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aphrogeneias · 1 year ago

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more than seven minutes — one-shot

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after you spend nearly a week completely avoiding your best friend, he takes matters into his own hands. and if that means locking you into a room with him until he makes you talk, then so be it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut (+18), fluff, friends to lovers, forced proximity, love confessions, mentions of a sex dream, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, dirty talk

author's note: another reupload! this is the only steve fic i've ever written, or rather, the only one i started and finished. not sure if i really write steve that well, but i tried <3 this has a part two and will be uploaded soon too.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't you trust us?"

From your left, Robin's faux exasperated tone had you throwing her a mean side-eye. Her girlfriend, Vickie, on your right, giggled, "I don't think she does, Rob."

It wasn't that you didn't trust them. On a normal day, you would trust those two with your life, but given the circumstance you recently put yourself into, you couldn't help but be suspicious.

They'd found you hiding — or trying to, at least — at the back porch during another one of Tina's house parties, which were getting more and more boring to you, but you needed an escape, and cheap beer with some questionable company would have to do it.

You were sitting with another one of your friends when Robin and Vickie, appearing seemingly out of nowhere — confusing you immensely because they'd be two people you wouldn't expect to find at Tina's on a Friday night — took your plastic cup from your hand and pulled you by the arms to follow them.

Dragging you along, each one linked to your arms from both sides, passing in between the crowd of bodies gathered in the living room, occasionally having to push a drunk jock out of the way, and guiding you up the stairs, into the upstairs hallway. They moved fast, the people around you passing by like a sea of blurred faces.

You were thrust forward when you reached one of the doors, and were pushed inside by Robin, who flashed you an apologetic smile, shrugging, "I'm sorry!"

"Robin!" Yelling over the loud music that bled through the walls, you could hear giggling from the outside, as well as the sound of a key being turned in doorknob. Your heart raced as you slowly realized what was happening, "Vickie! What the fuck?"

You knew who was behind you without even having to turn around.

Taking in your surroundings, you could tell it was a guest room, untouched by the madness going on downstairs and in the hallway. Sitting on the neatly made bed, above the soft pastel bedding, Steve Harrington looked like a kicked puppy, brown eyes following your every move from where you stood, still at the bedroom door, unsure of what to do.

He was the first to break the silence, "So… now I have to resort to kidnapping you in order to have a conversation with my best friend?"

Leaning back into the cold wooden surface of the door, you tried to sound as unbothered as possible, knowing very well you were about to crack. "I wouldn't call that much of a kidnapping. Your henchwomen are a little too clumsy for that."

When Steve didn't answer you, merely raising an eyebrow, unamused, you tried again. "So, uh… what is this, exactly? Seven minutes in heaven? You know this isn't seventh grade anymore, right?"

"No, if it was seventh grade you would still be talking to me and not acting all weird for a whole damn week and not telling me why!"

"I'm not acting weird…"

"Bullshit! You are avoiding me like the plague and I need to know why."

You weren't avoiding Steve.

At least, that's what you had told him the first time he confronted you about it, almost a week ago. He had showed up at your house, unannounced as always, with a new film he knew you'd love and a bag of popcorn and candy, walking in as if it was own place — and it was, in a way, more of a home than his own has ever been. You made up an excuse about how you were sick and didn't want to get him sick as well, ushering him out of the house with an apology and the promise of a raincheck on your movie night.

After that, he'd been calling you, asking what was wrong and why were you avoiding him, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth. You'd told him it was nothing, you were sick that day, then you were busy, and then… you were running out of excuses.

The truth was that you couldn't look your best friend in the eyes anymore.

Sighing, you looked down at your feet, shuffling in place, "It's nothing, Steve. I'm just confused about… something, but I promise it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong, it's just, just a thing that happened." You stuttered.

There was a shift in the air, the tension dropping in the atmosphere as Steve's expression lightened, suddenly focusing entirely on you. He rose from his place on the bed and walked over to you, his body crowding your personal space.

"Hey…" You felt a hand gently hold your chin, forcing you to look at him, warm brown eyes searching for yours. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just worried. We used to tell each other everything and now you're acting like this and I don't know what to think."

Overwhelmed by Steve's closeness, his smell and the heat of his body invading your senses, and his hand moving to cradle your cheek, distracting you from gathering your thoughts, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "If I tell you, do you promise you'll stay not mad at me?"

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Y/N."

With a deep breath, you walked away from him. The nearness, the feeling of his hand on your skin brought you vivid memories of the exact reason you were pushing him away.

"Ihadasexdreamaboutyou."

"A what?"

"A sex dream! I had a sex dream about you and I'm embarassed enough as it is, okay? I know it's weird, but we can't really help what we dream of, you know? It's like our brains produce images using the faces of people we know but it doesn't necessarily mean anything…"

"I get it! I get it, you don't need to explain yourself, I promise." Steve interrupts your rambling, you're still avoiding making eye contact with him, but you notice a light shade of pink take over his face. Silence fell over the room, both of you still trying to come to terms with what you'd just confessed.

"What was your dream like?"

He was closer now, you realized. There was something different in his eyes, a look you'd never seen before — far more intense, pupils blown wide. An electric current grows between you, like a live wire, ready to explode. It didn't help you stop thinking about the Steve in your dream, looking up at you with those same eyes, hands hungrily exploring your naked body.

It was all you could think about in the past few days — and then, there he was, warm and real, right in front of you, your Steve.

"Steve…"

"Please? I'm curious. It can't be that bad."

Turning around, you stared at the wall instead of having to look at him, feeling flustered all over. "I don't remember a lot of the details, but, uh… I think we were on my couch and we were… I was riding you, I think." Letting out a nervous laugh, you gathered the courage to turn again, pretending to not be affected, "Crazy, right?"

"Not that crazy. Coming from you, I was expecting something a little more shocking."

You laughed earnestly then, feeling some of the tension leave your body. "Yeah. Screw you, Harrington."

Steve started taking a few tentative steps forward, and instinctively, you took some backwards, until your back hit the wall behind you. Leaning in, those same dark, hungry eyes lowered to your lips, and down to your cleavage — you felt vulnerable under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. It felt right, even though it made your skin prickle. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Yeah." You breathed out.

One of his hands trailed along your waist, keeping you still as the other rested beside your head, on the wall. This was a line you'd definitely never crossed, even with Steve being as affectionate as he was, always keeping at least one hand on you. Not even in the many times you'd shared a bed and woke up tangled in each other. This was different, heavy with anticipation.

"Did you… touch yourself… thinking about this dream of yours?"

It felt like your head was spinning. Despite yourself, you drew in a sharp inhale, "Do you really need to know that?"

"Only if you want to tell me." His voice was gentle, much more restrained than the wild look in his eyes, barely keeping himself together. "But something tells me you do."

Steve wasn't blind to the effect he had on you, especially up close, where he could feel your heavy breathing, watching the way your body responded to his. Throwing every caution you had out of the metaphoric window, you finally looked him in the eyes, bringing him closer, and resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

"What if I told you that I did? What if I told you that I had my fingers inside of me thinking about how good it would feel if I was bouncing on your cock instead? How would it feel to have you run your hands all over me while I do it? Is that what you want to hear?"

Like the cat who got the cream — or the guy who got his best friend to confess how badly she wants to fuck him — he smirked, now holding you with both hands around your waist.

"Any chance you want to make that dream come true, baby?"

"If King Steve is offering, who am I to refuse?"

"Shut up."

Snaking a hand up your back, raising a chill up your spine, and holding the back of your neck, his mouth descended on yours with a deep kiss. It started clumsy, all teeth and uncoordinated hands, two friends who dared cross a line they'd never return from. Steve took control, then, leading you towards the bed, and laying you on top of it, his hands never leaving your body as he climbed on top of you.

"You should have told me about this earlier. Could've helped you out, you know." He said, in between kisses, descending his mouth to your jaw, and down to your neck, his tongue eliciting tiny gasps from your gaping lips, "You were driving me insane."

His hands travelled under your shirt, after yanking it from under your skirt, finding your covered breasts. Too eager to feel you, he felt you up over your bra, squeezing and caressing his thumb over your nipples. Between Steve's hands and his kisses, you were left breathless under him, seeking whatever release you could get, grinding your hips against his thigh, which was resting between yours. You could feel your cotton panties cling to your wet folds, slick with desire.

"I think you're the one driving me insane here." You whined, biting his lower lip and dragging it just slightly. Steve's eyes darkened above you, and you felt his hands lower, slowly, to the hem of your already bunched up skirt. You watched as he sat up on his knees and removed his polo shirt, revealing his broad chest, and feeling the sudden urge to run your hands over the tuft hair and the smattering of freckles covering it.

"Consider it payback, baby."

They stopped at the waistband of your underwear, and stilled, as he asked, brown eyes as gentle as ever, almost whispering, "This okay?"

"Yeah. Please."

Lowering his head, he left kisses over your thighs as he brought the fabric down your legs and off your body, his hot mouth leaving a trail of small teeth marks and spit that warmed you to your core. There was an underlying devotion in Steve's touch, a reverence he always treated you with — like you were something precious, something worthy of praise. It set you alight under his expert fingers, running over the soft skin of your parted thighs.

Wasting no more time, Steve licked a long stripe over your weeping slit, flattening his tongue. You dropped your head to the pillow beneath you, not being able to stop the moan that rose on your throat. One of your hands reached to grab his hair as he alternated between flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking on it, groaning into your pussy like he was enjoying it just as much as you were. His strong hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you further into him, burying himself into you, his nose touching your clit as he delved his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

A litany of moans filled the room, along with the filthy, sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy. You felt delirious, skin burning and grinding yourself shamelessly into his mouth, meeting his movements.

"Isn't that better, honey?" He teased, bringing a finger down to your entrance and into you, stroking your walls in a torturingly slow pace, making you pout as you kept moving your hips, "Better than fucking yourself with your tiny, little fingers? You could have had this instead of hiding from me."

Mumbling something incoherent, you could barely keep your thoughts together as you felt him add a second finger into you, pumping them faster this time.

"Louder. Let me hear you."

"So much better. You feel so good, Stevie, so fucking good. Please don't stop."

At that point, you didn't care how whiny you sounded. Steve didn't seem to care either, shifting between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit again, matching his languid thrusts as he curled his fingers inside of you, building up the tension in your core, your pleas of "faster, please!" rising from your lips.

He obliged, looking at you with hooded eyes. You meet his gaze as you cry out, feeling your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing into you slowly, and then all at once. He keeps his fingers moving as you ride it out, breathing heavily, and running your hand over his messed up hair, much gentler this time.

"C'mere, baby." You called, voice a little weak from exhaustion. Steve leaned over and you met him halfway, supporting your upper body into your elbows, and kissed him. Deep and slow, savoring the taste of his tongue, still stained with your juices, making you dizzy with uncontained lust, and, quite frankly, an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness, as if you had just marked him as yours.

After spending years watching him pine over Nancy Wheeler, and throw himself into date after meaningless date, it felt only fair.

Not you'd ever admit this to him out loud.

Distracting him with your kisses, you manage to take control, flipping him over, and mounting him, straddling his hips. Steve doesn't stop missing you, however, bringing his hands to rest over your hips and guide you to grind your exposed pussy over the tent on his jeans. You could almost feel him pulsing under you, bringing a new jolt of pleasure through your body, making you run your nails over his chest.

Quickly undoing his belt, and his zipper, you bring his pants down, just enough to free him from his boxers, feeling his length warm and heavy in your hand. He pants under you, his eyes rolling back as you tease him with your fingers, lightly, before running your thumb over the delicious vein on the underside of him, all the way to his already weeping head.

Before you could do much else, you heard a hard knock on the door, followed by barely hushed giggles.

"Are you still alive in there? Do we need to call the police?"

"Go away, Buckley! Jesus."

Steve groaned at Robin's interruption, running his hands over his face, flushed with frustration. You release him from your hold, chuckling a little at his outburst. Leaving a kiss to his nose, driving his attention back to you, you ask "Your house isn't too far from here, right?"

"Yeah. Your point being…"

"I think we should take this party somewhere a little less crowded."

Humming deep inside his chest, Steve leans up, pecking you on the lips, "Now you're speaking my language."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut

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sage-lights · 8 months ago

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today's been a hard day scrolling through smoshblr, and i need to ask y'all honestly how to navigate it all. i'm gonna bullet point my thoughts.

dani saying that she was not valued at her most recent job (which is smosh because her linkedin says she left march 2024) because her mentors/superiors were eager to help her grow until her growth became a threat. so she faced an unpleasant and unsupportive work environment at smosh, a common phenomenon faced by plenty of black women and other woc in entertainment and in LA (source here)

kimmy announced she officially isn't a part of smosh anymore. didn't want to "spill tea" (which dani didn't intend to either, they just both want to be transparent about career changes). kimmy is also a woc who moved from cast to crew, despite still expressing that she wanted to be on camera. curious, huh?

today's smosh games video with noah and olivia. noah has been talked about quite a bit on smoshblr already for his zionist views. (source here)

learned olivia posted a pro-israel story back in oct, but i read the replies on the post and it says that she also has posted about a ceasefire in gaza, but i haven't seen screenshots of it yet (not saying that it's like "pics or it didn't happen" though). reading through the replies say that tommy and amanda (oof, this one hurts) also posted similar things on oct 7. hoping they've educated themselves and understand why we need to continue calling for a ceasefire and supporting palestine to end the genocide in gaza. (source here)

olivia parked in a handicap spot and claimed she didn't know? i didn't watch the who meme'd it when it was uploaded, but it caused many fans to be upset at olivia for it. (source here)

damien, angela, and mallory are the only three i've seen say anything in support of palestine. damien said talked about it on twitch, angela tweeted about it, and mallory posted stories about aaron bushnell. (if anyone has the screenshots/sources, please leave them in the replies!)

i need to clearly state that i don't mean to bring any of this up as a way to bash smosh. as this blog will tell you, i'm a huge fan and have been for almost a decade. but with every passing day, it honestly becomes harder and harder to stay a fan. yet, it's equally as hard to let go of something that has provided me so much comfort (and probably saved me many times over).

where do we as a community go from here? guess i'm just feeling a little lost right now.

again, none of this is meant to be hateful towards anyone. especially because we don't know who they are in their real lives. we only see their public personas.

and to anyone who is confused as to why we as fans should hold smosh accountable for these instances, they are a company with a massive following. they have influence and the things they say and bring attention to reached millions of people. but beyond that, there are people involved. people getting the short end of the stick, getting hurt, for the benefit of a few.

i hope this all made sense. and wow, it's a long ass post. as always, i really appreciate the other blogs on here for being willing to talk about these things. it makes me feel much less alone in my confusion.

please keep all discussions peaceful. absolutely no hate towards anyone will be tolerated.

#smosh games #smosh pit #smosh mouth #amanda lehan canto #angela giarratana #shayne topp #courtney miller #chanse mccrary #arasha lalani #ian hecox #anthony padilla #damien haas #spencer agnew #tommy bowe #trevor evarts #free palestine #smosh

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forgetmaenott · 3 months ago

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Experimentation - SHOWTIME

SUMMARY: Pomni isn't sure if Caine knows what he feels towards her, so she experiments a little bit. She's just curious. Nothing else. Nothing at all.

a/n: Title is also a double meaning for me, as this fic was written more so as practice for the sillies more than anything else. So apologies If it's a bit all over the place. I wasn't going to upload but Showtime fans are deprived of content so I will give you what you need 🙏

Pomni was far from oblivious to the things that Caine did to impress her.

Initially, it had been small attempts at making her happy--no doubt as a result of her first few adventures being particularly unpleasant. Caine didn't seem to understand most things about human responses, but it was of Pomni's understanding that it was in his programming to make everyone happy. And Pomni, from day one, had made it exceedingly clear just how unhappy she was. If anything, she was a challenge to Caine's coding, just begging to be fixed. Why wouldn't he put in a slight more effort for one of his superstars?

