned to him as he enters your bedroom with a plate and a glass of water, and he sets both down on your nightstand. “Went and grabbed some food. I gotcha…let’s see here. Chicken, mashed potatoes, corn.” 

“Not hungry.” 

“Not even for some pumpkin pie?” Joel asks, noticing the way your eyes widen at the mention. “Still your favorite, right?”

You pause. “No,” you answer, eventually.

“No?” Joel asks. “Hmm. Guess I’ll eat it myself. M’gonna get even fatter than I already am…this is a very unhealthy thing to do to your dear old man, y’know,” Joel says, cutting into the pie with the side of his fork, which scrapes against the ceramic plate. You flip over and sit up, and Joel feeds you the bite instead of eating it himself. “There she is,” he murmurs. 

That’s how you got the nickname. Joel asked your name many times back in that cold, shitty cabin. You wouldn’t tell him. He understood, of course, and he told you his name anyway. You were always such a stubborn girl. For the life of him, Joel could not figure out why you wouldn’t come back to Jackson with him, why the hell you were so apprehensive about trusting him. Most people jump at the opportunity to stay in the cozy, warm settlement but…not you. 

You were a tough nut to crack. It took a lot of time for you to trust Joel. He used to sit in that cabin with you while on his patrols - Tommy would show up sometimes, too. He’d just sit with you, talk a little, the way you’d do with a stray dog in a shelter. He’d bring you warm thermoses full of soup or tea and sandwiches for you to eat, and he was just patient.

And it was pumpkin pie that finally got you to come home with him. He brought you a slice one day, and you scarfed it down quickly and asked if he had more. “Nope,” he answered. “Gotta come back to Jackson f’ya want more. Got all the pumpkin pie you could eat.”

You mulled it over in your mind more than you ever had. And this was after weeks of Joel visiting you, bringing you food, sometimes dry wood to keep your fireplace warm. You didn’t trust him yet, but you didn’t…not trust him. And you really wanted that fucking pie. 

It was your choice to live with Joel, too. When he brought you back, they offered to put you in a house with other girls around your age. Nope. You wanted to be with Joel. Somewhere deep down, you know you picked him to be yours before he picked you to be his. Doesn’t that make you a little responsible for where you are now? 

“Yeah, alright, Pumpkin. I guess I could make some room for ya,” he winked.

“Breakin’ rules here,” Joel murmurs. “It goes dinner first, then dessert. Right?”

You ignore him as you swallow your bite. He’s only teasing. And besides, this is not a battle he wants to fight. At least you’re eating, anyway. Joel puts his hand on your knee and speaks softly, “I shouldn’t have gotten on your ass the way I did.” 

“No. You shouldn’t have,” you snap, and Joel feeds you another bite of pie. You take the fork and eat the rest of the slice quickly, then lay back down and flip over.    

His poor, sweet, tender-hearted girl. Don’t you know that attitude of yours is only gonna get you in trouble? Joel thinks it's just where you’re at in life - he thought he knew the world like the back of his hand when he was your age, too. 

Joel turns your face and wipes your tear-stained cheeks, all swollen and raw. Eyes rimmed red as more tears well up, then spill down, back into your hairline. “Oh, sweetheart. What am I gonna do with ya?” he sighs, gently thumbing away those tears again. He wipes a few crumbs of pie crust from your lips, too.

You sniffle and shrug, avoiding his gaze. A hiccuping sob escapes your lips. “S'okay. Drink some water,” Joel tells you, pulling you upright. He gives you the glass, has you take a few sips, and he notices the way you look at his hand between your thighs. He notices your muscles twitching, eyes widening…knows exactly what you want as he rubs his thumb over the skin. Joel knows you want him to fuck you, to make you feel good, because you always feel better after he gets you off. Presses your little reset button. He’d reckon those pretty pink panties of yours are a little soaked, too. Poor thing. And isn’t this part of tonight’s problem? 

You can’t get anything past Joel. You’ll never be able to. 

“Daddy–”

“Not tonight, kiddo. Y’lost them privileges.” 

“Please,” you beg. Joel takes your glass of water and sets it down on the nightstand. 

“No,” Joel bites, pulling his hand away. He pulls your blankets over your shoulders, then turns off your lamp. “Daddy’s gonna have to think of a way for you to earn ‘em back.” He kisses you on the forehead, saddened by the way you turn away from him. “I love ya with my whole heart, Pumpkin, but you are gonna learn that there are consequences for your actions. Now get some sleep.”

Joel takes the glasses and checks to make sure the baby monitor is on, then leaves you. A night of sleep will be good for you both. 

But it is a hard night, isn’t it? You spend the night tossing and turning - Joel can hear it on the tinny, crackling speakers of the receiver. He doesn’t rest any easier either, so he gets in the shower late at night. Maybe the distant noise of the running water will soothe you to sleep. 

He washes his hair and his body, then grips his cock tightly in his fist. He strokes himself slowly, top to bottom and over and over again, building to a quicker pace in short time. “Ohh, Pumpkin,” he whispers, cumming over his knuckles. Joel rinses himself off and dries himself, then checks on you in your bedroom - you’re out like a light. Good. Fuck, he hates fighting with you. 

In the morning, you tiptoe down the stairs, stopping first behind the wall to steal a peek at Joel before he sees you. He’s got breakfast made already - French toast, eggs, hash browns. You take your place at the table, yawning as you twirl a fork between your fingers. “Mornin’, sweetheart,” Joel murmurs, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. He serves you a large helping of breakfast, your Felix the cat cup is already filled with juice. “Sleep okay?” he asks, sitting next to you and serving himself. 

You shrug. 

“Yeah, me too,” Joel agrees. You and he eat in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sounds being the chirping birds and the cutlery scraping against the plates. Joel finishes his food before you do, and when he does, he gets up from the table. You watch him set his dish by the sink, then grab a couple of papers or something from the counter and bring them back to the table. “Been thinkin’ about how you can earn back your privileges,” Joel begins. Your attention is immediately caught by a few shiny, sparkly papers, decorated in little stars. “Stickers,” Joel explains, peeling one off and sticking it on your nose. “See?”

“Mhm.” You grab the packs of stickers, but Joel tugs them back. 

“Ah, ah, ah. Can’t have those yet. You gotta earn ‘em.” Joel shows you a larger paper next, something he made and drew up himself. ‘Pumpkin’s Honey-Do List’.

“What’s honey-do?”

“S’a chore chart,” Joel explains. “Honey, do this for me. Honey, do that. Get it?” You nod. “We’re gonna use this chart to keep track of your chores, okay?” 

Before you answer, you take some time to look over the chores Joel wants you to do. Sunday through Saturday Joel wants you to tidy your room every day. “Every day?” you whine, thinking of the enormous mess sitting in there right now. It’s gonna take for fucking ever to deal with all of that.

“Every day,” Joel answers. “F’ya stay on top of it, it’s not much of an issue. Been tryin’ to tell ya that, Pumpkin.” 

The rest of the daily chores listed are no surprise. Do the dishes, set the table, make the bed, sweep. But there’s some new ones at the bottom of the chart - dust all the shelves and baseboards, wash the windows, mop. Joel explains that they only have to be done once at some point this week. 

“You’re gonna work on these every day,” Joel says. “And I’m gonna check to make sure you did ‘em all, and if you did, you get to put a sticker down. And if we fill this sheet up by the end of the week, I’ll make ya feel good again. That’s how you can earn back your privileges.”

You think about it, looking over the chore chart. Joel’s all capital letter handwriting, and the silly pumpkins he drew at the top of the chart. “Hey, you,” Joel taps your arm. “We square?”

You still don’t know. You don’t know why you’re hesitant. You’re just…that’s just who you are. Stubborn, indignant. A rebel with a heart of gold. 

“Psst. Take the fuckin’ deal, kiddo.” 

“Okay, Daddy.” 

Joel holds out his fist, pinky finger extended. You wrap your pinky around his, and then he brings both his and your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckle.  

You get started after breakfast, cleaning up your room while Joel takes care of some other stuff around the house. It’s not so bad when you have a goal in mind and a better attitude about the entire thing. It goes by quickly, too, and you feel better when your room is put back together. You don’t know why you let it get so bad. Maybe it’s reflective of your mood. 

Dishes come next, and it’s made easier because Joel cleans as he cooks. It’s just a matter of washing and drying a few plates and forks and glasses, then putting them back into the cabinets. Sweeping comes after that, and then you’re done until dinner tonight when Joel needs the table set. 

It is nice to walk through the house with him as he inspects your work. The concentrated frown on his face as he looks in your closet at all your clothes all hung up and folded neat, and the way it splits into a smile of approval. “Y’did good, kiddo,” he murmurs as he kisses your head. It takes you a moment to decide how exactly you want to place the stickers down, but you like doing it. It’s going to look so pretty when it’s filled in. 

Tomorrow is the same, and the next day, and the next day. Joel does his walk throughs every evening, and then you do your stickers at the table. “Mm, doin’ some neat patterns there, I see,” Joel says gently. 

“Mhm.”

“Very pretty, sweetheart. I’m so proud’a ya,” he smiles. “Couple more days, right? Finish strong.” 

When you wake up on Friday, you feel excited. There’s really not much in your room to clean, not much to sweep around the house, not much of anything to do, really. 

…Until Joel reminds you about the specials. “Ahem,” Joel says, pointing to the chores at the bottom of the chart. “These need’a get done, too.” 

“Oh, fuck.” You cover your mouth before Joel has a chance to scold you. “Sorry.” 

He makes a face at you, but he lets it go. If letting a dirty word slip is the worst thing you’ve done all week, then so be it. You probably picked it up from him, after all. 

Joel quickly makes you a sandwich at the counter, then slices it in half and puts it in the fridge. That’ll be your lunch later. “Uncle Tommy’s coming by today,” Joel says. “But don’t think you can sweet talk him into helpin’ you with those chores, Pumpkin. This is still a punishment.” 

“Mhm. I know, Daddy.” 

“Good girl.” Joel kisses you quickly on the cheek, then he’s out the door. “I love ya. Be home later.” 

When Joel leaves, you go upstairs and shower, then pick out something to wear - just a pair of shorts and a tee, neither of which you particularly like, but that’s okay. You don’t want to dirty your favorite clothes. After checking your list, you get started with dusting first. You’ll work top to bottom, and then do the windows at the very end, per Joel’s suggestion. 

Dusting is tedious. It’s tedious to take every little knickknack and tchotchke off the shelves, but you do like the way the wood sparkles after you wipe it clean. And it feels better, too. There’s a noticeable difference when you clean the place, like you’re washing away everything bad that’s built up over time and starting anew. 

You pause cleaning briefly to eat the sandwich Joel made you, and then you’re back to cleaning, on your hands and knees as you wipe the baseboards. You still have some tall cabinets and shelves to dust, but you’ll figure that out later. 

The back door opening startles you, and in comes Tommy, handsome as ever and smiling so big when he sees you. “Hiya, sweetheart.” 

“Hi, Uncle Tommy,” you greet. You feel Tommy’s eyes on you as you dust, tracing over every inch of your figure. It’s awkward as you clean and Tommy stands there. You’re not exactly sure what he was sent here to do. Maybe he’s your babysitter or something. 

He peruses the house, and you wonder what he’s thinking. You have a more difficult time reading him than you do Joel, though that doesn’t mean Joel is always easy to read, either. Tommy notices your chore chart and smirks at it. Good fucking god. 

Baseboards are done now, so it’s time to finish those cabinets. You drag a chair over to the kitchen counters, but even with the added height, you can’t reach the tops. “Uncle Tommy?” you ask. 

“Yeah, honey.” 

“Do you know if Joel has a step stool or something around here?” 

Tommy holds up a finger before he’s off to check for you. There’s nothing in the closet, nothing in the garage, either. “Don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Hmm…” 

“Whatcha thinkin’?”

Joel would throttle you if he knew what you were about to do, but he’s the one who didn’t account for your inability to reach the tops of the cabinets he wants cleaned. You hoist yourself up onto the counter top with a rag in hand, wobbling as you stand up tall. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Let me use the chair an’ I’ll get ‘em myself, darlin’,” Tommy says as he stands behind you, his fingers tapping against your legs as he gets ready to catch you. He gets a nice look up your shorts from this angle, too, llikes the lace on your panties. “Gonna crack your goddamn skull open, girl.” 

“You’re not supposed to help me,” you tell him, frowning at how disgusting the tops of these cabinets are. “Ew.” 

“Says who?”

“Daddy,” you answer. 

“Ohhh. Daddy says so, huh?”

You sigh, “Yep.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Get down, honey. I don’t like ya up there like that.”

You know better than to argue with Uncle Tommy. He’s fun, sure. But he does have the authority to do whatever Joel does to you, too. Joel’s made it clear that when Tommy’s around, you are to listen and obey him the same as you listen to Joel himself. You turn around and bend down slowly, feeling nervous and unstable on your feet. “C’mere, sweet pea. I gotcha.” Tommy grabs your waist and steadies you, grunting as he helps you down. 

“Can’t believe your old man’s gotcha doin’ all these chores without any music,” Tommy says. You shrug, and Tommy’s off toward the living room where Joel’s got a turntable and some vinyls. He puts them on every once in a while, but you’re not always into the music he picks. 

Tommy puts on Jim Croce and does a little dance that makes you giggle. He wiggles his hips and snaps his fingers, biting down on his bottom lip. “Alright,” Tommy claps his hands together. “Let’s get to work.” 

He takes the rag from your hand and stands on the chair, dusting the tops of the cabinets himself. “I appreciate this, Uncle Tommy, but you really shouldn’t…if Joel finds out–”

“You gonna tell on me, sweetheart?”

“N-no…” you mumble, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. 

