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getitoutofmymindwrites · 10 months ago

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The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

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chilschuck · 10 months ago

Note

AAAA i love your blog!! could i pls request a post-canon scenario where chilchuck finally admits his feelings for reader now that they’re not co-workers anymore >_< (assuming reader joined the laios party during the story)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAAAAH ANON i’m so happy you love my stuff!! i LOVEDDD writing this for you, and i have another request in my askbox that’s similar that i’m going to do as well! this was super fun, and i found myself enjoying this idea and coming up with things i could do with it!!! i hope you enjoy!!! <333

— SHELTER: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, sfw fluff!! takes place post-canon.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1745 (got carried away again…)

✦ i’m scared to reread this, but right now I’m actually happy with it!! i hope you are too!! <333 i tried my best to keep spoilers to a minimum, and to make this fun to read!! also, the title comes from the song shelter by ray lamontagne, which i listened to while writing it. i hope you enjoy!!!

With your party’s adventure finally over, you had decided to try and finally settle down as much as you could. With everyone finding their own new place in life, you did your best to find one too.

You couldn’t deny it had been rather lonely lately. Your own home was empty, a small place you had tried your best to make feel cozy. With your old party members living their own lives, you hoped you could live yours. But evidently, no matter how hard you tried, your mind always went back to him.

It was a bittersweet feeling; imagining him finally living healthily, working on helping others, and even maybe starting up that shop he talked about wanting. It wasn’t like you never saw him, but going on with every day life without him felt… mundane.

Chilchuck was working on himself, reconnecting with his family, and building the future he had hoped for. That alone helped you feel as much at peace as possible. Your feelings, to you, were not nearly as important as his own happiness. So here you waited, counting down the days you’d get to see him again. Maybe he’d be happy to see you too.

Little did you know, Chilchuck was devastatingly nervous. Buttoning up his shirt with shaky fingers, he tried his best to look as decent as he possibly could. It was the final thing he felt he needed to move on, and he wasn’t going to let himself ruin it. Not this, he told himself. There were some things he refused to let slip through his fingers, and one of them were his feelings he had developed for you.

Through it all, you had been by his side. An integral part of the party, you had built him up when he needed it most. Looking past all the mistakes, all the cynicism he liked to cloud himself with, you proved how much you simply cared. Not only for him, but for everyone. Chilchuck had fallen in love with you, and for once, he didn’t want to push those feelings down.

He had bought the flowers he knew you liked, tied with a sweet ribbon that he felt maybe was a bit too much. In fact, maybe all of this was a bit too much, but he hoped it’d work. Chilchuck even went to talk to Marcille about it all, a sign in his own mind that he was more smitten than he had been in years. Not to mention that he had, in fact, reconnected with his ex-wife, and had gained the closure he needed to take this big of a step. There was nothing holding him back now, and he could only hope the words of encouragement he was given would hold true.

Chilchuck had visited your home before, always noting just how comfortable he felt there. You were always happy to have guests lately, and he felt himself praying that this would be the case this time, too. Fist raised in front of your door, he took a deep breath before rapping it against the wood.

The knock came as a surprise, but not as surprising as the person who was behind it. Your eyes widened, his name leaving your lips in delight. “Chilchuck, hello!” It was slightly out of breath from the sheer excitement you had to try and suppress at seeing him here in front of you. Moving to the side, you motioned him in. “Do you… Want to come in?”

One hand behind his back still, trying his best to not snap the stems of the delicate flowers between his fingers, he nodded. “Yeah, sorry for the sudden visit.”

Shaking your head, you walked inside to prepare him something to drink. “Not at all! You know me… I could never say no to seeing you.”

It felt like another of Cupid’s arrows shot him through the chest. Maybe he shouldn’t look too deeply into your words, at least not yet. Following you inside, Chilchuck found himself trying his best to find anything to look at of interest. The plants on your shelves, the well loved books on the table, the occasional trinket you had decided you couldn’t live without… Everything that made it feel so much like you.

While you fiddled around in your small kitchen, Chilchuck cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry, and to try and slow down the thoughts rushing through his head, he spoke up again. “You know… You’ve done a great job with this place. I remember when you bought it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, thinking back fondly of how proud you were. Preparing you both glasses of wine, you turned your attention to him for a moment. “That means a lot, thank you. How have things been with the guild?”

Chilchuck hummed, eyes studying a particular painting on your wall. “Good… Pretty much the usual. Things are going pretty well. What about you, anything interesting since we last saw each other?”

Other than your constant war on your feelings for the half-foot, you’ve been trying new hobbies in order to distract yourself. As you turned to hand him the glass, you racked your brain for something to say. Giving him a sheepish smile, you shook your head. “Not particularly. Here, it’s one you like. Let’s go sit, yeah?”

He held your gaze for a moment, the flowers in his hand a constant reminder of what he was here for. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth to speak. “Yeah. But first, I have something to give you…”

Finally taking the hand from behind his back, he steeled himself as much as he could before holding them out to you. Quickly setting the glasses down, you let out a sound of surprise. Your hands reached out for them, as delicate as possible.

Chilchuck felt like his face was a bit too hot for something as simple as this, but it’s been such a long time since he’s had to really woo anyone. How the hell did he manage to do this all those years ago? Scratching the back of his head, he broke the silence between the two of you.

“They’re your favorites, right? I happened to see ‘em and thought you’d be happy.”

Although Chilchuck felt like he was doing a piss poor job at this, you felt like you were swooning all over again. You know how much he used actions as a love language, yet could you even call it that in this situation? Friends did nice things for each other, yet…

His brows were furrowed in determination, the tips of his ears rosy and suddenly you felt like maybe there was something there. Your gaze fell to the buds in your hands, freshly picked and done so with care. The smile that made its way on your features was unabashed.

“Yes, yes they’re my favorites… I can’t believe you remembered that. Let me go get something to put them in. Thank you so much, Chil.”

It was worth it just to see you smile like that. Even if he felt a little ridiculous at the action, it paid off when you held the vase proudly in your hands. “I’m going to put them on my desk. I love them…” You spoke softly, your own cheeks turning that shade of pink he loved so much. For a few moments, it became silent again, his brain scrambling for what to say next.

“You asked me about my plans after our adventure was over. There… was something I wasn’t honest about. And I want to be honest about it now.”

Chilchuck made sure to correctly word everything he needed to say. Taking time in between his sentences, his gaze returned to yours. There was something there that you had only hoped you’d seen in the past; a taste of desire.

“I want to be there for you. I know we’re no longer coworkers, so…” The words fell silent, you remaining patient through his pauses. Softly, you gave a gentle phrase of reassurance. “You’re already there for me, I know that, Chil—”

Raising a hand, he silenced you. Contemplation took over his features, that worry line between his brows that you always found endearing still making an appearance. You waited for him to elaborate.

“…As more than friends.”

Your heart stopped. Did you hear him correctly? Certainly you did, your voice having gotten stuck in your throat as you tried to wrap your head around the weight those words carried. Was he saying that, this whole time, you’ve been a goal all along? Hearing your name, you snapped your attention back to him.

“I want to be more honest with how I feel. I know how I used to be, and I’m working towards fixing it.” His deep brown eyes held a small glimmer of hope, of vulnerability. Chilchuck was trying, and he was trying for you.

Feeling as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, you asked shakily, “You want…?”

He smiled, a small etch in his features. Huffing, Chilchuck fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? I… Have feelings for you. If you don’t feel the same I get it, don’t—“

Before he could finish his sentence, you hurriedly set the flowers down before just about tackling him. The shock of hearing him say exactly what you’d been wishing for so long melted into a need to relay exactly how you felt. Chilchuck grunted at the impact, nearly toppling over.

“Of course I feel the same! You think I’d put up with your grumpy ass for this long if I didn’t?” You couldn’t help the teasing words that followed, pulling away from him to grin widely at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Your excitement caught him even more off guard, eyes widening at your question. “Sorry, that was probably a bit too much—“

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Chilchuck tugged you to his lips in a desperate attempt to get you to just shut up and do it. You happily obliged, only pulling away to ask one more question. “How long?”

Chilchuck panted, confusion evident on his features. “What?”

“How long have you felt this way?” Your curiosity was getting the better of you, wondering just how long you two had managed to dance around each other like this. Chilchuck sighed, giving the only answer he could think to say:

“Too long.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #OOUGHHHH IS THIS. ANYTHING.#hoping you like it!!!! as i loved writing it!!!!#worried it doesn’t flow right but….#posts it and runs #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader

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i-hope-this-is-a-phase · 1 year ago

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Regarding the GeorgeNotFound Situation

This entire conversation should not have happened publicly.

It was clear from Caiti's initial post that there was a breakdown in communication rather than any "assault" or "molestation." In her own testimony, she never described explicitly stating no, nor giving any indication besides "getting up" to stop the attention (which was later disproved).