With time, though, his check-ins and side quests for her grew into...something else. Lingering touches on her hand or shoulder, seeking opportunities to show her, and only her, a preview of an upcoming adventure. Sometimes she caught his lingering gazes, his artificial eyes searching for validation of his work, and it made her wish to shrink away. He'd move his thumb lightly across her hand experimentally, sending a rush of nerves through Pomni's system. Or he'd fly around excitedly--often at the expense of Pomni's stomach--to show her something new he had coded into the circus. Or he'd show up in her room under the guise of a check-in, only to stay and talk with her for nearly an hour. He hung onto her every word, and Pomni had to admit to herself, she rather enjoyed his presence in those times. Getting to explain bits of her real life memories to his fascinated gaze; as she regained the pieces of what real life had been like, he was just beginning to understand it.

Just a day ago, she had found herself mindlessly recounting vague details of reality that she had once adored--the flickering of stars in a quiet night, the humming of crickets, the feeling of a slight breeze, the slight running of water nearby. She didn't know where that memory originated from, but she could still feel it. It was strange, not remembering facts but remembering feelings.

And now, she found herself recounting these thoughts as she waited for Caine on a "special adventure", staring at the way the digital stars twinkled in the night sky, and how her wisps of hair gently brushed across her face in the breeze.

His favoritism wasn't subtle, but Pomni had always tried to deny it to her friends. But now, standing here and seeing the ripples on the digital lake, she couldn't help but wonder. Was it really so bad? Wasn't it almost endearing that Caine had found himself so enamored with her? That he was falli--

"Good evening, my dear!"

Pomni stiffened at the sound of her ringmaster's enthusiastic voice, jumping out of her thoughts and flushing at the realization of what she had been considering. "AGH--Caine! How many times have I told you--"

"Ah, apologies, my dear. I just can't help but be over-the-moon about your private adventure!" Caine winked at his not-so-subtle play on words, zipping around excitedly above her.

Pomni rubbed her head. "Uh...okay...that's great," she said quietly.

"Isn't it?? I stayed up ALL night working on this just for you! Not that I need to sleep, of course," he chuckled before lowering to her level, carefully grabbing her hand in both of his, "But I did it! Just for you, dear."

"Just for me?" she repeated mindlessly. Her mind screamed the same words: AI, Program, NOT REAL, but she couldn't help but gaze again at the flickering stars and wonder--

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"O-oh." There it was. His favoritism showing itself once again, his devotion to her and her alone. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, gazing down at her hand as though he wished to memorize each detail. This was crazy. She couldn't let him be so foolish as to be interested in her, she couldn't let this go any further. "Caine--"

"Ah, ah, ah! This adventure is about you. I have SO much to show you!" His gentleness faded instantaneously from the excitement, the pressure on her hands growing tighter as he pulled her in. Before she could even process the closeness or the fluster, he grabbed her waist and graciously flew her above the lake. He set her down on a digital cloud, which she was able to step on as though it were a solid surface. She avoided looking down, tensing as she looked around her. "As your ringmaster, it is my sole purpose to make YOU and all of your co-stars happy," he exclaimed, pointing an exaggerated finger at her, "and I couldn't help but notice how your mannerisms changed when you told me about your world. My dear...I cannot return you to your world. But perhaps, I can bring your world here."

Pomni's heart skipped a beat at the gesture, which she tried to ignore. This wasn't the same Caine from her bad dreams when she'd first arrived. This was...different. Entirely different. "For...all of us?" she asked slowly.

His demeanor broke for a moment. "Ah--yes, yes. Of course! My role is to assure everyone at the circus is happy," He paused in thought for a moment before he flew down by her side and cautiously approached her, "but admittedly, you've been quite the challenge for me since you've arrived here. You're a bit stubborn, you know."

"Is that a bad thing?" Pomni cracked a smile.

"Not exactly, dear. It's one of my favorite traits of yours. It's what keeps me coming back to you," Caine said with what she assumed was a smile.

Pomni felt a light blush dust her pale face. "I don't think you know what you're saying."

Caine titled his head curiously at her. "Why is that?"

Pomni blinked. He really didn't know what he was saying, did he? Did he even know what he was feeling? Could he even feel anything?

She glanced sidelong at the flickering stars, the lake below her, the way the clouds swirled up and floated around them--enough to give her the courage to test the waters. Before she could listen to the voices in her mind screaming at her, she grabbed his gloved hand in hers. "So...you like that I'm a challenge to your purpose? Or is it something else?" she asked experimentally, hoping the quiver in her voice wasn't too obvious.

Caine's eyes widened at the sudden contact, too afraid to move his hand an inch at the risk that she would let go. Not that Pomni could see his reaction, as she was too busy looking at her red and blue shoes to avoid meeting his gaze with her flushed one. "Something...else? What would that be?"

She lightly traced her index finger along the edge of his hand. Oh, God. She didn't even know what she was doing. How does she even answer a question like that to an AI? "Well...what do you, uh, feel?" She sealed the gap between their fingers, interlacing them together carefully.

If Caine could breathe, his breath would have easily caught in his non-existent throat. "I feel that I want you to be happy."

"Because of your programming? Or...something else?" Pomni said before she could cringe at her own words. She was just asking because she was curious, that was all. She just wanted to know if he knew what romantic feelings even were, nothing more. Or so she told herself.

"Well, I want you to be happy all the time. Because of me. That is my purpose, isn't it?"

Pomni smiled half-heartedly. Intentional or not, he was making this extra difficult for her. "Yeah..." she agreed quietly, a strange pit settling in her stomach. Maybe he was just coded to be this way. Maybe she was just being extra difficult. Before she could think of anything else to say, the sudden sensation of his smooth teeth against her hand sent shockwaves up from her hand and into her digital heart. She stilled at the sensation, gaining the courage to meet his gaze as he lifted his teeth from her hand, a cartoonish flush appearing on his lower jaw.

"But, I do find myself feeling more...drawn to your happiness, dear," he admitted, looking to the side sheepishly. He brushed his thumb against her knuckles where he had left a kiss, causing Pomni to shiver. "My dear? Did I do something wrong?"

Pomni squeezed her pinwheel eues shut, tensing her shoulders. "No, no--Caine you--" she stuttered, "I..." God, what happened to her composure? She had never been like this around him before. But suddenly every movement against his hand sent chills across her body, every thing he'd done to make her happy felt significant, and--oh, God. She couldn't possibly be--

"Darling," Caine said, so quietly Pomni almost couldn't believe it was him. His hand trailed up to the curve of her chin, gazing at her so softly she felt dizzy, "you don't need to worry around me. You've taught me so much about your world, about how the human mind works. So dear...don't be afraid to teach me more."

Pomni couldn't tear her eyes away from his gaze, tongue tied by his intense adoration in his eyes. "What is it you want to know?" she asked quietly, her lips seeming to move before her mind could catch up.

"Anything you have to show me."

There was certianly no way he understood what he was implying.

And there was even less of a chance she was actively considering all the things she could show him. She blushed at the thought.

"Caine?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I love this. All of this. Everything you've added to the grounds for me. It's sweet of you, and...it really feels a bit more like home. I-I just thought you'd want to know that it...you made me happy. Thank you."

Caine's eyes glistened cartoonishly, unable to tear his eyes from her. "Pomni," he sighed, saying her name for the first time all night somehow felt more intimate than any contact they'd had, "why is it that I feel this way?"

Pomni flushed. "What way?"

"I have made you happy, my very purpose as your ringmaster. But now, I don't want to stop making you happy. I..." he tightened his grip on her hand, "I've never been close like this to anyone before. Truly. Would it be so bold as to call you a friend?"

Pomni struggled to contain an incredulous laugh--he really didn't understand what he felt, did he? "I...think you're becoming a friend to me, as well," she admitted, staring down at their hands still clasped together. He had moved the hand on her face down to hold the top of her hand, gently rubbing circles against it. In the back of her mind, she still felt the imprint of his teeth against her hand, her heart speeding up at the thought. "Caine?"

"Mm?"

"Is it...well, um...would it be okay if...I taught you, one more thing?"

"Why Pomni, I'd love nothing more than that!"

Pomni smiled. "Okay, it's just..." she hesitated, allowing herself to get caught up in the way the stars twinkled around them before tracing her hands up to his chest, then his shoulder, then below his lower jaw. She could see him gazing at her curiously, stiffening at the way her hands slid up him. Before she could regret it or think twice, she moved closer and tilted his teeth to her right before planting a quick, firm kiss to the left side of his lower jaw.

Time stilled for Caine, pupils dilating and jaw frozen slack in place as she pulled away. The stars he had created just for her reflected in his eyes, her touch lingering everywhere they made contact. He didn't even realize he had placed his hand on his lower jaw until he saw her flushed face pulling away. His tongue tied, breath stolen from his metaphorical lungs, he could do nothing but stare at the woman before him that somehow seemed more beautiful than ever under his starlight.

Pomni's heart raced at the way he was looking at her. This was all too much. Why had she even done that? What was going on with her tonight? When he stared at her, frozen in time, her face burned more and she twiddled her thumbs. "U-uh, can you put me down, now?"

It took Caine a moment to register her words. "Y-yes. Of course, darling."

He didn't even have it in him to carry her down with him. No, she had left his code too starstruck with the gesture that mystified him. He simply snapped and the two of them were by the digital lake. She walked towards it and experimentally dipped her gloved finger into the waters, relishing in the sensations around her digits.

She looked back at him with a small smile, his code seeming to thrum excitedly at seeing her joy because of him.

Her taking the next step of intimacy left him confused, to say the least. There was far less about human emotion and mind that he understood, and if anything, the static-like feelings in his chest were nothing short of a mystery to him. Perhaps he'd have to check himself for a bug later.

No matter. He shook the thoughts from his head, the feeling still lingering as her floated by her side, unable to stop smiling at her quiet demeanor. She took in every detail he had added just for her, smiling to herself.

She'd have time to regret her forwardness later. Or scream into her pillow about developing a crush on an AI. For now, there was only this moment.

"Thank you, Caine."

"Anything for you, my dear."

And he meant it.

#I said I'd write them AND I MEANT IT #this is more so writing practice though lol #to my mutuals who follow me for mental health stuff LOOK THE OTHER WAY LMAO #it’s a bit all over the place but i wanted to get something out heheh #tadc #the amazing digital circus #showtime #showtime tadc #tadc showtime #pomni x caine #caine x pomni

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jinnie-ret · 1 year ago

Note

im not sure if this is an ask but ive been thinking about skz with a younger sister reader who debuts as an idol !! imagine her being in newjeans since skz already enjoy their songs (looking at changbin and lee know 👀) I think it would be so cute !! them cheering her on and singing her songs at award shows !! or even them mcing together or meeting at isac 💗💕💖

its just something I wanted to share and I enjoy your posts so much I thought I would drop it here to see what you think 😭😭💗 feel free to write about it tho if you would like !!! 🫶🫶

so say it ditto

stray kids x sister!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 0.7k

summary: the boys support their sister's venture in joining newjeans

I hope you enjoy! Sorry it's a little bit crappy haha, but if you did enjoy or wanna be added to my taglist then let me know! :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Being the youngest of your siblings, and all of your older brothers having debuted in a Kpop group together, called Stray Kids, you had definitely felt the pressure to debut. Your family was complicated, yes, with your mum having multiple different partners in the past, the reason why most of your siblings had different surnames, sans a few of you.

Meaning Lee Know's dad had been out of the picture until your mother rekindled her relationship with him and that's how Felix came about. But she had been staying with your dad, the one you shared with Jeongin, and you think she was settled now.

With this stability it felt like the pressure lessened yet you wanted to show your brothers too that you could do what they do. You could copy them. You could imitate them. Like ditto.

They were so proud when you debuted in NewJeans, alongside your fellow members, Hanni, Haerin, Minji, Danielle and Hyein. They'd be constantly sending messages to their fans over bubble and texting you directly as well about how excited they were for you.

Some fans thought that it had been done on purpose. You were already known in the public eye as Stray Kid's younger sister, but now you had created an image for yourself. And quite frankly, with how viral your songs had gone, you didn't need that label attached to you to be successful.

And your brothers never failed in reminding you just how viral your songs were. Whether it was through tiktoks they uploaded or if it was clips you had seen of them singing karaoke. Not to mention the videos they'd send into the groupchat.

"Cuz I-I-I-I! Know what you like boy!!!" Changbin yelled into his phone, before Lee Know and Han came up behind him in the video and screamed the second line.

"Thank you, brothers, I can no longer hear," you deadpanned into your own phone camera as you sent back a video of your own, which was meant with either laughing messages or mocking ones.

But those are brothers for you.

You couldn't even avoid their teasing when you were working too. You were MCing for Music Bank, where they had just performed their new song 'S-CLASS'. And now it was time for you to interview them.

"Welcome back to Music Bank! We're joined with Stray Kids who just performed their new song, 'S-CLASS', here they are, jaaa," you introduced them and made a cute little awkward sound, one that resembled Seungmin's 'Staaa'.

Chan and Felix, who were stood right next to you, did their best to muffle their laughs as the camera panned to them. You were thankful for that because it meant you could fan your flustered face.

"Jaaa, 1, 2, 3. Step out! We are Stray Kids!" Chan led your brothers into their introduction, making fun of the little sound you made.

"Hyunjin ssi," you began professionally, making the others gasp.

"Ssi? I'm your brother!" Hyunjin gasped, and you looked panicked at the camera before seeing the crew laughing as well.

"Yahhhhh! They pranked me saying I needed to be formal!" you whined as you crouched down with your cue cards.

"Ok, let's try this again, welcome Stray Kids oppas!!" you smile this time and the interview went much more smoothly, yet you still sighed with relief once it was over. It had been even more difficult this time as you were handling it on your own without your usual co-host.

"Wow that was the hardest interview I've ever done! And we've had all of Seventeen sunbaenim here," you rested your hands on your hips as you looked up sternly at your brothers from backstage.

"Just because our little Y/Nnie was nervous," Seungmin ruffled your hair, making you groan as you pushed him away.

"Hey, hey, she's still new to all this," Felix helped you flatten out your hair.

"I'm doing good though, right?" you looked up hopefully, not joking around this time and wanting their approval.

"Are you kidding me? Of course you are!" Han burst out.

"Your songs are so addictive as well, you're really going on a good path here," Changbin nodded as well.

"We're all proud of you," Jeongin nodded patting you on the shoulders.

"You're doing so great," Lee Know nodded too.

And that was exactly what you needed. Even though it was an awkward funny interview, having their reassurance meant the world to you.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #skz sister #stray kids sister

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emeritusemeritus · 9 days ago

Note

if you’re taking requests can you do fred x artist!reader maybe? it’s okay if not though! (:

Hi love! Let me start by saying I’m sorry that this completely took on a life of its own. I started writing and I couldn’t stop, too engrossed in the story. I wasn’t sure what kind of art you wanted to include so I made the reader a painter/ designer and an all round creative. I’ve sobbed writing this and I’ve even had to split it into two parts because I’ve fallen down a hole and written over 8 thousand words, not joking.

I hope you enjoy! I shall now go and rest 😂🖤

Part 2 will be posted HERE once it is uploaded.

Warnings: ANGST. Sadness, breakups, illusions to cheating, breakup references. Happy ending I promise! Talks of marriage, proposals, Hagrid and his creatures, Fang being the goodest boy. Lots of tears and sadness but it gets better! Not beta read nor spellchecked, apologies for any mistakes. Timeline is a little wonky (picturing it OOTP just before the twins departure but there’s no war/no Umbridge)

Word count: 4.9k [Part 1&2= 8.2k] 😬

The Artist and the Entrepreneur part 1

You walked into your dorm in an exhausted slump, trying desperately not to sigh too loudly of our sheer exhaustion in order to not wake your dorm mates. It was nearly 11:30pm by the time you had made it back to the dorms, having to wake and then calm down the fat lady who was not willing to listen to your explanation of why you were out so late. You needed to bathe and get to sleep, ready for classes the next morning but you could barely function, trying desperately to summon the energy to undress and make your way to the bathrooms. It was a necessary evil but it had to be done and so you dragged your near-lifeless body to the bathroom and began running a bath, which thankfully filled up quickly with almost perfect temperature water. You grimaced as you peeled the uniform away from your body, wincing at a particularly nasty wound on your right forearm which you would attempt to heal after you'd bathed. Your hands were covered in paint, mud and whatever else had made their way under your nails, arms littered with paint splatters and other vague marks.

