#it's lovely to see them be instantly into each other

[allyeilishh]

ᥫ᭡ SURPRISE ── .✦ B.E.

Pairing: Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff

Synopsis: with the "Hit Me Hard and Soft" Tour, Billie and you haven’t had much time to talk, less than see each other. But as she went to Sydney—the place both of you wanted to visit—so did you.

w/c: 2.1k

a/n: guys I’m so excited for this I think it’s realllly good and ur gonna love it 🫶🏼🫶🏼

The house was quiet, just like it had been for the past few months. The soft glow of the fireplace illuminated the room, the soft glow of candles on top of the mantel, making the room smell like vanilla. But there was that emptiness of the room, even when everything was so full, there still was that emptiness hanging above your head.

Billie had been on tour for a few months, and it had been keeping her really busy, along with her exploring the places she went to before she performed. It gave her little time to communicate with you, no matter how much she wanted to. Of course, you wanted her to explore where she went, but the silence from her left a pit of sorrow in your chest.

And now, you were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a fluffy blue blanket that engulfed your frame. The TV was playing some reality show that you weren’t focusing on. Your mind was on Billie and what she was doing. She was probably roaming the streets of Brisbane, probably at the zoo looking at all the different animals they had to offer.

Your thoughts were quickly snapped out of when your phone began to ring beside you. Your arms wiggled out of the blanket, reaching over for your phone. And when you saw the caller ID, your heart leaped in excitement. You quickly clicked the green 'join' button, a smile on your face as the call connected. Billie’s face instantly popped up, and she was smiling widely, almost as much as you.

"Hi baby,“ you said softly, excitement hinting in your voice. "I missed you. What are you doing?“

Billie chuckled softly, "Hi, my love. I missed you more. I always miss you.“ She spoke in a gentle tone, almost as if she was trying to soothe a crying baby. "I’m not doing anything at the moment, just laying in the hotel. I wanted to talk to you.“

Your heart fluttered at her words, your cheeks turning a light pink hue. Your lips curled up into a wider smile, your cheekbones beginning to hurt. "I wanted to talk to you too.“ You said a little quietly, your voice soft and soothing. "How’s the tour going?“

"It’s been going pretty good, I love seeing all the faces. They’re all so sweet. I love all of them." Billie said gently, shifting on the bed she was laying in. "But I always love you more. You should know that.“

You smiled, pulling the blanket higher up your body, stopping just under your chin. "I love you too.“ you said, your voice almost a whisper.

Before Billie could respond, Maggie’s voice rang through the room, calling out for Billie, saying something incoherently. Before you knew it, Billie was saying sorry, quickly saying another 'I love you‘ before hanging up. Your smile slowly faded, your bottom lip disappearing under your teeth.

You put your phone down, wrapping yourself into the blanket more. It was always like this. She would call for a few minutes, then something would pop up, and she would have to go. It felt like the tour was ruining every moment they tried to have with each other. It made your heart ache each time, feeling like a stab to the heart.

But then, a idea sprang into your head. Probably was a little stupid, but it was a idea you wanted to pull through with anyways. Her next show was in Syndey, Australia. And you were going to go.

It might’ve been super last minute, and costed a lot—even though most of your money was Billie’s (she didn’t want you to spend your own money)—it still felt like a pound of money you were handing off. But it was definitely worth it.

You gently knocked on the hotel door, the small, warm lamps between every other door lighting the hallway. The carpet below your feet had a nice, blue and tan design to it, little waves of white contrasting the colors well. The hotel was pretty fancy, and considering the room was on the 14th floor, Alanna knew that Billie was staying in Deluxe suite, most likely to hide from crazy fans hunting her down.

You had just landed in Sydney—your suitcase handle still in your hand, resting next to you—and you had instantly went to Billie’s hotel. She was supposed to be out with her band, supposedly going out to dinner with them. Giving you the perfect opportunity to surprise your girlfriend.

You informed Maggie that you were coming, but begged her to not tell Billie. You wanted this to stay a secret until everything was perfect for you two.

You held a bouquet of flowers in your hands, a mix of roses, Lillies, tulips, and carnations. It was a pretty mix of white and light pink and red, along with the green leaves and stems. The bouquet was wrapped in a pretty, light pink wrapped around the flowers, a ribboned bow tying them together.

Maggie opened the door, a wide smile crossing her face. Her face wrinkled gently, her teeth showing through her smile as they always did. "Hi, sweetheart! Come on, come in!“ Maggie said, her voice hinting with excitement. Maggie was like a second mother to you, so seeing you again served her to feel a pit of joy.

You let out a little chuckle, stepping into the hotel room, dragging your suitcase behind you. You leaned the suitcase next to the door, before quickly enveloping Maggie into a hug. The tour had definitely separated the two of you, especially sense even you and Billie barely spoke sense it started. And having your second mother holding you again felt like there was a piece going through your veins.

"God, it’s so good to see you again!“ Maggie said as she pulled away, closing the door before walking further into the room with you. There was a sliding frosted glass door leading to the bathroom on the left, and on the right was closests, and a small snack bar.

"It’s good to see you too, Mags.“ You said with a small laugh, feeling her pull you to the couch. You sat down next to Maggie, letting out a small sigh as you slipped off your shoes, placing them together, next to the couch. You placed the flowers down on the coffee table carefully, making sure they didn’t get smushed.

"So, Billie will be coming back in about two hours, so you have some time to take a shower, get all pretty and set up.“ Maggie’s said, a smile on her face. You had told Maggie you were planning on surprising Billie, and Maggie told you when Billie would be away today. And you felt like your heart was racing miles in a second with excitement, a wide smile crossing your lips.

"Thank you, Maggie." You said, your voice gentle and soothing. You didn’t know what you would do without her. She was a absolute angel that you wouldn’t be able to live without.

The room was now dark, only a few candles and lighting up the room. You were standing in the middle of the room, holding the bouquet of flowers in your hands. You had a long, ankle-length white skirt on, a white eyelet square neck top, a little bow tying it at the middle of the neckline. Your hair was perfectly straightened, which you had done about ten times, just to make sure your hair didn’t have a singular wave.

You had mascara fanned out on your eyelashes, your skin smoothed out with your foundation and concealer. You didn’t need blush—the redness fanning your face from complete nervousness you were feeling. Your hands were shaking, making the flowers rattle a little bit. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment.

Billie was going to be coming into the hotel in mere seconds, and everything felt so overwhelming, yet excited. A nervous smile was plastered on your face, your teeth shining a bright white shining against your pink lipgloss. You could feel nervous beads of sweat forming on your forehead, but you quickly wiped it, making sure not to smudge your makeup.

You were so excited to see Billie, but you had no idea how she would react to you suddenly showing up. Would she be happy? Indifferent? You didn’t know. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, your breathing a little shaky. It was almost 10 PM, and you were a little tired. You almost never stayed up this late, but to see Billie, it was definitely worth it.

You heard the little beep of the card to the hotel door, signaling Billie was finally coming in. You instantly straightened up your back, taking a big deep breath. The door opened, the hallway light shining through the room. And there she was. Her normal jorts going down to her knees, and a football jersey engulfing her body. A tie around her neck, hanging loosely. Her normal jewelry was on, her stacked necklaces and silver rings complementing her entire outfit. She looked so damn pretty—like she always did.

She stopped when she saw you, freezing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. She stayed like that for a moment, almost dropping her keychain in her hand. You were there, really there, standing in her hotel room. And holding a bouquet of flowers, which was shaking a bit. But before long, a big, wide smile spread across her face, and she let go of the door knob, letting the door close and click into place. She spoke in complete shock and happiness, "oh my god, baby!!“

Before you got much time to react, she was running towards you, keychain completely forgotten about, and she practically jumped into your arms. You moved the flowers just in time so they wouldn’t get flattened, and you held Billie so close, not even a piece of paper could slip between you two. There was a excited giggle that escaped Billie’s mouth, her face burying into your neck.

"Hi, my love.“ You spoke softly, your one hand going to the back of her head, gently scratching her scalp with your nails. She felt so warm, her warm breath against your neck was soothing. Your eyes flickered closed for a moment, basking in the warmth of the moment. The world shut off around them, and it was suddenly only them. The loud city around them was suddenly quiet, and there was nothing but them.

Billie gently pulled away from you, her eyes locking onto yours. Her bright blue eyes boaring into yours, soft and loving. She spoke a little frantically, needing you to understand her, "My god, I’m so sorry I couldn’t call you as much, I wish I could, everything was just so much with all the tours and everything I went out to see—"

"Sh sh shh, it’s okay. I understand, my love. It’s okay." You said softly, your hand reaching up to rest on her cheek. You gently rubbed her soft, smoothe skin with your thumb, a gentle, understanding smile crossing your face. You understood. You always did.

Billie leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering close for a second. The soft touch of your hand instantly soothed her worried mind, letting out a soft breath. Her heart rate went down, and she felt the most content she had in months.

You gently put the flowers in between you two, lifting it just above her nose. She recoiled a bit, but she quickly let out a giggle, smelling the nice scent the flowers held close to her nose. She gently took it from your hands, her smile widening as she gently touched the delicate petals of each flower, her touch feather light. "They’re so beautiful. Thank you, baby.“

"Of course, my love.“ you said.

She gently placed them on the dresser, right next to the TV. She then gently took your hands, pulling you closer. She tilted her head to the side, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips. Then, she leaned closer, her arms hooking around yours neck. She leaned closer and closer, until her lips were on yours in a soft, loving kiss. You instantly responded, kissing her just as gently, your thumb continuing to rub her soft skin.

When you both pulled away, you both were a little breathless, but smiles instantly appeared on both of your lips.

"You are the best surprise I could ever ask for.“ Billie said softly, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"Your the best person I could ever give a surprise to.“ you said softly, gently moving some hair away from her pretty face.

"We should definitely go to the Opera house together.“ Billie said, her smile widening. You chuckled, nodding along with her words. ⋆. 𐙚 ̊

a/n: two and a half days and it’s FINALLY done 🙂‍↕️

[paucubarsisimp]

You could do a story where Pedri and the reader have a son (Leo) and both are trying to get the boy to say mom and dad (it's almost a fun competition, she wants him to say mom and Pedri, dad) and before a game the 3 of them went down to the field to talk to Pedri's teammates (Eric, Ferran, Olmo, Íñigo, etc) and Cat Culer (Barça's mascot) appears and immediately Leo sees him, points at him and shouts at the top of his lungs: Cat! And runs in the direction of the giant cat, which generates the fun of the whole team to realize that this was the first word of his son and do not realize that someone recorded the moment and uploaded it to social networks and all fall in love and have fun with the little Leo.

first words

pairing: pedri x reader

summary: in which your son’s first words are unexpected

warnings: none

you and pedri had been in a playful but very real competition for weeks now.

“say mama, leo,” you cooed as your son sat in his high chair, cheeks chubby and hands messy with mashed banana.