That does not mean she wasn't uncomfortable. That does not mean she was not hurt by George's actions. It also does not mean George is a molester because of it.

From Caiti and George's statements, it is clear that this took place over a couple of hours (3-4), and besides the texting afterward, there were no further physical interactions between them. To use a single incident to describe George's behavior is a stretch at best and downright misinformation at worst. In the Wilbur situation, the violations of Shelby's boundaries happened over months with repeated attempts to tell him to stop.

In George's situation, it happened over four hours, in which there were no explicit tells to stop.

That said, I do hope George takes this incident and rethinks his behavior with strangers. Even if it should not be described as molesting, it still hurt Caiti, and if I were him, I would make strides to not repeat the mistakes made here.

Moreover, I think that some parties involved should not have been. Some individuals used the volatile situation to spread their own hate toward the Dream Team. They used Caiti's story to push their own agenda, which, in no way, is supporting a victim. Her friends should have helped her find closure by seeking reconciliation from her "abuser;" instead, they made the situation a public massacre where she would most likely be harassed after already feeling vulnerable.

My hope is that, behind the scenes, the two will talk about what happened and try to find peace. George clearly did not know he hurt Caiti, and he apologized for making her feel uncomfortable. That does not make him a villain: it makes him a person who made a mistake.

The moral of this whole fiasco is not to support or not support victims. Support can be weaponized for personal gain, and to support blindly is almost as bad as not supporting at all.

Instead, we need to listen. From the beginning, Caiti's story was a plea for an apology from George, and all she needed was George's apology (which she received). She did not need people calling him an abuser, she did not need her friends to utilize her pain to attack George's friend Dream, and she did not need people to pry into both her and George's life for answers.

All of this could, and should, have happened off-screen where the two parties could reconcile and heal.

To Caiti: I wish this had not happened to you. I am sorry you are in pain, and I am sorry your friends used your pain for their gain. I hope you find peace from George's apology, and if you do not, I hope you find peace in life.

To George: I wish this did not happen in the public light. Your mistake did not need to be publicized and scrutinized and instead should have been between you and Caiti. I hope you will help Caiti find peace, and if she does not want it, I hope you grow as a person and do not make this mistake again.

As of right now, this blog will remain positive about the Dream Team. I probably will not be supporting George enthusiastically right now (since I want to be certain this isn't a repetitive behavior and just one incident). However, I will be happy to talk about any fandom content regarding him and the other members.

It has been a rough few days, and I am grateful for the lovely positivity we created between my anons and followers. I give you all many squishes of happiness. Thank you for being kind.

Now, let us all move on to a better and brighter future in this fandom. We have a lot of content coming up, and I'm very excited. Feel free to send any asks regarding the situation; I would love to read your opinions.

TL;DR This conversation should have happened off-camera. Caiti's story should not have been used for clout, and George should not have been attacked for clout. Both need to heal off-camera, and we should support that.

#georgenotfound #gnf #dreamwastaken #dream #dream team #caiti #support caiti #Rei speaks #dicey

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oh-no-bummer · 4 months ago

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I'm gonna be fixated on this for a while and I hate to be the voice of negativity but I'm just really disappointed with how Agatha's story was handled. The thing is at the beginning of the series when it was clear they had made the choice to give Agatha a son I suspended my disbelief, because there are many ways in which that could've fit and it wouldn't have had to be a damning choice for her to also be a mother. But it was. I'm tired of cinema but marvel in particular using motherhood as a way to categorise women and compromise their stories. I hated it when it happened with Wanda and I hate it now. Why are women not allowed to be ? I get it that is also all a thing in the comics, but that doesn't mean it's right. Agatha was a villain and she in many ways remained one but the focus on her personhood as one centered on being a mother took so much away from her. I'm just so disappointed because there are a thousand ways to make that coexist! It could have been a beautiful story about loss and grief and empowerment and repression and love. But I believe marvel really has a problem with tying things up, they always mess up everything at the end and apparently women's stories are just not meant to be. Even if Agatha had to die, there are many other ways in which that death could've been more rewarding and peaceful. But what gets me the most is that the fears we exposed did come true, the show was not ultimately about Agatha and her grief or her love but about how she's a tool for Billy who disappointingly but predictably become the focus of the show. Rio was villainized, because she is death, which is such a flat interpretation of her character. The fact that the love Agatha and Rio clearly had for each other was so cruelly undermined by the writing. The fact that we have no closure for them, for Agatha's son or Agatha's story. The fact she now is just narrowed down to be Billy's mentor, a literal ghost of who she was, used to perpetuate the more central role of a man's story. And with this I don't mean to say that I hate Billy or his storyline nor that I hate Agatha being a mother, what I absolutely abhor is how those things became so central they obscured her story and deprived us, the audience of seeing it complete. Fine, I get it Billy needed to be introduced, but did that introduction have to destroy Agatha's story? Was there no other resolution? Obviously not. Agatha could've still become his mentor while alive, could have remained with Jennifer and decided to actually try, or Agatha could've died, and finally confronted her grief and Rio. There's so many ways in which her role as a mother and mentor didn't have to impede her character's arc. There's so many ways this show could've been good. I'm sorry if my anger comes true but I truly am disappointed in the way the media and marvel especially continue to treat women and their story. Let's not even talk about Alice, or Jen , because neither of those stories were complete, the way they had Jen's binding sloppily be caused by Agatha felt like such a rushed decision with absolutely no explanation. Where did Jennifer's story go? Her role as high priestess? I get it that it might be picked up again in the future but this is what the fucking show was supposed to be about, witches walking the road and growing and facing themselves. I have even more to say about Agatha and Rio specifically, but for now I'm just gonna conclude by saying that it didn't have to be this way, it's just proof of how little they care about women's stories that they think they can be used to further the narrative without any consequences. It feels cheap, it feels illogical and rushed. It seems like horrible writing. It saddens me greatly and I hate it.

#agatha all along spoilers #agatha all along #agathario #agatha harkness #rio vidal #Jennifer kale #billy maximoff #mcu #I'm gonna go drown my sorrows in Fanfiction obviously but I wish sometimes we could have the true stories end properly #agatha x rio

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ncillary · 1 month ago

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Self Aware AU (Rafayel)

Summary: You have the lowest Affinity with Rafayel. The reason is because you hate being the destroyer of everything he loves. His kingdom. His people. His life. Maybe he is better off without meeting you.

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

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| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 [current] | 5 |

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"Hear me out."

Your friend nodded.

"I read somewhere that someone got their phone hacked."

Your friend nodded again. Munching her food. You began.

"All of their information like phone number, home address, ID got copied. Their picture was also sneakily taken. The stealer used their information to scam other people. They were visited by police and were almost interrogated. Good thing the police realised it was not them. The case was being reported as identity theft and other serious charges. Apparently, a lot of people admitted to having that happened to them commented on the post."

Your face and hands gestured wildly but quietly between the both of you, emphasizing every sentence as it was told.

"What a mess up thing to do." She looked serious sans the continuous munching.

"Then... then... There's this case where the hacker was actually stalking them. Messaging them. Calling them but no voice was heard on the other side. The stalker eventually appears near their house. Looking like innocent people."

You shivered. She stopped munching.

"Why are you telling me this scary story? I might be a bit scaredy-cat but this is a whole new level."

You calm your nerves, "My nightmare led me to this. Maybe it's a sign for us to be more careful."

"What kind of nightmare are you having?" she was a bit worried now.

"Two orbs of innocent looking at you from the abbys."

She sighed, "Maybe it was the cats that you have been playing around with. Maybe one of them is eager to get you to bring them to your home." she tried to ease your thinking.

You chuckled, "I like that better. But I would rather create a sanctuary for them where they could come and go as they please. My home is a place where they could feel safe and cozy."

Your friend smiled but soon deflated when she saw you pulled out your phone.

"Likeeeeee... Neko Atsume! Have you seen these aDOrable little cats loitering around my home. Look at them. Look at them."

Your friend was shaken enthusiastically by you as you show your little game.

"Okay. Okay. Let me eat in peace. How many games you installed in your phone? It's not a computer."

You looked at her sheepishly.

There's a reason why.

You stared at your phone. Again.

It has been a few weeks since you last opened the otome game. You did however update the game as usual. You sneak a peak at the updated features from the safety of your friend's phone.

You wanted to enjoy a game on your phone as you did with the otome game. That was what made you installed a whole lot of comfort games in it but only settled with one cat game. Your inner cat lady was showing.

It's comforting as the theme suggested.

But.

"Rafayel."

You cupped your mouth, groan escaped soon after.

"Girl! Get your wits together! What if that dusky purple bug is a hacker? What then?"

Then, why are you still keeping the game on your phone?

Your inner voice betrayed you. Maybe you need a closure.

To what?

+-----------------------------+-----------------------+

"Sis..." You started. She hummed in acknowledgement.