Sinking down into the water, you forced yourself to stay awake feeling suddenly soothed by the warm water, both physically and mentally. It had been a hard couple of weeks, stretched beyond your means as your timetable suddenly doubled. You were tired, exhausted and still there was another week to go of this madness, but it would all worth it on the end.

You dried quickly, assisting yourself with a flick of your wand and dressed into your pyjamas, hardly managing to scoop up your dirty uniform on your way back to bed.

5am came much quicker than you'd have liked. It was almost as if you'd closed your eyes and opened them again only a minute later. You crawled out of bed trying again to stay silent and reached for the clean set of uniform and robes on the chair beside your bed, kicking the lump of dirty uniform under your bed to deal with later. You slipped into the bathrooms to dress so that you wouldn't wake anyone and slipped down to the common room, pray in that you didn't see anyone on the way. You cast a glance at the boys dormitory staircase and felt a stab of sorrow thinking of Fred and how you'd barely seen him in the past two weeks. You were often gone before breakfast and not back until well past curfew, not that either of the twins ever abided by the rules.

"Oh shush," you said to the fat lady who had begun her usual spiel of sounding the alarm due to you being out of bed out of hours, not listening nor remembering the speech you'd given everyday for the past two weeks as you attempted to sneak out. You couldn't afford to be discovered by the prefects nor any teachers roaming the corridors, as above board as your mission was- you couldn't risk Fred finding out what you were doing.

Sunlight shone through the windows as you made your way around the castle, holding back a shiver at the coldness of the castle in the late March morning, your robes doing very little to shield you from the chill. You crept out of the castle and marvelled at the beautiful first rays of daylight peaking through the trees of the forbidden forest. You looked ahead and saw that smoke was billowing from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, the only sign of life against the otherwise serene backdrop of the forbidden forest. You made your way slowly, enjoying the peaceful walk down to the hut, hoping that Hagrid had put the kettle on in anticipation of your arrival.

"Morning y/n!" Hagrid says with a wide smile, bustling around in the small hut, much too awake for this time in the morning. Fang in stark contrast lay slumped in his bed and half asleep, continuously disturbed by Hagrid's banging. A steaming cup of tea lay waiting for you on the table and you thank him graciously, taking a soothing sip of the hot liquid. You look at the clock on the wall beside the window as see that it's nearly half 5 now, the sun rising in the sky and greeting an almost ethereal light across the magnificent castle, a sight that still amazed you even seven years later.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Hagrid asks, noticing you gazing up at the castle and you share a smile for a moment, the tiredness having faded now thanks to the alarmingly strong cup of tea that you'd now become accustomed to.

"Ready to get to work now?" He asks, watching you drain the last of the tea from the large mug. You try to hide your disappointment from being dragged out once again to the edge of the forest, knowing that you'd signed up for this. You nod with a smile, navigating around the large table as you move towards to door behind Hagrid. You shoot a look towards Fang, wanting to give him a parting stroke but you notice quickly that he's fallen back to sleep and so you leave him alone to snooze, wishing that you could too.

It was nearly half 8 when you walked into the great hall, taking a brief detour to the bathrooms as you washed your hands and to hide any evidence of your morning. Your early start was already catching up to you and you hid a yawn behind the sleeve of your robe as you walked through the doors of the great hall. You checked your robe one last time for any signs of evidence but thankfully you were clear, noticing only a moment later when you took you'll place at the table that there was a great dollop of pint upon your shoe.

"Here she is," George says from across the table, nodding his head towards you as you climbed onto the bench beside Ron in the gap between him and Neville.

"Switch with Y/n Ronald," Fred says from beside him without a hint of a please. Knowing he won't get any manners out of his older brother, Ron complies and shifts up to allow you to sit beside your boyfriend.

"Thanks Ron," you say, trying to hold off the yawn that was threatening to break free at any moment.

"Morning beautiful, you're late," Fred says, his hand slipping across your back as you pour yourself a large glass of pumpkin juice. He frowns at the coldness of your robes beneath his fingers but doesn't say anything. "You overlay again?"

"Yeah," you lie, feeling immediately guilty about the fact. "Snape's set us a load of work, took me ages to figure it out last night. Didn't get a lot of sleep." As if to prove your point, the yawn you'd been suppressing finally escapes with so much force that it makes your eyes water.

You manage to force down some toast, staying quiet as the conversation continues around you. The first bell rings and you barely hold back a sigh, detesting the fact that you'd have to get up again.

"I can walk you to potions?" Fred says, holding his hand out to help you off the bench. You're quick to conceal the paint on your shoe and if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"And have you late for charms again?" You counter, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend who just shrugs completely unfazed.

"Haven't seen you much lately, thought you'd been avoiding me."

His words feel like a stab directly to your heart, knowing that you were guilty of avoiding him, though it wasn't in a negative way. Your craved the time with him, of mischief in the late hours and spontaneous moments in hidden corridors and empty classrooms.

"I promise I'm not," you say with a smile, trying to vanquish his idea completely as you lean up to press a kiss to his full lips. His arms immediately grab your waist as he pulls you in for a deeper kiss that borders on inappropriate but you relent, unable to resist after not seeing him properly for so long.

"So, potions?" Fred smirks, pulling away. You chuckle, placing your hands on his chest.

"For me? Yes. For you? No, get to charms," you order playfully, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips before turning away. "See you at lunch!"

You can hear his boyish chuckle as you walk away down the corridor in the opposite direction of him, praying that he would be entirely too focused on the swishing of your behind and that the paint on your shoe would go entirely unseen.

By lunch you were completely exhausted, too tired to even notice the suspicious side-eyes from the identical twins as they watched you poke around at your food and down a second cup of very strong tea, having outwardly complained that the first one was too weak. Uncharacteristically for them, they said nothing and continued to chatter amongst themselves, keeping the conversation open for you though you didn't give much imput.

"Fancy the black lake tonight, after hours?" Fred whispers in your ear, knowing even without looking that a smirk would be tugging at his lips. You inwardly grimaced, cursing your ridiculous secret plan as you wished more than anything that you could join him. You were running out of excuses now, finding it hard to keep track with what you'd already lied about.

"I can't tonight, got an essay for snape in the morning I've still not finished," you say with a guilty expression, almost wincing as the words too-effortlessly tumble out of your mouth. "Friday night I promise?"

He seems put out almost instantly, never one to be able to conceal his emotions well. He looks frustrated, confused and rejected within seconds of each other and gives a halfhearted nod at your counter offer of Friday instead.

The bell rings signalling the end of lunch and you hope for a kiss before parting but lose all hope when you feel his lips briefly brush your hairline and he runs off to catch up with George and Angelina.

You avoided the common room after classes, choosing instead to sneak down to Hagrid's a little early, thankful for Thursday evening Quidditch practice which meant that you wouldn't cross paths with Fred.

"Y/n, I'm nipping out tomorrow on dumbledores orders, think you could nip down and check in everything while I'm gone?" Hagrid says as you out dutifully complete your given task, hoping to get it done quickly so you could try and salvage a bit of time tonight for Fred. His questions throws you off for long enough that you feel a hot gust of fire breezing past your right ear, followed by a burning sensation in the same spot. He's quick to act and gets you out of harms way before any more damage is done whilst you remain slightly frozen in both fear and contemplation. You knew you couldn't say no, in debt to his generosity and so you simply nodded, already dreading the implications of your acceptance.

It's late once again when you arrive at the common room, only half an hour til curfew, and despite your attempts at hiding your tiredness and attempting to appear happy and neutral, you can't help but feel the guilt swirling in your gut when you see Fred and George pedalling their products to the younger students with wide smiles on their faces and still dressed in their quidditch uniforms. You sneak up to Fred once he's done with a sale and slip behind him, placing your hand on his shoulder to alert him to your presence.

Only, when he turns around his smile slowly fades upon realisation that it's you and your heart immediately begins to break, knowing that it was the other way round. He doesn't instantly reach out for you with his big grabby hands like usual nor does he attempt to kiss you. You try and salvage the situation, putting more effort in, trying to be as normal as possible but he seems to see right through the act.

"Wanna sneak out? I hear the black lake is beautiful this time of night." You say with a smirk, trying desperately to mask your tiredness and to hold it together. He doesn't jump at the chance as you hoped and instead casts a cursory glance to George before turning back to you.

"Can't tonight, got to restock the snack boxes with George," he says, briefly touching your hand before a third year calls his name, hand outstretched ready to buy one of his creations. Your stomach sinks, knowing that it's a lie and the irony of the situation only seems to hurt you more as you feel your eyes well up with fresh tears. You excuse yourself immediately, not even greeting your friends who you can tell are watching the tense exchange and you hope more than anything that no one follows you. You're completely depleted with exhaustion, running on hardly any sleep and completely overworked by your own doing. Suddenly the outcome didn't seem worth it and you regretted ever starting, finding your idea foolish.

You let your tears flow as you shower, passively washing away the fresh marks from the day off your arms, the clear gel and the colourful spatters draining away down the plug hole with your tears. You wince in pain when the water falls directly onto the freshly wounded skin behind your ear and your neck, execrating yourself for missing that spot despite Hagrid's warnings.

Too tired and upset to face going back down to the common room, you give up and reward yourself with an early night, though you feel anything but rewarded.

5am came around once more and more than ever you begrudgingly pulled yourself from the warm bed and slipped into the bathroom, the reminder of Fred's rejection playing on your mind from the second your eyes opened. Had you dreamt about it? Either way his reaction was firmly imprinted on your mind and you couldn't get away from how desperately painful it was to have him reject you like that. You slipped out of the common room on autopilot, closing the door with a little too much force already anticipating the fat lady's usual ranting and slumped off towards Hagrid's hut. The skies looked as sombre and sorrowful as you felt, covering the sky in a dull grey hue that seemed to dull the normally beautiful sunrise. You were quiet this morning, not rude or impolite but simply quiet as you worked alongside Hagrid, consumed by your foreboding thoughts knowing that you would still have to cancel Fred tonight, if he even cared anymore.

Once your morning jobs were complete, you decline any further invite to stay and decide instead to sneak back into the castle for breakfast, hoping you could join your friends and boyfriend like usual. Breakfast had only just begun when you walked into the great hall, having made your usual stop off at the girls bathrooms on the way and you're not surprised when the only person sat at the table is Hermione who's already got her head down in a book. She lifts her head up to greet you happily as you sit opposite her at the table, beginning to place her bookmark on the page she's on but you tell her not to, to enjoy the peace whilst she can. She shoots you a grateful smile and you sit enjoying your second cup of tea in peace, thankful you could make this happen today. You knew it was at the expense of your other jobs and you'd most certainly pay for it in the long run but having half of the morning to reset still felt good.

"Morning," Angelina says as a sits down at the table next to Hermione who this time only says a passive greeting, much too engrossed in her book. Angelina reached immediately for a glass of pumpkin juice before rubbing her eyes and yawning at the early hour.

"Not been sleeping well?" You ask with relative concern for your friend, watching her yawn for a second time within seconds. "Staying up late trying to find a loophole in quidditch rules again?" You joke with a smile, watching as she shoots you a mock glare even though it was most probably true, only to be interrupted by her third yawn.

"I wish! Still never finished reading that rule book," she snorts. "I know there's something there I've missed." She takes a sip of her pumpkin juice and you watch as she swallows down another yawn. "I was at the black lake with the twins last night, didn't get back til late."

It's amazing that you don't choke on your own pumpkin juice as the words glide out of her mouth, your stomach sinking like a stone at the implications. You knew Angelina and there was no malice nor hidden meaning behind her words but it still stings more than getting caught in the path of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Fred had openly lied to you, had rejected you and had invited Angelina in your place. You're frozen in place by the revelation but Angelina doesn't notice, now heartily tucking into her breakfast, though you do notice hermione peeking over her book to look at you. Tears begin to prickle your eyes as the sinking feeling in your gut consumes you, your thoughts spiralling out of control. He didn't want you anymore, you'd pushed him too far to come back from, all with him in mind.

You barely noticed when Ron, Ginny and Harry appeared at the table but you noticed immediately when you heard two very familiar voices echoing as Fred and George walked into the great hall. You had to leave, you had to get out before then took their places. A part of you, wether it was self-punishment or morbid curiosity wanted to stay and see if Fred would chose to sit next to you, to see if he'd interact with you or be cold and distant but you couldn't do it, knowing that the latter would kill you. You stood up so quickly that you bumped your knee on the bottom of the table with a resounding thud that seemed to draw everyone's attention to you but you didn't stick around to shrivel under their curious gazes. There was no way you could avoid Fred now as he made his way to the table but you couldn't do anything about that. Placing your hand over your mouth, you feigned queasiness and ran out of the hall, straight past Fred and George.

Climbing up the spiralling staircase from potions, your stomach sank when you saw a familiar form resting against one of the pillars in the corridor, his shining red hair leaving no doubt as to who it was. You waited for your fellow classmates to disperse, signalling for Alicia to go ahead with the others, leaving you and Fred alone. You half hoped for the first time ever that you'd gotten the twins mixed up

And that it was actually George that was waiting for you but as you walked over with a faux smile on your face, there was no doubt in your mind that it was Fred.

"Hi," you said, sounding awkward even to your own ears. He gives you a look, apparently having noticed your unusually formal greeting too and reaches out for you as if nothing was wrong. His touch feels wrong, the lies feeling like an impenetrable barrier between you and you don't sink into his touch as you usually did, nor do you make any attempt to reach out for him in return.

"Still want to go to the black lake tonight?" He says, reaching out to play with a strand of your hair from the haphazardly thrown up ponytail. His words feel like a knife, like a taunt of what you missed out in last night. Did he know that you knew about his jaunts last night or was he planning on denying the entire thing and acting like nothing was wrong?

You couldn't bite your tongue any longer, the unyielding sleep deprivation affecting your ability to regulate your emotions and you pulled yourself back out of his reach with a venomous look in your eyes.

"Thought you'd have seen enough of it with Angelina last night,' you spit out, the quickly fading logical part of your brain hardly believing that you were having this conversation with Fred, the downfall of your relationship taking you completely by surprise as it's ungodly pace. He blanches, face flushing pale as his ears turn more and more pink upon hearing your words. His eyes widen momentarily and the sickness in your gut increases as you note how panicked he looks, your fears confirmed that he was intending on not telling you anything.

"Princess," he says, trying to bounce back from his momentary shock as he reaches out for you but you avoid his hand entirely, blocking him by slightly turning your body to the right, away from him.

"My name is y/n," you counter, uncaring for his term of endearment. His brown creases but in a flash it's gone, his gaze now focused on your ear. You watch as his eyes harden, no longer looking guilty as his eyes set into a hard stare that grazes across your face until he finally looks into your eyes, somehow in competition with you for how angry you can gaze at eachother.

"It's not my whereabouts that need questioning though is it?" He says through partially gritted teeth, unrelenting eyes staring into your soul.

"What are you talking about?" You counter, trying desperately to hold onto your anger but it's quickly draining from you under his suspicious scrutiny.

"Seems you forgot to hide that one," he spits, pointing to the mark behind your ear. Your gaze softens immediately as you realise what he's pointing to- the pink mark on your neck. In your haste to not set your hair on fire in potions, you'd quickly tied up your hair and had completely forgotten that the mark on your neck would now be visible.

"Fred," you say, the tables turning on you now as you cower under his powerful gaze.

"Thought it was odd that you kept disappearing," he says with a grumble, his voice sounding so cold and distant that you barely recognise it. "Who is he?"

"What?" You ask suddenly, quietly, completely floored by his accusation, your mouth agape as you look upon the heated gaze of your boyfriend, though you quickly realise it may be the last time you can call him that. Never had you thought that he would have accused you of cheating. Finding out your secret maybe but this? Never.

"You heard me, who is it? Bet it's Towler isn't it," he sneers, almost spitting as he says Kenneth Towler's name to taunt you. "Reckon he's long overdue for a second dose of bulbadox powder."

You're frozen in disbelief at the furthering accusations he's spouting, his mind already wandering back to Kenneth Towler who's skin had erupted into boils during your fifth year thanks to Fred putting Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas when he'd come on to you a bit too strongly during a mid-season Quidditch game. Fred had been so distracted upon seeing Towler attempt to drape his arm around you that it caused him to miss an oncoming bludger that caught the tail end of Wood's broom, throwing him off balance and equating in a deciding goal that had given Ravenclaw the lead, that then resulted in their victory over Gryffindor. Fred had been furious, not at you naturally but at Towler who he'd declared had lost them the whole game and had vowed a form of revenge by adding the bulbadox.