“Then your daddy won’t find out,” Tommy replies. 

He finishes the cabinets quickly, then gets off of his chair with a grunt. “Okay, darlin’. What else ya gotta do?”

“Uhmmm…” you trail off, mentally tallying the chores you’ve already done. With Tommy’s help, you’re just about finished. “Windows are last,” you tell him. 

Tommy nods. He grabs a spray bottle from a closet as well as two squeegees, then hands you one. “You wanna do the outsides or the insides, sweetheart?” 

“Insides,” you answer. “I’m not supposed to go outside without Joel.” 

Tommy makes a real show of looking around, raising his eyebrows and squinting dramatically. “Funny, darlin’, I don’t see Joel anywhere,” he says, then pauses. “Why don’tcha wash the outsides and get some fresh air, honey?”

“Okay,” you smile. Tommy gives you the spray, then opens the door and tells you to meet him at the kitchen window. You feel exhilarated as you leave and round the house, loving the sun on your skin and the breeze in your hair. When you meet him on the other side of the window, he motions for you to spray yours down, which you do. Then Tommy opens the window and reaches for the spray, then shuts the window. You flinch when he squirts it at you, and laugh when it hits the glass and not yourself. Tommy winks, then squeegees his side of the window as you do the same. 

He nods his head to motion to you to go to the next window, where you and he repeat the routine. You do the same with the next one and the one after that, and when you’re finished, you come back inside and rest on the couch. 

“Think that means we’re ‘bout done, huh?”

“Yep,” you answer, then pause. “You won’t tell Joel, right?”

Tommy sits next to you and zips his lips. “M’not a narc, honey. So we get to put stickers on your chart now, don’t we?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Joel has to do a walk through,” you explain. 

“Ahhhh,” Tommy nods, understanding. “So whatcha gettin’ for fillin’ in all the stickers?”

Your cheeks heat up at the question and you shy away from Tommy, which makes him laugh. You have no poker face at all. 

“Uh huh,” Tommy winks. “Oh, I get it.”

You squirm in place a little, wondering if you should talk more about it. You kind of want to, honestly. Joel tells you that you can tell him anything, but you know you can’t. Not just anything. “It’s been a week,” you admit finally to Tommy, and immediately you feel relieved to have someone else to talk to about this. About Joel. “Well, almost. Tomorrow makes a week.” 

Tommy scoffs. “Well shit, kiddo. Your old man’s a fuckin’ hard ass.” You shrug silently, and Tommy raises an eyebrow at you. “You can agree, y’know. Ain’t gonna hurt. An’ I won’t tell him if ya do, either.” 

“A little,” you admit, quietly. But Tommy hears, and he smiles. 

“Can’t go a day without it, myself,” Tommy tells you, stretching out on the couch a little. He rests his hand on your thigh, drawing little patterns down to your knee and back up again, patterns that make your skin tingle and make you feel funny inside. Nervous, excited…in almost the same way Joel makes you feel nervous and excited. But there’s an added layer here. You know you shouldn’t be letting Tommy do this to you.

“I think you should reward yourself, ‘f I’m bein’ honest. You did all your chores, after all. Right?” 

“...yeah.” Uncle Tommy has a funny way of making the guilt in your belly disappear, if not for just a moment. It’s in the way he speaks and the words he chooses, and it’s in his sparkling brown eyes and his charming smile.  

“Why don’tcha go to your room and take care of yourself, then? Hm?”

You shake your head. “Joel - Daddy says I’m not allowed to,” you reply. 

“Ohh. Not allowed to do it by yourself.” Tommy clicks his tongue and turns his head toward you. “S’too goddamn bad. Joel’s gotcha on a short fuckin’ leash, don’t he?”

He slides his hand up your thigh, inching his pinky finger past your shorts. Tommy likes the way your breath hitches in your throat when he traces the thin, damp fabric of your panties with just his fingertip. Sensitive fuckin’ girl.

“And you’re really hurtin’ for it too, I can tell. A fuckin’ week, good lord,” Tommy whispers, then pauses before speaking again. “Well, I’d reckon you’re not doin’ nothin’ wrong by lettin’ Uncle Tommy make ya cum, huh?” 

“I-” you stutter, “I really - I don’t know, Uncle Tommy.”

Tommy grins, his eyes so warm and so black, so endless. “Oh, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it in my book.” He wriggles his fingers up your shorts a little more, and slips them past your panties. That little gasp when he touches your lip, lightly teasing you there. Good lord. 

“Then s’gonna be our little secret,” Tommy whispers. “Somethin’ special, jus’ for me and my sweet girl,” he says. “How ‘bout that, darlin’?”

You nod before the little voice in your head telling you not to do this becomes too loud. You can trust Tommy, right? He wouldn’t do anything to get you into trouble with Joel. And like he always says, what Joel doesn’t know won’t kill him. 

You can’t ever pull one over on Joel, but you can try. And if Tommy’s right, and he probably is - you’ll succeed.  

“Good girl,” says Tommy, pulling your body into his lap. He unbuttons your shorts and pushes them down your legs, then cups your pussy with his large hand. You sigh at the relief that comes with the pressure, resting against Tommy’s chest. “C’mere, honey. I gotcha.” 

You spread your legs for him and he rubs you through your panties, just lazily at first, feeling you dampen the fabric. He traces your clit next, “Oh, fuck,” you moan, leaning into him. “More,” you gasp. 

Tommy slides his hand under your panties, touching your bare heat. You’re so fucking warm and so fucking wet, with that pool of arousal he’s created. And it didn’t take much, did it? No, no. Of course not, not when you’ve been starving for it for so long. Longer than a week, too. Tommy knows the way you look at him and what goes on in that head of yours. And if he were a betting man, he’d bet that when you do summon the courage to get yourself off on your own fingers, despite Joel’s rule, that you’re thinking of him. Maybe not every time, but enough.  

“Uncle Tommy,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as you arch into his touch. You rock your hips as he circles your clit, reaching for his thick bicep. You hold him tightly, whimpering, “Oh my god.”

“Y’wanna hold onto me?” Tommy chuckles quietly, rubbing you slowly. “You can hold onto me, sweet pea. M’not goin’ nowhere. Jus’ you and me right now, sweet girl.” 

He’s so warm, and he smells so fucking good. It’s nice to be in a pair of arms that are safe and dangerous, but different from Joel’s safe and dangerous. You watch yourself in the freshly cleaned windows, all wrecked as Tommy pleasures you. 

He’s sliding his fingers down your seam next, then pushing two into your entrance. And it’s when he curls them rhythmically, looking for that special, sweet little place deep inside you, that you really start to moan. “Relax,” Tommy whispers, squeezing you tightly. “Hold still, honey. Be good.” 

Tommy shifts the positions a bit so he can rub your clit with his other hand while fucking you on his fingers. It’s not long before release is right around the corner, with all of that hot, sparkling pleasure blooming deep in your gut. Your thighs begin to shake and twitch, “You cum nice for me now,” he whispers. “Show Uncle Tommy how hard you can cum.” 

And that’s all it takes for you to fall apart, crying out loudly as he fucks you through your orgasm. Tommy doesn’t let up until you’re a shuddering, gasping mess, until he’s made certain that your needs have been met. A goddamn week, he thinks. That’s fucking ridiculous.

“You cum so pretty, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers, pulling his fingers away from your cunt. They’re all shiny and drenched in your arousal, and he brings them to his lips and sucks them clean. He pats you twice and you get up and off of him, all shy and bashful as he stands up and stretches, his rock-hard erection bulging through his denim. “Fuck, look whatcha do t’me,” he groans, pressing his palm against it. “I’m off, kiddo. Gonna let me leave without a hug and a kiss?” he asks. 

You wrap your arms around his thick middle quickly, perhaps needing the hug more than Tommy even does. You kiss his cheek, and Tommy squeezes your ass. “Alright. Keep outta trouble, honey. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

A few hours later, Joel’s barely got a foot in the door before you’re taking him by the hand and leading him through the house, showing him how well you cleaned everything. “Jesus, girl. Can’t a man eat dinner first?” 

“No,” you answer. “Look at the windows.”

Joel laughs, “I know, I see ‘em, Pumpkin. They’re sparklin’.” 

“And the baseboards–”

“Are nice and dusted, I see it all, sweetheart. You did good. Wanna go get your stickers?” 

You show Joel that you’ve already got your stickers and your chart in hand. “Go ‘head and put ‘em on then, honey. Y’did good,” Joel says, then pauses as you put the rest of the stickers down. The only one that’s missing is dishes and table setting for today, but that’s because it hasn’t been done yet. Joel tells you he trusts you, and you can put the stickers down anyway. “And you did do it all by yourself, right, Pumpkin?” 

“Mhm,” you lie. 

“An’ if I ask Uncle Tommy if he helped, what’s he gonna tell me?”

“No,” you lie again. 

“Good answer,” Joel replies, then pauses. “Did you play with yourself this week?” he asks.

“No.” 

“Promise?” Joel asks. “Did anyone else play with ya?”

“Nope,” you tell him. Joel smiles, then kisses you on the head and sits down on the couch as you admire your chart. You join him on the couch, sliding onto his lap instead of taking your usual place right next to him.

“Hey, you,” Joel smiles. “What’re you makin’ me for dinner, hm?”

You shrug. “I’m not even hungry,” you tell Joel, and he makes a face. 

“Sure you’re not.” 

You think you know what that means, what he’s doing. He’s deliberately quiet, waiting for you to ask for what you want. But you say nothing as you sit on his lap, eyes wide as you wait and wait and wait for what you’ve earned, squirming on his lap a little. “Whatcha so squirrely for?” he asks finally. 

“You know, Daddy.” 

“Mmm. Don’t think I do,” Joel drawls. “M’not a mind reader, Pumpkin.” 

But you’re too shy to say it out loud. So you take Joel’s hand and stand up, yanking him with you. He groans as he stands up, knees cracking. You hold his hand as you lead him toward the stairwell, “Where ya takin’ me?” he asks. 

“Mmmuhno,” you mumble, walking up the stairs with Joel trailing behind. 

“You dunno, huh?” he teases, amused as you take him towards his room. “Mmm, Daddy’s room. Okay,” he sighs dramatically. “Guess it’s bedtime, since Pumpkin says so. And I was gonna let ya stay up an’ everything, but alright.” 

You’re such a quiet, shy girl as you sit on the end of Joel’s bed, swinging your feet as he undresses himself. You pull at a string on your shorts, waiting for Joel to get the hint. You’re sure he does, but he’s just dragging this out, the same way you are, really. 

Joel, standing naked except for his boxers, turns to you. “Y’look like you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart.” 

“Mm-mm,” you lie, unable to hide the smile that makes your lips curl up. 

“Oh, I think ya do. Wanna tell me what it is?” Joel asks. 

Finally, you relent. “Did I earn back my privileges?” you ask, biting down on your smile. 

Joel chuckles. “Was wonderin’ when you’d ask,” he says, leaning in close. He puts both of his hands on your knees, squeezing you there. “Yes. You earned ‘em back, Pumpkin.” 

You hum in delight and smile so big, then whisper something in Joel’s ear. “Well lie on down, then,” Joel murmurs. “You know what to do.” 

It takes no time at all for you to take off your clothes and lie on Joel’s bed completely naked, legs folded in half and swaying side to side as you wait for that inevitable dip in the mattress that comes from Joel settling between your thighs. It arrives all in good time, and Joel spreads you wide so he can devour you alive. 

He pushes your knees toward your chest and wears a crooked smirk at how anxious you look, ready for him to start. You’re wiggling your fingers, fidgeting with his comforter. Joel teases you with a couple of kisses pressed against your knees and your inner thighs. “Daddy,” you whine, pushing your hips toward his face. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” Joel murmurs, quieting your whines with a kiss to your pussy. “Iiii know, sweet baby girl.” He licks you from bottom to top with his tongue flattened, dragging it slowly through your slick folds. And Christ, how swollen you are - poor thing. But you did it to yourself, didn’t you?

“I am so–” Joel interrupts himself to suck on your clit a little, “So proud of you, Pumpkin,” he says, “My girl. You did so good for me, baby.” 

His beard tickles your inner thighs as he kisses you all over, then goes back to your clit. He circles it a few times with his tongue, then licks lower, burying his tongue in your soft, dripping entrance. You reach for his beautiful aquiline nose as he fucks you on his tongue, drawing up that gorgeous slope and past his forehead, tangling your fingers in his curly, graying hair. 

“Daddy,” you moan, whimpering for Joel as he drags his tongue back up and down your folds. He builds a rhythmic pace then, circling your clit repeatedly, all while allowing you to rock and grind against his face. He guides you orgasm quickly, savoring the way you gush into his mouth, your clit throbbing beneath his tongue. 

You’re fucking soaked, a mess of both Joel and yourself. Joel shoves his boxers down his thighs, erection springing against his soft tummy, and swipes his fingers through your folds. He collects your arousal on his hand, then uses it to coat his hard length. “Ready?” he asks, hovering over you. 

“Mhm.”

“Y’wanna help Daddy put it in?” 

You nod quickly. Joel knows you like to have some semblance of control over the pace at which he enters you, so he likes to grant you that. Not always, though. Sometimes he’ll split you in half just to remind you of who’s in charge here, usually when you get a little mouthy or something like that. 

You take Joel’s cock in your hand, tracing the bulbous head and the veins that climb up the shaft. You tilt your hips and drag him through your folds, sighing softly at the way you tease yourself. 

“You’re killin’ me here, kid,” Joel grunts, taking your wrist in his hand to stop you. 

“Sorry.”

“S’all good, baby.” 

You notch his tip at your entrance. “Your turn, Daddy,” you tell Joel softly. 