"I'll be... staying out for a few days."

She paused the movie you both currently watching, looking at you as you hugged the popcorn tub tighter.

"I just need some time to myself. Nothing serious! Don't worry. Just. Just..."

She laughed a bit. You looked at her confusedly.

"Oh, my baby sister has grown up. Is it a date?"

"What? No. Far from it. I just want to game without bothering you."

She chuckled, "Alright. Alright. Say what you want. Spill me the tea when everything is settled. Let me at least pay the hotel for you. Three days good?"

"Sis. No. I have my own money."

"You're going to agree with me or I'm the one staying at the hotel." She looked at you cheekily.

You huffed out in guilt, "Fine~ I'll be taking up the offer."

+---------------------------+--------------------------+

You laughed lowly as you read the message on your phone. Your stuff was neatly put away in your hotel room. The bed was comfortable as you sat on it.

[Meals included. I have eyes everywhere. Don't make me get the staff to drag you out.]

*Bling*

[I think you might like this one. Maybe you rarely play it now. Just letting you know.]

You smile at your friend's message. She didn't ask why you stopped playing the game but she knew you still had an abundance of interest in it when she played it in front of you.

The 50 seconds video she shared reeled you in. The way he ignited the sparkles. The face of MC that he drew with it. His smile. It made you realise how much you miss him.

But of course.

The hacker is NOT Rafayel. You want your game back EXCLUDING the hacker.

The sun was shining well. It was the beginning point of your action.

You logged into your game. Hearts beating steadily.

The cafe. Empty. Sadness settling in. A mocking upturned on your lips, confirming it was hacked. A slight flash made you blink.

Two orbs from the abyss. Staring at you in disbelief. He slowly walked closer to the screen but stopped short. Lips worrying.

"You need to stop."

He snapped his neck at you in seconds.

"I just want my game back. My Rafayel back. I won't hesitate to report you. Screw you and your scamming buddy for targeting innocent people. Just know what's coming for you is much worse."

He stared. Unmoving. Unblinking.

Unnerved from your part.

"Huh. Did that threat work?" You pondered.

"...again..." His slight whisper hung in the stalled air.

You frowned.

Then, so be it. You got up. Police station in mind. You wondered if the police will be intimidated by your rigid look as much as you're intimidated by their uniforms.

"Say it again."

Right. You didn't exit the game. He might disappear if you did. Plus, didn't he suggest that you can just show him around.

"I didn't know you're such a masochist. Did you get a kick being threathen?"

He laughed, "Cutie..."

"Stop calling me that."

He smirked, "Princess-" you groaned.

"Can you repeat it again?"

"This is ridiculous."

"What was it... Ah... I want my game back. You want... My~~~"

Your eyes widen. Memories flooding back. You're finally focusing on him again. His face was one you want to shove it away out of annoyance.

"Cut it out."

"Let me hear it."

Your blushing was uncontrollable now. You gritted your teeth.

"MY RAFAYEL. GIVE HIM BACK."

His eyes widen. Feet stumbling backwards. Blushing ensued on both of the faces that exist in the room. He turned around, letting you face his back.

"Hey! You lil-"

*Knock* *Knock*

You cupped your mouth. Wild guessed that your shout was the reason. You glared at the fish-head who briefly glanced at you before turning away quickly.

You hoped that your sister wouldn't know about this embarrassing matter.

You grimaced as you slowly opened the door, preparing yourself from the onslaught of the consequence of your action.

"I apolo-"

You're breath plunged you. This is not possible.

That familiar face. That cheeky smile. That playful eyes training straight at you.

"Did you order one Rafayel, cutie?"

That voice which was similar to a siren that sunk countless ships at the sea but instead the voice only burrowed deeper in your heart.

Flickering tenderly.

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 [current] | 5 |

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Masterlist Self Aware AU

-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------&&&&&-------

#love and deepspace #rafayel #self aware au #fanfic

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nico-esoterica · 7 months ago

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How to stop being a peasant in your own life

It's still Leo season and as a Leo stellium, I'm here to encourage y'all to get in the habit (or knuckle down on) being ruthlessly self-centered and to put yourself on a pedestal at all times. The gag is that the more secure with yourself you are, you actually never feel any inclination to be rude or mistreat others. It'd be beneath you. So don't think you're gonna be some narcissist or something. Relax.

But this means prioritizing yourself. Many, many, too many of you were raised w/o boundaries, are chronic overgivers, and have no idea what 'no' means in relation to others, esp those around you.

This is how you start treating yourself like royalty. Baby steps create strides over time:

Create small promises with yourself and keep them (even if it's just eating)

Accommodate yourself unapologetically (do you need more space/time for things? do you need people to be mindful of something about you? tell them. think about where you feel discomfort and let the people around you help you or find ways to help yourself w/o guilt or shame -- there's usually blogs/youtube vids/tiktoks of people who give tips about everything uncomfy known to man you can learn from)

Treat yourself with dignity and compassion (hold yourself to a higher standard but be understanding about it)

Always talk to yourself like you would to a child (gently, encouragingly, constructively, lovingly)

Find something to be proud of yourself about everyday (even if it's just getting up)

Be your biggest cheerleader with your tasks (even if they're small)

Practice self-love by pretending strangers are describing what they love about you

Practice mirror work by looking in the mirror and seeing yourself through the perspective of an artist (who's in love w/ you tbh) and try to imagine what they'd find alluring or interesting about your body

Think of yourself as a character and think of what'd make you unique in a story (be biased and have fun!)

Do something small for yourself today that will make tomorrow easier or that you'll feel good about tomorrow

Think of an old limiting belief you can say goodbye to and remind yourself that it's gone if it comes up

Find little ways to take care of yourself that help you feel safe and appreciated (change your sheets, buy labels/post its for reminders, trash expired things, delete/archive old files on your tech)

Reflect on current boundaries within your relationships and start (safely) telling people you aren't available to do xyz, xyz isn't for you, you don't want to do xyz, and "No."

Researching if there are discounts/affordable versions of what you love (search reddit and twt communities for tips)

Adopt the mindset that everything in your life is easy and never going out of the way for anything/anyone unless you're prioritized (this makes you become aware of who/what's been taking advantage of you in your life)

Never doing anything which compromises your safety and to stop 'going against your gut' even if you're not 100% sure

If anyone/anything in your life doesn't make you feel good, find a way to put (safe) distance between you and it until you can cut it/them off completely. Mutual closure is subjective and isn't always necessary. Prioritize your peace over a lifetime of resentment

Devote yourself to joy in any way possible. Other people's opinions don't belong to you

Think of something your inner child always wanted to do and find a way to do it :)

#self concept #self esteem #life coaching #angel hive #leo season

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 5 months ago

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Currently Watching - October

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 29.10.2024

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

gif-requests are open, but you'll need to have some patience🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in October with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. Bad Guy My Boss 🇹🇭 (6/12)

I must admit, I have no clue what I am watching here. What is their problem? Why can't they just talk to each other? What is their past relationship? And why is the bad boss so mean? Why is he always angry? What are those dreams? And do I think bad boss is attractive? I don't know. Every time he doesn't speak, doesn't really act and just sits there and looks at something without anger in his face, I think that is such a beautiful young man. Every time he acts as the boss and talks or stares angry into the void, I think there is something off. Questions. I have questions... One thing from this week's episode I can say is, James looks like a good kisser. He puts effort in those scenes. Wish he had a more comfortable partner...

2. Every You, Every Me 🇹🇭 (4/8)

I am so in love with this series. It tingles all the right spots of the romantic parts of my brain. The concept is so great. Every week we can see those two fall in love with each other. I love seeing people fall in love with each other. And we don't have to wait for weeks for them to admit their feelings. This weeks (and with that last weeks, too) story was a weaker one for me. I knew he was going to die, so the emotional impact was not really there for me. But we got a really beautiful love scene, which was nice. And I hope next week's episode is a little bit lighter.

3. Jack & Joker: U steal my heart! 🇹🇭 (8/12)

I loooove this series so much! We finally get some comfort! But don't get yourself fooled! This episode is heartbreaking! Jack is drifting more and more towards the dark side while he still tries to help everyone, but himself. He willingly offers himself to the devil just so everyone else around him is safe. And Joke... his dad... out of personal reasons this scene hit really hard! It made me sob uncontrollably. But in the end they played the truth game and grandma won and those two were finally cuddling! They are finally back on the same page! I love them. And I love the grandma. She is their biggest fan and I am hers!

4. Kidnap 🇹🇭 (8/12)

I don't know what this episode was. It was so messy. It felt so incoherent and rushed. Like a filler episode to provide that people keep watching, because we finally got some sexy time. I am honest, that wasn't the greatest sexy time. But they are back together and happy. We are on episode 8, so there are four more episodes for drama. Next week some jealousy and I guess with end of episode 10/episode 11 shit will hit the fan. So I am not that mad we got this honeymoon phase now. But it felt really off.