"It is isn't it?" He prods, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No!" You say with vengeance, wanting to shoot down that accusation straight away. "There's no one," you add. He huffs out a humourless laugh that makes your entire body fill with dread.

"Well someone's giving you those marks and it's certainly not me!" He argues, "haven't let me anywhere near you for weeks, which is funny because you're usually up for it whenever."

Your blood runs cold at his words and you resist the instinctual urge to slap him right across his stupid face. It's like the four years of your relationship have been nothing to him; pulled apart and mocked by one single comment that now made you question everything. Was that all it was to him? Were you just easy and available? You felt physically sick by the thought and you were certain that nothing had ever hurt you so deeply before. The boy you'd fallen so helplessly in love for, the one with the fire red hair and the cheeky grin that only ever seemed to have eyes for you had changed so quickly right before your eyes. The very boy that had supported all of your creative dreams, encouraging you to keep painting and keep creating even when you doubted yourself or lacked inspiration. Merlin, most of the time he was your inspiration.

You realise that there's nothing left to say, that any further attempt to defend yourself will only fall on deaf ears and by his last comment, you weren't sure it was worth trying to salvage the joke that had been your relationship. You thought of the secret you'd be hiding, of the real reason you had been sneaking away and lying to him, so far away from his assumption that it was almost laughable- but now completely void of any importance. There was no coming back from this. What you assumed to have been love for the past four years had completely disappeared from his eyes and you knew from this moment onwards that all you would ever see when he gazed upon you would be pure disdain.

It feels like every bone is breaking in your body simultaneously as you walk away, like your heart is directly under the cruciatus curse with the sheer volume of anguish within your body. You've never felt pain like it, completely unable to distinguish exactly where it hurts or why. You let vision is blurred and your body physically hurts, your ears ringing from the screams of pain that resonate around your head but are trapped inside your mind. You don't look at Fred, you can't, nor can you bear to listen for him calling out to you as you walk away, the last glimmer of hope gone.

You consider returning to your dorm and locking yourself away for the foreseeable future, skipping all of your classes and sobbing until you can't anymore as you body screams for you to do but you can't. You can't let anyone see you like that, nor would you be able to answer anyone's questions or deal with their stares. And so, you run to the one place you knew you'd be safe.

Fang greets you enthusiastically the second you push through the door to the empty hut and collapse against the door with a roaring cry. The anguish in your cries is one that you'd never heard emitted from yourself or any other human and you no longer fight back the floods of tears that fall down your face like an unstoppable river that had broken the dam. Fang, sensing your distress, walks over to you and calmly sits beside you, placing his huge head in your lap as you cry. You hold on to the lovable boarhound like an oversized teddy bear as the tears flow, uncaring about the inevitable puddle of drool that he'll leave in your lap, the comfort of the sweet dog more needed than ever.

You don't know how long you sit there crying with your pal by your side for every moment but eventually the tears begin to slow, your breath finally evening out though your heart still pounds, much like your head. Fang lifts his head slightly, his big eyes peering into yours and you give him a thankful smile through the tears, even if he doesn't know exactly what you're trying to convey. He gives your arm a little nudge and in your near delusional state, you assume that it's a reply to your thankfulness. You chuckle, giving him a good scratch of appreciation on his wrinkled forehead at the absurdity of the situation, but you'd be forever thankful that of all things, Fang was the only one that had held you together in your darkest moment.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #Fred Weasley fic #requests #requests completed

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jakesaverse · 5 months ago

Text

ECHOES OF YESTERDAY | JAKE SIM CH.3

Synopsis: On her 21st birthday, Y/n wakes up overwhelmed by guilt and sorrow. It’s not just her birthday; it’s also the third anniversary of her high school boyfriend Jake’s tragic death. Surviving the accident that took Jake’s life, Y/n is haunted by memories of their love and the future they lost. In a moment of desperate longing, she makes a wish to see Jake again and is miraculously transported back in time to when Jake was alive. However, she finds that Jake now hates her, adding a new layer of pain and confusion. Determined to change his fate and earn his tolerance, she resolves to do everything in her power to ensure he escapes death this time.

Reader: Jake x reader

Authors note: Hello! I know it’s been awhile since I’ve uploaded or really updated about my process and I am SOOOO sorry 😭. I’ve had a pretty rough writers block right after I posted my second chapter. And I’m still having it but it’s slowly getting better ❤️‍🩹. This chapter is more on the emotional side ( all of them have been but yk what I mean I hope). Also, this is meant to be slow burn so please keep that in mind. Anyways, thank you for your patience and hopefully it was worth the wait 🥰! Thank you for your support 🫶🫶!!

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Jake jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. The remnants of the nightmare clung to his mind, vivid and tormenting. He could still see the shadows closing in, suffocating him, and the echo of Y/N's words, "I’m trying to save you," haunting his every thought.

He sat up, gasping for air, and looked around his dimly lit room. The broken mirror on the wall caught his eye, a cruel reminder of his earlier outburst. Anger and despair had driven him to punch it, shattering both the glass and a piece of himself.

Jake's hand trembled as he reached for the first aid kit on his bedside table. His wrist was still bleeding, the pain sharp and relentless. He wrapped the bandage around it, each twist of the fabric feeling like a futile attempt to hold himself together.

As he tightened the bandage, tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't escape the image of the man in the mirror—so lost, so alone. The reflection was a stark contrast to the facade he showed the world. In truth, he was drowning in his own isolation, burdened by the weight of his past and the guilt that gnawed at his soul.

Y/N's words echoed louder now, cutting through the silence of the room. "I’m trying to save you ." At first, he had dismissed her as crazy, but now those words felt like a lifeline. Why did he need to be saved? What did she see in him that he couldn't see in himself?

Jake's thoughts spiraled as he tried to make sense of it all. He thought about his life, the constant feeling of not being enough, and the relentless self-blame. He had pushed everyone away, convinced that he didn't deserve their love or friendship. The loneliness was suffocating.

And yet, Y/N's words had pierced through his defenses. Despite everything, they had reached him. Maybe, just maybe, she was right. Maybe he did need saving—from his anger, his guilt, and the darkness that consumed him.

As he looked at the shattered mirror, Jake made a silent vow. He would find out what Y/N meant. He would confront his demons and try to understand why he needed to be saved. It was a small glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak existence, but it was enough to keep him going.

Sunghoon arrived at Jake's apartment early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. He had been worried about Jake ever since their last conversation. Jake had seemed distant, lost in his thoughts, and Sunghoon knew all too well how his friend tended to shut down if he didn't talk about what was bothering him.

Quietly, Sunghoon pulled out the spare key Jake had given him for emergencies and let himself in. He carried a bag of food, hoping that a warm meal might help lift Jake's spirits. As he stepped inside, he was struck by the silence and the disarray. The broken mirror, the scattered shards of glass, and the overall mess painted a clear picture of Jake's turmoil.

Sunghoon found Jake slumped on the couch, looking disheveled and exhausted. His eyes immediately went to the bandaged wrist, the blood seeping through the white fabric. Sunghoon's heart sank.

"Jake, what the hell happened?" Sunghoon's voice was a mix of concern and frustration as he set the bag of food on the table and rushed to his friend's side.

Jake looked up, startled. "Sunghoon? How did you—"

"I used the spare key. I was worried about you." Sunghoon gestured to the bandage. "You hurt yourself again. You can't keep doing this, Jake."

Jake sighed, his head in his hands. "It's nothing, Sunghoon. Just had a rough night."

"Nothing? This is not nothing!" Sunghoon's voice softened as he sat beside Jake. "Talk to me. What's going on? You can't keep bottling this up. It's eating you alive."

For a moment, there was silence. Jake struggled to find the words, his emotions a tangled mess. Finally, he looked up, his eyes filled with pain. "I had a nightmare. It felt so real, and I woke up feeling... broken. I can't shake this feeling, Sunghoon. I feel like I'm drowning in my own thoughts, and I don't know how to stop it."

Sunghoon placed a reassuring hand on Jake's shoulder. "You don't have to go through this alone, Jake. I'm here for you. We all are. But you need to let us in. You need to talk about what's going on inside your head."

Jake nodded slowly, tears brimming in his eyes. "I know. It's just so hard. I feel like I'm not enough, like I'm always failing."

"You're not failing, Jake. You're human. We all have our struggles, but we face them together. You don't have to carry this burden by yourself."

Jake took a deep breath, the weight on his chest feeling a little lighter. "Thanks, Sunghoon. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Sunghoon smiled, giving Jake's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You'll never have to find out. Now, let's get that wrist properly cleaned up, and then we'll figure this out together. One step at a time."

As Sunghoon helped Jake with his bandage and then unpacked the food, a sense of hope began to bloom in the room. It wasn't a solution to all of Jake's problems, but it was a start. And sometimes, that's all you need to begin healing.

Sunghoon sat across from Jake, he was talking about their plans for the upcoming weekend, but he noticed Jake's eyes drifting away, staring blankly out the window. Sunghoon knew this look all too well. Jake often spaced out like this when he was really struggling with something heavy on his mind.

Sunghoon's voice softened, careful not to startle Jake out of his thoughts. "You know, Jake, it's been a while since we went to the beach. How about we get some fresh air?"

Jake blinked, his focus slowly returning to the present. "The beach?"

"Yeah," Sunghoon said with a gentle smile. "It could be good for you. We can invite Jay too. Just the three of us, like old times."

Jake's lips curved into a small, grateful smile. "That sounds nice."

Sunghoon pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text to Jay. Within moments, Jay replied with an enthusiastic "I'm in!"

"Jay's on board," Sunghoon said, standing up and offering his hand to Jake. "Let's go."

They gathered their things and headed out the door. The drive to the beach was filled with light chatter, mostly led by Sunghoon, with Jake giving occasional nods or short responses. Sunghoon didn't mind; he was just glad to see a hint of relaxation in Jake's demeanor.

When they arrived at the beach, Jay was already there, waving at them with a big grin. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey, Jay!" Sunghoon called back, returning the wave.

Jake managed a small smile as they joined Jay by the water. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the salty breeze seemed to lift some of the weight off Jake's shoulders. For a moment, he felt a sense of peace.

They walked along the shore, the sand cool beneath their feet. Jay, always the joker, started telling funny stories about their school days, trying to coax a laugh out of Jake. Sunghoon watched as a small spark of amusement flickered in Jake's eyes.

"Remember that time we tried to build the biggest sandcastle and ended up with more sand on ourselves than on the castle?" Jay said, laughing.

Jake chuckled softly, the sound like music to Sunghoon's ears. "Yeah, and we were so proud of that lopsided thing."

Sunghoon joined in the laughter, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "We should try building another one today. What do you say, Jake?"

Jake looked at his friends, feeling a swell of gratitude. "Yeah, let's do it."

They spent the afternoon building a sandcastle, their laughter mingling with the sound of the waves. For a while, Jake forgot about his troubles, lost in the simple joy of being with his friends. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they sat down on the sand, watching the horizon.

"Thanks, guys," Jake said quietly, his voice filled with emotion. "I really needed this."

Sunghoon wrapped an arm around Jake's shoulders. "We're always here for you, Jake. No matter what."

Jay nodded, his expression serious for once. "Yeah, man. We're a trio. We stick together."

Jake felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't try to hide them. He let them fall, feeling the warmth of his friends' presence. In that moment, he knew he wasn't alone. He had Sunghoon and Jay by his side, and that made all the difference.

You stood motionless in front of the bridge, the biting wind whispering secrets of the past as it brushed against your skin. The bridge held a profound significance, a silent witness to a night that had changed everything. You could still feel the weight of that evening, the crushing despair that had driven you to the edge.

It was late, the kind of late where the world seems to hold its breath. You had been ready to let go, to escape the relentless pain that had become your constant companion. You had stepped onto the bridge, your heart pounding, your mind a chaotic storm. The darkness below had seemed inviting, a final respite from your suffering.

But then, out of the shadows, Jake had appeared. His presence had been like a beacon, a light cutting through your darkest hour.

"Y/N, please don't," he had called out, his voice trembling with fear and love. He had approached you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You don't have to do this. You're not alone. I'm here with you."

Jake had wrapped you in his arms, holding you with a strength that belied his own fears. His embrace had been warm, a sanctuary where your broken pieces could find solace. He had whispered words of comfort, of hope, convincing you that your life was worth living. That night, he had saved you, pulling you back from the brink.

But now, as you stood before the bridge once more, Jake was gone. He had died, leaving a void that nothing could fill. The memory of his sacrifice haunted you, a constant reminder of your guilt. You had never wanted to live, yet Jake had fought so hard for your life. And now, he was dead, and you were still here, drowning in a sea of remorse.

The tears began to fall, slowly at first, then in an uncontrollable torrent. You sank to your knees, your sobs echoing in the emptiness around you. The guilt was overwhelming, the pain unbearable. It felt as if your heart was shattering into a thousand pieces, each one cutting deeper than the last.

"Jake, I'm so sorry," you whispered through your tears. "I miss you so much. Why did you save me?"

The wind continued to blow, carrying your words into the void. You clutched at your chest, the ache of loss and regret consuming you. You remembered his smile, the way his eyes had sparkled with life, and the way he had always known just what to say to make you feel better. But now, those memories were all you had left.

You cried until you had no more tears to shed, your body trembling with the force of your grief. In the stillness that followed, you felt a faint sense of release, as if your tears had washed away a part of the burden you carried. You knew that Jake would never truly be gone, that he lived on in your heart and in the memories you had shared.

As you stood up, you took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs. You looked out over the bridge, the place where Jake had saved your life, and you made a silent promise to him. You would try to live, not just for yourself, but for him. You would carry his memory with you, letting it guide you through the darkness.

Jake stepped out of Sunghoon's car, waving a tired goodbye to his friends. The night air was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the car's interior. Despite his exhaustion, he felt a restless energy coursing through him. He knew he needed to clear his head, so he decided to take a walk, even though it was pretty late.

The streets were eerily quiet, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. Jake walked aimlessly, his thoughts a jumbled mess of regrets and what-ifs. He found himself heading towards the bridge, a place he often went to when he needed to think, to escape, to breathe.

As he approached, he noticed a figure standing by the railing. It took him a moment to realize it was Y/N. She was crying, her shoulders shaking with each sob, the sound barely audible but piercing through the night. Jake's first instinct was to turn around and leave her to her privacy, but something stopped him. He saw himself in her—broken and lost. The raw emotion on her face mirrored the turmoil he felt inside.

Despite everything she had done to get under his skin, he couldn't just leave her there, struggling alone. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to her, his footsteps soft against the pavement. Each step felt like a mile, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"Y/N," he called out gently, his voice almost a whisper.

She looked up, startled, and quickly tried to recompose herself, wiping away her tears with trembling hands. But as soon as she saw him, the facade crumbled. Her eyes, red and swollen, filled with fresh tears. Without thinking, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate hug. Jake stood still for a moment, surprised, but then he felt her body shaking against his, her sobs muffled against his chest.

He hesitated, then slowly brought his arms around her, holding her as she broke down. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the night wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their shared pain.

Jake could feel her tears soaking through his shirt, her grip on him tightening as if she was afraid he would disappear. He gently rested his chin on top of her head, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears. He didn't know what to say, didn't know if there were any words that could ease her pain. So he just held her, letting her cry, letting her release the torrent of emotions that had been building up inside her.

"You're not alone," he whispered finally, his voice breaking. "I'm here."

Y/N's sobs grew louder, more anguished, as if his words had opened a floodgate. She clung to him, her body shaking with the force of her crying. Jake tightened his hold on her, his heart aching for her, for them both. In that moment, all the resentment, all the anger he had harbored towards her seemed to dissolve, replaced by a deep, aching empathy.

They stood there for what felt like hours, the night growing colder around them. Eventually, Y/N's sobs began to subside, her breathing becoming more even. She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Jake nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Anytime," he replied softly.

They stood there in silence, the bridge their silent witness, the night their only companion. For the first time in a long while, Jake felt a sense of purpose. He didn't have the answers, didn't know what the future held, but for now, being there for Y/N was enough.