And in he goes. He slides into you slowly, filling you with the entirety of his length. “Ohh, big stretch. Attagirl,” he praises, grunting as he bottoms out. 

It always takes you a minute to get used to him. You do your little routine, make your little faces as you squirm and get used to his cock stretching you out, and when you’re ready, Joel begins to move. “Watch,” he says. “Look, look. Wanna show you something,” Joel tells you softly. You lift your head as he pulls out, his thick length all coated in your arousal. “Ain’t that somethin’?”

“Yeah,” you agree, letting your head fall back again. Joel braces himself on his forearm as he thrusts back into you, building to a slow pace. He’s in no rush, really, not when he’s sliding his big hand up your waist and over your ribcage and squeezes you there. He could crush you, you know. His delicate girl. He could do it. 

Joel bends down and skims his mouth and the tip of his nose over your breasts, taking time to wrap his lips around both of your nipples. He loves you so much, the elegant, gentle shapes of your body. All of those curves, all for him. 

The special way he fucks you - nothing comes close to this. No matter what, good day or bad, this will always be yours and Joel’s to savor. 

His cock is dragging against your g-spot, his pubic hair grinding against your clit. It’s all becoming too much, too sensitive for you to even cum. But Joel tells you to anyway. “Can’t, Daddy,” you whimper.

“Sure ya can,” Joel says. “S’been a week, honey. I know you’re needin’ it.” 

But are you, though? Not really, when Tommy took your punishment and reward into his own hands and made good and sure that you were well satiated before he left. And with the orgasm Joel pulled from you using his tongue, well. 

“One more, nice and big,” Joel encourages. “Show your daddy how hard you can cum on his cock, huh?”

Funny. Didn’t Tommy say the same thing?

Joel rubs your clit in practiced circles, coaxing along your release as he thrusts into you harder, faster, and deeper. And then it’s happening, and Joel’s name is spilling from your lips in breathy moans as you cum so hard on his cock, feeling indescribably full as your pussy pulses around him. It’s such a weighted, overwhelming feeling, and it washes over you in wave after wave. “Oh, baby girl.” Joel’s right behind you, breathing your name as he milks himself with your cunt, spurting rope after rope of his cum. “Take it nice an’ deep f’me,” he says, and like the most perfect girl you are, you take it all. 

Joel pulls out of you, not worried about the cum that spills on his comforter. It’s seen better days anyway, he thinks. 

After you both come down, Joel breaks the silence. “Think we should redo our date?” he asks, still breathing heavily. 

“Yes,” you answer. 

“I think so too,” he says. “Go pick somethin’ pretty to wear, and meet me in the shower to get cleaned up. Maybe we’ll see Uncle Tommy there or somethin’ too, huh?”

-

more dark daddy!joel here

anyway, i love ya. thank you for reading ♡ please dirty talk me in my inbox and reblog, because your words go a very long way in keeping me motivated to write. wouldn't be doin' this without ya.

aaaand the cat tax. remember that when it takes me a while to publish a fic, THIS IS WHO IS MAKING IT DIFFICULT TO DO SO!! okay!! do you see this! he's sitting on my arm like a fuck. fricken gizmo.

[kingsoowolves]

constant | s. es

pairing: Best friend!Eunseok x fem!reader

word count: 9.2k

author's note: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while because I desperately wanna give it a part two, but I don't have the timeeeeeeee :( so if you like this, pretty please tell me and put your foot on my butt so I write it :) Inspired by nothing else but my sick twisted mind full of angst. Hope you enjoy!

contents: Best friends turned to friends with benefits turned to (awkward) best friends again turned to ?????? Angst, semi smut (as in descriptions of first time having sex + heavy make out session with grindind and feeling each other up), and more angst because I'm crazy. Eunseok has a girlfriend on the latter part of this, so there's cheating involved (trigger warning). Reader's father dies when she's very young (more trigger warning). Other riize members + random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. No happy ending (for now).

For as long as you can remember, Song Eunseok has been a constant in your life.

Some of your oldest memories are from when you were around six and, by then, you already spent most of your afternoons on playdates with the boy next door and his mom.

Your mother recounts the day you’ve met when you were both five-year-olds with elaborate detail. After your dad’s sudden death scarred your lives, you moved into a far place where nobody knew you. The day you settled in your new house, your mom took you for a stroll around the neighborhood to get to know the area and you ended up in a playground packed with kids from all ages. 

According to her, you were the one who approached Eunseok. He was a shy boy playing by himself on the sand box with his toy rocket ship when you came over, hair in pigtails with pink ribbons and a gap between your teeth from losing your first baby tooth only a week prior, your face eclipsing the sunlight that hit his forehead. Your mom says that when he looked up, anyone could tell he had just found something brighter than the sun to beam over him.

Or at least that’s what she likes to say to get you both flustered now that you’re young adults.

Nevertheless, since that day you’ve been attached at the hip and it was clear that your bright outspoken personality complemented his quiet observant one. Although the contrast sometimes was a bit too much for people. Sunshine extroverted girl running around with brooding introverted boy? It made no sense for them. When you started getting older and others’ comments and side-eyes got progressively worse, you showed everyone how you could be the cross one if they pushed too far. You spent a lot of time kicking shins and pulling heads full of hair from the boys that bullied Eunseok and the girls who talked bad behind his back just because he was timid. You also talked back to any adult who dared to make a nasty comment about your friendship. By the time you reached middle school, everyone in your little town knew not to mess with you or your friend.

Finally, you were free to play and be with Eunseok to your heart’s content, without having to worry about snide remarks that could upset him. Now you could enjoy your time with your best friend from the whole wide world and not care what people think, because for once they were not announcing it to you. It made the connection between you two much stronger.

You constantly reminisce of days spent with him, learning everything there was to know about each other.

The first thing you learnt about Eunseok was how much he likes the universe. He told you everything about it — how old it is, what it is made of, what humanity knows and does not know about it. He told you scientific discoveries and theories, recited every galaxy, planet, meteorite he could remember the name of and filled your days with interesting facts and anecdotes about his passion. Every word out of his mouth would make you gawk, both because of how amazing it all sounded and because you couldn’t believe he was able to gather that much information at such a young age.

When you’d talk about your future selves, you always wished to become something plain and silly as any girl would say, like an actress or an idol, but Eunseok dreamed of greater professions. He wanted to be an astronaut, an aerospace engineer, an astrophysicist, a project manager. Sometimes you’d feel small and pathetic from how big his dreams were compared to yours. But it was your own mind’s fault, never Eunseok’s. He never viewed you as any less than him just because you had differing interests and specially never made you feel stupid for being a girl.

Eunseok took interest in your hobbies. He let you play dress up with him, loving the cute Sanrio hair pins you put on his head and complimenting you on your make up skills once you were done and he looked at himself in the mirror. He listened to you talk for hours about your favorite artists and retell him the plot of the latest drama you were watching with your mom. He became a fan of anime because of you and you started binge-watching a bunch together. He listened to your music and even made you a personal playlist of your favorite artists one day. And he was also the one who accompanied you to their concerts, buying you merch and sticking by your side, laughing whilst you screamed your lungs out for the people on stage.

Getting to know Eunseok and spending time with him was the best part of your days and when people finally stopped disturbing you about your friendship, you had more time to spend with each other. Though you were so relieved about it that you didn’t prepare yourself for the next big change — high school. 

Puberty and hormones are a funny thing. One day your best friend is the rejected loner nerd everybody seems to look down on. The next day he’s the cute sexy boy-with-thick-framed-glasses that everyone is looking at.

You and Eunseok were never ready for the kind of attention he started to receive in your second year of high school. His once perpetually empty desk nook was now filled to the brim with chocolates on Valentine’s Day and notes with declaration of love. Girls suffered when they didn’t get a gift back from him on White Day and suddenly, without your consent, everybody appointed you as Eunseok’s personal messenger, handing over confessions' letters for him during lectures or even dropping them inside your locker or backpack when you weren’t looking. You hand delivered every single one of them to him, complaining about it the whole time, just to watch him read the contents of each letter and then rip them apart, throwing them in the nearest trash can. Whenever you stared at the shreds of paper inside the bin for a second too long, Eunseok grabbed your wrist and pulled you along to walk out the school's hallways with him.

You were always wondering if he liked the attention or not, but you never asked him about it and you’re sure he would never admit it even if that was the case.

Another thing that you wondered about was what the fuck all the girls abruptly started seeing in him. Up until then, you were the only one who knew how special Eunseok was. But that was because you saw something in him on that first day at the playground nobody else did and you spent years actually growing together with him. You knew Eunseok was a kind soul, a helpful friend and an overall amazing guy, but that was because he let you in.

The girls who were flocking behind him didn’t know that he preferred a mango Melona over a watermelon one. Or that he always double knotted his shoelaces and insisted on you doing the same every time you tripped over your shoes. Or that whenever you came back home together, he waited for you to get inside your house and lock the door before going to his home right beside it. They didn’t know he used to help your mom whenever your car had a mechanical problem or that he tasted every single one of your failed baking recipes, no matter how bad they were. They didn’t know he cooked whole meals with his mother and took care of their garden with his father. Or that whenever your mother took the night shift at the hospital, he made you a lunchbox for dinner and for breakfast. They didn’t know he always grabbed you a strawberry milk at the school’s canteen when they were close to running out. Or that when your first boyfriend broke up with you barely two weeks after you started dating, he comforted and hugged you for hours while you cried in his arms. Or that when you told him you didn’t know if the few memories you have of your father were real or just fabricated from old pictures, videos and stories your mother tells you, he comforted you by saying that your heart remembers him and that was what mattered. 

They didn’t know he loved dad jokes and would hit you with them at least three times a day, making you roll your eyes and laugh with every new one out of his mouth. They didn’t know his gruff voice turned soft and airy when he sang and that, on starry nights, he laid by your side on your backyard lawn and talked about all the constellations in the night sky over your heads. They didn’t even know how athletic he actually was and about how you both went to Sungchan’s house every Wednesday after class where Eunseok proceeded to kick Sungchan’s ass at basketball while you watched and sipped on your bubble tea.

You knew Eunseok, those girls didn’t.

They only saw a hint of a stubble on his jaw and his shoulders getting broader one day and decided he was finally worth the attention when you knew of this fact since day one.

And the possibility that any of those desperate tramps could ever get to know him like you did made your stomach churn. Eunseok’s response to them just bugged you further. He never responded to any advances, but never outright rejected them either. He seemed apathetic about it, and maybe that should’ve told you something, but you couldn’t figure it out now and much less when you were sixteen.

Fortunately, after a while, those girls stopped humiliating themselves looking for the attention he never gave them and things more or less went back to normal, with them labeling him as a pretentious loser and going back to their stupid lives. And you had him all to yourself again.

The next time your relationship with Eunseok changed only happened in the winter break before your last year of school and it was provoked by you. You still don’t know why you did what you did. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the small list of guys that had already broken your heart by then. Maybe it was just the fear of going to college as a still inexperienced and never desired eighteen-year-old. Maybe it was because you were afraid of the near future, of a life without Eunseok coming just around the corner.

You knew that once you finished high school, he would probably study in Seoul or maybe even go abroad. The life in your little town would never be enough for him. He was too intelligent and dedicated to his studies to not aim high. And you would just stay behind, because you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving your mom alone in the world and because you were never a good student anyway. The thing with being extroverted is that it can land you many contacts, but they won’t mean a thing if you don’t have the qualifications to back them up. Either way, you were stuck there. Eunseok would fly and you would just watch and cheer for him from afar. So you needed something to hold on to, something to completely mark the memories you had together forever.

All you remember is that you were huddled together inside his room, on your weekly movie night, watching an anime Eunseok loved for the thousandth time and you got distracted by his eyelashes, how they softly pressed the skin under his waterline anytime he blinked, how the blue glow from the TV made they seem a tone lighter and smooth to the touch, and how desperately you needed to feel them with your fingertips. Next, you stared at his eyebrows, thick and designed and really pretty. Really really pretty. Like all of him. Then, while he was laughing about something in the movie, you raised your hand as if to mindlessly touch his brows because it was like they were calling to you, but Eunseok caught your wrist mid-movement, pulling back before you could graze his skin.

He gasped and looked at you with wide eyes and you asked him the most ridiculous question that ever came out of your mouth.

“Seok, will you be my first?” You said.

He didn’t ask what you meant, because he knew exactly what you were talking about. He didn’t ask if you were serious, because he knew you were. He didn’t ask if you were sure, because he also knew you were. Because he knew you. One look at your face and he could see the sincerity dripping from your whole being.

“Yes,” he replied a half second later. And then he pulled you in for a kiss.

You would like to say that you kept your calm through all of it, that you didn’t feel shaken or nauseated with nerves and that you did everything exactly like the magazines guided, like your friends talked about when telling their experiences, like the spicy videos you watched late at night showed, like the romantic movies made it seem. You’d like to say that you kissed Eunseok with certainty, that you took off your clothes sensually and that you grabbed his cock the right way.

But Eunseok’s bedroom would beg to differ. The laptop on his study desk saw how your lips faltered over his skin and overheard your frenzied mind wondering if you were doing everything right. His calendar snickered at you while your t-shirt got stuck on your earring on its way off your body and how you fumbled to free the fabric and almost ripped your ear off. The posters on his walls watched your trembling fingers struggling with the buckle on his belt for thirty seconds until Eunseok took pity on you and unfastened it himself. The clock beside his TV looked at your expectant eyes when he deposited kisses on the valley between your breasts and continued going down, down, down. When his fingers inside you were unexpectedly precise in driving you to your first peak and you asked him if he had done that before, the lamp on his nightstand listened to the sound of your disappointed gasp after he said “Yes”. His sheets felt the nervous tugs of your hand whilst you pumped Eunseok’s dick in an unsteady rhythm and at an awkward angle with your other hand. His bed frame picked up on your hoarse moans once he finally slid into you, sounds that only grew louder and raspier with each drive of his hips forward. His mattress could testify to how slick you got in between your legs and about the mess you left behind. His books eavesdropped on you promising to each other in between whimpers that it was only a one time thing, never to happen again, and that it wouldn’t change your friendship. And once your joint orgasm took over you both, the stars stickers on his ceiling shined bright right at your wrecked and fucked out face.