“no, papa, come on, leo. paaa-paaaa,” pedri argued from across the table, grinning.

the nearly one-year-old leo simply blinked up at you both, giggling and banging his spoon.

it had become an ongoing battle in the gonzález household. you each tried every trick in the book to get leo to say your “team’s” word first. there were no winners yet. well — until one very surprising day.

match day

pedri had invited you and leo to come down to the pitch before the match. the sun was just setting, casting a golden glow over the stadium. leo, in a tiny barça jersey with “leo” printed on the back, toddled between the two of you, holding both your hands.

the team was warming up, but many of them came over to say hi.

“ey, míralo! already dribbling?” ferran joked as leo reached down for the ball by eric’s feet.

olmo knelt down to leo’s height. “what’s up, campeón? ready to watch papa win today?”

iñigo ruffled leo’s hair, grinning. “has he said his first word yet?”

you and pedri glanced at each other. “not yet,” you both said in unison.

“and it’s going to be mama,” you added smugly.

“papa, clearly,” pedri shot back with a playful roll of his eyes.

but then — it happened.

the stadium speakers blared, signaling the arrival of none other than cat culer, barça’s beloved mascot.

leo froze. his wide eyes locked on the giant blue-and-red feline figure bouncing onto the field.

then, with the sudden clarity of a child on a mission, he raised one chubby finger, pointed dramatically and shouted, “cat!!”

the entire team went silent for a split second.

then exploded into laughter.

“nooo way!” ferran doubled over.

“cat?! that’s his first word?!” eric howled.

pedri covered his face, absolutely defeated. “cat? after all this time?”

“i’m not even mad,” you laughed, tears welling in your eyes from giggling so hard.

leo, in the meantime, had let go of both your hands and was now wobbling at full toddler speed toward cat culer. the mascot knelt down and scooped him into a hug, spinning him in the air as leo giggled uncontrollably.

what none of you noticed at the time was that someone — maybe a team media member, maybe a sneaky teammate — had captured the entire moment. within the hour, the video was up on barça’s official socials.

@fcbarcelona:

leo gonzález, first words and first love: cat culer!

#babyblaugrana #culerintraining

it went viral instantly. fans around the world shared clips, laughed at the reactions, and swooned over little leo’s precious scream of “cat!”

by the time pedri got off the pitch after the match (a win, thankfully), the video had millions of views.

as you both sat on the couch that night, leo asleep between you with his head on pedri’s chest, you showed him the comments.

“this is the cutest thing i’ve ever seen.”

“leo’s first word being ‘cat’ is elite behavior.”

“protect leo gonzález at all costs.”

pedri groaned, laughing softly. “he’s never going to live this down.”

“neither are you,” you teased. “you lost to a cat.”

“i’m filing a protest. this wasn’t in the rules.”

you leaned over, kissing his cheek. “don’t worry, papa. you’ll get your word eventually.”

and he did.

but “cat” would always be leo’s legendary first.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1, lmk if you want to be added!

[realtapiocafan]

I just saw this and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone post it so here!

https://youtube.com/shorts/8JucgVNE6UY?si=Z9dxnWwfChaO90YI

Justin’s what’s good my dawg😭😭 ugh and Joe’s ‘you like that?’ gets me everytime!!!! thinking abt how he said Justin liked his suit and that was all he needed. they make me crazy.

[flaresemily]

ɮǟȶ ʄǟʍɨʟʏ Ӽ ռɛɢʟɛƈȶɛɖ ʀɛǟɖɛʀ քǟʀȶ 3

ղҽzմkօ-líkҽ ɾҽαժҽɾ

mᥲs𝗍ᥱr ᥣіs𝗍 : ⍴rᥱ᥎і᥆ᥙs :⍴ᥲr𝗍 2 ᥴᥙrrᥱᥒ𝗍 : ⍴ᥲr𝗍 3

It's been two weeks. Two weeks! They have been training nonstop. In the daytime they train with ‘Sensei' and at night they go patrol as usual. The only thing different is they can't go back to the manor. Bruce doesn't allow it as long as they still have training to do.

“Ugh Timmy~ can we go shopping?” Y/n ask him. As he practiced his swinging. His eyes shine brightly because that means he can get out of this hell.

“Sur—” “he's not allowed to go out. Not now, not ever," Sensei replied. He's just sitting there drinking his black tea. There's one thing about ‘Sensei' that Tim is curious about.

Why does he love black tea?

Why does he call himself ‘Sensei'.

What is his real name?

Why does he always stay at a darker place whenever it's daytime?

Why do Conner and Jon seem to be the favorites?

and last but not least.

Why is ‘Sensei' so pale? Like incredibly pale?

He snaps out of his thoughts when y/n grumble. Weird. When did his little sister start to become a brat?

Shuffle shuffle

He heard from the room next to him. The ‘house’ he's living in is the same concept as a Japanese house. He wondered why. Seeing his sensei wearing a yukata. He wondered why.

“Ugh when will this end!” Jason who just returned from ‘climbing’ the mountains signed tiredly. He and Dick were ‘sent to climb the mountains’ from sunrise. And it's already sunset!

“It just a mountain? Why are you so worked up” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Just a mountain? JUST A MOUNTAIN!” Jason shouted. “YOU DON'T KNOW THERE'S A F*CKING TRAP THERE!”

Thwack!

A wooden sword hit Jason at the back of his head. “Who the f*ck did that!” As he turns around he flinches. Behind him ‘Sensei' stands while holding up a traditional Japanese umbrella which covers his face. (Until now they still didn't know sensei face)

“You can leave—

he started

And they all listen.

----if you can beat me” he finishes. “Deal! Let's do this!” Jason says. He gets ready with his wooden sword.

They bow towards each other and finally their sword clashes. Creating a big wind blow.

Shuffle shuffle

Tim heard it again from the direction of the same room.

He glanced at it and returned his attention back towards the fight.

“Come on Jason! Use your breathing!!” Dick cheer him up.

“Wind breathing : first form : dust whirlwind cutter!” Right after Jason said that. They all could feel the slight pressure in the wind. And—-

Whoosh!

Thud

Jason got knocked down. “Your breathing is still sloopy. How can you help Bruce in Japan like this?” ‘sensei’ scolds Jason who's groaning. “Damn that hurt old man”

At night

‘Sensei’ walks inside the very room that makes noise. Inside he saw a figure biting her arm preventing her from eating the meat he prepared for her.

“You must eat… you are starving yourself”

He pushed the food toward the figure. The figure immediately slapped it away.

“I̶ r̶a̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ d̶i̶e̶ s̶t̶a̶r̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶n̶ e̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ m̶e̶a̶t̶!̶” the figure said. The figure suddenly started to shrink in size becoming a kid. Their bright pink eyes glow in the dark. Their mouths are dirty with their own blood. And the arm which they bite? It instantly heals itself.

Sensei just looks at her and walks away. As he closed the door he looked at the figure one last time. Memorizing it's face.

Morning

Apparently sensei let them rest cause he has work to do. Meaning…

No training = can go out

So they did. Y/n who hear this quickly get ready with her dress and makeup and so on.

Sadly Tim couldn't go out. His reason is

“Sorry guys I got a stomach ache” y/n just grumble. She Ignores him and clings to Jason. “Come on let's go~ it's been a long time since you guys spent time with me~” she whined.

They all nodded and bid Tim goodbye. As soon as they are out of sight he quickly walks towards the room.

He gently gets closer and places his ear to the ‘door’.

Shuffle shuffle thud!

He heard something like clothes shuffling around before falling down with a soft thud.

He quietly open the door. Before he could peak inside…

“BOO”

Someone jumpscare him from the back making him let go of the door. As he turn around.

“Conner f*cking Kent!! Stop doing that!!”

“Bahahaha you should see your face Tim!” Conner laughs at him. Tim grumbled. “Where's the other?” “Shopping”

Conner nodded understanding.

“Where's Jon?”

With Jon

He softly knocks on the door. As he pushes it gently he peeks inside it. There he could see a dark figure sleeping. And the tray of meat is empty.

‘I'm glad she eats, it's tiring to hunt a deer at the mountains’ Jon sighs in relief.

"̶w̶h̶o̶'̶s̶ t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶?̶” the figure gets up from the bed. Sadly it's too dark for Jon to see but! The figure's pink eyes shine brightly in the dark. Those pink eyes stare deep into his eyes. “Hello, I'm Jon” he introduced himself.

“What's yours?” “n҉a҉m҉e҉"҉

“Hm? I can't quite hear you?” Before the figure could repeat her name. Conner calls Jon from behind.

“Come on Jon sensei out right now!”

Jon quickly turned to his brother and nodded. He turned around and waved to the figure.

Another two week past

This time they are all ready for a new mission with Bruce.

As soon as they got to their destination. Japan (just imagine) Sensei brought them to a villa he owns. (Yes he's rich)

The people that goes to Japan with Bruce is :

-Dick

-Jason

-Tim

-Damian

-Alfred

-Y/n

-and a heavy box which Damian was forced to carry by sensei.

-Sensei

inside it was filled with different types of painting. It's a mix of purple, black and white. It was pretty. keyword = was

Now the painting has so much dust on it.

“ alright this is it” Sensei turn towards them

“This will be your place to stay for the months. 2 month to be exact” sensei told them before putting his bag down.

“And Damian the box? Give it to me " "finally! What did you get here?” Damian asks. “ nothing you be taking this along with you tonight on your mission”

The boys reaction - 👁️👄👁️ “tonight!!”

“Yes tonight now go to sleep and meet me at 7 pm we will be eating dinner first then we go out hunting!”

“So demons do exist?” “They aren't…” they all turn their attention towards him.

“They are already extinct. Except for—” a knock interrupts them.

“I go get it” sensei reply

Shuffle shuffle

Again. Tim heard the same thing now. But this time it was in the box Damian had carry out

‘I wonder’ Tim stares at the box. Y/n just rolled her eyes in annoyance. No one saw this of course. After all she's the perfect daughter her father raised her to be. Why would she let the mask crack?

I wonder why too? Do you guys know why?

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

ɮʏ : 𝐹𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

ԵαցlísԵ :

@darktrashpoetry @fortunatelydifferentqueen @floathyblues @kyuumeee @bunniotomia @sirenetheblogger @seemeee3

[stellar-bluelock]

winners ☆ itoshi rin x reader

details: fluff | mild hurt/comfort | childhood best friends | romantic relationship | ~1.1k words | gn! reader | timeskip!rin | guys, i love childhood best friend rin. the yearning. <3

Itoshi Rin doesn’t know how to react when you start to tear up.

You haven’t seen each other for quite some time, with all your busy schedules. Messages and calls were your only options, so you practically jumped at the chance to invite him to your new apartment during the holidays.

The two of you didn’t really plan anything in particular; that’s how it was when you were younger, anyway. So, you spend the day catching up.

He tells you about something his teammate did to piss him off. He tries to explain how awkward it is whenever fans, especially kids, want to get his signature. He rants about something that went wrong during his last day of training. 

In return, you tell him how your coworkers made a fool of themselves in public. You make him listen to the song that’s stuck in your head. You share pictures of your cute newborn cousin and the joy it brought you.