You and Jake walked side by side, the dim streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. You reached the nearest shop that was still open, a small convenience store with a flickering neon sign that buzzed faintly in the cool night air.

"I'm going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?" Jake asked, his voice breaking the silence. There was a softness in his tone that made your heart ache.

You shook your head. "No, I'm good."

Jake raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. He disappeared into the store, leaving you standing outside, your thoughts racing. You couldn't tell him the truth—that you had traveled back in time to save him. How could you explain something so unbelievable?

As you waited, memories of the accident flooded your mind. The screeching tires, the shattering glass, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness. You squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push the images away, but they clung to you like shadows.

A few minutes later, Jake emerged with a bottle of water and a small bag of chips. He handed the chips to you. "I know you said you didn't want anything, but I got these for you anyway."

You took the bag hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his. "Thanks," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

You started walking back, the crunch of gravel under your feet the only sound. Jake glanced at you sideways, his brow furrowed with concern. "So, why did you say I needed to be saved?"

Your heart skipped a beat. You had to think fast. "Oh, I was just... you know, being dramatic. I didn't mean anything by it."

Jake stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "You don't have to lie to me, Y/N. I can tell something's been bothering you."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. "It's nothing, really. Just... a lot on my mind."

Jake reached out and gently touched your arm, his expression softening. He wasn't your biggest fan, mainly because it always seemed like you had your life together, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He knew it was wrong to assume and dislike you for that, but those feelings had lingered for so long.

However, when he saw you a couple of minutes ago, with that same look and feeling he had been battling his whole life, something inside him shifted. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks—how much of a jerk he had been. Jake's heart ached with regret as he looked at you, finally understanding the weight of his misguided resentment.

"You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you."

You felt a lump in your throat. You wanted to tell him everything, to unburden yourself of the secret that weighed so heavily on your heart. But you couldn't. Not yet. Instead, you forced a smile. "Thanks, Jake. That means a lot."

You continued walking in silence, the tension between you palpable. As you guys neared the corner where you would part ways, Jake stopped and turned to you, his expression serious.

"We should probably figure out when to meet up for the project," he said, breaking the moment you had shared.

You nodded, grateful for the change in topic. "Yeah, how about tomorrow after school?"

"Sounds good," Jake replied. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "And if you ever need to talk, I'm here. Anytime."

Your heart ached at his kindness. At the kindness you haven’t been able to witness for a couple of years now. “Thanks, Jake. I'll remember that."

As you went your separate ways, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. You wanted to tell him the truth, but you knew you couldn't. Not yet. For now, you would have to carry the weight of your secret alone.

Jake sat alone in his room, the weight of his actions crashing down on him with unbearable force. He had always prided himself on being strong, on keeping his emotions in check, but now he felt like he was unraveling. He had misjudged Y/N so badly, and the realization of how much he had hurt her was like a punch to the gut.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought about all the times he had let his resentment and jealousy guide his actions. He had been so blinded by his own insecurities that he failed to see the pain he was causing someone else. Y/N didn't deserve any of it. She was just trying to navigate her own struggles, and he had made it so much harder for her.

Jake's heart ached as he remembered the look on her face, the vulnerability he had overlooked. He had always managed to hurt people, even when he didn't mean to. It was like a curse he couldn't escape. The guilt was suffocating, and he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He broke down, sobbing quietly in the darkness of his room.

He glanced at his injured hand, which he had managed to hide earlier. The pain was a constant reminder of his own mistakes. Tomorrow, he would have to figure out how to hide it at school. He didn't want anyone to see his weakness, especially not Y/N. He had already caused her enough pain.

But as he sat there, crying and clutching his injured hand, Jake realized that hiding his pain wasn't the answer. He needed to make things right, to show Y/N that he was truly sorry. It wouldn't be easy, and he knew it would take time, but he was determined to change. He couldn't keep hurting the people around him, especially not Y/N.

With a heavy heart, Jake wiped away his tears and made a silent promise to himself. Tomorrow, he would start making amends. He didn't know how, but he would find a way to show Y/N that he was sorry, that he wanted to be better. For her, and for himself.

taglist: @belovedsthings @en-chantedtomeetyou @syazzzlisa @k1ttylvr @jaeyunpinkyring-deactivated2024 @dreamiestay @soobs-things @capri-cuntz @beomgyusimp @heelariously @thinkinboutbin @jyunsgf @lwavander @chaewonshoney @maliakealoha @addictedtohobi @likeemilia @shaniandme @chocminteu @lilyuwon @kgneptun @dojaejunging @binniesbabe @asteria-wood

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euphorix-moon · 1 year ago

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Coffee and Crushes

Ellie x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Reader is a loser lesbian for Ellie and Ellie just finds it cute

Wc:1.3k

A/n:had to re-upload cause i made some mistakes, thank you to the person who caught them.i'm kinda embarrassed but this what i get for writing at 2am

You finish prep for opening and lean over the counter, patiently waiting for the customers to enter the cafe. While waiting, your mind wanders to a certain customer. A certain customer that comes every Tuesday and Thursday. A certain customer whose name was Ellie.

A certain customer who you had a crush on.

The first time you had served the woman you had been a mess, stuttering over simple sentences and couldn't even look her in the eyes.After that embarrassing day you had made your coworker Dina serve Ellie every time she would come around to the cafe.Dina likes to make fun of you for not having the guts to go talk to your crush, and you know that you really should.You didn't even know the girl yet, Ellie had been the only thing since you first saw her.

That was three months ago.

So far the only things you knew about Ellie is that she comes twice a week,orders an espresso with 2 chocolate filled croissants, and sits at the table by the window for 2 hours, typing away on her laptop. And every time,you try and “conspicuously” peek at her while you served other customers.

 “It’s Thursday! And you know what that means!” Dina all but yells as she makes her entrance.  “Shut up, Di, I don’t need you patronizing me.”You groaned. You hear Dina laughing at your comment as she walks into the break room.

 “Are you gonna finally talk to her today or are we just gunning for the usual routine?” “Let’s just do what we always do,” You sigh.

Hours pass, and you and Dina are moving back and forth tending to customers.You only briefly think of Ellie every once in a while when you find time for yourself to breathe.Before you knew it looked at your watch and saw that its five minutes to two. That means the "Woman of the Hour"as Dina likes to say would be here soon.

 “It’s almost time,” Dina says in passing,while the both of you were behind the counter

 You were frustrated with yourself. Why couldn’t you just act normal?Just because she was one of the most attractive women you've seen in awhile shouldn't make you act any different towards her. Why couldn’t you just serve the woman her food? It’s not like you would have to actually have to hold a conversation with her .All you had to do was take her order and bring it to her, That's it. Should you go for it this time?

 The bell above the door jingles and you looks up to see Ellie walk in and head straight to her usual table.Your heart races and you starts to feel your whole body heat at the sight of her but, you quickly tried to calm yourself down. "Nope,we are not doing this today" you muttered to yourself.

 “Having that internal debate, again?” Dina asks. “Yup” you dejectedly sigh. “Well, I’m off to go serve the woman of your dreams,” Dina sings.

 You stay in the break room, peeking around the corner to watch the interaction. You see Ellie smile up at Dina and her heart flutters. Ellie's smile is so genuine, you just loves the way her smile makes her look so soft . Her smile was pure sunshine and you were sunburnt.

Dina walks over to Ellie's table and greets her. “Hey, El. You’re right on time.” “Of course I am,” Ellie smiles. “This is one of my favorite spots in the town, wouldn't miss it .”

 “How is your week going?” Dina asks. “Eh, it could be less stressful, but I am living the life of a student so what else is to be expected, right?” Ellie says with a sigh  “You are absolutely right about that. I’ll go grab your food now. ”

 “Wait!” Ellie almost yells. “Um...instead of you brining my food, could you send that other girl who works here?” Ellie ask slightly embarrassed  Dina just blankly stares and then hesitantly asks, “You want the other girl to serve you?”

 “Yeah! I mean, I’ve been coming here for a while and I’ve only been served by her once.” Ellie explains. “I also see her looking at me all the time. What’s her name?” Dina is pleasantly surprised, knowing she can use this to her advantage. Dina tells Ellie your name with no hesitation before speed walking back into the back room

***

“W-what?! No!” you whisper yells. “I’m not ready to face her yet!” “What do you mean you aren’t ready?” Dina shoots back. “You’ve been ogling at her for three months! she asked for you personally! she wants to talk to you!” “I-I don’t think now is the right time! I mean, you said she sees me staring at her.She probably thinks I’m a creep and wants to tell me to knock it off.” “She definitely does not think that. Now get out there and give your woman her food!” Dina says sternly, pushing you out into the dining area

You just stand at the back of the dining room with Ellie's food in your arms. You honestly can’t even believe what is going on. Your brain has both shut down and gone haywire. Although your mind is running at a million miles per second, either way Ellie had to get her food that she paid for. You grip the tray tighter and slowly walking your way through the tables to Ellie.

 Ellie couldn’t be happier when she looked up and sees you. Honestly, Ellie thinks you're really cute and had been coming to the restaurant in hopes of getting to know you. After days and days of revisiting, Ellie started to notice that you weren't going to serve her. From the corner of her eye though, she saw the way the you would always take looks at her. Based off of their first and only conversation, Ellie could only guess that you were shy.

 So Ellie waited. She came to the same cafe as a routine and waited for you to be ready. But in those three months, she came to like you. Ellie watched you just as much as you did to her. She likes how you smile at everyone.She likes how you practically bounced as you walked. Ellie liked how adorable you looked while concentrating on keeping orders straight. At this point Ellie couldn’t wait any longer to talk to you.

 “H-here is your food,miss” you stutter. “We look to be around the same age, you don't have to call me 'miss' call me Ellie.” Ellie chuckles

“Okay then...Here’s your food,Ellie.” “When’s your break?”You look at your watch. “In like two minutes?”

 Ellie offers you to stay and sit with her during your break. At first you wanted to deny the offer but she seemed pretty persistent on you sitting at her table. You were pretty nervous when you first sat down not knowing what to say or do, but those feelings didn't fester for long with Ellie taking the initiative to start the conversations.

Fortunately conversations between you two went surprisingly smooth. You and Ellie found yourselves enraptured in your conversation almost feeling as if you guys were in your own little world. You found yourself learning that you guys had a lot in common and so much more, you never wanted the conversations to end.Everything was going so well you almost forgot that you were on break until your phone alarm when off.

"Damn... I gotta go, it was really nice talking to you.I'm guessing i'll see you next week?"You begin to stand up.

"Wait, before you go i have a question to ask you....Do you like me?" you stood there frozen. "Was it that obvious ? Ellie was laughing at this point " i could feel you looking at me every time i came in here" she calmed herself down finally

“ I think you’re pretty cute too,i'll give you my number and maybe we can meet up sometime” Ellie continues.

Ellie gives you her number and practically skip into the break room to get ready for your shift.When you walk into the room you see Dina already sitting there with a sly grin on her face. "Someone looks excited,how did it go" she says bantering you. You smile practically bouncing around the room.

"She gave me her number!"

A/n: Hope you enjoyed, feedback is appreciated!

#ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #fanfic #tlou #tlou2 #loser lesbian

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otomiyaa · 9 months ago

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Terms & Conditions

Alhaitham x Kaveh

A/N: First fic I'm uploading on the new blog (yolo) and gift for @xsezzie sama pos because, well. Because. The pose in this fic was inspired by this art by @ppystkposts :)

Summary: Alhaitham proposes to discuss the new terms and conditions for living together with Kaveh. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.8K

Letters, a lot of them. Kaveh squinted his eyes and looked up at Alhaitham who had just presented him with a document that would take years of his life, just to read.

"What's this?" he asked. Alhaitham tapped the document as if Kaveh was an idiot.

"A new agreement. I figured, it's been a little over a year since you moved in with me. We can extend the contract, if you like."

Kaveh glared at him, then scanned the huge agreement. It was a long piece of paper with so many letters. What was Alhaitham plotting all of a sudden?

"....Have there been any problems?" Kaveh wondered.

Alhaitham shook his head. "So far, no. But there might be. Sign this and we'll give it another go for the next year."

Kaveh read the beginning of the contract and hummed. How cold. It was a fact that his relationship with Alhaitham had kind of moved on to the more... intimate kind. They kissed, they shared a bed, wasn't that the definition of dating? But yeah, it was also a fact that Kaveh was living here, in Alhaitham's house. It wasn't like they were married or something...

Still, to be treated like a mere tenant, it kind of stung. Was it maybe related to the fact that he lowered Kaveh's rent earlier due to Kaveh really struggling financially? Wasn't it an act out of empathy from Alhaitham, and he had stopped trusting him ever since now that he lived here for a cheap price?

Kaveh sighed, skipped all of the nonsense which was obviously just Alhaitham being boring about guarantees for losing his key, rent payment, Kaveh's list of domestic duties, standard rules about not damaging his belongings and such, so he took the pen Alhaitham handed to him and signed.

"There. Happy? I signed," Kaveh said, and he crossed his arms. Alhaitham nodded.

"Thank you. Well then, that settles it. This agreement is effective starting today. Now as for point 7.2," Alhaitham said, and Kaveh frowned.

"I would like to make use of it immediately. So please," he gestured to the couch. "Come with me."

Kaveh quickly jumped in front of him and stopped him with a hand on Alhaitham's chest.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. Alhaitham grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"The thing you agreed to. The condition for living with me. We are doing it now."

Huh! Kaveh struggled when Alhaitham dragged him towards the couch and managed to pull himself free.

"What do you even meanー" He rushed back to the table and checked the contract again. There were a total of 12 segments, so 7.2 was obviously overlooked like most things he only scanned briefly. It was hidden under the category 'domestic duties' and...

Kaveh's eyes widened and he blushed.

"...Will subject to complimentary tickle session for once a w-w-week? What the...?" Kaveh said in a pitchy voice. His mouth opened wide at the realization that this must be because...

Last night... He blushed even more at the memory.

He kind of tickled Alhaitham brutally, teasing him about his sensitivity and laughter. And then managed to fight him off effectively when Alhaitham tried to return the favor, with Kaveh childishly threatening him to spread the word all around Sumeru about their most ticklish scholar, if he wouldn't let him go. Sumeru already knew how ticklish Kaveh was, so there was no way to return the threat for Alhaitham and he let it rest. Only to retaliate with a comeback like this?!

"I can't believe you included a rule like that. You tricked me. I didn't agree to that."

"Yet you did. You signed your name, I saw it with my own eyes. It's not my fault you didn't read all the terms and conditions. So," Alhaitham sat on the couch and patted his lap.

"Come here. I'll be gentle."

Kaveh took a step back and shuddered. "No way man! You can't make me."

"Well, I won't force you. But I will, how should I put it. I would be very disappointed if you break our contract right after signing it." To make things worse, Alhaitham gave him the worst puppy look he had ever seen on his usually expressionless face.

Kaveh gasped. Alhaitham was such a trickster! And still...! He clenched his fist and stomped towards him.

"Fine. But seriously, once a week?" he asked, moving over to where Alhaitham was sitting.

"Could have been once a day, but I thought that would overdo it. Besides, it's my fingers that will do all the work."

"Or once a month, once a year, or never at all," Kaveh grumbled, shyly sitting on Alhaitham's lap and deciding to ignore that comment about Alhaitham's damn fingers doing 'all the work'.

"Like this?" he asked, leaning back.

"More like this..." Alhaitham said, and before Kaveh could protest, he had flexibly positioned Kaveh's arms under his legs, pinning them down with ease.

"Will keep you from moving around," Alhaitham explained. Well duh, Mr. Obvious. Kaveh squirmed nervously and looked up at him, now suddenly realizing what he had gotten himself into. Willingly...

"H-h-how long?" he asked, gazing at Alhaitham's fingers that were flexing above his tummy. To make things worse, Alhaitham even took his shirt and moved it up, revealing his bare skin.

"Hmm, for as long as you can go," Alhaitham said, wiggling his fingers above Kaveh's bare stomach and making him twitch already.

"A-and who decides that?" Kaveh asked. Alhaitham then smirked.

"I do."

As soon as his fingers made contact with his ticklish tummy, Kaveh instantly made a noise.