After, when your head was laying on Eunseok’s chest and he started to snore, you reached out and touched his eyebrows and lashes, brushing against them one by one while an indescribable feeling took over you.

You’d also like to say that you kept your promise or that at least you tried to keep it, but two days later you both found ourselves in the same compromising position — naked and on his bed. By the start of the school year, you were meeting up almost everyday and fucking at least for three days out of the week.

Being with Eunseok like that showed you a whole new side of him. Of course he still took care of you in every way possible, but he stopped being so nice and gentle all the time. There was no space for tenderness when he was too busy fucking you from behind, tweaking your peaked nipples, thrusting his cock into your mouth until you gagged on it, collecting your drool to use as lubricant, curling his fingers deep inside you, telling you how much he loved your cunt and begging you to cum for him. But you preferred it this way. You could take his rough fucking.

What you couldn’t handle were the soft moments in between, when he brushed your sweaty hair back and gazed deeply into your eyes, and when he asked in his softest voice if you were feeling good — if he was the reason you felt so good —, and when he told you how much he liked you and how perfect you were for him, and when he admitted he thought about you two like that for so long, and when he murmured sweet words to you like a prayer, and when he caressed your skin as if you were a goddess and he was your faithful servant.

What you really couldn’t handle was Eunseok’s confession three months later. The look on his face when you replied to his "I love you" with “You deserve someone better than me” will haunt you forever. You had never seen him put on his clothes and storm out of your room so fast before.

After that night, you didn’t hook up again and things turned awkward. But Eunseok was still a kind soul, a helpful friend and an overall amazing guy. All he gave you was three weeks of complete radio silence — no texts, no calls, no extracurricular meetings, not even a glance your way during classes. You even stopped going to and coming back from school together. And then on one sunny Tuesday, when you were on your way home in the afternoon, he trailed behind you and eventually your footsteps fell side by side. Eunseok didn’t say a thing whilst your sneakers pressed against the pavement at the same rhythm. You also didn’t dare to speak a single word, afraid any sound would scare him away.

Once you pulled up in front of your neighboring houses he picked some papers from inside his backpack and handed them to you.

“I took a copy of my notes from Calculus III. For that exam on Friday,” he explained.

You grabbed the sheets of paper and looked at his carefully crafted handwriting photocopied on them, how it was gentle and soft like almost everything he did. You looked up at him and asked, “Why are you giving me this?

He shrugged. “Thought you might need it.”

“Does this mean we are friends again?” You asked, your voice hopeful and unsure.

“You’ll always be my best friend, Y/N,” he said and his words carried a sorrow that pained your heart deeply.

Then he turned, climbed the three steps of his front porch and entered his house. He didn’t wait for you to get inside your home and lock the door like he used to. He just left you there. You felt relieved that he put himself over you at least once. Even if it was also his way of forgiving you.

It took a while for you to feel comfortable with each other again. And even still, it wasn’t the same as before. You had to find a new normal.

The new normal came with not having Eunseok doing so many nice things to you. He didn’t let you get the last pizza slice anymore or save you a seat on school’s assemblies you always got late to. Your once duo movie nights turned into something you’d do with a group of friends, at least one other person to ease the obvious tension still lingering in between you. And that’s when group gatherings, either going out with friends or meeting at someone’s house, became even more common. Because being alone with him in an enclosed space was definitely off limits. You needed to fill all the space in between you with people and things so there wouldn't be any left for thoughts and feelings.

The new normal also included saying goodbye to Eunseok at the end of the year. He ended up enrolled at Pusan National University’s science program and you stayed at your town studying tourism in a local uni. His college was still close to your town, it was only one hour and ten minutes drive from your house to his dorm, maybe one and a half if there was traffic. And he came home every other weekend, where you’d often meet and be your childhood selves together again. Still, not having him part of your everyday life hurt you more than you thought it would.

Then, two months after your second year at college started, he showed up at your house late on a Friday night, all merry and giddy. You immediately knew something was up.

“I have to tell you something,” he said under the light of your entryway while he took off his shoes.

“What is it?” You asked, taking a step back to prepare yourself for the news.

“I have a girlfriend,” he whispered, breaking your heart in a million pieces.

Her name is Sian and she is everything you aren’t — lovable, smart, caring, and with the same interests as Eunseok.

When he brought her home one weekend, she was warm and kind. She talked to you as if you were a close friend and apparently did not care a bit that you, another woman, are Eunseok’s best friend. Also, she makes Eunseok grin like no one else does and you’re grateful for that, because his smiles are hard to come by ever since that night you told him he deserves someone better. Turns out he did find someone better. And you can’t even hate her because she is a truly good person. But you do envy her.

That’s what you’re doing right now, envying Sian. It’s movie night and Eunseok is at your room, the both of you together and alone again after so many years, courtesy of Sungchan, Chaeryeong and Wonbin blowing you off to warm themselves up at a winter break party rather than hide at home under the blankets. It feels both awkward and familiar to be here with him, mostly because Eunseok is supposed to be watching the movie with you. You are supposed to be watching the movie, too, but you’re stuck observing him from the corner of your eye for fifteen minutes while he smiles and types away at his phone, texting his girlfriend. Said girlfriend who is currently traveling around France with her parents and bombing Eunseok’s phone with photos of her smiling prettily under the Eiffel Tower, in front of the Louvre, at Champs-Élysées. You don’t know why she takes so many photos. You don’t know why Eunseok has to react to every single one of them with a heart emoji and tell her how beautiful she looks. But you suppose that when you're pretty and rich and go to expensive places and have a caring boyfriend, that’s what happens. Not that you’d know any of that.

The thing is, envying Sian is not new to you. You’ve become used to it because she has everything whilst you have nothing. Money, beauty, intelligence and love. She has loyal friends and good people by her side. She has a balanced family and absolutely no childhood trauma from what you can tell. She definitely has some procedures on her face and her teeth are so perfect and bright it hurts your eyes. And she has an alive father, one that would for sure make a lovely father-in-law for Eunseok one day. Because she also has Eunseok.

And you like Sian. You really like her. But you can’t stand another minute of Eunseok not paying attention to anything that isn’t her – not paying attention to you.

“Seok, you’re not watching the movie,” you finally say after putting up with his constant texting for the last fifteen minutes.

He looks at you for a beat and puts his phone face down over his stomach, eyes shifting back to the laptop screen glowing in front of you both. “Sorry.”

He stays like that for a while, but then his phone vibrates and its screen glows and he picks it up again, spending another few minutes typing.

You shift uncomfortably on the far corner of your bed, the space between you and Eunseok as wide as the emotional distance you both created. “Eunseok, come on,” you whine, turning to him. “Are you for real right now?”

He doesn’t even glance your way this time, choosing to remain focused on whatever message he’s writing. “Sorry, I’m just texting Sian,” he says, as if you don’t know it already.

You sigh. “I know, but can’t you do it another time?”

“No. We haven’t been able to talk for a few days because of the time zones’ difference. And right now we’re both free and awake,” he explains.

His answer shoots an arrow straight through your chest. “Except you’re not free,” you remind him, your voice getting a tone higher. “You’re busy watching a movie with me!”

“Well, I need a couple minutes to talk with my girlfriend!” He counters.

“It’s been a couple minutes, alright? It’s been a few minutes, actually!”

“Y/N, I really don’t get what the problem is,” he says, finally looking at you again, seeming exasperated.

“The problem is you’re not watching the freaking movie!” You exclaim, feeling annoyed yourself.

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you and turn back to his phone. “We watched this movie a billion times already.”

“It’s our favorite movie!” You say through gritted teeth, feeling offended.

“And we watched it a billion times before,” he repeats with a condescending tone, like he’s talking to a dumb kid. “My point still stands.”

“Well, if that’s how it’s gonna be,” you start, shutting the laptop down. You crawl down the bed and carry it with you before flicking your light back on, beyond yourself with anger. “Then movie night is over!” You finish, putting the laptop on your desk with a little too much force.

Eunseok rubs at his eyes for a moment, the sudden clarity obviously affecting his vision as much as it’s affecting yours, but you’re too busy being mad to care for it. 

Once he’s done adjusting his eyes, he comes back to the argument. “Oh God, it’s just a movie. You are so dramatic!”

His words only hurt you more. “If I’m so dramatic, why don’t you go back to your home and never look at me again since that’s what you prefer anyway?”

Eunseok stares at you for a second, then blinks. “What?”

“I said if I’m so dramatic—”

“No, no, no,” he interrupts you, flinging himself from the bed and tossing his phone at your nightstand in a single move. “I heard what you said, but what the fuck do you mean about it?”

You cross your arms, still defensive and livid. “Oh, come on, Eunseok! You don’t talk with me anymore. I know nothing about your life except for when you’re speaking about Sian. And that is all you talk about — Sian, Sian, Sian, all the fucking time. You never make time for us. And when by a chance we do have the opportunity to spend some time together, again you’re talking with her? You don’t pay attention to me and you don’t fucking care anymore! So if you don’t want my friendship, just say it and go away! We can be done and over with it!”

“Where did you get the idea that I don’t care about you? If I didn’t care, why would I be here?” He says, tips of his ears and apple of his cheeks getting red.

“But you’re not here!” You yell, slamming your hand on your dresser, a few of your personal items shaking and falling on it. “You haven’t been here for a while now. You’re not present in this friendship anymore. We don’t talk, we don’t go out, we don’t stay in together. We never do anything just the two of us. We’re never alone and never together, not truly. And even when we’re with other people, your mind is also elsewhere all the time. Everything just feels empty and superficial between us.”

Eunseok’s face gets redder with each word you utter and when you’re finished he spats at you, “And whose fault is that, Y/N? Who the fuck ruined everything between us?”

“Oh, so now you’re ready to talk about it?” You question, taking a step in his direction and crossing your arms. “Not gonna act like a coward and pretend nothing happened like usual?”

He also starts to walk towards you. “I’m a coward? You’re the one who walked away from us because you were too afraid of taking a chance!”

“And I regret it everyday!” You exclaim. “I get that I hurt you, Eunseok. I get that, okay? But also, I just miss us!” Your throat tightens and your voice starts to get shaky and heavy, all thanks to your upcoming tears. “I miss you! I miss you so freaking bad!”

It’s then that you start to cry, overcome with guilt and remorse, tears flowing from your eyes and cascading on your flushed face.

Eunseok’s temper tones down at your reaction and he takes a step back to assess your state. When the tears don’t stop after a few seconds, he looks at you with sorrow in his eyes. “Y/N,” he says, voice soft and understanding.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes and turn away at him, hiding from the pity in his gaze by leaning your head against the wall. Your arm accidentally bumps against the light switch when you do it and the room darkens around you.

It’s quiet for a while. Just the sound of your sobs and hiccups and Eunseok’s ragged breath near the bed. You can hear that he’s trying to calm himself down, taking deep breaths in and out. Then you hear the noise of his sock-covered foot sliding across your floor, informing you he’s taking a hesitant step toward you. After that one, comes a new step. And another. And one more. And after a couple more, you feel his presence a hair’s breadth away from you. It’s warm and inviting and it takes everything in you not to lean back against it.

But you don’t have to, because a moment later he’s closing the distance. His arms cross over the front of your stomach, his chest meets your back and his chin rests on the crown of your head. He’s enveloping you in a hug from behind, over and under you. His scent invades your nostrils – clean softener, cedar wood and a touch of the citrus hand cream you gave him weeks prior. It feels suffocating in the best way possible. You don’t want him to ever let you go.

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighs. “I had no idea you felt like that.” He tightens his arms around you and continues. “I miss you, too. I miss you so much.”

“I didn’t know,” you stutter. “You never told me.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re both losers with a communication problem, right?” He says with a chuckle, his chest trembling against your back. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you sob, shaking your head. “Seok, I’m so sorry. For so many things.”

“Yeah?” He asks, pulling some hair away from the side of your face and snuggling his head on your shoulder. “Can you look at me and say that to my face, though?”

“Seok,” you whine, feeling guilty and vulnerable.

“Please?” He asks in a melodic voice. You can feel his breath right at your pulse and it takes everything in you not to ask him to kiss you. “I need to see your face to know that you really mean it.”

You sigh deeply, still ashamed, but does as he says. You do it slowly though. First you back away from the wall and pull your hands from your eyes, blinking at the shift from a complete blackout to the darkness of your room, still illuminated by the soft light of the hallway infiltrating from your half open door. Then you hastily clean a few tears from your face and brush your hair down, flicking it over your shoulders and trying to look like less of a hot mess. Only then you turn around to Eunseok and he lets his hands drift from the front of your stomach to your waist, still holding you close.

Your eyes dance over his form. Looking at his arms, his chest, his stomach, his shoulders. Everywhere but his face. He just waits while you gather courage, seconds passing through you.

Once you feel ready, you take another deep breath and look up, finally meeting his brown eyes again. They don’t have that anger that was present there a few minutes ago. The grudge they carried for you for years is also not there anymore. It makes you feel like crying again.

“Seok, I’m so sorry,” you hiccup, growing agitated again, new tears welling up your eyes. “I’m so sorry for so many things. For hurting you and for not talking about it and for not apologizing earlier and for not saying how—”

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, hands cradling your face to wipe at your tear streaked skin. “I know. I believe you, okay? I really do.”