And it’s all natural—it feels like coming home. You remember how you’d help your mother prepare dinner, while Rin and Sae made a quick run to the convenience store for snacks.

Now it’s the two of you making an ingredient list, going to the nearby grocery, and making dinner together. Rin argues about the nutritional value, and you argue about the taste. You teach him new cooking tricks you’ve picked up, and he asks to try them out for himself.

So, it’s no wonder that halfway through your meal, something tugs tightly at your heart. It’s the world-shattering realization that you want to be with him forever.

When the first sob escapes your mouth, you hear the clatter of Rin’s utensils falling to the table. 

You love him. 

You love him, and you don’t even know if he feels the same way.

Has he once considered it, in that ambitious head of his?

“Why are you crying?”

Unsure of how to respond, you shake your head and cover your face.

“Does something hurt? Does the food taste bad?”

You want to chuckle at his last question, but it feels like your chest is about to explode.

“Mm. Something’s wrong.” His chair drags across the floor with an unpleasant noise. In a matter of seconds, you feel his presence next to you. “You’re sad.”

It’s a lot more complicated than that.

He pulls at your arm, a gesture you’ve both used since you were kids. You did it to him first when he cried, so you could see his face—no, his expressive eyes.

So when you let your arms fall, you shouldn’t have been surprised at the sight of his round, teal eyes. 

You see fear and worry in them.

Has he ever looked at someone else like this?

“Is it me?” Rin asks quietly. “Are you sad because of me?”

You can’t stand the look on his face.

“No,” you whisper, wiping your cheek. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then what is it?” He leans closer into your space.

“It’s…” You sigh. “I don’t know how to explain.”

Rin hums to himself. “Then what’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

You’re so endeared that he’s paid enough attention to pick up on your style of questioning, that you cave in.

“I love you.”

Chills instantly run through your body at your confession. You assume Rin feels it too, considering how he straightens up after a few seconds.

“You love me?” He echoes.

“I love you,” you affirm with a shaky voice. There was no going back from this now.

A silence settles for a few seconds, but you can hear the cogs turning in Rin’s mind. 

“What do you mean?” he finally says a minute later. “You love me?”

“I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” You stare at the dinner table in front of you longingly. “I want to have long conversations about my dreams with you. I want us to wake up and go to sleep together. I want people to know that you’re everything to me. I want to be the one who shines the brightest in your life. I want you to be my other half. My pillar.”

Rin takes a deep breath. “But, we already do this as friends-”

“No.” You cut him off. “I want us to be more than just friends.”

“More than friends…like, lovers? Couples?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes, afraid of what comes next. You don’t dare to tell him that loving him means wanting to share surnames.

Suddenly, it feels like your apartment’s freezing.

“You love me, but it makes you sad. Why?”

“Because I’m scared that you don’t feel the way I do. That I’m just wishing for something that will never happen.”

Heat crawls over your face. Was telling him a mistake?

“Everything that you said,” Rin ponders, “that’s what it means to love me?”

You nod. 

“Then...that means I also love you.”

Nearly giving yourself whiplash, you gasp as you turn towards him.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Wh- Wait- But, how- What? I don’t...you love me?”

“Yes.”

“In the exact way I do?” You can’t believe this. “Are you sure you understood what I said?”

“Yes.” Rin knits his eyebrows together. “Everything you want is what I want.”

Something swims in your gut. “Rin. I’m talking about living in the same home. Kissing you. Marrying you. Maybe even starting a family together. Are you sure that-”

“Yes.”

You’ve been rendered speechless.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Rin sighs. “Why do you keep asking me the same thing? Aren’t you supposed to be happy?”

“I just…” You run a hand through your hair. “I didn’t think you’d feel that way about me.”

“I’ve felt that way for a long time. I guess I didn’t know it was that kind of love.”

Oh.

“Why are you crying again? I don’t understand, is this making you sad-”

“Tears of joy, darn it. Come here.” You reach towards Rin, and he immediately opens his arms in response.

And all you can feel is his warmth. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The gentle way he holds you.

“You’ve really loved me all this time?” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

“You never abandoned the dream we made together.” His words are a little muffled, but you understand them all the same. “I’d do anything you asked me to. I’ll listen to no one but you.”

You snort. “Hey, don’t be too stubborn.”

“Well, everyone’s stupid. Except you.”

Classic Rin. 

“Okay, okay.” You slowly pull away from the embrace. “We can talk more later. Let’s finish this dinner we worked so hard to make.”

Rin nods, pulling his plate from the opposite side of the table towards the spot next to yours.

After you finish the rest of your now-cold meals, Rin hands you a bright blue popsicle from the freezer, and you recognize it instantly. 

He still likes it after all these years, you think to yourself fondly, unwrapping the package.

It’s not long before Rin finishes his dessert and looks for the marking on the stick.

“I won. What about you?”

When you glance at yours, you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“I won, too.”

masterlist

[gay-wrongs-activist]

The new Reset trailer looks so FUCKING good. Not just as in the show draws me in 150% (which it does), but it's also amazingly done as a trailer.

It is definitely a show made specifically for me and I can't wait to get to see it.

Some personal highlights (look at me actually taking screenshots!)

Armin is so intrigued by Thada. I love to see it. Also I probably need to steal Armin's summer fit. Including the coconut. That's exactly how I should roll up to the beach.

I don't know what they dumped on this poor man, but dark crimson glittering fluids are exactly what I would have hoped for in Thailight and now Reset is giving it to me without even having to ask.

Uff, the chemistry these two have. It's such a brilliant and soft push and pull, and that is getting me. Also as @respectthepetty always said, pink means love, and while sure, this show is literally about them and we know that they're gonna be very much in love, I adore how well this moment in particular shows how magnetic the pull between them is.

No pink here, but so much softness. They seem so absolutely mutually dedicated that I 100% buy that they might be fated for each other, that that might even end up being a story element. Nothing was mentioned yet in that direction, but there should be a reason for Armin being granted that reset.

Ugh. I am such a sucker for well done hands in NC scenes. Like you know I am a horny idiot, but if I had to choose between more quasi-explicit shots and hands, i will always take the hands. Look at them.

Case in point on how incredibly soft and gone for each other these two are. How dare this trailer make me fall unquestioningly in love with these two in just 4 minutes and 42 seconds?

Adding this one for my own indulgence. The disrupted kiss and/or intimacy trope annoys me so much (especially because you usually can tell when a kiss is gonna be disrupted), but I love this recent trend of scenes going 'fuck whoever interrupted, we are absolutely going to continue what we were doing'. Also, god heavens fuck, that softness.

"Our last reset"? Are we gonna see more resets happen?? As I am just coming out of Be my Favorite, I instantly get worried (for them, not for the viewer) that they might get trapped in continued resets, because things might be going terribly wrong again and again and again. I was so sure that that shot in the chest was meant to be part of an acting job, but now I am not so sure anymore. And because I am a sucker for hurt/comfort, I am absolutely not gonna complain if we're gonna get several occassions of these two dying dramatically in each others arms.

I can't wait. And how very fitting that it's gonna start on the first day of Pride Month.

[wayshewas]

Craving Humanity

A Boston QZone-Era One Shot

Summary: It's the last time you'll see Joel before he heads West to find Tommy. After years of using each other to satisfy some very shameful impulses, can you end things as friends? Are either of you capable of that kindness? 

13k word count (i know, i know but iyeee care why they're fucking!)

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader (no description of skin, hair or eye color)

Genre: Hurt people hurt people

Warnings: This starts out pretty bleak. Lots of heartache and cruelty. Two broken people using sex to (maladaptively) cope with grief and fear of real intimacy. But there's room for hope! 

Tags: violence (Joel murders for love); dub-con (ish - things escalate without prior consent); infidelity (Joel is cheating on Tess); rough sex (more explicit tags below the cut) 

A/N: Reader, please be kind to yourself, and don't read if it'll upset you to experience Joel being abusive (to you). Remember that authors often use art to process shit, not condone it. Some people need catharsis! 

The ending is soft, but it might reach DDDNE territory in one part. Please read with caution! 

Further warnings/tags: rough sex; torn clothing; hair pulling; fingering; gagging-oral sex (M); verbal degradation and threats of sexual violence (this is the part some might find upsetting). I couldn't get a beta-reader for this, so please tell me if I need to add more explicit CWs. 

Please read with caution!

Can you distract me from all the disasters?

I. The pad of your index finger sweeps over the moist ridges of your tongue. Eyes narrowed in concentration, you resume leafing through the stack of crumpled ration cards. Trying not to lose count when the staticky crackle of the doorbell erupts throughout the house, you jot down that week’s earnings before tucking the pile back into the cash box, placing it alongside the dozen or so vials of Penicillin inside the wall safe. 

“Got it!” you shout up the stairwell. The security camera’s been down for at least a month, but it’s broad daylight, and there’s a FEDRA checkpoint at the end of the block. No one in their right mind is going to ring the front doorbell looking for trouble. 

No one in their right mind. It’s why you don’t lock up the painkillers—when you happen to have any. You’d rather let the junkies steal them from the supply cabinet and be on their way. Who are you to judge? Anguish could manifest painfully sharp as any wound. Christ, you know the truth in that as well as anyone.

When the heavy oak door creaks open, you recognize his silhouette instantly. The broad shoulders, the scruff on the back of his neck. That bronze skin. Salt and pepper hair. The way he stood with his hands on his hips.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. But loud enough for him to hear. He turns around to look at you, brows furrowed against the midday sun. “It’s you.”

Joel nods. Doesn’t smile. No allowance for what he feels when he looks at you. His eyes don’t soften or grow warm. They remain cold and distant. Devoid of sentiment.

It’s not that you were expecting him to smile at the sight of your face…and, yet. 

Too late to worry about that now.

He follows you into the foyer, his tall frame looming behind. “Give me a minute,” you say over your shoulder. “Yeun’s got a patient.”

When Joel grabs you by the arm, those strong fingers press into the heavy canvas of your coat sleeve. You feel the pressure through the layers of fabric and can’t help but remember what they feel like digging into your bare skin. 

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he cautions as his gaze trails over your face. You stare into each other’s eyes briefly before he glances down at your lips. He’s so close, if he dipped his chin a little lower, he could kiss you. 

But Joel would never kiss you. “I haven’t got much time. Gotta see Abe after this.”

You nod and leave him at the foot of the stairs.

Your husband, Nate, is the one who brought Joel Miller into your lives. Not a great decision, as it turned out, but it’s tough to make alliances when your line of business is considered a hanging offense. Collecting and selling maps would seem a pretty trivial criminal enterprise in any rational universe. Under the Emergency Measure Codes, though, they were classified as contraband. Providing material support or resources to those attempting to leave the Quarantine Zone without authorization is the official charge. 

After the outbreak, Nate had looted the map room in the Widener Library, where he’d worked for ten years. It’s how you two met. He’d helped you with your dissertation research, studying the contaminated estuaries of the Charles River.