5. Let Free The Curse Of Taekwondo 🇰🇷 (4/8)

I am devastated... This show knows how to hurt me. Our boys got like five minutes peace and happiness until everything went to shit. And they are so happy together and it looks so good on them! And I know want to know what happend in the past twelve years! And I want them to talk and to find closure. At this point I wouldn't mind them not getting back together, but just give each other peace and closure! Until then I am living in this scene!

6. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)

Do you still believe I'll come back to this one? It is a really good series, but I can't motivate myself to dive into it right now 🙈

Finished in October

Series

I Saw You In My Dream 🇹🇭

This series was cute. It was just a slice of their lifes with a bit of a fantasy element to it. I really liked the relationships. Not just the main couple, but the friendship and the family bond. All were nice and lovely. The dreams were an interesting element to build the series around. I liked the idea. But mostly, I really enjoyed our main couple. They were friends and so their relationship based on that. It was a very healthy relationship and the series just showed them as a fresh couple, who couldn't keep their hands from each other. That was refreshing. The acting was not the best, but it was okay for me. I give it a 8 out of 10.

First Note of Love 🇹🇼

I don't know. I never really got a feeling for this series. There was no real chemistry between the mains. It felt more like brothers to me. That is my personal feeling. The story was okay, but not that special to me. The acting was good. So for me this is a series I won't come back to in the future, but I think people might really like it, because it is cute and quiet. Just a 6 out of 10 for me.

Love In The Big City 🇰🇷

I really needed some time to think about this series. It is not a bl series. It is a queer drama about queer people living queer lifes. We accompany Ko Yeong while he stumble through life and affairs. We witness his happy times, his heartbreaks and his darkest times. His friend group is so splendid and I love and miss them. They are there when he needs them the most and that is so important for me. It is a very realistic story, told in a beautiful, cautious way, acted with so much talent and passion. As a consumer of a bunch of different queer media, I have seen almost every ending in history of queer drama. This one is not a sad one. It is a hopeful one. Our beloved Ko Yeong finally understood what he wants, what his heart wishes for. He is still heartbroken, but he seeks love and in the future there is hope he will find this love again. He started a new chapter of his life and is only at the beginning of his self-love-journey. There is so much more to come for him. This series really touched me deeply and I can't stop thinking about it. A clear and strong 10 out of 10 for me.

Movie

As Long as We Both Shall Live 🇯🇵

I loved this one. I didn't understand what exactly was going on in the end, but the story and the romance was so good. A little bit of Cinderella in there and I love a good old fairy tale. And this really felt like one. The love between them was so pure and it developed so naturally. And the magic system was interesting, but I really wish we had more insight in what was going on. Or I am just not capable of getting it... A really strong 9 out 10 for me.

Short Film

Dropped in October

Uncle Unknown 🇹🇼 (3/12)

Yeah... no. This is juts bad. I won't keep watching this. I don't want to give this series any more of my time. I watched low budget productions and I am really fine with most of them, because there is a story that wants to be told. But this here is just a mess. I have no clue what is going on or who these people are and at this point I really don't care anymore. So, yeah, dropped...

Looking forward to in October

Heartstopper - Trailer (Oct 3rd)

Fourever You - Trailer (Oct 3rd)

Uncle Unknown - Trailer (Oct 4th)

Every You, Every Me - Trailer (Oct 6th)

Eccentric Romance - Trailer (Oct 10th)

High School Frenemy - Trailer (Oct 14th)

Taming The Bad Guy (Oct 15th)

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo - Trailer (Oct 17th)

Pluto - Trailer (Oct 19th)

Love in the Big City - Trailer (Oct 21st)

See Your Love - Trailer (Oct 23rd)

See You (Oct 25th)

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days - Trailer (Oct 26th)

Perfect 10 Liners - Trailer (Oct 27th)

Stealing from my CEO - Trailer

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rooksolas · 3 months ago

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An Analysis and Reinterpretaion of Veilguard Solas, as a Man, Broken

I have been through many stages of grief with Solas' character as portrayed in Veilguard. I have bargained, I have argued, and I have finally reached acceptance, through much thought and consideration, by coming to an understanding that the Solas we see in Veilguard is completely different from the one we see at the end of Trespasser: I'd like to analyze Veilguard Solas from a different perspective, and discuss an interpretation of this Solas, as a man who has already given up on his journey, but is bound to continue, fueled by his regrets and pride.

(Please note, I am fully aware this essay is fueled by a fair amount of copium, but I am taking the writing in Veilguard at face value and in good faith. While I have my criticisms with the writing, I have made peace with the story the devs have provided to us with the resources they were given, and I'll be engaging with it accordingly, filling in gaps where I can. Will I be reaching, at times? Yes, but sometimes we need to reach to find closure.)

Truly, many thoughts, and an unbelievable amount of spoilers under the cut:

I'd like to consider, for this reinterpretation, at the end of Trespasser, Solas regrets leaving the Inquisitor, and not allowing himself to stop his path of destruction there, almost immediately. For all the masking he does, putting forward that he has the strength to betray them and destroy the world, once he is alone, he regrets it so deeply it breaks him, fully. HERE is when he actually decides to stop his quest to tear down the Veil- though he cannot admit that to himself, or anyone. He is still too proud to stray from his path, but his mind has already been changed, based on his time in the Inquisition, and his re-connection with the Inquisitor.

Solas continues through the next 10 years, too prideful to stray from his path, but unable to fully commit or put effort into his plans. He gains the respect of the Agents of Fen'harel, but walks away from them. He completes the lyrium dagger, as the Evanuris do need to be moved to a different prison , but he delays and delays and delays the moment of his ritual. He visits the Inquisitor in dreams, mournfully. He eats alone in the Crossroads. He writes the Inquisitor a letter, but cannot even muster the strength to send it.

In previous versions of the game, we can find concept art that depicts Solas manipulating Tevinter and the Qunari into an all-out war so he can perform a blood magic ritual as a last resort. Veilguard Solas is not that Solas. He's simply not willing to go that far for his goal, anymore. He walks forward, each trudging step taking him towards the inevitable end.

He learns that his friend Varric is currently searching for him, and that he's connected with someone named Rook. He learns about this "Rook", but does nothing to stop them from approaching his ritual. No wards to protect him, no traps, save for the demons spilling out. He left a perfect Eluvian path from Minrathous straight to his ritual site in Arlathan.

Perhaps a part of Solas wants to be destroyed, wants a hero to come fell him. Perhaps he feels that is the way out. Not consciously, not fully, but perhaps that's why he leaves himself so open.

When Varric approaches him, Solas does not use his power to turn him to stone. He also does not let him convince him, however- after all, he's already resigned to this fate. He's told the love of his life that even their words cannot stray him from his path, so he does not stop his actions here. He begins his ritual, and the fight with Varric ensues. He kills Varric, his friend, and it feels inevitable: just another murder in the path of blood the Dread Wolf walks. Mythal, Felassan, Varric.

The worst possible thing for Solas to experience in this moment, I would say, would be to be stuck in a place where he is incapable of action, and is forced to face monuments of his past failures with every passing, endless second, without even the escape of sleep to give him respite. Does he see the faces of those he loved? The people he knew, before the Veil was created: the ones he feels he has failed, yet again, by wishing to give up the fight? Does he see Felassan, desperately trying to convince him that the elves of today are people, and deserve a world to live in? Does he slowly come to realize he believes him, now?

As Ghilan'nain and Elgarnan have escaped, however, Solas is forced to change. When he and Rook share the Fade, he does what he is very practiced in doing: he puts on a mask. He becomes the trickster god Rook expects, and is startled by them matching his wit and passion.

He, effectively, Locks In, because he knows what the Evanuris will do to this world. On one hand, there's the element of Solas not wanting people to suffer, even if he's going to destroy their world (as seen in his handling of the Qunari invasion in Trespasser, etc.) But for this reading, I think there is another, unconcious reason for him to help: he expects this world to remain, and does not Want it destroyed. (There's also a secret, third reason: fuck the Evanuris we need to Get those guys) (and FUCK Elgarnan in particular).

So he helps Rook on their journey, all the while planning for a way out of this hell-prison, where he has to face everything he's ever done in every moment Rook is not present. While Solas presents the Varric hallucination as manipulation, and I believe it is, I also interpret it as a half-baked apology on Solas' end. Regret that he took Varric from this world, and from Rook, and letting him live on in this strange, twisted way, for both himself and Rook. Funny that Varric tells Solas that none of his plans work out, and even his plan to recreate Varric fails because of his regret and love for his friend.

So, Solas helps Rook. He guides them through their path, he encourages when necessary, he prods when Rook needs to show commitment. While we don't know how much Solas can see through Rook's eyes, he is at least aware of their party, and watches them grow, along with Rook. Does their connection with their teammates remind him of anyone? Does he see their friendship, their passion to save the world, and is forced to face the question of his commitment to destroying this world one more time?