“I was so dumb, I’m still so dumb. I never told you—”

“Hey, no, don’t talk about my best friend like that, please,” he says, pulling you in so the side of your face is pressed against his chest.

You slide your hands under his arms and around his back, wrapping your arms around him to pull him back against you, resting the side of his face against his chest. “I’m still your best friend?” You ask, voice small and quivering.

He snickers and you feel his nose touching the crown of your head. His chest expands behind your cheek when he takes a whiff of your hair. “Haven’t I told you that already?” He says, each word making his lips move against your scalp. “You’ll always be my best friend, Y/N. Nothing can change that.”

You continue crying, dampening his t-shirt with your tears. “I was so afraid we’d never talk again.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here with you now, right?”

“Are you? For real?” You ask, pushing off his chest to glance up at him.

Eunseok’s gaze melts at your insecurity and he lifts a hand to massage behind your head. “I am. For real.”

“You don’t hate me, then?” You ask, just to be sure.

“I could never hate you, Y/N. Where did you get that idea?”

You shrug and look down, biting on your lower lip. “I don’t know.”

But you do know. You thought he hated you because of what you did. And he’d had every right to if that was the case. You’re lucky he’s always been a kind soul, a helpful friend and an overall amazing guy.

He bends a little to catch your gaze, his thumb grazing your chin. “I’m here and I don’t hate you. I’ll be present again in this friendship from now on. Can you also do that?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, I can.”

“Great. Then we’re settled,” he says.

You smile and Eunseok smiles back at you. Then he rests his forehead on yours, sweeping back some strands of your hair and tucking them in behind your ear. You close your eyes and bask in his presence, at the certainty he's here with you now. You still have a lot to talk about, but you can do it calmly and over time. Right now what matters is that you found a middle ground. Everything else can wait a little bit longer.

You stay like that for a while, hugging tightly, feeling each other, growing confident the other won’t slip away. Until something shifts. Eunseok’s hands slide from the back of your head to your neck, his thumbs brushing on your skin. You know it’s an innocent act, that he’s just shifting his position a little. But you can’t contain the involuntary shiver that runs through your spine. You visibly shake in his embrace, opening your eyes with a gasp to find him already gazing deeply at you, his eyes darker than the last time you looked at him.

You flinch back and squeeze your eyes shut. “Sorry, I—”

“Don’t say sorry,” Eunseok commands, his voice lower than you've ever heard before. He rubs his thumbs down your clavicle and your body trembles again. “Don’t you ever say sorry about that.”

You take a shaky breath, the tension filling your nerves, and open your eyes again. He’s still looking at you and his fingers press against your nape to pull your face closer to his, his nose brushing against yours.

“Seok,” you whisper, not knowing if you’re giving him a warning or begging for something more.

He makes an appreciative sound behind his throat and presses his mouth on your skin timidly, his touch barely there. “I missed you saying my name like that so much,” he says, running his lips on your cheek. “It always sounds so airy, like just saying it gets you hot and bothered.”

You gulp down, processing his words. Eunseok just crossed a line saying that to you. And if you reply to him with what you have in mind, you’ll cross another. Then you’ll be playing a dangerous game, toying with the limits of your just recovered friendship and with the relationship he’s in. You’ve been here before and it did not go well for either of you. Chances are it won’t have a better outcome this time.

But it just feels so good… Would it really be so bad to cross just another teeny tiny line?

“You always get me hot and bothered,” you admit, feeling your chest constrict with guilt and desire.

Deep down you know this is wrong, you know Eunseok knows this is wrong. He has a girlfriend. He was talking to her barely ten minutes ago. Your friendship was just secured a few moments ago. You can’t do this. Whatever this is, you can’t go through with it. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be safe. It wouldn’t be wise.

The tension stretches whilst Eunseok doesn’t respond to you immediately. He remains silent for a beat, and then another one, and you’re about to retract your words, when he chuckles, blowing air on your face.

“I know, baby,” he says, the pet name and the way he says it going straight to your core.  You decide to throw all caution out the window. You can’t go back now. Not anymore. To be honest, you could never deny him again.

He slides a hand down your body, his fingers brushing your clavicle and shoulder, then going to your back to skim over your spine. It trails lower until it squeezes your waist and pulls you more into him, making your bodies impossibly closer. “I felt that shiver, too, you know? I always feel so good when I’m close to you. It’s a big problem.”

You let him feel you up, fisting the front of his t-shirt on your hands while you try to remain calm. You’re frozen in place and completely at his mercy. You’ll give him everything he wants from you. You’re his for the taking. You always were.

His mouth brushes against the corner of your lips and you tilt your head up to preen closer to the touch, trying to draw out the feeling of his lips so close to yours for as long as possible.

Eunseok presses a kiss there and his hand glides under your top to feel the warm skin of your lower back. “When I was younger, I always had a boner whenever you so much as looked my way. I jerked off so many times thinking about you,” he reveals, careful eyes watching your reaction to his words. “I still do.”

You choke at the last piece of information, mind reeling with it. He used to touch himself to the thought of you. He still does it now. You wonder how he looks while he does it — how he sounds, how much precum he lets gather at the tip of his cock before touching it, how fast he cums. Almost all air leaves your lungs whilst you think about it.

“Really?” You ask, voice faltering. “Even after everything?”

He nods. “Even after everything. Even now. I can’t get you out of my head.” His fingers start to draw figure eights on your back. “I had to occupy myself with so many things to forget you. I tried so hard, but it was no use.”

Your heartbeat is wild and you’re trembling constantly now. But Eunseok doesn’t seem to care. He just pulls you closer and touches you more, making it impossible for you to stop shivering.

“Me too,” you confess, hands sliding up to the collar of his shirt, gripping it tightly. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t get over you. Over us. I still think about it all the time.”

“Yeah? What do you think about, baby?” He asks, putting his face in the crook between your neck and shoulder.

Your desire gathers between your legs and pools on your underwear so much it starts to feel uncomfortable. You need to take it off of you. You need him to take it off of you. You need him.

“I think about when we used to have fun together,” you say, wrapping your arms over his back.

“Oh,” he utters, descending both of his hands to fit them on your back pockets, squeezing your ass and flattening you against him, his hard-on nestled inside his jeans pressing against your pants’ crotch. It feels amazing. “You think about something like this?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, shifting your hips up to feel more of him. “When I touch myself, I always think about that.”

He releases a breath and drops a kiss on your neck, squeezing you more against him. “What more do you think about?”

“Your pretty cock,” you whisper, running a hand through his hair. “I think about how I used to suck it off and bounce on it. I miss it so much.”

“Oh shit, Y/N,” he groans, pelvis pulling back just to push forwards again, creating delicious friction between you. You feel dizzy with desire and you can only hope he feels the same way.

“Thinking about you always gets me so wet. I’m dripping by the time I’m finished,” you mutter, then you move your lips to his ear, preparing yourself to deal your final blow. “I’m so fucking wet for you right now, Seok.”

It’s Eunseok that shivers this time.

“Fuck, I wanna see that,” he says, a hand snaking in between your legs, cupping your sex over your pants. “I wanna feel it. Can I, baby?”

“Please,” you beg, pulling his face down by his collar until his forehead is pressed against yours again. “I need you so bad. You have no idea.”

“You got me, baby,” he whispers. “You got me.” And then he’s diving in to kiss you.

Eunseok kisses you like he’s claiming you and you kiss him back like you can’t bear spending another moment without his lips touching yours. It’s messy and sloppy, your mouths and tongues trying to suck and lick anything you’re able to reach, your teeth clenching together and biting sensitive skin. Each time one of you pulls back, the other moves forward again to connect your lips.

Kissing like this shows you just how much you wasted time not doing what you wanted. You could’ve been doing this for ages, you could be experienced professionals about how to make each other feel good. You could’ve been loving each other this close and this deeply instead of avoiding your feelings. God, you were so stupid for the longest time.

You’re completely out of breath once Eunseok’s lips slip down to kiss your neck, making you moan and shiver. Then he’s pushing you up until you land on the top of the dresser and you’re glad you have something to support yourself because your legs were about to give out at any moment.

He puts his body in between your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the dresser until he can roll his hips against yours again. You moan in unison and his hands squeeze your thighs whilst he resumes attacking your neck with his mouth.

“I thought about this so much,” you say, grinding on him. “Wishing we could do this all the time.” You pull on his hair until he’s looking at you again. “I always wanted you, Eunseok. Always.”

“I did, too,” he replies, hands slipping under your top to feel your bare skin, thumbs pressing on your sides.

You slide a hand down his stomach to find his belt, pulling on the buckle to unfasten it. Once you’re done, you pull it from his jeans quickly and throw it on the floor. “That’s not the only thing. What I’m trying to say is—”

The air is pulled from your lungs when Eunseok picks you up again and tosses you on your bed, crawling right up to your body until he’s hovering above you. The manhandling gets you light-headed and his hands coming up to cup your breasts empties your brain completely. 

You can’t remember what you were saying. Your focus just zeros in on the way he’s ravishing you.

“Y/N,” he whispers while kissing your jaw.

“Yes?” You say, still dazed.

He moves his hand down to the button of your jeans, toying with it for a moment before pulling it out of its loop and drawing your zipper down. His hands skim on the waistband of your panties and you groan, feeling the heat of his fingertips so close to where you most want him.

“What you’re trying to say is?” He asks, tone light and fun, clearly teasing you for your dazed state for the past minute.

Your brain awakes again and you squeeze his arms, remembering what you were about to confess. “Right. What I’m trying to say is—”

Eunseok sucks on your pulse point and you groan, turned on and frustrated. You know he’ll just keep fogging your mind further until you are a blabbering mess. And although you’re not opposed to that, you really need a moment to catch your breath so you can communicate with him properly. After that, you can do what you both are clearly desperate to do.

“Wait,” you whisper, pushing on his shoulders. “I need a second.”

He pulls back slightly and looks at you, watching your chest heave with each breath you take. “You want to stop?”

You shake your head immediately and press your elbows to the mattress, supporting your head up to look at him. “No. I just need to tell you something.”

His fingers dig on your waist. “Sure, baby. What is it?”

You sigh, moving a hand to his chest and trying to make the words in your brain get out of your mouth. “What I’m trying to say is—” The words get stuck in your throat, a new wave of sudden sensibility hitting you right in the chest, impending them from coming out. You feel you’re about to sob again. “Fuck, I’m saying that I—”

The letters are right there, resting on the tip of your tongue, but they just refuse to get out. I love you, you wanna say. I love you, you wanna scream. I love you, I love you, I love you. That’s all you think about. Three little words that have been swimming inside you for as long as you remember. You waited your whole life to say that to him and now that you’re desperate to say it, your voice fails you, your fear taking over your mind, new tears welling up on your throat.

Eunseok watches you expectantly, just waiting. He’s patient with you, like he is most of the time. His eyes show that he knows what you’re going to say, but also that he badly needs to hear it, probably just as much as you need to tell him. It gives you the strength to push through your last restraints.

You take another shuddering breath and lock your eyes with his. “Seok, I lo—”

Then a sudden sound makes you both jump and he pulls back from you as you sit up on the bed. It takes a second to identify what it is, but the realization downs you both at the same time, your heads tilting together to look at the origin of the noise. It’s Eunseok’s ringtone accompanied by his phone vibrating on your bedside table. He’s receiving a call. And you don’t have to look at his screen to see who the caller is. You know it’s Sian. The woman he just cheated on with you.

Eunseok scurries down the bed to pick up his phone, turning his volume all the way down until the only sign of his girlfriend calling him is the picture glowing under her name on his screen. Then he puts the device into his pants’s pocket and stares at the wall in front of him. His back is turned to you and his shoulders are stiff whilst his phone screen still lights up inside his back pocket until it stills. But barely two seconds later it starts flashing again and you know Sian won’t stop calling until he picks up.

You just fucked up. Majorly so. 

Hurting each other in the midst of your confusing feelings was all you’ve ever done in your life. The sting burned like hell, but it was your way, your uncomfortable comfort zone, something you’ve gotten used to. Upsetting and harmful, but still familiar, still you two. But hurting another person because of it — someone who has nothing to do with your shit, who is a good person above and all? That was a whole new level of dark and twisted.

You sigh, extremely disappointed with yourself, and run your hands through your hair. You knew you were a bad person, but apparently you never thought it would get to this extent. And now here you are.

What pulls you from the bed and puts you on your feet is Eunseok complete stillness. He’s quiet until his phone stops ringing for the third time, probably taking his girlfriend to voicemail. And he remains quiet when it starts to ring again. You get up to comfort him, to put a hand on his shoulder, because you can’t take seeing him hurt by something that is obviously your fault.

You were the one who held back your feelings. You were the one who made him confused. You were the one that confronted him, screamed and cried. You let him hug you, leaned into his arms, shivered and whispered his name like a prayer. You teased him, tempted him, made him cheat. Eunseok isn’t guilty of any of this, you are. It’s your responsibility to take.

You get off the bed and walk towards him. “Seok,” you say, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder.

However, Eunseok flinches away from you, instantly springing back to life and starting to zip up his pants again. You pull your hand back to rest it against your chest, clenching it into a fist and holding your wrist with your other hand.

“I think I should go,” he says to the wall.

You take a step back and sigh. Guilt, shame, fear and rejection pull on your heartstrings, making your chest tight. You don’t have the energy nor the audacity to ask him to stay. Not after what you’ve just done.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.

Eunseok turns to you, but his eyes look at a distant point at your bedroom wall. “I think we shouldn’t see each other for a while.”

You gulp down the tears swelling on your throat and nod. “Okay.”

He finally looks at you, eyes heavy with remorse. “I just need some time and space, Y/N.”