“Just think,” he’d said. “No more GPS. This is the only way people are gonna get out of the city.” 

That was the plan. To leave Boston and head north to Novia Scotia. Then, FEDRA established the Quarantine Zone. In those early days, after they were done with culling, soldiers would capture folks on the road and send them to the nearest QZ. They didn’t have much use for a librarian or geologist, but they did need every uninfected, able-bodied person they could find. 

After FEDRA discovered you had some first aid training through the Wilderness First Responder courses at the Harvard Outing Club, you were assigned to work at the field hospital. When the hospital came down, they reassigned you to a ‘clinic’ operating out of a historic vine-covered brownstone you’d never have been able to afford before the outbreak. You lived in a 750-square-foot row house in Watertown without central heating. Bought with help from Nate’s parents. It was drafty and musty, but goddam, you missed it.

After everything had gone to shit, suddenly, just a small bit of life-saving knowledge gave you so much privilege. Given the state of things, you would have thought anyone left on Earth would resent your Ivy League credentials, but that shit still carried water with the West Point officer class. And made you both high-value prisoners. The absurdity of it hits you like a sack of bricks sometimes. Your FEDRA card says you’re a nurse. A fucking nurse who’s never taken organic chemistry. Your friend Sheila, an actual ER nurse, would have howled. You barely passed Intro Bio! 

Sheila might be dead, but you remember her booming laughter. That means she’s still with you, right?

Your husband first met Joel Miller when he’d gone to the site of an explosion after Fireflies had bombed the QZ’s only wastewater treatment facility. Nate had treated enough FEDRA officers to recognize that Joel’s hearing loss wasn’t the result of the bombing but of gunfire. You can only imagine how their conversation unfolded—Joel cagey and taciturn, Nate’s infinite patience and determination to seize an opportunity. It probably would have gone down better if he’d met Tess first, but at some point, Nate convinced Joel that they could help each other. Joel was a smuggler, and Nate had maps and knew, in theory, all the routes in and out of the QZ. But he needed someone to check if they were clear of rubble and Cordyceps. See if they remained viable.

That was back when you were a good person. When Nate was alive. 

Working for FEDRA made you both feel like collaborators. Like Vichy traitors in Nazi occupied France. Every soldier you healed just went right back to oppressing your neighbors. But you weren’t—aren’t—a fighter. Fireflies expect you to carry a gun. And use it. Hell, you’ve never even fired a gun. So, outright insurgency wasn’t an option. At the time, the only resistance you could provide was to help others escape. With maps and routes out of the QZ. 

When Tommy joined, you sold maps to the Fireflies, too. That was another act of resistance. And, an even worse mistake.   

But for a while, it was the perfect arrangement for Joel and Tess. When one passageway collapsed or fell under surveillance, you and Nate helped them map out a new route. Back then, Tess had a keen sense of who to charm. She liked your artwork and Nate’s mash whiskey—flattery earned her a lot of both. You were something like friends. You tried teaching her how to knit, but she lacked the patience. Joel was always there by her side, sitting at your kitchen table. 

Joel Miller never bothered with charm.

In the years that followed, you noticed that despite the fact they were clearly together…Tess and Joel never shared any physical intimacy. The folks who made up your clandestine circle of undesirables and ne’er do wells chalked it up to a distaste for public displays of affection. They were both tough as nails, after all. 

You could tell it wasn’t so simple. 

They were clearly partners in every way that mattered in this life. They were each other’s bulwark against a world burning down around them. Tess might be the only thing keeping Joel sane. But there was no yearning in their eyes when they looked at each other. Even when drinking. Even in the relaxed and happy moments, there was no hunger for each other. Joel would probably do almost anything for Tess. Maybe he would die for her. But it seemed he couldn’t be with her in that way. Or anyone else, as far as you could tell.

So, when, during what had to have been one of the hottest summers on record (if anyone was still keeping records), Joel had come by the studio you moved into after Nate’s death, and…well, that’s when it had started.

He’d come by hoping to sell some MBTA maps he’d scavenged from an abandoned museum. Covered in graphite and hunched over your drafting table, you’d been wearing this dress that was short but otherwise shapeless and unremarkable. Just two panels of some paisley fabric sewn together. You used to wear it around the house on Sunday mornings after sleeping in. Twenty years later, it was pretty threadbare. Not remotely sexy. Except, due to the humidity, the gauzy cotton clung to your sweat-soaked body. 

People don’t expect it to be humid in Boston. They imagine a coastal breeze to chase away the summer heat. It’s quite an adjustment for the refugees who make it to the QZ. Joel said something like, Nothing on the humidity in Texas, about how the moisture would bead on the elm leaves, about how it would keep a person up at night. It was the kind thing you’d say to a stranger in line at the grocery store. But you’d seen that flash of desire in his eyes when they roamed over you, and his gaze grew heated. 

Joel didn’t bother with politeness or small talk. Yet here he was, babbling about the weather, visibly embarrassed about his body’s response to thoughts of your nakedness. You were very obviously not wearing much of anything underneath the dress.

In a world where you had no power, it made you feel powerful to have that effect on Joel Miller. He was so nervous he couldn’t stand still. He paced the apartment, fidgeted as you looked over the transit maps, and consulted a First Year Russian textbook liberated from the Widener to work through the Cyrillic. Joel radiated with a tension you’d never sensed from him before. And, when he could avoid it no longer, when he finally came closer and stood beside your seat at the drafting table, you’d grasped him by the neck and kissed the rough stubble of his throat, below his ear, behind the curve of his jaw. 

You’d always admired the elegant column of his throat and the angular lines of his face. In another life, you might have asked him to sit for you so that you could sketch those handsome features and capture his coarse beauty. 

“You can do more than look,” you’d whispered, staring boldly into those fearsome brown eyes.  

Joel stiffened, grabbing you by both arms to hold you back. You waited for him to throw you roughly to the floor in disgust. Call you crazy. Demand to know what the fuck you’re thinking.

Instead, he pushed you back onto the table. Shoved your shoulders down so hard that you lay splayed on top of it. You remember feeling the raised ledge dig into your lower back when he pushed the hem of your dress up around your hips and sunk his fingers knuckle-deep inside you. The look of shock on his face—shock at what he’d done, shock at discovering how wet you were—you remember that, too. He groaned.

Joel worked quickly then, one hand tearing off your dress, the other on his belt, so that you only realized he’d unbuttoned his pants once you felt the press of his cock nudging against your entrance. Without a word, he tugged at your knees, wrapping your thighs around his waist as he buried himself inside you with one brutal buck of his hips.

Fuck. He’s so big. He’d nearly split you apart with that first thrust. The pain felt greater than the pleasure, and you’d pushed instinctively at his shoulders. Joel simply gathered your wrists in his calloused hands and pinned them against the table. “Be still.”

No! The word was ready on your tongue, and you’d been about to scream it, but that’s when the pleasure finally eclipsed the pain. Joel’s cock always feels so good inside you, filling you up so completely it blots out everything else.

The minute you arched into him, he pounded back into you. It made the table shake with each drive of his hips. One of his hands came up to grasp the nape of your neck, the heel of his palm pressing into your collarbone as he used the leverage to set a wild pace. The slap of his body against you was so loud in the small studio. The only sound apart from your frantic breathing.

You’d fantasized about this many times. A man claiming you, using you. Pumping into you faster and faster. You never imagined it would feel this good. Never. Yet, Joel Miller made you come harder than you ever had in your life.

A gasp, and dizziness as everything else melted away, until there was nothing left but the climax. You clenched around him, hips surging up involuntarily into his thrusts as the world disappeared.

You’d slumped back onto the table, reeling from pleasure. Joel was shouting out, his eyes tightly shut, as his fingernails dug into the soft flesh of your body. He thrust deeply, moaning, “Huh-unngh!” before pulling out to spend himself onto your belly, shuddering as he stroked himself through every spurt of come erupting from his wet cock. “Haa, aah, ahh!”

The whole thing lasted all of five minutes. 

Neither of you had spoken then, and you remained silent after, even as he wiped off your stomach with the torn pocket of your dress. Not a word while Joel tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his jeans.

He didn’t mention payment for the MBTA maps, thank god. Counting out ration cards moments after he’d fucked you senseless would have strained irony to the breaking point. What had happened between you wasn’t about longing or affection. It was transactional. You wanted—needed—one side of this dark fantasy, and he needed the other. You don’t even like Joel Miller.

“Hey Yuen,” you chime, popping your head into the exam room. “I’m going home for lunch. I’ll keep working on the inventory when I get back.” You try to sound casual. Cheerful. But it rings hollow even to your ears.

“Okay. Is everything alright?” she asked gently. Dr. Li and her family live in the brownstone now, but you can’t bring yourself to resent her for it. She’s a kind person. You find yourself praying that fate will spare Dr. Yeun Li and let her keep her kindness. 

“Mm-hmm,” is your only reply.

Joel had wandered into the sitting parlor, examining the still lifes the original owner used to maintain their ‘Gilded Era’ aesthetic. You like Impressionist painters, so you and Nate left the prints hanging in their golden frames. It seems the Lis also enjoy Impressionism. 

Apparently, so does Joel. He stares at the brioche bun painted by Manet. You smile inwardly. Maybe he’s just hungry?

“You ready?” Joel asks.

Falling in behind him, you make your way toward the studio located on the periphery of the Boston slums. It’s funny. Now that you’re neighbors, you see less of Joel and Tess than you did when you lived on the opposite side of the QZ. Joel takes you the long way around so you can avoid the Square. That was decent of him. Or maybe he’s worried you’re less likely to fuck him if you get lost in those painful memories. It was difficult to know what passed for decency and what was self-interested calculation with Joel Miller.

It didn’t happen often, but it had happened again. You’d been fucking him for years now. In Nate’s absence, you withdrew into imposed isolation. Meaning, at the very least, you don’t have to worry about seeing Joel socially. With Tess. And he never came to the studio for just sex. There was always some practical purpose for his visits. 

No one would have reason to be suspicious. Especially since they all thought you hated Joel. That you blamed him for Nate’s death. Maybe at first, but you’d let go of that. The hate had crystallized into numb ambivalence. Yet, in the weeks or months that went by in between your…encounters, you fantasized about Joel Miller. It’s difficult not to when any time you aren’t at work, you’re at home, and most of your life at home is spent hunched over the drafting table. The same table he would bend you over.

You’ve had plenty of lovers before, skillful lovers who would coax you to climax with their fingers and tongues. You thought you needed that to come. 

A few brutal strokes of Joel Miller’s cock is all you need these days.

You’ve had these kinds of fantasies before. Most women do. But lately, it’s the only thing that gets you off. Thinking about Joel using you, his fist in your hair, pinning your hands over your head, being rough, sometimes violent. You imagine him calling you a whore, or a slut. He’s never said those things to you…which is probably lucky because you don’t know how you’d respond. 

For better or worse, he’s stubbornly silent. Apart from the noises he makes, grunting and groaning. 