"HYAhh! Ahahalhaitham hohohold on!"

"No, we're starting."

"Buhhuhut - ahahaha!" Kaveh wasn't even sure what he was trying to say. After accidentally signing an agreement that included this exact tickle treatment, and then voluntarily letting Alhaitham do his thing, you'd expect he knew what he was getting himself into. But only now that he was really feeling the tickling, it started to sink in, and oh shit he had never been in such a helpless and vulnerable position before.

"I quite like this position," Alhaitham said, pressing Kaveh's arms even tighter against the couch while his fingers danced mercilessly all over his bare stomach, scribbling around and over his belly button and pinching and squeezing his sides every now and then.

"Nohoho! You ahahare the wohohorst!" Kaveh roared.

"I know," Alhaitham agreed. Kaveh thought it was going to be just tummy tickles, again he was such a naive little fool. As soon as Alhaitham's fingers moved further up, pushing his shirt further up and climbing up his ticklish ribs, he jumped and let out a loud hysterical shriek.

"NAHAh nonono not thehehere!" he protested.

"Where?" Alhaitham dug in carefully between his lower ribs and slowly wiggled them upwards where he stayed at his upper ribs, his fingers doing devil's work there. Kaveh was losing his mind.

"PLEhehe-plehehease! Hehehehe! Tihihime out!"

"Already?" Alhaitham asked.

"Soohoon plehehease whahaha!" Kaveh laughed breathlessly. How embarrassing. So humiliating that he couldn't take more than that. But this position in which he really couldn't move, it was like no other tickle attack he had ever experienced. Alhaitham sighed and finally stopped, resting his hands against Kaveh's heaving chest.

"I will let you catch your breath," Alhaitham said, and his eyes shifted for a little. Kaveh's eyes widened, he knew where he was looking.

"N-n-not my ahaharmpits," he laughed nervously.

"I'm sure you can take just a little bit of that. I've been quite gentle so far," Alhaitham said. Gentle! W-well that was true, actually. He hadn't been as rough, as ahem, other times. But yeah, those were entirely different. It was funny they would sometimes roughhouse and have some crazy silly tickle fights, but this 'tickle session' just couldn't compare to it all.

"Ready?" Alhaitham asked.

"No," Kaveh replied cockily, and he stuck out his tongue. So naturally, Alhaitham's fingers reached his armpits and started to tickle. Kaveh threw his head back and howled.

"Daaaahahaahaamn ahahahah!" Alhaitham was relentless. He tickled both armpits for as long Kaveh could endure, but when one hand moved back and picked up the tummy tickle torture, things weren't much better for Kaveh who could hardly breathe through his hysterical laughing fit. His legs kicked helplessly and he shook his head from side to side.

"AHahahalhaithahaham! Nahahah- ahahaha plehehease!"

Alhaitham smirked at him, looking so unbelievably satisfied with himself and his result from his stupid prank.

"AHahaha-ALHAITHAHAM!" Kaveh shrieked.

"Yes?" He finally got a reply.

"AHAhaha! No mohohore! Waahaahha!" Kaveh had no idea how long it had been. But at last, Alhaitham seemed to decide that Kaveh had reached his limit.

Kaveh's arms were released, but he was too tired to move away and just tiredly rested in Alhaitham's lap, breathing heavily and gasping for air.

"That - was - insane," he panted, but he couldn't stop smiling. His voice also sounded like it had changed pitch permanently. Geez. It felt like an entire workout.

For a moment they stayed in silence, and nothing could be heard except Kaveh's loud breaths.

Surprisingly, Alhaitham was the first to speak then. "You didn't read the rest, did you?"

"What rest?" Kaveh asked, annoyed again about that lame agreement trick. He was never going to sign anything ever again without reading every single letter.

"Well," Alhaitham said, and he paused.

"...At 7.2.1. for example, it says that I am only allowed to tickle you that one time a week. So, you'll probably like that. Unless you give me permission to do it more often, of course," Alhaitham explained, caressing Kaveh's hair.

Huh? Alhaitham was so talkative now, Kaveh had to let those words sink in. Hmm, so he could only tickle Kaveh that one time a week, unless Kaveh literally gave him permission to tickle him more?

Even after enduring all this, the sudden thought of limiting Alhaitham's tickle attacks to just once a week... All of a sudden it didn't sound like a lot, he thought as he remembered some of the times when Alhaitham playfully retaliated during tickle fights, and those triumphant moments when Kaveh would win. Not to mention the playful and affectionate tickles when they were in bed... He blushed and mumbled something.

"What did you say?" Alhaitham asked.

"Of all the nonsense on that stinking contract, can you at least revoke that one particular rule? It sucks."

"...7.2.1? The one that forbids me from tickling you ever outside our once-a-week session?" Al-Bastard-Haitham asked.

"...Yes."

Kaveh could die from embarrassment, but luckily the only response from Alhaitham was: "Alright. I think I could do that."

Then in that exact same position, Kaveh fell asleep, resting comfortably on Alhaitham and trapping him on the couch.

Not that Alhaitham complained. He had his book nearby, as always, so he grabbed it and started to read, while his free hand fondly stroked Kaveh's hair. Now that felt actually really good.

Note: This fic was loosely inspired by the movie Wonka.

#genshin impact #kavetham #tickling #tickle fic #otomiya!writes #kaveh #alhaitham #sezzie sama #pos #lee!kaveh #ler!alhaitham

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muffinrecord · 6 months ago

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Current Plans + Musings

I don't plan on playing Exedra to the degree I did for Magia Record, or playing it at all. Because of that, I won't be taking an active role in the community and archiving anything for it. Of course, if Exedra has like amazing gameplay and stories then this is all subject to change, but for now I think I'm done with phone games.

The two youtube channels will stay up and I'll check em periodically to make sure there aren't copyright strikes against the content. I've saved all my raw files, especially for the battle animations, so I can remake them in the future if the music ever becomes a problem for some reason.

Google Drive will stay up until Google rots away. I haven't recorded footage in a long time (as in stories, I do for the character doppels and such), but I'll upload things if they're sent to me.

Magia Union Translations still plans on translating things and making videos, especially leading up to the end, but also for after the game is over for whatever wasn't made in time. I'm not sure what form this will take in the future-- if it'll be manual captions added to the videos or not, but I know it WILL happen.

As for this blog, I'm not going to delete it or anything. However I'm going to be taking a step back. I'd like to say that I'll do liveblogs but I mean... *gestures at blog* I've been saying that for years and the only one I really did successfully was the Oriko one lmao. Ahhh oh well.

I'll have more words later, but it was really fun to be part of a fandom experience like this. I'm excited to work on my own original story projects though and quiet down a bit.

...

When I started this blog, I never expected it to have people actually read it. Or look at it. I just wanted a place to gush about how much fun I was having. I didn't even want to tag the posts with "Magia Record" at first because I was terrified people would be mean at me, haha.

But I'm glad I did. I made so many good friends through this game. I'm glad it existed. And it made me happy to have a place where people cared about what I had to say. Some folks actually got their news from here, can you imagine that? They had notifications turned on for this blog. My god.

Anyways, I'm going to be here for the next two months, and tomorrow I'll start reblogging fan projects and initiatives, plus general news. Maybe this blog will turn into a dumping site for art and fanfic reblogs, who knows. I might watch the remaining stuff and add various thoughts here and there.

Otherwise, you can find me on my main blog @malignmuffin, which only reblogs stuff (I don't talk much if at all there). I have another tumblr blog for my comic, but I think I'll reshare the name once I actually have content you can look at on it. It's pretty bare bones for the moment.

Actually it'll be funny if the end of this game is what makes me finally work on it again. I was in the process of working on it when NA came out, and it totally derailed me. Stopped writing, drawing, just focused on this silly little phone game. Now it's like those five years have gone by and I'm going back to where I started, except I think my lil comic is going to be a bit better than it was before. If I actually make it, that is.

If I ever do actually make my comic and start posting it, I'll be sure to update y'all here. hah

Anyways, thanks for being on this wild ride with me. The memories have been great, and I'm glad I had this experience, even if it had to end.

#Magia Record #End of JP

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tealfloyd · 3 months ago

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THE PREFECT'S SHOW — INTRODUCTION

Often times, experiences serve as valuable learning opportunities, so it's only natural that the Prefect of Ramshackle has some very interesting ones. Right?

NUMBER OF WORDS: 436.

A/N: I know, I know. It's been a year since I last updated (for the ones that know that I was in an indefinite hiatus). Honestly, I didn't have the will to write for a while given that university work is no joke, but I've had this idea for a new format for a while, so for my return I decided to upload it. It's super short but it's merely an introduction.

Either way, I'll try to answer requests again, since this is so much fun. Thank you for reading my rambles. Please, enjoy ❤️

“Is this on?”

You weren't sure if the camera Idia lent you was even on; the only thing you were sure of is that it wasn't crooked, at the very least. “I don't know... Idia has very weird tech. I hope it doesn't explode or something," you mumbled before sitting on the chair in front of your desk, shrugging your shoulders in acceptance.

“So, uh, hello, I guess? My name's MC. I'm half of a student here at Night Raven College and have been here in Twisted Wonderland for about..." You backed up a little to look at the calendar, wincing for a bit before turning back to the camera lens. "Half a year, approximately."

With a sigh, you continued.

“If you're watching this, congratulations. You're one of the people that has the pleasure to see the last bits of my sanity before it crumbles away in this school," you explained, letting out yet another sigh at your exaggerated—although not quite—remark. "I read somewhere that recording your experiences was therapeutic. Now, if it's true or not, I'm not sure, but I'm not one to deny something without trying it first, so here I am."

"Besides, Ace gave me the idea. Yesterday, when we were having lunch, he said:

'You know, I was thinking about how the Prefect's stories would make a really good show. I mean, if it wasn't because I met her, I would've thought that all of this was a Magiflix show.'"

“Everyone laughed,” you said with a deadpan face, “but I didn't."

“I know. It's far from the kinds of anecdotes you get told on the Internet,” you accommodated yourself into a more comfortable position, hugging your right leg and leaving the other one on the chair, ready to spill the tea, as Idia would say, “but don't despair, for I—"

You were about to talk again when your phone buzzed, signaling an emergency given how close it was to fall over the edge. Sighing, you immediately recognized Ace's name on the screen, inwardly hoping for some kind of miracle that it wasn't what you expected: an emergency.

“Speaking of the devil,” you showed your phone to the camera, picking up while reaching your arm towards the device, looking for the turn-off button. "Please, don't tell me it's an emergency. Uh-huh... Uh-huh... NO, TAKE GRIM OUT OF THERE—"

VIDEO OVER. WISH TO REPLAY?

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #ramshackle prefect #twst prefect

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐈, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 8k

chapter summary: Joel takes you on your first date. A barbecue meant to be fun becomes a minefield of unpleasant memories for Tommy.

warnings: mutual masturbation, piv, dirty talking, light spit play, PTSD, war flashbacks, angst towards the end

a/n: yup, you're seeing correct, I uploaded a day early!! woooo

Chapter Ten || Chapter Twelve

When Joel mentioned taking you out for a date, you couldn't help but imagine something simple and unassuming, just like him. You envisioned a quaint, unpretentious restaurant where you could share intimate conversation, followed by a leisurely stroll back home. You knew Joel wasn't exactly an innovative man; however, his wood carving skills, took you by surprise when he showed you some of his artwork, it made your heart grow fonder for him. As much as he poked fun at himself for not understanding art, or knowing much of it, he was an artist.

In the end, you weren't expecting anything extravagant, and you had no complaints about it. That was a part of his Texan charm. It was who he was, and you loved him for it.

What you didn't expect was to take a thirty to forty-minute drive to South Congress.

“You didn't have to go through all this trouble,” you say as Joel opens the truck door for you. Smiling, he rolls his eye. He offers you his hand, and with a skip in your heart, you accept it, feeling the heat of his palm. Joel steadies you as you hop down from the vehicle. Sarah was at another sleepover, carefully orchestrated by Joel, making it the perfect time for him to take you on the first date he mentioned a couple of days ago.

“It’s no trouble,” he answers, moving his jaw. “But if you keep sayin’ that I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re not a fan of the idea.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a fan. No need to worry your pretty head about that.”

Before taking the first step, he holds your arm and tugs you back toward him. Your eyes widen when he throws your jacket over your shoulders, “‘Might get cold,” he murmurs, fingers skimming down your bare arms. Then he sighs. “I love it when you call me pretty. Makes me all tingly inside.”

“Well then,” you smile, leaning closer. “Let me say it again, you’re pretty. Prettiest man I know.”

Joel's lips curl into a wide grin, his humming filling the air. “I’m blushin’,” he teases, capturing your lips in a swift, lingering kiss, lacing his fingers with yours. “I knew this would be a good idea,” he mutters against your lips in a self-congratulatory tone. His taste lingers on your mouth, leaving you craving more.

“I don’t want to burst your bubble but I’m still not sure what we’re doing here. You never told me.”

Hand in hand, you and Joel set off, walking down the street at a leisurely pace. The sun, beginning its descent from the vast expanse of blue skies, painted the world in a soft, golden hue.

“We’re here to look at the murals,” he explains. “Thought you might like it, bein’ an artist and all. And if we get hungry there’s this Tex-Mex place I like to go to, I take Sarah there all the time.”

He's nonchalant about it, yet he still averts his eyes. A soft crimson flares under his shirt, creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks. Your heart beats quickly. You may now be a part of his life, but Sarah will always hold a tender place in his heart. Something he hesitates to share, like a tiny box of secrets. She's his everything. You wonder how many times he had to keep that part of himself hidden, how many times he mentioned his daughter and saw the hesitation in the other party's eyes. It's no one's fault, really. It's a complicated situation no matter which side you consider. And you're fairly certain he's never mentioned his romantic endeavors to Sarah. Why would he? To him, none of it ever led anywhere, so there was no sense in telling her about it.

You don't want him to be nervous about sharing more about that part of his life. You have adored Sarah ever since you met her. Now, you're somewhat grateful that it took the two of you longer than normal to get here. It gave you a chance to show him that no matter the state of your relationship, you'll be there for Sarah, for Tommy, and for everyone he cares about.

Because you care about them too.

“You visit here a lot?”

He tips his chin, “We used to,” he answers and offers you his arm, you thread the gap between torso and tricep. “When she was five we came here a lot. Really liked it.”

A half chuckle, half exhale leaves his lips. You give him a sympathetic look. “Well, maybe we can come here together one day. Tommy too. We can make a day of it, I bet she misses it.”

"Yeah," his eyes glaze over for a second, looking ahead towards the sun-kissed street. You softly dig your nails into his arm, snapping him out of it. He blinks and tenses under your touch. "Yeah, we definitely should. Maybe during spring break or somethin’."

You squeeze his arm again, and when he turns to look at you, you smile. He returns it in kind, and you feel his smile leave an imprint on your skin as his lips touch your forehead.

“Can’t wait to show you all of it, sweet tea.”

And he does.

Joel shows you everything that he loves. The streets of Austin come alive with vibrant murals, each one captivating in its own way—some simple, some complicated. You see the South Congress Mural on South Congress Avenue that stands tall, its graffiti letters painted in vibrant colors, depicting the cityscape. The italicized phrase 'I Love You So Much,' spray-painted by Amy Cook for her partner Liz Lambert—Joel doesn't say much here. He stares at it for a while before gripping your hand tighter. Suddenly, he tugs your arm, pressing his lips firmly against yours, sucking the air from your lungs. Here, you take a quick coffee break and continue on.

There are so many. Your eyes catch sight of a mural depicting a piece of toast and yellow butter, lovingly painted on a vibrant blue wall, inside the piece of butter and toast it says “you’re my butter half”. You laugh and nudge Joel in the ribs and repeat the words to him. His smile is the widest you’ve ever seen.

Joel introduces you to Jeremiah the Innocent. A smiling cartoonish frog, on top of it you read HI, HOW ARE YOU. He then told you that Jeremiah had another name as well— Ron. Named by, of course, Sarah. Leaning closer, you tell Joel that you agree, the frog looks much more like a Ron rather than a Jeremiah.

After that Joel, a keeper of his word, takes you to a small Tex-Mex place. He orders chips and queso as an appetizer, followed up by two cold beers and tacos.