While Solas does, on occasion, try to let Rook in on his thought process, the idea of joining Solas or completely seeing his point in tearing down the Veil is absent from the game. Again, if we're just interpreting what's in the game, I think that perhaps, Solas does not offer that option or insight to his path because he does not Want to convince Rook. It is possible, in Trespasser, for the Inquisitor to ask to join him, but he denies them. This is a similar denial, though we can interpret his complete absence of this choice as Solas' true unwillingness to tear down the Veil. If this Solas was ruthless? Would he not worm his way into Rook's head, and find a way to pull them closer to his side? But he does not- doesn't even try. Perhaps, yes, because he knows Rook would say no- but also, perhaps, because he does not want to give them that option, for fear he would succeed.

He helps them rescue the Dalish, and faces off against Elgarnan, all while Rook continues on their path, learning more about Solas through the Crossroads. While I won't go into too much detail of the murals, as many people have discussed Solas' past and his relationships, I think Mythal and his relationship to her is very important. I think sometimes, interpretations of her relationship with him are very one-sided, and I think an important aspect of Solas' character is that his choices are his own. He can be manipulated into them, especially when he is younger, but Solas is not capable of viewing those choices as coerced. He is Wisdom, he is Pride, and he believes that everything he does is of his accord: that's why he holds every action as his own regret. He regrets joining the world in physical form, he regrets stealing the Titan's dreams from them, but he lets the burden of guilt fall on him, even if the blame lies jointly with someone else. This is part of his Pride, the part of him that he cannot see is acting god-like, that his actions are worthy and correct because he feels their consequences so deeply. It is of course, not grounded in reality, but he is so deep in his regrets that he cannot see that his burden does not make him any more righteous than any other. That is, of course, until his burden breaks him, collapses on top of him.

All throughout the game, Solas plots to exit the Fade Prison, and succeeds after Rook kills Ghilan'nain. He throws them in his place, and adds that life to his list of regrets once more. But I think it's interesting what Solas does directly after this- he goes to the Shadow Dragons and provides aid. He HAS the lyrium dagger. The world is in chaos! Even with the threat of Elgarnan, I think it's fascinating that Solas does not take the chance to tear down the Veil, then, and instead goes directly to being the Fen'harel we all know and love: helping people harmed by Elgarnan's tyranny. I'll admit this is a bit of a weaker argument: you could fully say that Solas would not tear down the Veil while Elgarnan is still alive (or is physically unable to, due to Elgarnan's life force sustaining the Veil, though he tries the same thing at the beginning of the game), but I find it fascinating.

I also find it fascinating that in Solas' conversation with Rook, he does frame his actions as 'trying to save the world'- not HIS world, no reference to the world pre-Veil, the world he currently finds himself in. Could this be more manipulation tactics on Rook? Yes, and it probably is! But it is fascinating.

He continues to lie to Rook, and goes so far to swears above all else, very emphatically, that the Veil will not come down by his hand. We learn later that he is lying, that this is one more betrayal, but it does make me wonder if, for just a moment, he believed it. Maybe, in that moment, there was a small part of him that exhaled, that accepted that he could finally give up this path, to stop Elgarnan. Perhaps, even in that moment, he considered a world where he was free, even if he knew it was a lie, that Elgarnan's death would bring forth what the Dread Wolf desired anyway.

In the final scene, Rook defeats Elgarnan, and Solas reveals his betrayal. I have watched this sequence so many times, and I am going to mainly be discussing the redeem ending (and of course, the Inquisitor joining him in the Fade).

Solas, at this point, is on the verge of collapse: beaten and broken, and, almost apologetically, reveals his final betrayal to Rook. The way his lines are delivered in this scene are so exhausted, as if he is compelled to do this final, terrible act. As if, despite his regrets, fate has brought him so close to his goal that he cannot bear to stop now. His arguments are weak. He cannot even bring himself to finish justifying his actions. Compared to his detailed explanations he provided the Inquisitor, all Rook gets is "When you see the old world restored…" He can't even bring himself to finish his sentence. He must simply act, because that is what the Dread Wolf has wanted, for so long, and he is finally here, and there is nothing else for him to do.

When Rook freely gives him the Lyrium dagger, and asks him to stop… I truly believe he almost does. He stares at the dagger, holds it gingerly, fiddles with it. Walks towards the steps alone, slowly, thinking. Considering. Weighing his arguments. For a moment, Rook has him. Then, his next line.

"To stop those would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

This line solidifies Veilguard Solas for me. It is directly referencing the Inquisitor. This Solas is changed- he is no longer doing this for his people. He understands this world is worth saving, but cannot bring himself to stop. He has lied, and cheated, and betrayed again and again and again. This is the path he chose- to stop now would mean it was useless. Pointless. More regret for him to settle deep within himself. He cannot bring himself to stop, even when he agrees with Rook- because of his pride, and his regret.

But the Inquisitor is there, to staunch his pride. They forgive him, completely and fully. They look at him, and say the time he spent, the people he harmed: they matter. Of course they mattered. But it is not too late to revert to mortality. You do not have to act as a god, any longer. I forgive you as a man. I am here, and I see through your pride, and I forgive you. Let the world forgive you, too.

And this does affect him. This does bring him closer, but it is not enough. His pride has fallen, but his regrets, his endless regrets, will not let him escape. There is simply too much pain in his heart, for the elven people, for what they have lost, and for Mythal, his oldest friend, who betrayed him in turn, who was killed by the Evanuris and killed by him. In this section, she represents everything lost: he is speaking both of literal Mythal, and of the Elven world in general.

When Mythal appears, it breaks him. I'd like to propose a different interpretation to this scene than its face meaning. Mythal is literally his god, his creator, his friend, all of these things, and she is before him, and he weeps. He offers her the Lyrium dagger to kill him, but she stays her hand. Instead, she offers to share the blame with Solas, and releases him from her service. I think there's another element to be discussed here. I don't think it's a literal 'release of service', but, an absolution for Solas' regrets.

Solas has never been part of the Evanuris, or the Forgotten Ones. He has always been a man among gods, and a god among men. Mythal's speech to Solas reads to me as her encouraging Solas to move forward, that what happened in the past is past, and that he is not bound to his sins any more. Mythal, Solas' goddess, who he literally killed, tells Solas that he is released from her service, released from the service of the Elven people, and that he can move forward, without regret. She, a god, forgives him, a man, and tells him he is free.

Immediately, the Inquisitor reinforces this statment:

"There is no fate but the love we share"

The fate that was writ for Solas: the need to tear down the Veil, to make up for all of his regrets, has been broken. "The love we share" can be, literally, the love Solas and Lavellan share, but can also be read as love for the world, that he discovered through his journeys and his experiences with the Inquisitor and Rook. They and he both know that love is real, and is the first step forward to his future.

When he cuts his hand, he almost cannot believe it himself. He turns to the Veil tear, and to those around him, and, so quickly it almost reads as impulsive, he cuts himself. As if he knows: if he does not do it now, he will not have the strength to. As if he is scared that he will fall into his pride and his regrets again. But he succeeds: he cuts himself willingly, he makes his final choice, and he accepts it, finally.

He makes the choice to atone: not bound by his regrets, but for the love for this world, a world he is finally choosing. And when the Inquisitor joins him, he is not too proud to deny them again. He is a man, once again, a man capable of change, of love, and of a new fate.

Veilguard Solas is not Trespasser Solas. While I will always be sad we did not get that version, the regretful but cuthroat, sentimental yet steady Solas that we expected and deserved, I have come to an understanding with Veilguard Solas. I see him as a man that has already resigned to his failure, but is pushed forward by his pride and regret, searching for a way to stop. And I am glad he does, and I am glad that he gets a happy ending. I am glad we have an ending to his story, even if the story is different than what we expected.

#solas #veilguard #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age #da: the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #spoilers #if anyone does read this: i love you and i hope you got something out of it as well #i was compelled to write this and couldnt sleep last night because of it. OTL

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bengiyo · 4 months ago

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Peaceful Property: How I Yearn For a Good Procedural

I was originally excited about Peaceful Property because I genuinely like following BL actors into their other work to show that we are a loyal viewer base. Following Nishijima to Drive My Car (2021) was one of the best decisions I made that year. I’ve been thinking about the experience of watching Peaceful Property and why I felt so frustrated by the show. I wanted to write out my thoughts on procedurals, BL bait, and fandom so that I can move on from this show.

The Loss Case-of-the-Week in Favor of Unearned Home Sympathy

My biggest struggle with this show was losing its case-of-the-week format around the midpoint. I was really intrigued in the early stories by how Home’s family’s business practices led to the terminal situations affecting some of the ghost stories. Like @lurkingshan I had hoped to see the show develop a common theme with its focus on stories about poverty. I also saw some potential in the read from @/maybe-boys-do-love after the episode focusing on Ride. No one was alone in this early read (@valentinaonthemoon).