Sometimes he let out a fuck or a gottdam—his Texas twang hitting every consonant. The most you’d let slip is some breathless chants of yes, yes! There’s an unspoken agreement that giving voice to your desires out loud might breathe life into some kind of connection between you. Or break it. This is a fragile, shameful thing that neither of you wants to ruin. 

Despite the walkaround, you make it to the south end of Commercial in good time. Tall as he is, Joel still has to leap up to pull down the fire escape, drawing back to let you climb up the ladder first. He’s not polite, but perhaps he can’t shake the good ole Southern chivalry. It’s like muscle memory to him. He’d open doors, offer you the first slice. Then he’d wrap his hand around your throat.

Your studio is an attic apartment in a grand, dilapidated five-story building, clearly inspired by the architect’s Grand Tour to Rome or Paris in the 1900s. It’s not an easy climb. You’re both winded by the time you crawl through the skylight to avoid the FEDRA officers patrolling the streets below.

The trip up the fire escape had tugged open the last couple of buttons of Joel’s shirt, and you can’t stop yourself from staring at the line of dark hair trailing down his stomach and under his jeans. He’d gained a soft belly with age. It was the only thing soft about him. You know the abdominals beneath are as strong as ever. You’d felt them contract and spasm against you while he pumped his cock relentlessly inside you. 

It’s not sick or unnatural to have these desires about sex and domination. Desires are not sick or unnatural, but it’s dangerous to blur the line between fantasy and reality. You’d taken human sexuality in college. You know there’s a healthy way to experience these kinks. One that requires communication and boundaries. A plan for what to do when those boundaries get tested. What you and Joel are doing is not healthy.   

But, fuck, that first time had been brutal, terrifying, and perfect. You loved it. You love watching him come. Seeing that handsome face—stone-cold as he fucked you mercilessly—soften with pleasure. And before that, before you get started, when he looks so full of desperate yearning to get his hands on you. For a man who tamped down any emotion apart from anger, seeing him in that moment when the anger gave way to pleasure was the greatest high you’ve ever known. 

He’s the one who’s physically dominant, but his climax makes him absolutely helpless. In a world where you had no power, it felt powerful. 

It’s not real power. He’s using you. You know that. Just like you’re using him. And yet, for a short while, you can convince yourself that it is real. 

You thought things would continue on like that. Or maybe it’s that you never think that far ahead. But the ambivalence is shattering. You hate this about yourself. You hate it. You can tell he hates it, too. You’ve tried to stop so many times, but you don’t have the strength. You lost that along with Nate. 

Just thinking about Joel taking control, forcing you to submit, makes your pulse race. You feel it in your stomach, in your throat, and between your legs. Joel Miller was a knife that you used to cut yourself down to the bone. To prove that something was left inside you, beneath your skin, apart from grief. And if all you bled was wantonness and spite…well, at least that was a different sort of despair.

Now, finally, it will end. Because Joel is leaving Boston and never coming back. 

So maybe, just this once, with this last opportunity to exert some self-control, you can end things as friends and forgive each other for what you’ve been doing under the haze of lust and shame these past three years.  

II. [Joel]

Nathaniel Wallace’s death had heaped a pile of trouble onto Joel, the likes of which he could not have foreseen. It wasn’t that he counted himself responsible for the man’s death. Joel had warned Nate more than once that the librarian didn’t have enough grit to survive outside the QZ. That irrepressible need to help people would get him killed. And it had. 

But sacrificing himself to save Joel was simply the first burden. The second was you, his wife. 

Nate was smart, if nothing else. He could see the writing on the wall. The escalation between FEDRA and the Fireflies was about to tear a hole through the QZ, and cordyceps would run right through the gap. Nate was anticipating the moment it all went to shit so he could save the woman he loved. Joel couldn’t fault him for that. So at Tess’s insistence, they’d started bringing the librarian along to Lincoln when they could use another pack mule, and in return, he kept a share of the haul. Tess trusted Nate implicitly.

Nate’s wife knew none of this. Joel had no desire to be pulled into someone else’s marital turmoil, but Tess said that’s how it had to be, so he went along with keeping it secret. Ration cards were worthless outside the QZ—that was the point after all—so the Wallaces would need more than their tidy FEDRA pay to get out.

Nate planned to sail north from the Boston harbor to Maine and then on to Nova Scotia, where the outbreak hadn’t hit so bad. He and Bill would debate the required length of the vessel, what kind of keel was needed and other such bullshit Joel had no interest in. 

Joel had no interest in much beyond surviving each day. He left it to Tess to plan for what happened the day after. But dammit, he’d put his foot down when she suggested traveling to Canada with Nate. Said it might not be such a bad idea.  With Joel, Tess, and Tommy to protect the group, you wouldn’t need to sail. 

Joel absolutely refused to be weighed down by such a liability.

Nate worried his wife couldn’t make the overland journey. Sure, they’d backpacked the Appalachian Trail to Katahdin. Hiking the route wasn’t the problem. She had panic attacks.  Nate alluded to something that had happened in her past. “A wild one in her youth,” he laughed. “Ran away from home to follow the Dead on tour. Had herself a helluva time…but not exactly a safe environment for a sixteen-year-old girl.”

Joel had buried Sarah’s memory so deep inside himself that she rarely came to mind apart from his dreams—but that hint of darkness evoked an image of his teenage daughter that cut through him. He’d grown up outside of Austin and knew what happened in those beat-down vans and school buses parked in the lot. The image of his daughter drunk and high outta her mind surrounded by strangers made him see red.

That vague little detail explained a lot about Nate’s wife. She always sat with her back facing the wall. She was quiet. Some might mistake her for timid since she let Nate do all the talking. But her eyes were always watching. In some ways, she was better suited for life outside the QZ than Nate. She reminded him of a doe–no matter how calm or curious they appeared, they were always poised to run.

That’s probably why she ended up with Nate. He was a gentle and patient man. 

Joel had seen Tess watching you and Nate, knowing that she was envious of what you had. The casual intimacy—fingers threading together when passing each other something, his hand palming your lower back as he stood beside you, the way you would kiss his forehead before leaving the room. He couldn’t blame Tess for wanting that. Part of him wanted it, too. But Joel couldn’t be that man for her. He couldn’t remember how to be gentle.

They’d tried once…but it was strained and awkward. Joel couldn’t relax, worrying he would hurt Tess, worrying he would do or say something that would break her trust. When her trust was all he had in this life. It had put up a wall between them instead of tearing one down. 

Instead, Joel watched Tess watching you, watching Nate. The perfect husband.

Or at least that’s what he’d thought. 

When you'd slapped him across the face hard enough to leave scratch marks, he’d gotten a glimpse of that wildness. You had this feral glint in your eyes, daring him to hit back. As you stared at each other, he soon realized that tangled up in that fury was longing…and desire. You wanted his hand on your face—the blow—to feel anything other than the pain. He knew that look. It stopped him cold. He’d muttered some numb apology and carried you to the couch, trying to ignore the way his body responded to your soft weeping against his neck. 

For a while, he avoided you. Tommy and Tess kept an eye out, kept you working, helped you move. Joel was relieved he didn’t have to see Nate’s wife and her captivating eyes ever again. Until one night, Tess had a job for him. She’d pointed across the crowded food hall to where some FEDRA jackboot had you by the wrist, dragging you into a nearby alley.

“He’s been watching her for a while now,” Tess shook her head thoughtfully. “If it’s her idea, it’s a mistake. One that puts us all at risk,” she said coldly. “If it’s his idea, he needs to be taught a lesson.”

When Joel followed behind and peered down the alleyway, he had trouble making that determination. The soldier had you pressed against a wall, his mouth devouring, hands roaming over your body. Ashamed at his reflexive arousal, Joel turned away. But while it may have started out as consensual—and Joel tried not to hear the grunts and whimpers—he did hear you say, “Wait” and “Slow down.” 

At that, he looked up to see the soldier shoving you face first against the wall, one hand on his belt. He was halfway down the alley when you screamed “Stop!” and thrust yourself backward with every bit of strength in your body, breaking into a run as soon as you were free of his grip. 

Joel pulled back into the shadowed recesses of brick as the soldier cried out, “Where the fuck are you going?” and stormed off after you. He recognized the kid, Danny. He’d sold him oxies. 

It wasn’t difficult to guess where Daniel was headed. He took a short cut and waited for the FEDRA punk to make his way to your building. Joel guessed correctly that Danny, heady with impunity, would take the elevator up to your front door and simply break in. Despite smoking Marlboros well into his thirties and having two bad knees, Joel made it up the fire escape in time to open one of the attic apartment’s skylight windows. When Danny-boy stepped onto the roof with a “Hey! You out here?” he took the kid’s legs out at a run and tossed him over the side. 

Another FEDRA soldier who chose a long drop in the abject face of addiction. That’s how it would look. Joel reckoned Danny didn't need a lesson. He needed killin.

Joel had just closed the window when you walked through the door, drunk and disheveled. You’d likely doubled back and taken wrong turns to throw off Danny without realizing he already knew exactly where to find you. That’s probably why you felt safe enough to start stripping your clothes off as soon as you’d stepped inside the apartment. Joel knew he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Then you’d thrown on some flimsy dress.

The dress itself wasn’t sexy, but the way you walked in it, the way your hips swayed unselfconsciously was very sexy to Joel. He should have left then, when you’d collapsed onto your bed. But he lingered long enough to see your hand creep up your thigh and between your legs. 

The glass windows were single pane. He could hear every hitched sigh and keen. They trapped him in place.

Joel listened and watched. Watched the rise and fall of your breasts with each deep breath. The outline of your pert nipples darkening was visible through the thin fabric of your dress. And most especially, he watched the ceaseless circling of your fingers, making you flushed and sweaty as you writhed on top of the mattress. 

It was wrong, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself from palming his cock over his jeans, growing stiffer by the minute. Until it was so hard it ached, and he had to free himself of his pants to find relief from the painfully sweet agony. Joel continued to listen and watch, matching the rhythm of your fingers with each stroke of his shaft. He spit into his palm and slid his thumb over his cock’s sensitive crown, teasing the slit. “Fuck,” he whispered silently as his hand moved faster and faster, the dark head of his cock sliding back and forth within his grip.

When he heard your cry of release filling in his ears, his cock pulsed so hard in his fist, he let go and let himself imagine spending his seed inside you with each spurt of come that dripped between his fingers.  

Then, he kicked some debris over the wad of come he’d left atop your roof, tucked himself back into his jeans, and climbed down the fire escape ladder. He’d been so ashamed he couldn’t sleep. Just sat dozing at the kitchen table the rest of the night. 

So a few months later, when Tess had sent him to your apartment to sell off MBTA maps for some quick rations…and you’d opened the door wearing that dress…

Why was it so much easier to be intimate with a near stranger than the women he truly cared about? Was this just lingering Catholic guilt from childhood about sexual desire that he couldn’t quite shake? He didn’t think so. He’d never struggled with this before—with the women he dated, with his wife. But then, he’d never needed to wield force and domination to enjoy sex before.