"I think you might have killed me," you say, rubbing your stomach and leaning back as the cold metal of the chair bites into your skin.

Joel cocks an eyebrow, a small smile touching the corner of his lips. “So. . .no dessert?”

“Don’t joke,” you answer seriously. “I always have room for dessert.”

He laughs, “You sound like Sarah,” just as you begin to smile, he adds. “And Tommy actually. That man has an endless pit instead of a stomach.”

“Tell me about it.” you grin.

The sun begins to disappear, shades of light blue fading into something darker that lingers in the sky. It reminds you of the times when you angrily slap your widest brush on top of the canvas and just move it around without any aim or goal. The string lights come to life. Joel looks gorgeous under the soft glow; it's almost dreamlike. If you were to reach out, you're not entirely sure that he wouldn't fade away.

His hand finds yours over the table, lacing your fingers together. A stuttering, silent breath escapes your lips. The effects of alcohol buzz both in your veins and mind. His thumb traces your knuckles, a gesture so familiar yet foreign at the same time. With a smile, you bring the back of his hand to your lips before he does. You tenderly kiss him, feeling the softness of lips moving over the mountains and valleys of his hand. His breath hitches, and your ears feel warm.

"Should we head back?" he murmurs, his voice dipping into something darker. His thumb finds purchase on your lower lip and tugs on it, eliciting a soft gasp. "I think I'm gettin’ hungry again."

You kiss the pad of his thumb as he cups your cheek, and you nuzzle into the width of his palm. Wetness gathers between your legs, heat building at the base of your spine. You can't wait for him to devour you.

Joel’s fingers trace the spine of the book that lays idly on your bedside table. He adorns a soft smile, gaze curious as he picks it up.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning your back as he begins to flip through the pages. “I’m going to freshen up a bit, make yourself comfortable.”

With that, you exit the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You're feeling positively tingly. The ache in your bones would normally entice you to go to bed early, but sleep is the last thing on your mind right now. All you want is for that man to ravage you. During the drive back, the only thing on your mind was his lips, his hands, his cock—his weight on your body.

You quickly splash cold water onto your face, sighing as the cool numbness replaces the sticky sweat from the day. After brushing your teeth, you head back.

You smile when you see Joel sitting at the edge of the bed, book still in hand.

He’s looking at something.

You raise an eyebrow, taking a step closer. There’s something in his hand, something smaller and vaguely familiar.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

“Joel?” Your voice barely manages a whisper, you're surprised he hears your pleading call of his name. He flinches, shoulders raising all the way to his ears. You clear your throat. “What. . . What are you looking at?”

You already know the answer.

"How long have you had this?" he asks, every word sounding dull. He twists his body enough to face you, holding the small Polaroid picture between his fingers— oh god, you're screwed, aren't you?

"I-I can explain," you blurt out, increasing your steps' speed. You stand in front of him, the picture's glossy surface reflecting the light into your eyes. "You forgot your magazine, and when I opened it to read it, the... the picture just fell out, I swear! I know I should've told you, gave it back, but, well, I—"

Unable to keep your eyes open due to the constant spinning of the world around you, you close them. His gaze remains fixed on you, half moons hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. Embarrassment surges through you, heating you from the inside out. In a fit of desperation, you cover your face with both palms, sighing into them. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," you mutter, your voice muffled by your hands.

Joel stares at you, dumbfounded. With shaky legs, he stands and gently cups your wrists, tugging your hand away from your face. You refuse to meet his gaze, your eyes glued to a spot on his neck. You miss how wide his eyes are, how his gaze grows soft as he stares.

“Why are you sorry?” he whispers. “I think you misunderstood, sunshine. I ain’t mad. I’m embarrassed.”

“What?” you furrow your brows, lifting your gaze. “Why?”

He smiles, “Lots of why’s goin’ around,” you continue to stare and he clicks his tongue. “It’s a half-naked picture of me. A picture that I took, you can’t blame me for gettin’ flustered.”

“You look good.”

“Thanks,” he scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess it’s better that you found it instead of. . . Tommy or worse.”

You know what worse means. He’s right, he was lucky it had been you.

“I’m just glad you’re not mad.”

“Me, mad at you?” he shakes his head, looking appalled by the thought. “Never.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

His hands drop to your waist. Fingers roughened with work digging into your flesh. The excitement you felt comes rushing back, flooding your veins. Joel pins your hips together, the growing outline of his cock brushing your clothed mound. You gasp and he inches impossibly close, lips brushing your ear. “Why did you have it in your little book over there?” he drawls, his voice thick. “Did you touch yourself lookin’ at it, sweetheart?”

Your voice shakes and you can barely get a word out. You swallow, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie,” he hums. The drag of his lips down your neck turns your insides into mush. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

A moment of silence follows. You take this time to unbutton his jeans and slip a hand underneath the dense fabric. You cup his length, and it hardens in your palm, growing in size. Your breath hitches as his hips move forward, chasing the grip of your fingers. Taking a deep inhale, you breathe him in, filling yourself with his scent.

“I wanna watch,” his voice cracks. “See how you touched yourself while thinkin’ of me.”

Your breath hitches, “And what will you be doing?”

You stroke him slowly, the pad of your thumb moving over the slit before moving down again. You shiver at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin.

“I’ll be watchin’, sweetheart. Engraving your spread-out cunt into memory.”

“Jesus, Joel,” you breathe heavily, your pulse loudly thrumming in your veins. Joel is absolutely filthy—something you never thought you’d be thinking. He tugs you towards the bed. With every step, another garment falls to the floor. You’re shivering all over, body cold yet warm at the same time. The expectation crackling in the air pricks at your skin.

What is this? It never felt like this before. A need so desperate. A want so large. In this moment you’re convinced that you and Joel were always meant to be as pretentious that might sound. You have no idea how else to explain it. Every time you’re with him, even in the most peaceful moments, you feel an impending. . . something. You’re not sure what it is yet but you know it’s a wicked, dark feeling. A dystopian surrealism. The works of Zdzisław Beksiński; death, destruction, shattered worlds. . . yet still beautiful. You love those paintings. Just like Joel, it leaves you uneasy and mystified.

The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the bedrest, your naked legs falling open like a butterflys’ wings. You wait for a touch that never comes. Joel drags the chair and takes a seat. He pulls out his hefty length, fingers loosely curling around it. You hold your breath.

“Don’t keep me waitin’ now,” he rasps as he touches himself lazily. “Show me.”

Your eyes never leave him, and you slowly circle your clit with two fingers. An immediate sense of relaxation and soft pleasure blossom over different patches of skin. You pinch the sensitive bundle of nerves and continue moving your fingers around. You arch your hips, wetness growing with every stroke. Your insides clench. Joel’s heavy breathing fills the room, your own breathing coming out in short pants.

“Spread yourself darlin’,” his voice lowers, making your stomach turn. With two fingers you show him, spreading yourself s while you circle the middle one around your clit. A soft whimper of his name echoes from the back of your throat. It’s different like this. Knowing that he’s right there, staring, observing your every move. It lits a fire between your legs. A feeling so raw and open.

Your ache swells inside of you like wildfire. You keen at the slick sounds of Joel’s fist accompanying your own lewd sounds. The rest of the world falls silent, your mind a complete blank, your sole focus on the man that makes you feel soft and tender.

A build-up to an orgasm can be a strange thing. Sometimes you don’t think of anything or anyone, just focused on your fingers and the fire between your legs. Other times your imagination becomes so vivid that you swear there’s a cock splitting you open. Your stomach clenches, muscles rippling under the faux feeling of someone being there with you. And, technically, there is someone with you but not in the typical sense. Your back lifts from the mattress, your feet sliding down the soft sheets as your fingers move frantically. You can feel it hardening, throbbing under your ministrations.

“That’s it,” Joel groans, the bed dips, you’re too far gone to notice he stopped jerking off and is inching closer for a better look. “Come for me, darlin’. Let’s see how you make a mess.”

Your ears ring

Your lips part so wide that the corners are aflame

Your throat constricts a silent plea

Your fingers twitch, insides pulsing as you gush and make a mess—just like he wanted.

You love doing what he asks of you.

You feel it trickling down the inside of your thighs, the curve of your ass. It’s too much. Whimpers rattling your chest, your throat sore. Joel mutters praise, telling you how good you are, how perfect. Another soft lingering orgasm warms you from the inside out, more drops of pure ecstasy spilling over.

He trails his hand up the inside your thigh, slick gathering at the tips of his fingers. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you clench around nothing, “Next time I’m bringin’ the camera over.” you give him a look and he chuckles. “It’s only fair, don’t ya think?”

“I don’t think that picture will be sexy as you think,” you answer, smiling.

He frowns, his look almost glaring as he stares into your eyes, “Bulshit. You’re gorgeous. It’ll be like havin’. . . the . . . Mona Lisa in my pocket,” he says, slightly unsure.

"I do appreciate you using art references whenever you talk to me; it's like a gimmick," you grin and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "Hey, if you want a picture, you can have one. Just promise not to leave it lying around like you did with your own. I don't need any more embarrassing moments in my life."

“We all have embarrassing moments.”

“That doesn’t sound like a promise,” you answer with a playful lilt. He rolls his eyes, a hand sneaking down between your bodies, he aligns himself with your sopping sex, cock filling you slowly, inch by inch. Your eyelids flutter, a moan ripping from you.

Fully inside you, he murmurs into your mouth, “I’ll guard it with my life. Promise.”

His words fall on deaf ears. Your vision blurs at the stretch of his cock, drawing his hips back, only the bulbous head remains. He watches you. Watches your fluttering cunt adjust to the size, then, just as you’re about to say something, he slams into you. Electricity crackles over your skin, a sensation that makes you feel numb. Joel buries his head into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin as he sets a brutal pace. His strokes are slow and hard. Every ridge felt as he massages the insides of your cunt. It’s exhilarating. Breathtaking. So much so that you think you’re crying a little, soft salty tears gathering in your eyes.

“You wanna know something?” he groans, fucking deeper into you. “I thought of you while takin’ the picture. Thought about this perfect cunt.”

He holds your thighs with a heavy hold, pushing both legs up until your knees are grazing your forehead. You don’t think being a pretzel ever felt so good. Joel jackhammers into you, the wet glide of his cock leaves you breathless. Between narrowed eyes you watch him; his brows furrowed with concentration, lips slightly ajar, pink tongue poking out. He’s flushed. The soft tint of red looks good on him. You desperately want to bury your lips into his neck and lick the vein that meanders down, you want to sink your teeth into it.

In a quick glimpse, his eyes briefly catch yours. The muscle in his jaw moves and he licks his lips, the color in his irises gone, eaten away by lust. You notice him pursing his lips and your eyes go wide, a thin line of saliva drips from his mouth, adding to the mess between your thighs. Your breath falters, you squeez him tight. His hips stutter but he’s not phased by the sudden tightness.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice hoarse. “I wanna feel you comin’ around my cock.”

You moan at how soaked you are, your fingers playing with the mixture of spit and slick. It doesn’t take you long. A couple swipes of your fingers and you’re seeing stars. Your orgasm sears you from the inside out, your entire body tensing at the force of his thrusts. With a knee-jerk reaction, you grip the back of your thigh, nails biting into your skin. He pushes your hand away, thumb soothingly going over the crescent-shaped marks.

His unwavering gaze aggravates you. A sudden shame rolling in your stomach, he bats the thoughts away by allowing your legs to fall and frame his broad waist. Suddenly his lips are on your own, sucking your tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moans. He tastes your hesitations, your fears, your unsaid love for him—all of it, from a single, hungry, messy kiss.

Joel’s hips slow down into a delicious grind, the coarse hairs that crown his cock doused, you feel the brush of his pelvis on the pearl that beats. Your insides flutter one last time before he’s pulling out, spilling over the soft flesh of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he moans into your open mouth. You shudder at the trickle of seed on your skin. “That was amazin’ sweetheart. You always feel so fuckin’ good. ‘Can’t wrap my head around it.”

You giggle, “I hope you know the feeling is mutual, neighbor,” you feel the wet drag of his lips down your cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.”

“You’re just sayin’ that,” he tuts, breath fanning your neck.

“Do I need to remind you how we ended up in this bed?” you tease. “You, finding a picture of yourself that I masturbated to? If that doesn’t convince you I don’t know what will.”

He thinks about it for a second then shrugs, “Fair.”

“By the way thank you for. . . everything. I had a great time Joel,” you thread your fingers through his mussed hair and he lays his head on your chest. His hand gently cups the underside of your breast, a possessive gesture. You feel the scrape of his beard as he speaks.

“I didn’t do nothin’ special. You deserve more.”

Your heart clenches the ache of his self-deprecation a reflection of his inability to perceive his own worth. “Stop selling yourself short—”

He cuts you off, “You deserve to have a relationship you don’t need to hide. It’s not fair.”

Your heart splinters, torn between the desire to protect what you have and the yearning to be truthful to those that you love. When your silence grows, Joel look up to you, his eyes wide like full moons. And just as somber. Your lips crack in a smile.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “We’ll tell him eventually. When we’re ready, right?”

He swallows, throat moving. “Yeah,” he answers, gaze breaking away from yours. “We will. When we’re ready.”

Neither of you are brave enough to ask when that might be.

The sun beats down on Tommy’s skin and with the back of his hand, he wipes away the sweat on his forehead. Next to the grill is always the hottest. It’s a beautiful day out, birds chirping, sun shining and whenever a cloud passes by, adding a bit of color to the boring blue sky, Tommy sighs in relief, enjoying the fleeting coolness of the passing shadow.

Joel is at the grill, and from the corner of his eye, Tommy sees him turning the ribs and chicken wings. A loud sizzle fills the air, and with a hiss, Joel backs away, cursing as a searing drop of fat lands on his tanned skin. In typical younger sibling fashion, Tommy laughs, earning an equally heated glare from his older brother. Neither of them says a word. Joel returns his gaze to the meats, while Tommy shifts his eyes back to the large bowl he's holding. It contains a mixture of a generous amount of barbecue sauce, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper, salt, and black pepper. He gives them another vigorous stir before adding the stemless button mushrooms. He tosses them all together until each one is evenly coated.

A bead of sweat rolls down his face, “Joel, I know you have this sense of always wantin’ to be right but I doubt our recipe is gonna be the one to change her mind about mushrooms.”

“It will,” he grunts, shirt dipping and sticking between his shoulder blades. “If she doesn’t, more for us.”

“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

Joel doesn’t answer and Tommy doesn’t bother to force a conversation. The silence he shares with his brother has always been a comfortable one, but lately, that hasn’t quite been the case. There’s this wall that he can’t seem to breach no matter what he does or says. And ever since Joel broke up with Asha, it only got worse. He can’t shake the sense that whatever his older brother had in mind, it must be about you. It has to be.

Tommy’s feelings for you haven’t exactly disappeared. As much as he wished he had a button to turn it all off, he can’t, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t mind staying friends. What he feels for you is more than that. He enjoys your company, your jokes, your thoughts. He can’t imagine living out the rest of his life without it.

However, he's not stupid, contrary to what many people might believe.

Tommy has noticed the stares, the weird tension in his brother’s shoulders whenever you’re around. Hell, if Joel has feelings for you he should just own up to it, talk about it. All Tommy wants is for Joel to come and talk to him. However, when it comes to romance, Joel rarely does. Even after the breakup with Asha, Joel barely said a word. Tommy later on learned the details from Asha and it fucking stung.

Ever since they were little, Joel had this tendency to shoulder everything, it didn’t matter if the issue was big or small, he would carry it, and he would do so in silence. Tommy hated that. He wanted to talk about things, wanted to tell Joel about his nightmares, the blank notebook that Tommy can’t bring himself to write into—he desperately wants things to change. He wants Joel to stop playing the martyr. Tommy��s not a kid anymore, they can carry the weight together.

“Gosh that smells delicious!”

Tommy jerks at the sound of your voice. Startled, he looks up and sees you making your way through Joel’s yard, carrying a Tupperware full of coleslaw and a pitcher of homemade iced tea. You place both items on the wooden table and walk toward the brothers. Just as you pass by Joel, your hand brushes his shoulder. Again, Tommy sees him visibly tense with the contact.