“Sure, I’ll give them to you,” you say, plastering a fake smile on your face, trying to comfort him despite falling apart inside. ”Whatever you need, Seok.”

“Thank you,” he sighs.

Then he’s back to recomposing himself and collecting some of his things left on the floor and you just stay there, watching him until he’s done. On his way out of your room, he brushes past you and stops. You hold your breath as he gets close and presses his lips to your temple.

“Bye, Y/N-ie,” he whispers over your skin.

You close your eyes and whisper back, “Bye, Seokie.”

Then he exits, hurried steps following down your house hallway. You hear him quickly put on his shoes at the hall and a small beat of silence just before he opens the door. Then the lock clicks open, a gust of wind whistles through it and you know he’s out, the automatic alarm of the door locking it closed, leaving you all alone again.

You fall to the floor, legs too weak to hold the heavy weight on your heart, and look up to the pegboard over your dresser, filled with trinkets and many pictures — pictures of you and Eunseok together.

There’s one of you as five-year-olds at the playground you met and one of you behind Eunseok’s solar system mock up he did for a science fair when you were eight. There’s one of you at twelve playing a shooting game at an arcade and another of you when you skipped class to spend a day at the beach at fourteen. There’s another one of you working together at a part-time job in a cafe when you were sixteen and even a selfie from one of your many movie nights at seventeen. There’s one of you at a burger place when you were eighteen, looking at each other and laughing.

And the last one is just of Eunseok, taken a year back, when things were already too messy in between you. In the image, he’s as handsome as ever, looking down to write something on a notepad, his hair swept back and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. You remember the distance between his frames and his eyes made you focus on his eyelashes, just like that other time, and that a stirring on your chest made you snap the photo silently and keep it to yourself.

Looking at all of your sacred memories with him, you can’t stop the tears from falling down your face, afraid you just lost the one constant in your life forever.

author's note: Don't hate me, hate Song Eunseok who inspired me to write this. If you want a part of two, comments and asks are welcomed so I'm sure you guys actually like this. Thank you for reading, as always!

[ghouljams]

Idk honestly I could probably write a really in depth analysis on the prevalence of the blue/brown eyed Ghost debate, and what it means in terms of fandom politics especially when coupled with whether Ghost is a natural blond or a brunet, but I doubt anyone wants to hear about the political implications of people pushing most popular character in the series as aryan...

well, i for one would absolutely love to hear about it, but to be fair my degree is in media studies so fork found in kitchen

but tbh is it surprising that this kind of discourse (along with the whole Gaz “not being interesting enough” bs) is a prevalent discussion in a military propaganda game fandom? probably not lol

i also agree with your take that his eyes are brown as part of his character development and that it feeds into the complexity of the dynamics between them

anyway, don’t feel pressured to talk more about it if you don’t feel like it, just wanted to let you know that at least one person would read all of it lol

Much love!!

- Morph

Ghoul thoughts under the cut because I love media analysis and rambling

You hit the nail on the head by bringing up the Gaz "not being interesting" bullshit in relation to this entire thing because I absolutely see the crux of the brown vs blue eyed Ghost debate being a debate over which eye color is "better" which has inherently racist roots.

And as an immediate disclaimer: I am not saying that headcanoning Ghost with blue eyes makes you racist, I am not saying that headcanoning Ghost as blond makes you racist. I am simply pointing out that the way we view certain traits has been and will be filtered through a lens which requires an examination of our own values/beliefs.

It is so intensely interesting to me that in a fandom with a history of racial exclusion, for a media property that upholds whiteness as the pinnacle of virtue, that upholds western ideals and values as the height of moral purity, that places the good guys in a position where they can do NO WRONG despite having a higher torture rate than the bad guys, that a faceless character would be arbitrarily assigned blue eyes and blond hair despite textual/in game evidence to the contrary (yes there is evidence).

Now maybe I am just sensitive to certain things because I paid attention in school and know what a dog whistle sounds like, maybe that's all this is. However, within a fandom that seems to cater so hard to white women and has racist bullshit popping up every other week, I think... maybe we should examine why we want Ghost to have blue eyes.

I find that with faceless characters headcanons always exist within the hopes of making them more attractive. The idea that they would be ugly under the mask is antithetical to the wish fulfilment of fandom, so it makes sense that people would come up with a face for them. But then why are so many faceless characters made into skinny white blonds? Surely people would want some diversity- oh no, wait...

So we make Ghost blond. Alright, I mean he was a brunet in the comics and in the one scene where we see him take his mask off he's got dark hair, but I guess there were too many people with dark hair on the 141 already, so we gotta mix in a blond. But then why the blue eyes? He has blue eyes in the '09 comic, but in every cutscene we see in the '22 remake his eyes are brown. There's already two members of the 141 with blue eyes, so we don't need another one for diversity. So then why give Ghost blue eyes? If you want him to be closer to the '09 version why make him blond as well?

It's because people want to make him attractive, and in the dominant racial zeitgeist blue eyes are attractive. Which... I mean do I need to ask why? It's because they're a white european trait and people still hold white features as the attractive ones. Same with the blond hair. That's why WW2 Germany designated Blond hair and Blue eyes as the "true German" traits and created a whole class for them "aryan."

So what are the political implications of creating an aryan character out of the most popular character in the series (one who has minimal voice lines and minimal canon backstory in the reboot) within a fandom that regularly disregards/ignores the main black character? It's the continued upholding of whiteness and a specific kind of whiteness as more valuable than others. I'm not even going to say more valuable than blackness, I would say more valuable than other white traits. Why are blue eyes more attractive than brown eyes? Because they're more "white." Why is blond hair more attractive than brown? Because it's more "white." Why is a blond haired blue eyed Ghost such a popular headcanon despite evidence to the contrary? Because he's more white that way.

Now I like blond haired Ghost. I think it's an interesting addition to the color pallet of the team, and I like that it makes him look more like a ghost to be so washed out. But I think fandom has a habit of following what becomes popular within head canon spaces and making it fandom canon, and so many of us don't examine why a headcanon might pop up. Where did Ghost having blond hair come from? When did we all decide that was what we were going with? Why is it even a debate whether or not he has blue or brown eyes, and why does it matter?

If I said right now that Ghost 100% in canon of the '22 game has brown hair and brown eyes, would people get mad at me? And why? Why would it matter if he had brown hair and brown eyes? Does that make him less attractive? Why? Why does it matter? Why do you want him to have blond hair and blue eyes? Why do you care? What is the difference between blue and brown that makes it so important? For God's sake look at the societal conditioning that you've been put through! Why does it "make more sense" for him to have blue eyes if he's blond? Why?

Every single idea we have of what is and isn't attractive has been designed for us by the society we live in. Consider what ideals are being upheld when deciding that the "hot" character is blond and blue eyed while also discarding the black character. Being anti-racist and dismantling your own racial biases is a long and constant process, but it is so vitally important. And once we start examining those biases all sorts of shit starts popping up.

And before someone comes in and tells me it isn't that deep: maybe you should look at why you need it to not be that deep, does it make you uncomfortable to think that you might be feeding into these biases without realizing? And who does it benefit to have it not be "that deep" is there perhaps a group of people that would want you to not examine your preference for blue eyes and blond hair? Some sort of brotherhood perhaps...

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

How would Axolotl Stan be for a bill wins world? Or even Dark Ford?

Hmmmmmmm.

So in CtC Bill doesn't realize Stan's not The Axolotl until after Ford kicks him out of his brain, so a Bill Wins scenario would happen with Bill fully thinking this tiny amphibian is basically God. Opens the portal, is holding a panicking Ford in his hand, and zooms up the fish tank to gloat about he's the winner here! The Axolotl has no reason to stick around now that Bills come to party!

And stan just :3 about the whole thing. He has no idea what Bills saying, can hardly see well enough to see Ford, and is kind of freaking out about all the changing colors and what alls going on outside the tank. But there's not much he can do about it, so he just :3 while metaphorically sweating and hopes for the best. Not sure if Bill would outright smash him, or maybe turn him into a tiny gold axolotl statue in a false sense of 'wait maybe I'm more powerful than God right now' or stick him in a fancy demon fish tank to gloat at while Stan's sweating at unintentionally impersonating God. I think the last ones the funniest, because at some point through some kind of series of shenanigans Stan's going to pop out of that amphibian hacking and wheezing and confused as hell about what he's been seeing while chilling in his new digs. Then Bill is faced with the humiliation that all his ranting has been for nothing, as not only is Stan not the Axolotl he also didn't catch a single word and thought Bill was Fords bad drug trip for at least a month, maybe 2. Then Stan's just also there, baby limbed and used to living in a more weightless environment so Bill Doesn't even get the satisfaction of torturing him because Stan breathing is already a monumental effort on his part. Bills halfway through a tantrum and Stan's already groaning on the floor before anyone's even touched him, because his frills was just made breathing happen before and now he has to pump air in and out of him using his mouth? Exhausting. Can he take a nap? Also who are you, where am I, what year is it and what's happening right now.

For Dark Ford where he's aligned with Bill everything would he about the same, except Ford would catch on to the fact that the amphibian in his tank is not, actually, God. It's a normal axolotl Bill. Stop screaming at it using my body, I think it's charming. Look at his little :3 face. They have fights about until they comprimise and just never discus 'work' in front of the 'enemy'. Then the world ends and Stan gets upgraded into a bigger demon fish tank and is just as confused as before. Still can't understand anything, still just vibing, still trying to make that S if Ford would STOP CLEANING THE TANK!!!!! Ford uses frilliam as his emotional support amphibian because he can't find Stan (lol.) When the shenanigans happen that Stan eventually pops out he is still confused and exhausted and now Ford has a valid excuse of making sure Stan doesn't wander around because he needs to make sure his baby arms and legs didn't come with terrible side effects and also the names and faces of who did this to his poor baby brother.

In a non Bill aligned Dark Ford au where he's just possessive of Stan, everything would be the same except Ford would, again, use the baby limbs as an excuse for the same reasons and to emotionally manipulate Stan into staying forever.

[mswyrr]

Agreed. Couple reasons why:

First, people focus on his messy thoughts--often taking them out of context or ignoring that they're from late in the book, when he's actively in the process of having a pretty horrific psychological breakdown... and they NEVER compare to earlier in the book, even though Collins writes passages about jealousy from both parts and the comparison is stunning: early on he was able to do meta-cognition and consider boundaries and have a sense of perspective to a degree that really gets consumed as the story progresses--because there's no pattern of abuse in his actual dialogue and actions toward Lucy Gray. It's not there. And not because Collins doesn't know how to write one - she writes one very effectively with Gaul, who terrorizes a kid and breaks down his resistance until the pov prose has him actually notice he's not able to resist the way he would have even weeks ago. People have messy thoughts; people with psychological damage in the process of having a breakdown even moreso. Until his breakdown in the forest, he doesn't act on it. And actions are actually what we judge people by, not their brains being weird.

(Does nobody saying these things have psychological issues or an awareness of them that isn't ableist TikTok videos? No knowledge of intrusive thoughts??? These are things that happen to people. Especially people under so much stress the person is having suicidal impulses, panic attacks, and drinking to self-medicate)

Second, this is a storyverse where choosing your true love is about choosing a life philosophy, a better relationship to your own soul and feelings, and choosing to walk a path toward your better self. Katniss isn't going to walk down a dark path (which she might have!) once she chooses to be with Peeta and, in doing that, *be true to herself* as a whole being, to the feelings and wishes and hopes she'd closed off to survive. Haymitch, despite losing himself for a time, is never fully lost because, even in a ghostly form, he is still trying to walk the path with Lenore Dove that was stolen from them. If Coriolanus stays true to Lucy Gray he simply doesn't become the person he became in canon or anything like that, full stop. Same as how Katniss couldn't be with Peeta and also decide - you know what? I like this Coin lady's ideas. That's just not how staying true to love works in this canon.

Third, it's also a storyverse where he genuinely thinks of Lucy Gray as extraordinary and basically his only equal. That's the plain text canon. And the fact that she is extremely capable and smart is also plain text canon. And he's *scared* of how much he loves her and how "stupid" he'll behave following his heart. He destroyed his life saving her from the snakes because the thought of her hurt was so unbearable! The idea of him being able to be with her and not changed by that--not her changing him, him changing himself because of the feelings and hopes and yearnings that he has which being with her brings out of hiding, like Katniss is able to explore her own feelings with Peeta--doesn't make sense to me.

Finally, Collins writes Katniss and Coriolanus having some eerily similar moments.

If this is meant to be a story where having damage and messed up thoughts means you're an evil abuser. Uh. That doesn't work.

I don't buy that the similarities are accidentally either.

i don’t think snow’s feelings for lucy gray meant that he wanted to literally own her. he was obsessive, but i don’t think there was an intention to possess? maybe an intention to control, but different, i think, than wanting to keep her as a toy or trophy wife. as much as he failed her in the end, snow never thinks of lucy gray as malleable or easily controlled; those aren’t the things he admires about her, or if you go with the (IMO wrong) idea that he’s seeing what he wants to see and not who she really is, they aren’t the traits he projects onto her as worthy of his admiration.

basically — in a universe where she went back to the capitol with him, i don’t think snow would want lucy gray to be caged, although that might have been how it worked in practice.

[midnight1nk]

I’m thinking about the way Four reacts to those gf asmrs again. You ever think about the way he just curls up and bursts into tears instantly no matter who’s around to see, despite his usual tendency to bottle up his feelings? He doesn’t even really let himself be visibly upset when trying to sacrifice himself or after losing the castle in IGBP! He makes himself give that whole speech to rally the crew because he feels like he has to be strong for them and that it’s his responsibility to cheer them up after causing all that

But the fact that just… the mere idea of being cuddled and told how good and sweet he is disarms him so much and sends him into that vulnerable state makes me think that when he starts going a little coo coo crazy genuinely just being embraced and cooed over when he’s getting like that would do wonders for that cuddlebug of a guy.