Through the end of episode 6, I had a ton of excitement about the show handling its themes around justice and forgiveness. We knew that Home was the one responsible for Peach's current predicament, and that Home’s grandfather and uncle were in on the cover up. Home knew what he had done to Peach, and fretted over it throughout episode 6. After five weeks of them focusing on completing a final act and providing closure for ghosts, I had hoped they’d give Home the chance to sit with the horror of the consequences of his own action and cowardice. I wanted the show to reckon with how Home, completely sober, left a stranger for dead, and only now cares about it because Peach is helping him feel less lonely.

Unfortunately, much of this frayed after the reveal that Home ran over Peach and the push to make Peach forgive him in the episode with the ghosts at the site of that camp. I didn’t share @respectthepetty’s read on the situation, but I did respect it and see how she got there. However, like @my-rose-tinted-glasses, it felt like the show started to rely on the inherent goodwill of shippers to overcome a major relationship break rather than deal with the underlying issues.

I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with having the show turn to focus on how Home deals with Peach and Pangpang after the reveal that he left Peach for dead on the street, but I really struggled with the show not letting Home process the horror of what he did. This carries forward as we deal with the way Home’s family stole land from locals, and did not accommodate them through construction: something that had direct impacts on Kan and her father. By the time the show is forced to reckon with this, it handwaves it through Home with “You guys win! No problem!” (@twig-tea) It then goes on to give Home ghost sensing powers so he can rely Kan’s father’s final words which are just ‘get some friends?’ Now, I do think you need strong connections to survive activist work, but it felt really shitty to have the rich kid whose family caused all of this be the one to deliver this message. As with everything after Home’s biggest mistake is revealed, the show values the feeling of sympathy and forgiveness over the real work required for genuine reconciliation.

Finally, the show jumps to the internal struggles of Home’s family in the final third of the show to focus on the destructiveness of their greed and its internal effects as well, but this feels like yet another unearned copout. The show works hard on the back half to pretend like the grandpa was just a silly old man, but there’s no way he doesn’t know what his people did to those communities, and he also knew exactly why Home was sent to America. The entire bit about the “family curse” in the last few episodes completely soured the show for me. It feels like the show even knows that, because it calls itself cringe through Pangpang when Home says he’ll “listen to those we’ve ignored.” Way to undercut the premise after giving Home the ability to hear ghosts.

In the end, I found myself frustrated by the show turning to Newwie’s inherent charm to get us to want sympathy for Home rather than writing a genuine crisis in Home, and forcing him to grow. It feels poignant to me that the show thought it was funny to have Peach be mistaken for the help in Home’s house, and then later have Home and Peach independently decide to stay in Bangkok without talking to each other about it. Not talking about anything important was the big theme of their relationship after the hit-and-run reveal. The show did not reward any of us paying attention to its early themes on class (@lurkingshan).I never got the closure I needed here, and it’s the big sticking point of the show with me.

BL Bait Kinda Sucks

As many of you already know, I don’t currently like what GMMTV is doing with branded pairs, and I think their shows are giving a warped view on found family narratives. I enjoyed following Off and Gun into The Trainee because they were playing a gay romance inside of a show that allowed for stories about a wider ensemble. I am really struggling with the conversation around the ways we apply queer readings to Peaceful Property because almost all of it relies on familiarity with Tay and New exclusively, and not anything the show did on screen.

With this show, I’m struggling with the found family aspect and the moving goal posts. I don’t think Home agreeing to reinstate an onerous contract on Peach and Pangpang is a kind move from him. I also don’t know that the team basking in the glow of Home’s goodwill as the final shot is a great look either, and feels kinda paternalistic. We had a whole movie about people stuck sucking from the teat of a rich guy and how shitty that goes two years ago.

GMMTV creates its branded pairs so they can literally be used as a brand. They have these people working almost every day to sell something on socials, or at a fashion event, or appearing at an event. I wasn’t bothered by Tay and New working together outside of BL after the fantastic work they did in Cherry Magic earlier this year. I don’t mind them using their most popular actors to attract a viewer base that will follow them almost anywhere to ship them.

I also actually like stories about the bonds between men. Currently, GMMTV is adapting School 2013 (2012) with High School Frenemy (2024). The broken relationship between two of the male characters there is incredibly well done in School 2013, and I do not think that show would be improved by making that an actual romance. I think they’re both fertile ground for shipping, but the show’s primary focus on the state of life in a failing school for the students and faculty is better served by the intensity of feelings over the broken bonds between men. People are still shipping Goblin and Reaper from Goblin (2016), but again, that story is actually better without an actual sexual or romantic connection between Kim Shin and Reaper. With Peaceful Property, I don’t think they finished the work of building and resolving this friendship between Home and Peach, and it leaves me wanting.

I share a lot of @italianpersonwithashippersheart’s general concerns around the commerce around BL with GMMTV. That being said, I don’t begrudge @respectthepetty and others having fun calling the show gay. What I’m struggling with is the difference between the shipping being satisfying versus the show being satisfying. I lost my emotional connection to this show when it failed to resolve the break in the middle. The back half of the watch is hollow for me, and I just can't let my willingness to ship Tay and New make up for that failure.

I Need a Good Procedural

What I realized the most from watching this is that I need another good procedural in my life. The first half of Peaceful Property gave me some of that, but the back half did not. I enjoyed the performances everyone gave on this show, despite my lingering qualms with what the show chose to prioritize. I’m happy that everyone seems like they had a lot of fun working on this show, and I’m glad that the viewers clearly responded to that. This was actually a genuinely pretty show to look at, and I’m glad that GMMTV continues to embrace color in their shows this year (with a few glaring exceptions).

With that, I will put this show to rest. This show ended up not being what I thought it was giving, and I’ll be moving on. I’ll see you all much later on future GMMTV works.

#Ben writes #peaceful property

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maddgyu · 6 months ago

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BITTERSWEET ‧｡| choi soobin

ᯓ ex!soobin x reader

ᯓ genre: angst

ᯓ warnings: swear words, toxic ex(?), and kissing(no smut)

ᯓ note from author: ENJOY and don't take this story seriously. this is my first-ever story, so i hope you'll like it

︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢ ︶ ୨୧ ︶ ֢ ⏝ ֢

7:35

Watching the snow pour softly outside, you sipped your hot coffee, completely relaxed. the smell of coffee made the atmosphere comforting, added by the soft jazz playing through the speakers. you turned your attention to the people around you and saw couples nearby enjoying each other's company. after finishing your coffee, you packed up your things and left the cafe. as you walked home through the quiet snow, the yellow glow of the streetlamps cast a warm light on the scene. you loved how peaceful it was. this feeling made you think about soobin - it has been a year since you broke up. he seemed to have disappeared completely from your life after the breakup.

While still lost in thought, you barely noticed that you've made it to your house already. you stepped inside, went through your routine, and were just about to get into bed when your phone rang.

It was soobin.

you stared at your phone for a second, thinking wether you should answer it or not. in the end, you decided to pick up the call. " hello? " you said, trying to hide the nervousness from your voice.

There was a brief pause on the other end, until soobin's familiar voice broke the silence. " Y/N?, i know it's been a while, i need to tell you something "

You stood there in silence, not knowing what to do. " Y/N? " soobin said softly, breaking the silence. you finally managed to reply, " yeah, what's up? "

He hesitated for a moment before asking,

" i know it's late, but could we meet up if you're not busy? i just need to talk and explain some stuff. "

After taking a deep breath, you decided to agree, as curiousity got the best out of you. after a few more moments of discussion, soobin confirmed he would head over to your place.

40 minutes has passed and you're sitted cross-legged on your couch, scrolling through your phone while waiting for soobin. the house was in complete silence until a soft knock coming from the front door was heard. you got up from the couch, making your way to the door. as you opened the door, soobin stood there. he was wearing a black scarf, and a dark blue sweater.

" hi, " he said in a soft voice, his voice gave you the chills. his breath was visible in the cold air.

You stepped aside to let him in, trying to keep your face straight, trying to ignore the awkwardness between you. you led him to the living room, where you both sat down on the couch, sitted beside each other. the awkwardness and silence was heavy.

Soobin faced you, taking a deep breath before breaking the awkward silence.

" so, it's been a while. " turning your head to face him, you gave him a slight nod. He turned his gaze away after meeting your eyes, scanning the room, fidgeting his hands.

" i should get you a hot drink. how's hot chocolate? " you asked, standing up from the couch. he looked at you for a second then gave you a slight smile. " oh, hot choco's fine. thank you "

You smiled at him back before making your way to the kitchen. a few minutes later, you came back from the kitchen holding two mugs, as the rich aroma of cocoa warms the room. you handed the hot chocolate to soobin, gratefuly accepting it with a smile as you sat down.