You turn to Tommy, arms spread wide, a joyous grin stretched across your face. Tommy mimics the expression, pulling up a different kind of mask. He pulls you into a tight embrace and presses his lips ointo your forehead.

"Oh, are those the mushrooms?" you ask, still held within Tommy's arms, your gaze lowered to the small table Joel brought out for food prep. "I'm both terrified and excited."

“I hope you’ll like’em,” Tommy answers. “Joel is convinced that you will.”

You laugh and mouth at Tommy, "Do you think he'll explode if he turns out to be wrong?" Tommy can barely hide the snicker that escapes his lips.

“I heard that,” Joel grunts without looking.

You expertly move the conversation along, “Where’s Sarah?”

"She should be here soon," he responds. "She mentioned wanting to buy some lemon bars for the barbecue."

“Where is she buying them from? Olivia is going to come over too so she can pick Sarah up.”

After discussing locations and making a quick phone call, Olivia happily agrees to pick up Sarah because, according to you, she's not that far away anyway. You help Tommy skewer the barbecue mushrooms, and conversation flows seamlessly. Even Joel gradually loosens up, relaxing as he starts to place the prepared skewers. You appear surprisingly cheerful, and Tommy doesn't mean to imply that you were ever a downer—rather, he hasn't seen you this relaxed in a long time. It seems the grief that had molded you months ago, forcing you to behave a certain way, had loosened around you. Now you see what he’s seen all along; that you deserved to make jokes and have fun and be happy.

He likes to think he had a part to play in that with the renovation of the room.

In the midst of finishing up the mushrooms, a car stops, and a moment later, Olivia and Sarah hop out.

Sarah wastes no time wrapping her nimble arms around Tommy's neck, giving him a tight hug. Tommy returns the gesture in kind, lifting her off the ground a little. "Hey, sugarcube! How was school?"

"Boring," she answers, letting go. "How was work?"

Tommy scrunches up his nose, prompting a bubble of laughter from her. "Boring," he parrots.

While Sarah heads inside to change, Olivia places the lemon bars on the table and comes to greet you. The sizzle of the grill fills the air as Sarah's voice cuts through the lively atmosphere, calling out to Joel from the window of the house. "Dad, I can't find my purple shirt!" she exclaims. “You said you’d have it washed today!”

Joel turns his attention away from the grill, a concerned furrow forming on his brow. "I'll be right there, sweetheart," he assures her. He looks over at Olivia. "Liv, can you man the grill for a moment?"

Olivia nods, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Consider it done. You go find that shirt."

With a grateful nod, Joel moves swiftly toward the house, leaving Olivia to handle the grilling duties. He passes by Tommy and you, giving a brief smile and a nod of acknowledgment before disappearing inside.

Tommy's gaze follows Olivia as she confidently takes charge of the grill, her tongs expertly flipping the remaining skewers and wings. There's a sense of ease in her movements, a natural grace that Tommy finds captivating. Her focused expression softens with a slight smile.

Meanwhile, Tommy takes a moment to observe you as you retrieve a couple of cold beers from the cooler. The sunlight catches in your hair, casting a warm glow around you.

You approach him with the beers in hand, Tommy can't help but be captivated by your infectious smile. It's a smile that reaches your eyes, radiating happiness and a genuine warmth that draws him in. He takes one of the beers from you, his fingers grazing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

"Cheers," you say, raising your bottle in a toast. Tommy mirrors your action, their bottles clinking together, the sound ringing in the air.

"Cheers," he replies, his voice laced with genuine affection. The clinking of the bottles marks a moment of connection, a shared bond that goes beyond mere friendship.

“Isn’t it interesting?” Olivia suddenly says, snapping your attention from Tommy to her. He frowns.

“What is?” you ask.

“That I’m here. . . doing all the work without a beer in my hand.”

You roll your eyes, walking back to the cooler, “You could’ve just asked you know?” you tease, handing her a cold bottle. She shrugs with a wink.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Tommy smells smoke. The crackling of flames too loud. Their banter fades into the background. His body grows tense by instinct, feeling the threat of danger that isn’t there. He becomes uncharacteristically still, listening, but not hearing anything.

“Ah shit, I burnt it,” Olivia hisses, fanning the smoke with a moisturized hand. “Well, at least I only burned three of them. You guys think Joel will kill me?”

He hears bits of the conversation, your laughter following Olivia’s words. The smoke in the air is thicker now, grayer. Sweat sticks to his skin and Tommy swears he feels the familiar feeling of hot dirt on his skin. Unaware, he starts rubbing his arms, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling.

Tommy smells gunpowder.

He hears bullets whizzing through the air.

Just as the grill suddenly flares up, a searing pain jolts through Tommy's body. In his disoriented state, he misconstrues your touch on his back as a threat. Reacting instinctively, he moves away, his mind clouded. His hand inadvertently catches your wrist, twisting the limb. You let out a shout.

A surge of guilt pierces Tommy's heart as he realizes that it’s you. His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and remorse, and he releases his grip on your wrist, his hands trembling. "Fuck, sorry—" he stammers, choked up. "I. . . I thought. . ."

Before he can finish his sentence, he sees Joel above your shoulder, his face etched with concern, closely followed by Sarah.

"What happened?" Joel demands.

You step in before Tommy can explain, his chest heaves, “Nothing, I just startled him.”

Joel doesn’t seem to buy it, his gaze fixed on his baby brother, he raises an eyebrow. “Tommy?” he asks again, his voice leveled.

Tommy's gaze shifts from you to Joel and Sarah. He struggles to find the right words, his mind still tangled in a web. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head. Joel’s gaze softens, hands coming up to cup Tommy’s cheeks. He lifts his brother’s gaze to face his own.

"It's okay, Tommy. We're here. We're safe, you’re home," when Tommy attempts to back away, Joel holds him tighter. "Let's just take a moment to breathe."

Tommy’s mind blanks for a second when Joel visibly takes a deep, slow breath. Joel looks at him with a sign of expectation and the younger Miller mimics the way he breathes. Deep and slow. One, two, three. Once more, and that’s it. He’s breathing again. The sky is blue again.

“Shiiiit,” he exhales on the last breath. Joel drops his hands and takes a step back, you’re standing right next to him, brows drawn together. Suddenly the guilt is back. “I’m sorry,” he says the apology muffled by clenched teeth. “Are you. . . okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say hovering back and forth, wanting to come closer but also not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you need anything?”

“I should be asking you that,” he takes a step closer, taking your wrist between his fingers. He gently smooths his thumb over where he bent—god, he’s a fucking mess. “We should put some ice on that.”

“I got it!” Olivia jumps out, placing the end of the cold bottle on your wrist. You stifle a snort. She narrows her eyes at you. “That’s a weird way to say thank you.”

You roll your eyes, “Thanks, Liv.”

Tommy pulls away and takes a seat. Content in having calmed his brother, Joel returns to the grill and gives Olivia a look that screams, "What the hell have you done?!"

He smiles, feeling his racing heart finally begin to calm down.

“Are you sure you’re alright uncle Tommy?”

His eyes meet Sarah’s, two concerned and observant juvenile eyes staring into his own. He’s not sure what to say—no, he knows what to say, he just doesn’t know how to say it in a way that she’ll believe him.

Without waiting for a response, Sarah sits next to him and reaches for two glasses and the pitcher. She pours iced tea into both. “Here,” she says, prompting him to replace the beer with the glass. Tommy obliges.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs. “That ain’t your responsibility.”

“It’s not. . . but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry. And I know you can’t talk to me about it, I’m not dad, but you know I love you, right?”

“‘Course I do,” Tommy answers quickly, ignoring the way the sun stings his eyes, he forces them to stay open. “Your dad takes good care of me. And I know you care, I appreciate the reminder though,” he lets out a sigh, drags a heavy palm down his face, and swallows. “I’m gonna get better.” I have to get better.

Sarah doesn’t say another word. She slowly drops her head to his shoulder, looks over to her father who’s in the middle of placing three mushroom skewers on your plate. Tommy smiles.

“They’re idiots,” she murmurs, he doesn’t miss the affectionate cadence in her tone.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. “But they’re our idiots.”

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. However, your love for mushrooms still remained nonexistent, much to Joel's surprise. He was shocked to see that his and Tommy's barbecue mushrooms hadn't managed to convert you into an avid mushroom lover. In an attempt to mask the lingering taste, you nearly downed the entire pitcher of iced tea—making sure Joel wasn't looking, of course. He was still quite salty about not liking them. He even went far as to pout about it, which you found adorable if you’re being completely honest. You're not sure his ego could handle the thought of you desperately wanting to scrub your tongue with a sponge.

Olivia was the first one to leave as the scorching sun was replaced by shiny stars, and you helped with cleaning up. You noticed that Tommy was avoiding your gaze like the plague, and Joel remained silent about what had happened. Your wrist, although not physically hurting, still ached. You had promised him that you would be there for him, but you felt like you had failed miserably. You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, and if today was any indication, there was a lot happening.

When he’s about to bid his farewells, you touch his forearm. It’s such a small gesture but he flinches anyway and you quickly withdraw your hand. You chew the inside of your cheek.

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, swallowing. “I have some leftover wine.”

It doesn’t take him long to answer but the seconds that pass feel like an eternity. He nods and gestures to the door.

“I’ll be waitin’ outside, go get your things.”

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a sec.”

He closes the door softly behind him. A click that is barely audible. You hear footsteps and turn to see Joel exiting the kitchen. “Everythin’ good?” he asks.

“I think so, I invited Tommy over. I think it’ll be good to talk.”

You see it in his eyes, the need to hold you, to cradle your cheeks and brush your lips together. The internal fight is visible from his expression. You figure which side wins when he remains still, staring, eyes flitting between you and the windows near the door. Tommy’s smoking a cigarette with his back turned.

“I think so too,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He’s been more closed off lately and my usual grumpy self probably ain’t helpin’.”

“I applaud you for admitting that you are, in fact, grumpy.”

He tries to hide it but can’t, a small smile peeking from under his mustache. “Shut up.”

“I really wanna say make me,” you grin and pick up your bag. “But I don’t think we have time for that.”

“I’ll remember, don’t worry.”

You ignore the way your legs press together at the sudden drop in his tone. The chill of the doorknob sends shivers down your spine. You’re afraid of being alone with Tommy. You’re scared that you’re going to blurt everything, all of it. You miss being able to talk to him—Tommy definitely wasn’t a stranger to the rants about the many failed romances in your life. With a sigh, you crack the door open. You hear a shift behind you. . . then a gentle hand on your waist.

A kiss on the back of your neck.

“Call me if you need anythin’.”

“I will.”

You finally step into the warm night. Tommy turns to you, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. The knot in your throat makes it hard to breathe, the younger Miller looks over your shoulder.

“See ya later old timer,” he calls out to Joel. You don’t hear him answer but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, the click of the door follows. Cigarette loose between his lips, Tommy offers you his arm and you take it.

The walk to your home is a silent one.

Your house is ominous in the dark, quickly, you flick the lights open. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I always do,” he murmurs and takes off his shoes. “Would it be alright if we skip the wine? I’m not really feelin’ up for it.”

“Of course,” you answer. “Do you want anything else?”

“Nah. Let’s just talk.”

The request takes you by surprise. You blink dumbly at the back of his head, and when the silence fills the space between you, he turns. He stares at you for a moment, gauging what your reaction means. His brows come together, a humorful smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

“Why do you look so shocked? That’s why you invited me over right? To talk.”

“I. . . Yeah, exactly.”

He heads to the living room and you follow his trail like a lost duckling. “Before you say anythin’,” he says, lifting a hand as you take a seat next to him. “Let me apologize. I didn’t mean. . . I would never hurt you. Today was an accident, I got lost.”

Lost. . . that was exactly what it was, wasn’t it?

“It’s okay, it was my mistake really. I shouldn’t have touched you when you were so out of it. Can I. . . Can I ask what you were thinking about?”

His shoulders raise, his breathing becomes shallow, “I think it was because of the smoke. I was right there, at the battlefield, again. Fuck. I didn’t know.”

You wait for him to continue.

“There ain’t much out there you know? Just you and a couple of brothers you made along the way. When you see them fall, it’s hard to erase the memory of it.”

“No one is expecting you to erase it,” you whisper, your hand hovers above his knee and when he nods, you place itover the curve. “As hard as it is, that’s a part of you. No one blames you for today. No one is mad at you. We just want you to be okay—I want you to be okay.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m workin’ on it. I just hate talkin’ about it so much. I tried. . .I tried to be the hero you know? I tried so hard to make a difference. It didn’t mean nothin’ and when you realize the person you’re gunnin’ down is just as lost as you are, you realize there are no heroes in the battlefield.” a sudden chuckle bursts from his lips, compeltly void, he covers his face with a palm. “But I’m still so stupid. I still want to believe some difference can be made. I want to be good so fuckin’ bad and I don’t know why. I should be happy just doin’ my own thing like Joel but I’m not.”

His words sink into your skin, blend with the blood in your veins, and suffocate your lungs. You want to cry. He sounds so broken, so hopeless. The need to hold him makes your knees tremble. You imagine an eighteen-year-old Tommy, signing up with the army with a hopeful gaze. You’ve heard the stories, remember Joel telling you the arguments that followed after that. Tommy hadn’t backed down, adamant about proving his brother wrong. The stubborn nature of it reminds you of your own brother, the endless arguments that would go on and on and on with your grandfather.

The army takes their hopes and dreams and spits them out broken and strange.

“You’re not stupid, Tommy,” you mutter, barely audible. “We all want to be good. There’s no shame in that. I’m. . .similar, I always want to do the right thing. I want to be good too. Don’t compare yourself to Joel he. . . he got lucky with Sarah. As long as she’s happy and safe he doesn’t care about right and wrong. We on the other hand, we’re still trying to find ourselves. It’s not as easy for us to make that distinction. We think endlessly about the ones who get caught in the crossfire.”

God, but you aren’t doing the right thing. It’s easy to forget that with Joel’s lips on your skin—sure, maybe you’re not straight-up lying to him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re being dishonest.

He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. So round and wide. “People like you can’t try to be good,” he answers, confusing you. He waits, allowing the silence to follow as he thinks of his words. “You’re already good. You don’t need to try to be.”

The confession bubbles up from your chest to your throat. You taste it. Sweet like sugar and deadly like poison. You have to tell him. You need to tell him.

You lick your lips, your mouth dry like sandpaper. He’s staring directly into your soul, he sees something hopeful. Something good. You want to shake him, tell him that he’s the good one. He doesn’t blink. Not once. You open your mouth. You’re going to do it, you’re going to tell him and whatever happens next, however he reacts, it’s what you deserve.

Normally, Tommy’s eyes are a shade lighter compared to his older brother’s. While Joel’s eyes walk the line of being downright black, Tommy’s always reminds you of your favorite brand of chocolate.

But right now it’s dark as night. Just like Joel’s.

“Hey,” he finally blinks, smiling. The confession that had bubbled to the surface slowly simmers down. “We should get some sleep.”

“But—”

“I appreciate you talkin’ to me sweetheart. I. . . feel better, in a weird way,” he comes closer, kisses your cheek. His lips are damp. “I’ll be sure to talk to you more in the future, a’right? Promise.”

“Okay,” you mumble. You both get up from the couch and saunter upstairs, the air that surrounds you lighter. He takes the guest bedroom, the room where August slept the week before.

Tommy stills at the door, “Well, goodnight.”

You can’t leave it at this, you just can’t.

“Tommy, I need to tell you something.” your words are sharp and clear. His hand tightens around the doorknob, what does he think you’re about to say?

“Yeah?”

You can’t do it. Coward.

“Do you need. . . another pillow?”

“Um,” he opens the door, takes a look. “No, I’m good. Is that all you were gonna say?”

“It is.”

It isn’t.

I'm sorry that this took me insanely long for some reason???? Honestly, I blame the fact that I'm not used to writing family dynamics, it's hard. 😭😭😭 but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you guys thought 💜

I did make a post about it but I'll be taking a small break from SIB, I will return to it and will be working on it in the background but I really need to let my mind loose. The next two chapters are already outlined so y'all won't be waiting for that long! This isn't one of those series where the rest of the plot is lost in time and space and I'm too chicken to work on it lmaodfvd

Thank you so much for all the support!!

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