He wouldn’t allow himself to be all that openly distressed or vulnerable in IGBP but the idea of being cuddled and called a good boy makes him break down crying in a McDonalds parking lot. It’s like Four won’t be vulnerable unless comforted preemptively.

If someone would just hold him gently when he’s losing it the way he does and not let go until he calms down…

WAAA I just want to hold the little sweetheart comfy and let him cry it out for as long as he needs.

Please he needs to just be hugged and held for an extended period of time I just 🥺😭

Poor silly little man just needs someone to be relentlessly soft and gentle and affectionate with him I think. But a lot of the crew tends to either just let him be thinking he needs space or they try to get through to him by yelling. Like

Basically the more I think about it the more I agree: you’re very right about Boopkins being so right about love being the solution. Four really needs it.

you just gotta

YEAH YEAH

Like sure, 4 can be emotional/expressive at times, but when Crew needs him, he has to be there. Not by force/annoyance, but he cares so much about them that he's willing to push himself physically and mentally to be there. You can tell how much 4 was trying to hold himself together at the IGBP aftermath from the delivery at that final line was bittersweet, not of the determination he had before. Their home was gone, he had unintentionally hurt his friends while he was possessed, ofc he feels guilty about it all. Hell, it would've been totally understandable if he broke down crying right there. And he was close to doing so too, but he was needed as their spark of hope. If he fell, they all do.

I've always had a semi-headcanon that he would put a brave face for the people around him and deliver some optimism whenever he can, but he lets himself be vulnerable when he's out of sight.

So, for me at least, it makes absolute sense why he would have a breakdown listening to those videos. After all, it is ASMR. It's literally like having someone right next to your ear, it's intimate (in the non-romantic sense btw). It would be just 4 and his phone, both metaphorically and literally, bc he would be listening to it when he's alone, except the one time in "SMG4 Simulator" when 3 was there. He would like to be comforted, to be hugged and cared for by someone. Without judgment, without anyone needing him to be strong. Let it all out.

Let's be real, it really is realistic if you think about it. Some of us want to express our emotions so we can feel better, but since we are so used to holding them in, we don't know how to release them in a natural and/or healthy manner. Sometimes it takes a sport to express frustration or anger, or watching a sad video/movie to cry. For 4, it's listening to those asmrs so he can allow himself to be vulnerable. He would like someone to be there to be there for him, but this would have to do.

And that's the thing, it actually worked outside of the whole asmr tactic: 3's speech in IGBP. The whole time, the Crew was either leaving him alone or yelling at him to snap out of it. But the one time they didn't was when 3 was showing empathy, in a comforting and gentle voice. Ofc the Crew's movements were limited by the goo but I guarantee you they would've gone up to him, and hugged him or put a hand on his shoulder. All 4 needed was love.

(also the fact that 3 does do asmr but moving on.) oh boy, if IGBP 2 is gonna happen, all of this is going to come back somehow. And it would've been crazy if they put the asmr in there somehow.

anyway, can we just give him hug please? I would just hold him and let him cry, he could really use it 🥺💙 *looks at my saviors in blue checklist* yeah, that makes sense. I mean, I did have the "white lily cliffside" hc for a reason

thanks for the ask!

[karmacharmeleon18]

I need more of your thoughts on the prequel and sequel 👀👀 please yap away my friend

LMAO and yap away I will!

I'm always excited for sequels, especially because there's SO MUCH we've yet to see about the Moriyamas!!! I need those bitches vanquished, seriously it's not a want, it's a need, and there's simply not enough time left for it in Jean's trilogy

I still think one book might not be enough??? But Nora was clear that #2 Kevin Day only needs 2 books... and since one is a prequel, we are left with only one sequel

I guess TSC3 will set things into motion and they'll be finalized in TQG?

Even if it's just one standalone sequel, I think it's a good idea to have if from Kevin's POV because he has insights on that family no one else has

I really, truly HOPE/WISH/NEED Nora is going in that direction, the "let's take down the Moriyamas" route, and Kevin can reasonably be the key to that

So I'm excited and I would be SUPER disappointed if nothing major happened in that regard

I just see no point in making one standalone sequel from Kevin's POV unless we see the fall of the Moriyamas, you know??? Like, what's the point otherwise?

Nora said she had originally planned a #4 AFTG book from Neil's perspective, about the new freshmen, the game against the dismantled and crumbling Ravens, etc. but then she realized it wasn't needed, there wasn't enough plot for a whole book: the Foxes' story was over

So if we're getting a sequel from a current Fox, there must be a specific reason why

(🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾 PLEASE NORA PLEASE LET THERE BE A REASON 🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾)

If it was a trilogy, I could understand, it means Nora just wants to analyze Kevin's character and give him an arc of some kind; maybe a trilogy set at the same time as AFTG, giving us Kevin's perspective of canon events? Or a sequel trilogy showing how Kevin handles being in the world on his own after graduation? An ex Raven, former Fox, dealing with the real world? Both could work

But a single sequel?

Set right after TSC where criminal trials and Testuji's role are still up in the air?

Titled The Queen's Game?

Come on, the Moriyamas are getting what they deserve, right?

RIGHT?

I really hope/think Nora will use this one sequel book to tie up all the loose ends TSC3 will inevitably leave us with, because there's just not enough time to resolve everything in a trilogy finale

So I'm excited and hopeful and would be EXTREMELY disappointed if we got nothing, no justice, no freedom for our Foxes and Trojans

It would make no sense to me

Like, for example, I'm not particularly interested in reading a book about Kevin joining the Houston Sirens, aka Thea's team, and see their relationship develop. Nora recently made a post trying to "redeem" Thea to an extent, where she acknowledged that canon!Thea did not leave a good impression (but then she makes it all even worse in TSC? Nora, what are you doing?), but I'm just not interested in a KevThea book 🤷🏾‍♀️

It has to be something else

One book... The Queen's Game... The Moriyamas are getting 🔪

That's the only thing that makes sense to me 😭😭

Now...

About the prequel...

I'm terrified.

Like, I straight up don't know if I'll read it.

I'll most likely wait until my friends finish it and can give me a trigger warning list lol (laughing not to cry)

Because Nora undeniably has a fixation, even a fetish, for torture, sexual assault, violence in general

And the only thing worse than a story set in the mind of someone who survived the Nest and is out of it now (Jean, Neil in part) is reading a story SET IN THE NEST

Even if it's from Kevin's POV and he was never assaulted

I just don't trust Nora to be respectful and realistic when it comes to portraying abuse in a cult. She loves exaggerating the violence, in a way that can be triggering for anyone. So I don't know what I'll do.

One thing I'll say tho, it's that Kevin's POV is needed at this point

In 2024 Nora shared her list of favorite Foxes in order and it goes: Neil, Andrew, Kevin (etc.etc.)

And in the tags she said:

WELL NORA TSC AND TGR DIDN'T HELP!!!!

Now we dislike Kevin even more 😭

Because what do you mean he knew Jean was being raped? What do you mean he shrugs it off? What do you mean he was never raped because "they had no reason", implying that Jean gave them a reason to do that, brought it upon himself 🤢?

What do you mean he is the exact same type of arrogant, bossy hypocrite with Jean he is with the Foxes?

You really thought Jean and Jeremy's perspective of him would make us like him more??? And makes us think that you love Kevin???

In what universe?? 😭

A "non-Fox perspective of him" made Kevin look even worse

She really thought TSC would make us see Kevin in a more positive, kinder light???? (same for Thea)

So yeah, if she wants to redeem Kevin, his POV is absolutely needed at this point

Show us Kevin's humanity, his insecurity, his loneliness, make us relate to him, in a way that goes beyond the cowardice and hypocrisy shown in AFTG and TSC

(though considering Nora's track record, she could have Kevin fully say "Jean deserved it" and then be all *shocked Pikachu face* when people still hate him 🙄)

Now, what could The Perfect Court be about?

Riko, obviously

But when?

Are we getting the Riko-Kevin backstory? How they met, grew up together, joined the Nest and survived Tetsuji's abuse by clinging to each other?

How Jean disrupted the fragile balance they had found, how Riko descended into madness once given absolute power over another human?

Is it going to end with Riko shattering Kevin's hand, the ultimate act of fraternal betrayal?

And then fade to black, and the rest is history?

... or is it going to start with Riko breaking Kevin's hand?

Is the whole book going to be about Kevin knocking on Waymack's - his father's - door and joining the Foxes? So a direct prequel to AFTG? With lots of flashbacks about the Nest and Riko's Perfect Court delusions?

Or a mix of both? The first half is Kevin-Riko in the Nest, the second half is the fallout?

I don't know. But I know it's going to be graphic. And I don't think I'm ready

But for the sequel, I am SAT

[tryandbehappy]

Hey !

Since I discovered your blog, I'm literally obsessed with it ! I spend so much time reading your posts, it's sooooo good ! Thank you for bringing us hope, we seriously need it with the season we have so far 😅

What do you think will happen with Luke and Rose ? I mean, I don't see how Nick and June can be together if these two are still in the picture you know ?

I feel that the writers will give us the " impossible love " thing. Like Nick and June love each other but can't be together at the end. That they'll confess their love for each other but realised that they will and can never be together. I don't know if what I'm saying is very clear, english is not my first language 😅

But thank you for all your posts, please never stop writing them 😅

Thank you so much, that really means a lot to me. Now, as for predictions about what’s going to happen next… Honestly, I have no clue. I never make predictions, because mine are always wrong. What I can do is analyze the emotional state the characters are in right now and what brought them there. I can look at the parallels, interpret their behavior based on the material we’ve been given. But predicting what’s next? Completely impossible.

That said, logically speaking, The Handmaid’s Tale isn’t a dark show in the way some might think. They’ve given redemptive arcs to nearly every major character except Fred. They don’t even let Nick hit true rock bottom (I mean he’s framed like a “dark horse”). But if you look at what Nick did, it’s barely even a “betrayal.” The show has already moved past it, judging by June’s reaction to him at the wedding, the way she looked at him with those doe eyes. That tells us everything: this conflict isn’t lasting.

And if we’re being honest, Nick and June have always been the emotional center of the show. That becomes very clear if you go back and rewatch all of their scenes. Sometimes it’s easy to forget because there’s so much happening in the series overall, and time feels stretched out, but when you focus on their scenes specifically, the emotional weight, the intensity they’re almost always hopeful, tender, or empowering. This is literally their first real conflict in six seasons. So it’s incredibly unlikely that the show would suddenly decide to permanently break them apart.

So what do I expect next? I’m sure we’ll get an incredibly emotionally charged Nick and June scene or several. I think either the whole finale or a large part of it will be focused on them. Something like season 4 episode 9, where we had almost a full episode centered on them. It won’t be some cheesy soap opera; there will be stakes and drama, but we’re going to get multiple scenes, and they’ll be shot beautifully and acted powerfully. That much I feel confident about.

As for tone I’m expecting something hopeful. Maybe it’ll be bittersweet, like they get their happiness for a moment and then lose it. Or maybe everything seems stacked against them and then against all odds they end up together. What I’m sure of is that we’re about to be thrown onto an emotional rollercoaster. There’s going to be heartbreak and joy. The only question is: in what order? I think since we’re already in heartbreak territory now, it makes sense for it to build toward hope and catharsis.

As for Rose and Luke, honestly, I’m not even concerned. Those stories are done. June already said she’s with Luke out of obligation and Nick heard that. Nick has also made it clear that he’s ready to walk away from Rose the moment he gets the chance. There’s no weight left in those dynamics. The only unresolved question in the whole damn show is: Will Nick and June be together? That’s what’s keeping the fandom on edge.

And listen I know a lot of people are mad at the writers right now, worried there’s not enough time left, worried we’re not going to get what we want. But I don’t feel that way. I actually like the pacing. I get why the tension is drawn out this way. It’s a narrative choice, a dramatic strategy. They’re making us feel it. Because if there wasn’t this level of uncertainty, we wouldn’t be nearly this emotionally invested.

The scenes we’ve gotten so far? They’re incredible. The writing, the lighting, the angles, the acting, everything is so carefully crafted. I say that as a video editor who studies every detail. And that’s why I trust them. I trust the crew, I trust the actors, I trust that they know what they’re building toward and I believe that the finale is going to destroy us in the best possible way.

[aricharmm]

correct, not everyone wants recovery, or can even access it in the first place. if that sounds like you, then fuck around and find out and best of luck when you're older. that's the whole point of my post. but you said it yourself, you're not opposed to it of you were given the chance. i hope you get that chance someday. i know it can feel completely out of reach. really, i've been in that position before. but not all hope is lost, and i believe in you. half of recovery is putting in the work for it, but even if you're not there quite yet, i believe in you.

i addressed the "minors can't have a pd" thing two posts below this one so i won't repeat myself again, but for the self harm take, yes it's obviously an opinion but there is a little bit of objectivity in there too. is it fun to clean up? is it fun to be sent to the hospital and be treated like a pet when it goes too far? is it fun to be looked at weirdly and be judged by your own support system when they discover it? is it fun to have your own self harm and struggles in general be used against you? is it fun to be seen as someone lesser than because you are incapable of taking proper care of yourself? sorry to make it blunt. but this is reality. it's "fun" in the sense that it scratches a very unique itch that we all have. and it's beautiful in the sense that there's some element of self empowerment to it. but this topic is nuanced, and that's okay. i'm not trying to say you're wrong.

it's not exactly a false picture, i'm talking from experience. i'm glad your personal circle has some resemblance of support. that's all i'll say about that part.

i'd be happy to take anyone under my wing who wants it, sure, but as a mentor figure, not a parental one. in my current profession, i work with hundreds of kids weekly, so it's something i seriously don't mind. but calling me desperate to help is a reach. i could care less if no one agrees or resonates with what i said. again, feel free to fuck around and find out.

i wish you the best!