" how are you? " he asks, before taking a sip from his hot chocolate.

" not much has changed. What about you? "

" i'm doing good. i just came from a fresh breakup. "

hundreds of question start to fill up your mind. you gave him a confused look then looked at him for a second, completely shocked on what he just said.

" it just didn't work out. that's why i came here. i wanted some closure and i needed to talk to you. i've been thinking about this for quite some time now, and I just realized how much I hurt you. " he added.

" soobin, you're confusing me. you came here just to announce that you just came from a recent breakup and needed to talk to me? " you said firmly

" it's not just that, y/n. " he said in a gentle way, starting to feel a bit nervous about how the conversation might end.

" so what now? what do you want from me?" you said, raising youe voice, unable to hold back your frustration.

He let out a loud sigh before setting his mug down on the coffee table. " i wanted to see you, to explain things, and to apologize. i feel guilty for how i ended things; breaking up with you the day before christmas was fucked up. i made a mistake letting you go. i thought leaving you was the right thing, but it only made me realize how much i miss you."

Your heart ached at his confession, as tears welled up in your eyes. " soobin, it's been hard for me too. but it's not that simple to just pick up where we left off. i had waited for so long to hear these words. you left me without an explanation, and you're here asking for a closure? "

Soobin looked down at his hands before looking back at you. then, he took your hands in his, interwining them. the feeling was comforting and familiar. " i know, but i am willing to do everything if you'll give me the chance. i miss you, i miss us. "

You took a deep breath, starting to feel the pressure. " this is a lot to process, " you let out a soft chuckle as your voice was starting to shake slightly. " i need to heal and find my own path. i can barely even understand myself, i don't know who i am. my main goal after the breakup was to really focus on myself " you knew deep down that you still wanted him, but you had to prioritize yourself first, and that's what pained you. it felt like you were wasting a chance.

He gave you a nod, giving you a reassuring look as his thumb gently rubs the back of your hand. " just take all the time you need. i'm not rushing you. i just wanted you to know how much you mean to me "

Nodding as you tried to wipe you tears away with one hand, soobin's heart ached. he felt guilty for what he did, he never expected that the pain he had caused was far greater than what he had expect. he softly let go of your other hand and reached out to wipe your tears. after wiping your tears, you both sat in silence for a moment, making the atmosphere much more heavy. " i should go now. i'm sorry our conversation ended like this. " soobin gently pats your head before standing up, just like what he do when you were still together.

While walking him to the door, you felt a wavering of sadness. he stepped out into the cold night, then turned around to look at you, both of you hesitated for a moment, exchanging glances. you moved closer to him and leaned in for a kiss. your lips met softly, as you tiptoed to reach him. he caressed your cheeks gently, his touch was warm and soft, making the kiss more passionate. his lips were soft and the kiss was slow and full of mixed emotions. after you pulled away, you fixed soobin's hair, moving his bangs away from his face, as he looks into your eyes deeply. " i love you, soobin. but right now, i really need learn to be alone. " you said in a soft tone, moving your hands away from his hair. he gave you a smile then nodded. " thank you for giving me a chance to explain. "

You watched as he turned around to leave, slowly disappearing into the darkness. as you closed the door, you leaned against it, as tears start to stream down your face. you felt that this was the hardest decision you had ever made, but deep down, you knew it was the right one. for now, focusing on yourself and your own journey is the most important.

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bvidzsoo · 1 year ago

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Slow it down

⊂Biker!Seonghwa⊃

TW: nothing

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: A short drabble while I'm away on vacation, because for some reason biker Hwa's been occupying my mind lately, not letting me rest. I can't wait to continue my pirate!au mini-series with Ateez, I miss writing it so much lol. Being at the sea is definitely not helping at all at suppressing my creativity lol. Hope you enjoy this one!

You couldn’t tell when it started, your infatuation with Seonghwa. Infatuation, perhaps, was a strong word, but you didn’t know how else to define it at the moment; maybe crush would’ve been a more fitting term, you thought, but you weren’t too sure about it. Park Seonghwa. You had known him for years, although never truly paying much attention to him, he still managed to become the center of your friends conversations, stealing the spotlight at any given chance without even being around. Seonghwa was quite famous at your school, and in your town, let’s be real, for constantly doing bad things and breaking girl’s hearts left and right. He was your typical bad boy and you wanted nothing to do with him. He was edgy and sometimes quite dramatic; he dressed in all black and wore quite cheap looking jewelry, painting his nails black after he realized girls went crazy for it. He knew he was good looking and he used that to his advantage. He could persuade anyone into doing whatever he wanted and it came in quite handy when he was behind on his schoolwork, his teachers excusing him for whatever dumb story he managed to come up with. Girls ate up his sob stories about his fake pets and evil parents; he came from a very loving family, so you never understood why he was lying about it. And, oh God, when he got his license for his motorbike did his popularity skyrocket even more. You were pretty sure you caught him once making out with one of the teaching assistant’s behind the school, but one side glance from his sharp eyes and you knew never to mention it to anyone. And to be honest, that was probably your first and last interaction with the boy, not that it bothered you. You liked your peaceful life as it was, serene, and void of worries correlated to boys. You didn’t feel like dating at your age yet, seventeen wasn’t too young nor too old, but you felt like you weren’t ready for a relationship. And that was fine, your father was happy too, not quite ready to lose his ‘little’ girl which he was aware you weren’t anymore, but it brought closure to him to know that you didn’t crave male attention just yet. His ‘little’ girl’s heart would remain unscathed for a little longer.

And all of that sounded really good, really, you would’ve never complained about your ordinary life. Oh, well, that is until Seonghwa started showing up to your father’s car service frequently. For some reason, the two of them seemed to be getting on well, and your father allowed him to come in from time to time to fix his motorbikes. Seonghwa owned at least three by now. He was two years older than you and while all of his friends went to college, he stayed behind, telling people he wasn’t ready to choose just one thing he was interested in to study for the rest of his life. However, this confirmed your theory for you that he just didn’t know what he was good at and that he wasn’t smart enough to go to a good college. It might’ve been a little harsh to view him like that, but he never ranked too high in your high school, too busy chasing girls and starting fights. And so, one day, as you made your way home you decided to stop by your father’s car service before heading upstairs as you lived just above it.

The rock music blasted throughout the car service; a few cars scattered around as your father had quite a lot of work for the week. Him and his colleagues were nowhere to be seen and you figured you stopped by during their lunch break, everyone was back in the dressing room. But you wanted to greet your father still, show him the grade you got on your thesis, unable to keep the smile off your face. You scored the highest in your year, it made you ecstatic. Your father would always order your favorite food whenever you brought home an outstanding grade, celebrating your achievement. With a skip in your steps, you waltzed down the spacious room, appreciating the white Mercedes your father was currently fixing. You failed to notice the clanking of tools, so when you turned to your right, your heart almost jumped out of its place as you yelped loudly. The older guy just cast you an unimpressed glance before he bent down again, unscrewing something around the front spring of his motorbike. You placed a hand over your hammering heart, frozen in your place as you watched his long black hair fall over his face. His hair had gotten longer since the last time you saw him, which was probably around a year ago, at the closing ceremony of his graduation.

“Did you become a statue or what?” His low, monotone voice snapped you out of your initial shock and your eyebrows furrowed as you shook your head, remaining silent. Seonghwa cast you a quick glance before he continued working, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to take off the nut screw. He had been sweating prior and he lightly tapped his forehead before twisting the screw again, nothing happening. You didn’t consider your next actions for long as you let your backpack fall onto the floor before walking up to Seonghwa, kneeling down beside him. He turned his head to look at you, his sharp eyes watching you closely as you inspected his work, chuckling. Of course the nut screw wouldn’t come off if it was stuck, almost fried onto the tube it was holding together. So, you looked around for a little oil and found it on your father’s stand, so, you stood and walked over to it, getting it, then walked back to Seonghwa’s motorbike. You kneeled down again and sprinkled a little oil around the nut screw, failing to notice Seonghwa’s curious gaze on you. Because it was slightly fried against the tube, you struggled to get the nut screw off at first, but after tugging at it and forcing it, it finally loosened up enough to come off, clattering onto the ground. You grinned in victory and grabbed the nut screw, turning your body towards Seonghwa to show him your success but you, instead, froze at the proximity. Your noses were almost touching and your wide eyes took in his face, taken by his mesmerizing features. He seemed tanner than the last time you saw him and his plump lips were redder too, dark eyes gazing into yours intently. Sweat rolled down the side of his temples, stray strands of hair sticking to his damp forehead. You had never seen him from so close before, and suddenly you understood all those girls who gave in to him. He was breathtaking. His sharp gaze held a glint of curiosity in it and that made you self-conscious as you quickly stood, clearing your throat, as you extended your hand to Seonghwa.