After the first time, he could have put a stop to it. Made up some lie to avoid seeing you again. But for some reason, he couldn’t stay away. The next time it happened, you’d asked. “Why me?” 

“Tess doesn’t want to play rough,” he said honestly. “I think you do.”

That ought to have scared the shit out of you, except—Joel was right. You did want to play rough. You wanted the dirtiest, filthiest brutality, and he enjoyed giving it to you.

And almost, he would have worried, but you were always drenched and ready for him. Body passive and pliable, yet so responsive. Joel loved the sounds he drew from your lips as you writhed underneath him. Sometimes, you fought against him, a token resistance Joel knew made the sex hotter for you. For him too, if he was honest. He never felt more powerful than with his fist in your hair. In a world where he had control of nothing, you gave him control of your body, and he used it to find release.

Afterwards, you would collapse onto that sad little futon mattress and sleep like the dead. You were usually out before Joel had even closed the door behind him. He’d stay away for months at a time, but inevitably, he would always return. 

At some point, he’d realized that he could see into your apartment from the roof of his and Tess’s building. So he took up smoking again, which is a terrible thing for a man in his fifties to do, but it gave him an excuse to go out onto the roof and watch you at night. Most of the time, you were slumped over the drafting table—not making maps like he expected but drawing. And though you looked harried and exhausted, it seemed to Joel that you came alive in those moments. You danced in your kitchen. There was a nagging regret in that pit of his stomach that he’d never tried to know more about you. But this was no world for regrets.  

Joel told himself he just needed to get this out of his system, and then he would figure out how to be with Tess the way she wanted. Each time he thought, this time I’ll try being softer, I’ll remember how to be gentle. But then he’d see that wild challenge in your eyes.

Joel sensed you wanted him to lose control. So far, he’d managed to hold back the worst of his lust and anger. And if he did slip a little, he justified to himself that you would tell him to stop, like you had told Danny to stop. And he would. It was dark, some of the stuff you did together even scared him at times. He left bruises and teethmarks. But he would never force a woman against her will. And, eventually, he wouldn’t need force to play a part in sex at all.  

This time, the last time, he would prove to himself it could be different. He could be different.

III.

While the floor is slightly unsteady beneath your feet, you’re able to walk to the kitchen confidently, as if paying no attention to Joel Miller behind you. Yet you feel the reverberation of every footstep in your chest as he follows you further inside the apartment. 

It’s hard to forget that you’re usually fucking within ten minutes of his arrival at your door. You feel heat flush in your cheeks as you envision Joel inside you, pounding into you, going on and on and on without mercy—

“Want some tea?” 

Opening and closing drawers, your fingers tremble, lifting the kettle onto the stovetop. Your heart is racing so fast, you see the square neckline of your shirt rising and falling in your peripheral vision with every shallow breath. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, motioning toward the stack of folded maps you’d draped across the drafting table. 

He ignores your offer of tea, but you pull out a cup for him anyway. Nervously, you tuck a lock of stray hair behind your ear and lift your chin to meet his gaze. This would all be a lot easier if you didn’t find Joel so attractive. In the glare of the skylights, his features are almost too rugged to be beautiful, but not quite. Straight nose, high cheekbones, strong jaw. His mouth set in a firm line.

And his dark brown eyes locked on you. You felt so sure of yourself moments ago. So strong and prepared. Your panties are already wet just from the sight of him that you feel the inseam of your overalls getting damp—your cunt is so tight and hot with anticipation that it almost hurts. 

“It’s a two thousand-mile journey, Joel,” you shrug, trying to cover for how flustered you’ve become.

You walk over to the table and unfurl one of the maps for him. “The 90 will get you to Wyoming, but you’ll be going through Buffalo, Cleveland. Chicago.” You have a map for each metropolitan area in the pile for him. “I’m giving you the originals since my facsimiles aren’t really accurate to scale, and I imagine you’ll have to calculate fuel…and what not.”

As you expected, Joel follows you over to the table, utterly unhurried. Completely and maddeningly calm. Has he even heard a word you’ve said? 

Joel stands behind you, saying nothing. He’s so close that you can feel the heat from his body radiating against your back, the stir of air from his deep breathing spilling over your shoulders. So close you can smell the scent of his skin. When you breathe in that scent again, you realize how badly you’ve missed it. Missed him.

This is it. This is really it. He’s leaving.

“I…uh,” you take a deep, steadying breath, “also found a map with all the ranger stations in Teton and Custer National Forests. I assume that’s where the radio towers—”

You feel Joel’s hand cup the back of your head, pulling the hairpin free from the messy knot at the base of your neck. He stands there, looming over you for a long while, breathing hard, before leaning forward to place his palms onto the drafting table. One arm on either side of you, enfolding you in his broad shoulders. 

Joel sighs and lets his forehead fall against the crown of your head.

This is how you usually start. Next, he’d push you onto your elbows, pull one of your knees up onto the ledge and fuck you roughly from behind. Or he might lift you onto the table, pull your calves over his shoulders, and grip your waist as he rutted against you. Never on the bed, even though it was just on the other side of the small room. You’d made a joke, once…about it being within eyesight. Your futon? he replied. Have some sympathy for an old man’s back. 

It was a funny joke, but he didn’t laugh. He still had those creases around his eyes, but you haven’t seen Joel laugh in years. Not since Tommy moved out. 

You’re glad Nate wasn’t alive for that—when Tommy left. 

Nate wouldn’t have been able to forgive Joel either. Not after what he’d done to that family. Tricking them like that, and then handing them over to FEDRA. Nate always believed that love could heal Joel’s grief and inspire him to be a better person. But, you’ve never had any illusions about the kind of man Joel Miller is. Maybe that’s why it’s easier to do this with him.

Imprisoned in his arms, you go still as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. Maybe he missed you to? His breath is hot against your scalp. Joel’s hands slip into the bib of your overalls, beneath the hem of your sweater. You feel his fingers brush along the small of your back, tracing over your ribs. Urgently, he reaches for your tender breasts and kneads them in his calloused hands. Your cunt throbs. Wet with need, desperate to be full of him. 

Then your brain suddenly wakes up and takes over, as if someone had thrown a glass of ice water in your face. It’s not too late to stop this. 

“We’re not doing this again,” you say, turning around to face him, your palms braced against the table’s edge.

You’ve never told him no before. 

Joel Miller is a killer. A marauder. A man who took what he wanted. Part of you expects him to say something monstrous like, What makes you think it’s up to you? He could easily overpower you. Sure, you’d scream and fight him, but what difference would it make? No one cares what happens to a woman like you inside her own apartment. 

But Joel’s not a monster. Not really. He killed and raided out of selfish necessity, not perverse pleasure. Surely, there remained some inviolable limit to his cruelty. 

The look he shoots you is more impatient than enraged. You can see the tension in his jaw tighten. 

“Why’s that?” he asks. 

Don’t you understand, Joel? It’s not just fucking anymore. I’m baring my soul to you—this shameful, vulnerable need I can’t escape. The need to feel sexually desirable, to feel a man’s weight on top of me, to feel his mouth on me. To feel you inside me. 

I bear my soul to you and then we go back to being practically strangers. 

You should tell him that. Tell him that it’s eating away at you. That you can’t handle the emptiness that comes afterward.

Despite all your resolve, you have begun to have feelings for Joel. It isn’t love—not even its faintest imitation. It’s a fixation. You feel shame. You feel guilty about Tess. The woman who held you in her arms as you watched Nate hanged.

It took every ounce of will to force yourself to look into Nate’s eyes until the very end, when the trap door released and his neck snapped. You screamed so long and loud that you felt your soul leave your body, and Tommy had to carry you away before you got trampled in the riot that broke out. 

Tess did that. She saved you that day. And yeah, like everything else she did, it was probably calculated self-interest, but you’re alive aren’t you? Tess and Tommy dragged you back to their apartment in the aftermath of the execution as FEDRA soldiers swarmed the streets, implementing an immediate lockdown. 

Yeun later told you that the love you and Nate shared was so pure, and the profundity of your sorrow was so great, that it moved the QZ to riot. A sweet, indulgent thing to say to a friend in mourning, but it wasn’t true. It was people’s love for Nate and his steadfast goodness that made them riot. A bright light in their midst that they had come to rely on and then forced to watch it be extinguished. 

Everyone loved Nate. Perhaps even Joel. That’s probably why he’d let you take a swing at him. 

First, you’d slapped him. “You’re a coward, Joel Miller!” After spending the lockdown getting fall-down drunk on what was left of the whiskey, you’d swung so wildly at Joel’s chin that you collapsed to the ground, knees jarring against the wood floor. “Nate’s dead because of you, and you’re such a fucking coward you couldn’t even bear witness when they killed him.”

Joel could probably count on one hand the number of times the word sorry had passed his lips. But his face dropped as he murmured, “I know it.”

Maybe that simple admission is why you’d come to forgive Joel. The others who abandoned Nate and left him behind all said the same shit. He knew the risks. This was always going to catch up to him. Joel was the only one who picked up the blame you laid at his feet and carried it.   

Which is why you’d like to part with Joel as friends. Your shame and guilt weren’t just for yourself anymore. Or for Tess. This isn’t healthy for either of you. It’s fucked up that the one person Joel desired only had use for the worst parts of him. That means you have to stop this. Stop it now and part as friends.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Joel. And neither do you.”

“Hungh,” he scoffs, scratching his beard. Voice hoarse with restraint. And something else you don’t want to acknowledge. “Don’t think that’s true.”

Joel leans closer. There’s a chill inside the apartment, but you aren’t shivering from the cold. It’s anticipation.

But he doesn’t put his hands on you. Instead, he brushes the curve of your shoulder with his fingertips, slipping the strap of your overalls down over your arm. His touch is so hot it seems to scorch and burn. Your thin sweater reveals the peaks of your breasts, pert with arousal, pressing through the weave. He brings his hands to squeeze one in his wide palms, stroking his thumb over your pinched nipple. 

“Your body tells a different story…”

Perhaps you and Joel fuck so well because you’re every bit the coward. Recognizing toxic impulses and behavior is one thing. It’s something wholly different to call them out. You don’t have the courage to put into words what you both know is true. That what you’re doing is self-destructive. That you’re using sex to harm yourselves and each other. All you can do is try to push him away. 

If Joel Miller is a knife, then you are another.

Your face goes cold and your voice becomes quietly vicious. “You and Tess don’t have sex. Probably because you actually love her. Instead, you come here to fuck. Because you don’t give a shit about what happens to me.”

Joel’s spent a lifetime crafting that callous exterior, and it doesn’t crack. 

His brows furrow, “That’s not fair.” But his words don’t sound so patronizingly reassuring any longer. Frustration grates in every syllable.

He’s right, it’s not fair. You’re fucking Joel Miller precisely because he’s not available—in any sense. You don’t want the butterflies or sweet yearning. If there’s another man you could love, you hope you never meet him. You want to die with Nate’s name on your lips. Like Sheila’s laughter, holding onto the grief is what keeps him near. 