“Kids shouldn’t be on jiraiblr!” You’re right, they shouldn’t. They should be enjoying life as a kid. But they’re not, they’re fucking miserable, so shut the fuck up and stop complaining. If that’s all you whine about get the hell off jiraiblr, nobody wants you here.

[theheirofthesharingan]

Very random but do you have any headcanons about Itachi and by extension Shisui's lifestyle in the modern era? For example, would they use Android or Iphone, or what sort of food preferences they would have like gluten free or vegan? Or what about their workout regimen? Not to mention, the kind of shampoo they would use (sorry if that's too specific)

I personally see Itachi as a very reticent person who would thrive in marathon training outside of any combat training. Do you have any opinions about that or anything related to Itachi headcanons in general?

In the modern AU, I see Itachi going through the same kind of things he does in canon, but on a lesser scale. His dynamic with his family and Shisui would be more or less the same.

Itachi is the Android person. He doesn't like showing off and is content with the simpler things in life. He is vegetarian. Shisui doesn't mind eggs and some seafood.

His favourite person is Sasuke. Obviously. But Shisui is up close as well. There were times in Itachi's life when he had no idea what was going on and Shisui stood beside him. Itachi is always thankful for that.

The only thing Itachi doesn't compromise with is his hair. So, he regularly does shampoo and uses conditioner on his hair. Shisui doesn't really care about his own and if he's running out of time, he doesn't mind using washing powder on his hair either.

Itachi is definitely introverted. Though since in the modern world he might not be training rigorously because he's not a ninja, he'll spend a lot of time studying.

He reads Kafka, Murakami, Plath, Dazai, Dostoevsky, Nabokov, and Camus a lot. Shisui tries to get him to read something else as well but Itachi gets bored of his recs real soon. Shisui and he argue a lot on the kind of books they like. Sasuke just stays out of their arguments because he's more of a comic book person. His arguments tend to be with Naruto the most. And they're never on the same page.

Itachi has a strained relationship with his parents. It's not too bad, but he feels uncomfortable whenever he's home. He knows he's loved, but he can't bring himself to be comfortable with his parents around. His strict father and his mom being an ideal wife have contributed a lot to him being inexpressive. Being a genius, a prodigy, best at everything is tiring. Everyone thinks he's having the best of all worlds, but in fact, he sometimes breaks down because he can't handle it. As if he's not allowed to fail. He wants his parents to be proud of him.

He knows he's the best at what he does. It's not outright arrogance but confidence that shows in his persona. He always ends up stealing the limelight, no matter who the object of centre is meant to be. It occasionally causes a rift between him and Sasuke. No, Sasuke doesn't say it out loud, but Itachi understands that Itachi stealing the attention that Sasuke deserved hurt his little brother. He hates seeing Sasuke sad because of him. Once he understands what is wrong, Itachi always removes himself from the picture, making last minute excuses why he can't make it. It happens with him and Shisui too. But Shisui tries to make him understand that he doesn't mind it and it isn't his fault. Though Itachi won't listen. He doesn't like being inconvenience to the people he loves.

Itachi is Sasuke's rock. Every time Sasuke needs something or wants someone to root for him, he always has Itachi's support. What he doesn't realize is that Itachi needs his support just as much. Itachi finds dinners with his parents comfortable only when Sasuke is around. Sasuke talks a lot, and that's therapeutic for Itachi. Sasuke's presence makes his life so much easier.

Both the brothers sometimes have heart-to-heart with each other. Sasuke mostly rants about his life and Itachi offers his opinions and suggestions, most of them work out for Sasuke. Sasuke wants to know about Itachi too and Itachi has no idea what to say about himself and his life. He doesn't want to burden Sasuke with all that he feels. Not that Sasuke doesn't manage to get some answers out of Itachi. He's understood that asking his older brother questions directly won't help. So he beats around the bush a lot until Itachi begins to speak.

One day when their parents were out of town, Sasuke managed to pry some answers out of his brother, and was horrified to know that the Itachi Uchiha had struggles too.

Ever since they were kids, Shisui would come over to the Uchiha household for sleepovers. And when Mikoto and Fugaku fell asleep, all three kids would indulge in pillow fights. Sasuke and Shisui would gang up on Itachi because that's one of those things that draw some reaction out of Itachi.

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[transmagikalgirl]

ok but. a really big theme of illyana's arc in the claremont stuff is that she believes she's too different and can't fit in, even with misfits like the xmen. and her relationship with kitty is so important bc she's basically the first person not to care about any of that and just treat her like a regular, normal girl, right?

kitty's arc in exceptional xmen is that she believes what she needs is to be normal, to do away with all the xmen stuff and just be a regular woman. what she needs (+ a lot of the plot is her getting the early signs of) is things that remind her why she does what she does, that she can be proud of being different and that not fitting in or being with the xmen isnt the curse that the fall of x made it seem

so maybe she could use a talk (and/or sleep with) the woman she helped teach that all those things are okay, and that she could still be in some ways a 'regular girl' despite that?

is all im saying

[reyhospacebitch]

They dropped her storyline completely... She just magically could sleep again, wasn't using and apparently not having flashbacks when we *know* bc of luthen that stopping makes it all worse. Im sure the writers decided to explain it away with no exposition, a time jump and her killing her torturer but that's so very one note. Brains don't work that way, generally, and also... odd af that she didn't have supposed trauma from the attempted rape when she was already so mentally stressed. We could take from her supposedly being fine that cass was away so much that she was hiding her issues again, but after so much focus on her mental health and putting her through so much trauma it was insulting to brush aside. To the point looking back it feels on the verge of disability trauma porn. If they didn't introduce and drop the mental health plot line, thus ignoring a chronic condition, i wouldn't be annoyed... I want her to be happy and find peace. Ive loved bix since season 1. I just wanted to see the journey, not just the pain.

Her leaving bc she was still having issues and didn't want to put that on cass would have made sense!!! Her sacrificing her relationship bc she knew he would leave with her (and she felt she needed to) made sense! Her choosing herself, her mental wellbeing, would have been a cool plot esp bc season one established her as a wildcard who didnt *really* want to settle down. It could have played into their past, maybe she broke up with him the first time too, which was partly why he was so hesitant to look for her again etc. there's so much More we could have had and some of this would have taken minimal exposition. Instead they gave us a last second clip that makes it appear not to have been about her issues at all but wanting to keep a baby she knew Cass (abandonment issues man) would never walk away from which is a whole other thing and sorta(?) undermines the other plot line as having been a reason for her decision simply because they never focused on her motivations.

Its one of the many storylines that illustrated why the show probably needed a season 3 to reach the impact it was hoping for with character storylines.

everyone acting like the reason that some of us hate that last shot is because we're mad Bix found peace and healing and we must all hate babies too? no. we're mad that she disappeared from the story for two years (using CASSIAN'S importance as her reason for doing so!) and then the writers used a baby as a sloppy shortcut to show us that she "found healing" without ever showing us a drop of what that journey actually looked like for her.

[blondeaxolotl]

you're so good at creature-ifying characters 'n I was wondering if you have any tips :0c

When it comes "creature-ifying" characters, the best way I can describe it is to draw like you're drawing a half human half anthro. Since that's most of what I do, I just draw half anthros

Some example doodles of what I mean. When I'm designing twst characters in my au, the things I usually keep without much change is their head (maybe adding some markings, sharper teeth and a more animalistic nose if they're like a feline or canine, etc), torso, and hips (same as the head in maybe adding some markings).

While for the rest of the body, I design them as if I'm just designing an anthro. Is the character I'm designing going to have cat features? Well don't stop at just adding some ears and a tail, give them paws, arms and legs of what you'd usually see on an anthro cat. (Ofc you don't have to exactly design them like I do lmao, you can exaggerate them more or less, it just depends on taste and what you like really.) and if it's needed, do look up anthro artists you like and study how they draw their anthro little guys.

It also depends on what kind of creature you're designing your character as, are they a goat? Give them hooves, horns, etc. A bird? Feathers, wings (on their back or as their arms either works), talons, etc. A bug? (Depending on the bug) Wings, more limbs, antennae, etc. Merfolks are their own thing really, on land they're just humans with fishy scales and fins and sometimes a tail even.

Most of my rambling is on how I design twst characters that I based off animals, since most of the cast ARE based off animals with a few that are more like mythological creatures.

I also like mixing fixations together, if I like a character and think hey I wonder what would they look like if I mix them with a creature from a whole separate series. An example of that would be Azul, Azul is an octoling in my au, like from the game Splatoon.

If like animals don't fit, you can also take inspo from other series that have a mostly non-human cast, like Monster High or Monster Prom. Since both series have characters based on either mythical creatures or just straight plants n such.

I kinda suck at giving tips or advice but honestly the best I can is if you want to turn a character into a creature, do it, you have free will and no one will stop you. You have the power to do whatever you want to in art and character designing aheheheheh

[bitchslapblastoids]

Was thinking about how much of a normo I come across as irl, how I’ve felt a lil odd person out at their shows bc of being a bit older (29) and looking so aggressively normal, how generally confused people in my life would be if they knew about my d&p obsession, how thoroughly i mask weirder traits and essentially codeswitch to suit the mainstream, etc.

i feel kind of fish out of water when I imagine how all the people that populate my tumblr phandom ecosystem are likely presenting to the world irl (I.e. more visibly queer, counterculture, and so on). But then I think maybe the most visible phannies are the ones with the most curated, alt, deliberate daytoday lewks/style? So maybe what I’m picturing is off base? But then I’m also basing this off of what audiences look like in audience footage, m&gs, etc.

Sooooooo i would like to know… do you guys feel like you present as someone who may be Deeply Online and obsessed with two gay nerds from the internet? Or do you hide it and fly under the radar, masking as a total normy and living a double life?

(To clarify I don’t mean you’re like out and about wearing the fringes boob sweatshirt lol I more mean vibes and overall lewk yk?)

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Peaceful property is a bl even if it's not. It's also about so many other things although not really delivering on a consistent message.

I thought about adding my thoughts to this thread but it was getting long and I started to get sidetracked so I decided to just make my own post about it and share my thoughts on it. @lurkingshan @bengiyo and @twig-tea all made good point about why this show is faltering with its own themes, and @respectthepetty made a compelling argument that the show knows what its doing.

I think no one is wrong and I land somewhere in the middle with it. As in, depending on what I choose to care about. Much like @respectthepetty, I am bias about this show. For different reasons tho. I like Tay and New a lot so I lead with that instead of my critical thinking. just as a personal aside, I tend to do this when my brain and heart don't align. I ignore when my brain tells me that the show is doing something wrong so that I can enjoy the rest. This works particularly well with QL for some reason. I am after all a person who liked Dangerous Romance even when my brain kept trying to damper my enjoyment with logic. And also sometimes I'm a hypocrite and there's no reason for why I like a show and not another. Ok, there's usually a reason but it's most often not a good one, or a rational one at least. That's just how it is.

Anyway. Because of all the excellent points made by that post I decided to fully engage my brain and I've been thinking about what this show is trying to say and I agree that unfinished business is the main thing in the ghost stories but I would have to shut off my brain completely to not see how class factors into all of it as well.

The ghosts up until now, except the chef, were all lower class and one can argue that it played a part in how they died or what happened after. I'm not including episode 7 for reasons that I will explain in a bit. Even if Ride's unfinished business was about love, the fact that he was the only rider doing deliveries in the rain, at least to me, read as he was driven by the need to make money in the first place. Even in the chef's case, the customer that Peach basically poisoned was rich and it was a part of the headlines about it and the reason for the restaurant getting shut down. Also most of the individual stories didn't get deep into these issues, case of the week usual issues, but it was always an underlying theme. Also as @twig-tea said all the parallels work even better because this disparity also exists between Home and Peach.

All this gets me to how I started this post. This is a bl even if it isn't. The choice to include the tragic bl storyline in the middle of this, in my own brain, can only be explained if I believe this is a bl. (The tragic bit was thematically consistent with this show.) Specifically a gmmtv bl. Cause ultimately they have a tendency to forsake narrative consistency if it stops serving the main romance. It's also the only way I can explain having a bl pair mirroring the other bl pair on screen. So in that way it's consistent with gmmtv. Just brush aside anything that can get in the way of the couple not having a happy ending. This is also how I explain my biggest issue with it. Pangpang. She's the shipper. She's been the shipper from basically the start.

Home basically killed her brother, why would she be the driving force in getting him forgiven? Because of my previously admitted bias, I forgave Home almost immediately. It's New and he didn't mean it, it was an accident and he wanted to call for help and do the right thing but his family interfered and.... I could come up with a lot of reasons because I want to forgive him. So everything else can be ignored. But all this obviously doesn't apply to Pang. So it can only be the bl in the not a bl show.

Now, on full brainy mode, this last episode makes no sense with everything else this show has been saying until now. They used a branded pair to ignore any class disparity between our mains, since the last ghost story didn't really parallel that, and over the forgiveness part, and jump straight into Peach has forgiven Home and will probably now become his saviour. Don't even get me started on the fact that Peach is still broke but saving the rich dude that turned his life to crap will be the most important thing right now. I wonder if gmmtv has ever ignored class disparity between a main couple and instead focused on the richer dude's drama while ignoring the struggle of the other one, all in favour of the main romance and lovey dovey moments 🤔. But I guess I'll reserve full judgement on that until the next episode.

yeah, so basically this is where I am at with this show. My two sides are fighting but come next wednesday my brain will take the back seat for 45 minutes so I can enjoy Tay and New and after that maybe I'll think about it some more.