“Uh, sorry—” You started, avoiding eye contact, “I should’ve asked before helping—”

“I’ve been struggling to get that off for half an hour now,” Seonghwa chuckled as he stood, taking the nut screw from your hand; you didn’t fail to notice the way his pointer finger ran over the back of your palm, making you gulp nervously at the unnecessary action, “and you did it in like…five minutes.”

You didn’t know what to say so you just picked up your backpack and looked away as Seonghwa took a step towards you, your body tensing, “You’re Mr. Han’s daughter, right?”

“Yes, I’m—”

“Y/N, I know who you are.” Did he really? You smiled a little, nodding your head as you heard laughter coming from behind you, it was your father’s. And as Seonghwa watched you, he noticed how tense you seemed to be around him yet as soon as your father approached the two of you, you had long forgotten about him. It was weird to him; he was used to girls throwing themselves at him constantly.

“Y/N!” Your father hugged you, excited to see you, “What brings you around here?”

Suddenly, a big grin appeared on your lips as you unzipped your backpack, digging around, looking for your thesis. Seonghwa watched intrigued as you pulled the paper out and shoved it in your father’s hands, who’s eyes had the same glint as yours in them. It was quite an endearing sight, how much the two of you resembled each other.

“I got the highest grade, dad!” You exclaimed with excitement and your father chuckled as his eyes ran over the papers, a proud look on his face as he handed it back to you.

“Very well, honey,” He handed you the thesis back, “You know what’s for dinner tonight then.”

Seonghwa watched as the biggest smile he’s ever seen on you spread onto your lips, snatching the thesis away from your father who just chuckled and winked at you. He’s seen you around your high school, but never had the chance to talk to you. It seemed as if you always ran away from him, almost as if you were avoiding him. He knew of his reputation, it was hard not to when everyone kept reminding him of it, yet you never seemed to care as you wouldn’t even cast a second glance his way. You weren’t fascinated nor scared of him, it was peculiar, but he never thought about you for too long. He usually didn’t like challenges when it came to girls and those who played hard to get never had his attention for too long. He wasn’t there for the long run, therefore he found it useless to invest so much energy into one girl only. But you seemed like you didn’t want his attention at all as you kissed your father’s cheek goodbye before you ran out of the service, forgetting about his presence altogether. It didn’t sit right with Seonghwa, and as he gazed after your bouncing form, your father chuckled and looked at him amused.

“Didn’t you two go to the same high school?” He asked and Seonghwa nodded his head.

“We did, but our circle of people were too different for us to know each other.” Seonghwa’s answer made your father chuckle to himself, nodding his head in understanding. He knew what type of boy Seonghwa was, he never truly expected his daughter meddling with him.

“Yes, that makes sense—” Your father said more to himself before his eyes fell on Seonghwa’s motorbike, “How’s the spring, son? Any progress?”

“Oh, I got the nut screw off finally—well, your daughter did, actually.” Seonghwa admitted with a shameful chuckle and your father nodded, not looking surprised in the slightest.

“Yeah, she’s quite the mechanic, my little one.” Your father gloated proudly before he walked off, headed towards the white Mercedes he was supposed to fix by Friday.

And after that first encounter with Seonghwa, you considered it your first real encounter, you seemed to run into him everywhere. It started being creepy after a while and it made you feel weird as you told your best friend, who didn’t think much of it, unsurprisingly, and suggested that perhaps you were just randomly running into each other, your city wasn’t too big, after all. Despite that making sense, you couldn’t help but still think Seonghwa was doing it on purpose as he’d always strike up a conversation with you when you crossed paths. Sometimes it was about something really dumb and it would make you look at him with a questioning gaze, nevertheless, you still seemed to entertain him, curious of his motives. He never made obvious advances towards you, so you really didn’t understand what was the purpose of all of his actions. Perhaps he was looking for a friend now that his other friends were in a different city at college? But that didn’t make much sense as he stopped showing up to your father’s car service since he had fixed his motorbike, yet trailed you around the city whenever you were out. And one evening, as you were headed home from the library, you had been doing research on a fish type for you biology class, Seonghwa was there. Across from the library in the parking lot, sitting on his motorbike as his eyes fell on you. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked around, trying to find the person Seonghwa could be waiting for it. But it seemed like just the two of you were on the street and you sighed as you took off, but not towards him. The sun was long gone and you had to walk quite a lot to get home, so you didn’t want to waste any more time, not a fan of walking around alone at night. But you barely made it a few steps before you heard rapid ones approaching you from behind. By now, you knew it was Seonghwa. You had memorized his walking pattern and the force of his steps.

“Headed home?” And you were right as his head popped up next to yours. You cast him an unimpressed glance before nodding wordlessly. Seonghwa hummed and continued walking next to you, grinning as he realized you were trying not to look at him. You couldn’t help but notice the gear he was wearing, his thick jacket undone and his light sweater showing underneath. He has never touched you before, so when you felt his warm grip around your wrist, halting you from taking another step, your eyes widened. He pulled you lightly forward, towards himself, and you almost tumbled into him. His cologne was strong and you caught the whiff of something strawberry scented, his hair looked like it wasn’t completely dry.

“Let me take you home,” Seonghwa’s low voice was soft and quiet as he looked in your eyes, making you flustered, “It’s not safe for you to walk alone.”

This was it, then, the moment Seonghwa’s been probably waiting for to finally try and woo you. He didn’t seem like the patient type, you had to give him some credit for holding out for so long. And despite every fiber in your body asking you to accept his offer, heart thumping loudly at the proximity and wrist burning from his warm hold, you smiled and softly pulled away from him.

“Thank you, but I did this walk many times before,” Seonghwa wasn’t pleased with your answer at all, and he let you know as his eyebrows furrowed, “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

But Seonghwa didn’t let you leave, stepping in front of you, making your body collide against his, you hoped he didn’t hear your quiet gasp, “There’s plenty to be worried about, actually, so just let me take you home.”

You took a step back, trying to put some distance between your bodies, hoping he wouldn’t see your red cheeks. You didn’t think he’d be this persistent and as you looked up at him, he seemed very determined, “I’ve never ridden a motorbike before and I don’t have the proper gear either.”

That made Seonghwa chuckle and you watched as he quickly took his jacket off, closing the distance between your bodies once again, making you avoid eye contact as he draped his jacket around your shoulders. He held the collar together around your neck and you gulped nervously, his fingers lightly grazing against your neck. His jacket was heavy and a lot bigger than your frame, “I brought two helmets, don’t worry.”

You went to still try and deny his offer nicely, but Seonghwa was already pulling you after him, interlacing your fingers, making you blush again. You couldn’t deny his attractiveness anymore, and despite staying away from him for so long, you seemed to be unable to do so lately. Yes, he was everywhere, but you seemed to want him to be everywhere you were, his sharp gaze always following you, making you stay alert. When he wasn’t looking, you’d sneak peeks at him, admiring his features from afar, imagining as you ran your finger down his tall nose, his plump lips, his sharp jaw, and then all over his dark eyebrows. Park Seonghwa was gorgeous and you now understood those girls trying to get his attention, hoping he was the love of their lives. You entertained that thought sometimes, before falling asleep mostly, wondering if you could fall in love with Park Seonghwa. Wondering if he could genuinely love someone. Wondering if he could fall in love with you and not play you like all those other girls before you, But now, as you stood by his bike, allowing him to place the spare helmet around your head, securing it, it all felt so real and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was ever going to change. Seonghwa suddenly grinned, his smile making your heart melt, as he tapped the helmet where your cheeks were supposed to be, and you found yourself suddenly holding his hands, pressing them down, holding them in place

“Were you waiting for me?” You finally asked what’s been on your mind ever since you spotted him and now a charming smile appeared on Seonghwa’s lips, gaze locking with yours. He suddenly gripped your hands and brought them down to your sides, interlacing your fingers on both hands. You were glad the helmet somewhat concealed your currently red cheeks.

“Yes, I was,” Seonghwa admitted truthfully, “there are no coincidences when it comes to me, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you tried not to grin as Seonghwa watched your face closely for a reaction, grinning himself. You didn’t want strands of hair getting into his pretty eyes, so you found yourself pushing them behind his ear, hand lightly grazing against his skin, making Seonghwa gulp. He tried to remember a time when his heart was racing this much because of a girl, but he couldn’t. He watched you as you fixed his hair for him before placing the helmet around his head, securing it and tapping the top like he had done for you. It made him chuckle and you looked down, embarrassed, but excited by his reaction. Despite his bad boy reputation, he was being rather soft and almost shy as he released your hands and got on the bike, beckoning you over too. You got on too, excited and lightly scared by the new experience as Seonghwa brought the engine to life, reeving it a little and making you giggle. You allowed your arms to rest around his middle, holding him tightly as he took off, headed towards your house. You knew explaining this to your father would be a bit troublesome, but you hoped his liking for Seonghwa would help you out a little bit.

Masterlist (divider)

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