Joel Miller fucking you like a submissive slut changes none of that. Just like it doesn’t change the way he feels about Tess. It’s why you both need this so much.

Joel brushes one fingertip along the length of your throat and down your chest, hooking his finger under the neck of your sweater and pulling it below your breasts. You shiver and draw back. He clucks his tongue. “If I didn’t give a shit, would I bother makin’ you come every time?”

Your cheeks flush. Arousal spikes within you. 

This is softer than usual. Not an angry act of brutality. Instead, Joel’s using coercion. Drawing you closer and closer to a line that he plans to drag you over. But it turns you on just as hard. You clench against the urgent, aching need between your thighs. Your face gets hotter with every pounding beat of your heart. 

Joel stares at your pulse, thundering against your throat, his moist breath pouring over your exposed breasts. He’s just as turned on—ready to claim you. You can see the bulge of his cock pressing eagerly against his jeans. And yet he says nothing more. He’s giving you one last chance to speak up. To use the word no. One last out. 

You don’t take it.

Say, no. Say it out loud. It’s not too late.

But it is. It’s been too late. You knew this would happen as soon as you let him inside your apartment. This is who you are. This is what you want. Best to make peace with that. 

Sometimes, you fight him. Sometimes, you immediately go limp in his grip. This time—if he tries to take you—you plan to submit. You’re going to drive him away in anger, slamming the door behind him, or he’s going to fuck out his rage on you. Let Joel decide what happens next.

“Make me come?” you scoff. The look on your face is contemptuous. “The Lord blessed you with a thick cock, Joel. Not some mastery over the female anatomy. You don’t know what to do with this pussy but fuck it.”

Joel lunges towards you. You stumble backward, your body acting out of sheer instinctive panic until you feel stiff metal press against the back of your thighs. With both hands, he pushes you into the drafting chair, shoulder blades pinned painfully into the carved backrest. 

“Please—” You can’t think of anything else to say. His face is livid now. Why did you provoke him? Why do you always have to provoke him? You’ve never been this scared of Joel, but you’ve also never been this aroused. You’re so drenched in heat it’s slicking down your thighs.

Joel’s hands tug on the buttons of your overalls, pulling them off. He rips your underwear away with your pants. Somehow, the fact that you’re wearing socks makes your nakedness feel more obscene. Like some amateur porn video. Joel shoves your thighs apart and thrusts two fingers inside you. You’re so unprepared it makes you gasp.

His eyes widen in triumph, feeding off your fear. “How you gonna say those mean things when I make you this wet?”

“Mmmph,” a grunt of deep satisfaction escapes his lips as he starts working you roughly with his hand, sending a gush of wetness welling against his palm. He pushes his fingers in and out, relishing the slick, squelching sound it makes.

“You like that?” Joel pushes in deeper.

“Aaangh!” you moan against the coiling tension building inside you. “Please.”

He nods his head proudly, “Knew I could make you want it.”

The rage you sense from him is so fucking real. If it’s for Tommy or for you, you don’t think Joel could say where it all comes from. It’s scary as hell. And still—still—it turns you on.

Joel’s thumb presses down over your clit as his fingers begin twisting inside you. He starts working you faster now. Your hands clutch at his wrist, thighs squeezing tight around his grip, but he just continues pumping his fingers, fucking you roughly with his hand. 

Your breaths come sharp and shallow. Joel knows exactly where and how hard to bear down. How fast to go. All the blood in your body rushes between your legs as your cunt gets hotter for him. He’s working his hand so vigorously it makes the chair shake. 

“You wanna come now, don’t you?” his voice is as sharp as a razor. “Said I couldn’t get you off, but here you are.”

Warmth ripples through you, building in waves that have your knuckles straining, gripping the armrests. Like your skin doesn't fit right over your bones. Your body tightens. You’re on the brink.

“Haa–aaaah!” you scream, but Joel’s other hand clamps down over your mouth. His thumb curled around your chin.

“Want your neighbors to think I’m killin’ ya?” Joel’s breath is hot against the side of your face.

That’s when his fingers stroke faster, his thumb presses harder, and you come. Your orgasm crashes through you. You clench around his thrusting fingers and wail against his palm. One long scream you can’t control.

He growls, “I fuckin’ told you to stay quiet.” But he keeps thrusting and stroking you through your climax until your body starts jerking in the aftershocks of pleasure.

“So wet,” he says, voice laden with desire and disgust. “How much you think you can take?” 

He slips a third finger inside you, pushing deeper. You burn with the stretch—and yet your flesh yields to him.

“How about my fist? Think you could take that?”

Your body tenses in alarm. Oh, fuck. You’ve never tried that, never wanted to try. Terror rises inside you. And, fuck it, the fear just heightens your arousal.

“Mm-mm!” You shake your head, teeth scraping against his palm. The sob that rises in your chest surprises you. Tears well against your eyelids and spill over his fingers. You really don’t want him to do this, but— 

“Cry more.” Joel’s eyes widen with a manic gleam. He pulls your knee over the armrest to open you wider. Four fingers inside you now. Your whole body is trembling. The rising hysteria and the sight of the muscles in his forearm tensing, his knuckles disappearing inside you is so hot, it might just send you over the edge.

“You don’t want my fist?” He’s breathing so fast through his nostrils, chest heaving, that his body strains with the effort of holding back. 

“Mm-mm,” you implore, shaking your head. 

He removes his hand from your mouth. “What do you want? My cock?”

“Yes,” you’re sobbing now, not even trying to hold it back. “Please!”

“Begging for my cock. Then take it out,” Joel says, slipping his fingers from inside you and placing them around your throat, warm and sticky. “Do it! Take my cock out.”

Your hands shake as you fumble with the zipper. His enormous cock slips free, jutting into your palm, thick and hot. Tentatively, you close your hand around it. Come beads from its pulsing slit, slicking your fingers. 

“Mmph,” Joel grunts as you start using your other hand, too. That lets you cover almost the entire length of his shaft, to feel each urgent throb beneath your fingers.

“Come on,” he says through gritted teeth, brows furrowing. “You can do more than that.”

So you begin using your wrists, working your hands up and down, fist over fist. Your body shivers, reeling as the adrenaline ebbs and surges. Tears pool against your eyelids before slowly dripping down your cheeks.

“Lick your hands,” Joel says. “Do me like you mean it.”

You drag your tongue from the heel of your thumb to the tips of your fingers and begin jerking him off in earnest, tightening and loosening your fists. He releases a deep sigh and lets his head slump back. Even now, you love seeing him like this— that steely resolve undone with pleasure.

“Do you want—”

He reaches out as if to caress the side of your face, then fists his hand in your hair.

“Take me in your mouth.”

You bend over, Joel’s hand clutching your hair, guiding you closer, until his blood-dark cock is in your face. Parting your lips, you take him in. You have to open wide. His salty come is warm on your tongue, your mouth waters in response, slicking your lips as they stretch around his cock. It seems incredible that this is the first time you’ve had him in your mouth.

“Suck it,” he groans.

You do. Slow little swallows at first. Then Joel pulls your hair tight enough for it to hurt.

“Look at me.” Joel’s voice is low. “Look at me when you suck my cock.”

Your eyes go up to his. He’s breathing hard, unbuttoning his shirt with his free hand. The fabric falls aside, exposing the muscles of his powerful chest. His jaw is set, his lips curled at the creases—something between a grin and a grimace. The hand in your hair tightens painfully.

“More. Use your hands.”

You take stronger pulls, hollowing your cheeks. With one hand, you brace yourself against his leg. With the other, you start working him, twisting your fist around him with every stroke, pumping his cock in time with your mouth, feeling every ridge and vein.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Shoulda guessed you’d be good at this. Fuckin’ cock slut.”

Christ. Now that he’s said it…how does it make you feel? Hurt? Angry?

Honestly…it feels arousing. Excites you. Like you’re sharing a secret. Something most people would never suspect about you. That beneath your quiet demeanor, sitting at your desk getting your work done every day—you’re just a filthy slut who wanted his fat cock in your mouth. 

Sure, you could pick up a stranger from some basement party or a FEDRA soldier from off the street. They’d be more than happy to get their dick sucked and treat you like shit. But it’s never felt right—the way this does. For some twisted, fucked up reason, you only trust Joel Miller with this secret. Because Joel sees you. Knows what you really want.

You use your tongue, circling and licking. Work your head up and down as your hand pumps him in rhythm with your movements. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth. The noise he’s making tells you how much he loves this—loves what you’re doing to him.

Suddenly, Joel growls, “Be still, dammit.”

You immediately go motionless. He holds your head inexorably tight between his clenched hands, fists buried in your hair as you gag around his cock. Then he starts thrusting. 

You can’t suck. You can’t do anything but take it. He’s so big that it makes your jaw ache. You continue to gag around him, but he just keeps going.

“Fuuuck!” Joel gasps. You look up to find his head thrown back, his throat working as his breaths become ragged and quick. Then his eyes stare back into yours as he grits out between his teeth, “Yes.”

With each thrust down your throat, it’s a struggle to get enough air. And you begin to wonder if you might actually choke like this. What if Joel Miller just fucks you to death? Just used you until there was nothing left? Fear and arousal are inextricably experienced inside your body. Your nipples tighten, and your cunt pulses so hard you know you’re about to come again. All the while he continues to fuck your throat. 

Just when you think you can’t take another minute of this, he pulls out, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. Joel’s cock is so swollen it’s got to hurt, but he hesitates a few seconds longer. 

“You gonna talk to me like a slut, then I’ll fuck you like one.”

As you gasp for breath, Joel tows you upright by your hair. He spins you around, then forces you face-first onto the table. That’s when you feel his fingers sliding into you from behind, deep inside your cunt, before pulling his hand out again. “Yeah. I knew you wanted it.”

Then he’s on top of you, one forearm braced over your shoulder blades, his knee spreading your legs further. Joel’s weight pins you down as he shoves his cock inside you. He has you so opened up, and wet, that it’s effortless. But you can’t stop crying. Your sobs only get louder as Joel starts thrusting.

“Did your husband fuck you like this?” he pants. “He know you like it this rough?”

God, Joel, that’s cruel. Even for you. 

You swallow down your tears. 

“Are you crying again? Good. Maybe your neighbors will come. They can watch me fuck you like a whore.” He starts to pound into you so hard it feels as if he wants to break you. He might. The table creaks and rocks beneath you. You have to grip the edges to hang on.

God, you don’t want to love this, but you do.

Joel’s so big and so strong, that you couldn’t push him off even you if you tried. He could keep you pinned beneath him, fucking you like this forever—you can’t escape him. He grabs your hair again. Tighter. You sob, but Joel doesn’t even hear. The slap of his body slamming into you echoes in the small apartment. Through the haze of arousal, all you can see is the water in the kettle roiling, about to boil. But it’s like you can’t think of what to do. You can’t think of anything in the world beyond his cock and the way he’s using you so completely—

Shit, shit, shit! You’re so close now. So close! 

“Did it feel this good when Nate fucked you? Was it this good?” 

Joel grabs one of your wrists, yanking your arm painfully behind your back. 

“Was it?” he shouts down at you.

He tugs on your elbow, nearly knocking you off balance, and you cry out in alarm. Joel’s going to take whatever he wants. Humiliating you—making you answer him is just one more way he proves he’s in control. 

Joel Miller has set his demons loose, and he is holding nothing back. 

Maybe this is why he’s always stayed silent. If he knew this is what he’d unleash…but, then, what incentive does he have to hold back when he knows how much you love it when he loses control?

He pulls your arm up higher behind your back to remind you of how powerless you are. Then you feel his other hand gripping your ass before he slams into you again. The pleasure swelling inside you now isn’t just about the pain—it’s about your twisted satisfaction in the way Joel revels in his abuse. Your power over him comes from your powerlessness in his arms. It’s an intoxicating paradox.

“Tell me!” Joel growls.

“No,” you sob. 

It’s true enough. Your husband was a generous lover. Sex was always an expression of your affection for each other. Not this base desire. Humiliation. Fucking someone who treats you like they hate you as much as you hate yourself. Nate would never understand why you like this. 

But that’s what Joel is good for. He doesn’t have to understand, doesn’t want to. He just gives you what you need. Hearing his guttural grunts of pleasure as he keeps up his frantic pace, the slap of skin as he ruts into you like an animal—just turns you on even more. 

“Guys like that think you want it soft,” he mutters. “But this is what you need, isn’t it? To get used rough.”

“Yes–”

“My cock’s bigger than his, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Joel pounds into you harder, and harder, and you feel yourself breaking apart when you realize the pleasure building inside you comes from somewhere deeper within your body than you’ve ever delved. Sinking further inside yourself with every thrust, deeper into pure instinctive sensation, desire sharpens, and that coiling knot gets tighter. You tremble beneath him.

The room seems to be turning dark. You see black spots vibrating at the edges of your vision, and your heart thumps so loudly you can hear the rushing of blood in your ears. Ragged cries escape your lips. “Haaa! Aaaaah!” You couldn’t hold them back if you tried.

And then, in a blinding rush, you come. When the climax hits, those cries of pleasure are indistinguishable from your weeping. 

“There it is,” Joel grunts smugly, but doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. He just fucks you harder—pumping into you with what seems to be thoughtless rage. 

He plunges in deep, and bites the soft flesh of your shoulder. Not enough to break the skin, but Joel hangs on with teeth and hands as—

Someone screams. Maybe you? One long, endless scream that pierces through the foggy haze of lust clouding out reality.   

Joel pulls out abruptly, his cock slapping against your thigh, hot and wet, as he reaches over to take the kettle off the stovetop. Turning off the burner, he collapses against the wall, head buried in his hands. The first sight of him is tantalizing—his erection still jutting out from his pants, ready to fuck you again. But then you see the expression on his face. 

Concerned. No. Stricken.

At last, Joel rakes his hands over his face and says, “That was too much.”

The tears finally stop. You try to stand up, but you can’t. You’re shaking too much for that.

Joel slips his arms behind your knees and carries you to the futon. He stretches out beside you, gathering you against his chest under the blankets. You’ve never held each other after sex. Such a simple thing, but unthinkable for both of you. For some reason, it makes you start crying again—deep, racking sobs that hurt your throat when you swallow them down. 

When did I last cry like this? Maybe when Nate died…I can’t remember.

You feel Joel’s cock—wet and sticky from your orgasm—pressing firmly against your ass. He must be in so much pain. He still hasn’t come. But he keeps holding you until there’s nothing left. No more tears to cry. Through the skylight, you can see a drizzle begin to fall, and Joel’s body behind you feels like the only warmth in this world.

“Don’t know if it matters anymore,” Joel whispers. “But you…you’re the only one…I haven’t done this with anyone else.”

“I’ve been to your place, Joel.” You sigh cooly, drawing up those walls to bar his gentle words. “There’s only one bed in that apartment.”

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” 

Whatever darkness Joel had chased moments ago, he didn’t like where it had led him. This was him trying to find his way back. To find some empathy within himself. Why, then, can’t you extend a hand to help him step into the light? 

“Glad I could save you the trouble of having to pick up other women.”

The huff of air he lets loose is hot against your cheeks. “How are you the prettiest and meanest person I’ve ever met?” 

“I’m—” 

“This isn’t how I wanted to end things.” 

When people push beyond their boundaries, they’re forced to discover what lies on the other side. 

What hides on the other side of Joel’s darkness? You know it, roughly. After watching the person you love most in the world be killed, while you are powerless to stop it—you can recognize its shape. But the full dimension of his pain remains unfathomable. 

“Me, neither,” you admit. “I…I haven’t. With anyone else. I know it doesn’t mean that we’re close. Really you don’t know much about me. But the one thing you do know is the single most intimate, private thing I’ve ever shared with anyone.”

He responds by taking your face in his hands. One last teardrop escapes and trickles down your cheek. Joel brushes it away with his thumb, then leans in for a kiss.

“What are you doing?” you draw back.

“Dammit, woman. Let me kiss you.”

You relax into Joel’s embrace and feel his lips brush against yours. He winds an arm around your shoulders, and the kiss intensifies. Lips trail over your jaw and neck, down your throat—pausing only to pull your sweater over your head and toss it aside. His other arm slips around your waist, between the curve of your back and the mattress, sealing you together. Your breasts press against his bare chest. It feels strangely comforting from him, but your body responds eagerly. 

He wanted this time to be different. Not romantic—not love, but something softer, so he wouldn’t hate himself when he thought of you. The last time wasn’t like that, he would remind himself. We found some tenderness.

You don’t owe him that. Don’t owe him anything, but perhaps you also want to remember Joel Miller as better than he truly was. 

Then he’s atop you again, the hardness of his erection pressing insistently against your belly as you kiss. You tug his jeans over his hips and take his cock into your hand, guiding it downward. Joel closes his eyes in pleasure when he feels how wet you are. Ready for something different.

His eyelids flutter, and you wonder if he’s thinking back to another lover, from a time in his life when he was gentler. With Sarah’s mother? The thought doesn’t bother you. When his lips press lightly against the shell of your ear, you can’t help but think of Nate.

Joel pushes all the way inside with one long, slow thrust, “Yes,” you whisper.

Yes. You arch your back and close your eyes, sliding your hands underneath his shirt and over his back. 

“You feel so good,” he murmurs. 

You ought to enjoy hearing him say that. And on some level, you do, but—

Just pretend. Pretend that you care about each other. Try to share some vulnerability with this man, not rooted in shame or degradation. 

One of his hands comes up to cradle your head, the other grips your thigh, and he begins to move in slow, sensuous strokes. As Joel surges into you, you open your eyes to see him staring down at you. Watching. You hold his gaze, unable to look away, and that insistent coldness in his eyes begins to warm. You feel it crashing through the walls you’d tried to pull up between you moments ago.

No, no, no! We can’t have this. We’re supposed to be angry. Our intimacy is a toxic, tragic thing.

But you don’t really want that. Not now. Just be present in this moment you’re sharing. Soon, he’ll be gone, and you’ll be sorry when he leaves. Just let yourself have this. 

As you get closer to orgasm, your entire body tenses against him, and he feels it. Joel starts thrusting harder. Answering you. 

You fill your thoughts with his scent and study every part of his face—the way his hair clings to the perspiration on his forehead. How the brown of his irises are flecked with amber, which makes them seem so alight. The way his pupils dilate while he’s inside you, the way his jaw tightens with each deepening thrust.

The world fades away, and your vision of him becomes fuzzy as you clench around him. Your climax hits so hard this time that you think you might pass out. All the crying, and oxytocin, and adrenaline have made you exhausted—body and soul. You manage to stifle a cry of ecstasy against Joel’s shoulder, and he groans with satisfaction.

You hear him gasp your name, and then he’s there, too. “Nnngh!” 

Pleasure shudders through Joel’s body as he grips you tighter. You want to watch the dark head of his cock sliding in and out, but you can’t look away from the sight of his face—skin beaded with sweat, mouth open, eyes screwed shut as the sensation overtakes him.

You feel his cock pulse inside you, and he holds you close until his long, powerful orgasm finally subsides.

You lay there for a while, locked together, intertwined from knees to shoulders. Perhaps a little stunned to have achieved this—for your bodies to remember what it’s like having sex without violence or harsh words spoken.

“I have to get going,” Joel whispers against your temple.

“I know,” you say softly. 

He gets to his feet and begins buttoning up his shirt.

“Joel…” you take a deep breath, reaching for your courage. “You’ve scared me,” you say hoarsely, curling your legs against your chest. “Not enough for me to walk away, but…when I said those things….I’m angry with you for wanting this…because I’m angry with myself for wanting it, too.”

It’s time to find the words for all the things we’ve left unsaid.

“I hope you find Tommy. I hope you figure out a way to be with Tess. I hope you can learn to forgive yourself.”

He folds his arms over his chest as he studies you. After a long, deep breath, he says, “I think I liked it better when you were just mean.”

That makes you laugh, and Joel almost smiles hearing it. Almost. 

“Give Abe the ranger map. He should be able to find the right tower.” 

Joel looks down at you with such sadness that you’re taken aback. “You know you should think about getting out soon. FEDRA’s not going to hold on much longer. It’ll get bad real fast.” 

It’s not an invitation to join him on the road to Wyoming. Apart from the stratospheric levels of awkward tension amongst the three of you, he knows you’d only slow them down.

“There’s some fellas I know who…they’re getting older. Could maybe use some help around the house.” Joel plucks a pencil off the drafting table and circles a spot on the tri-state map. “Lincoln. Not too far from here. Bout a day’s walk. You’ve probably hiked most of the trails out that way. You could make it.”

“I’ll tell them Joel sent me?”

His face falls a little.

“Yeah,” Tess’ name would be better currency. 

“Tell’em you’re Nate’s wife.” The set of Joel’s jaw and shoulders is resolute. “Talked about you often enough that…show em the butterfly tattoo if Bill wants proof.”

Your brow arches. “My tramp-stamp from college?” 

What had Nate been telling these people?

“Still got his radio? Good. Keep it on this frequency.” He jots down the number. “When you start hearing 70s hits, that’s when you’ll know to head out.”

You raise the other eyebrow. 

“Just…trust me on this.”

It is better. Parting as friends.

“Alright,” you shrug, letting a genuine smile cross your face for the first time in ages. “When I hear Chaka Khan, I’ll know what to do.”

Joel tugs the door close behind him. Through the gap, he says, “She’s tellin’ you somethin’ good.”

Did Joel Miller just make a joke? If you had a gold star, you’d pin it to your chest.

IV. Epilogue

About a week later, Abe’s son comes to the clinic to give you a message scribbled onto a torn piece of note paper. 

Leave when you’re ready. You’ll have the place to yourself. Everything you need to know is buried under the cherry tree.

“And, um,” David shuffled his feet awkwardly. “In his message…Joel said you’d cover the, you know, the payment. So dad told me to…” he trails off, extending a hand out for his delivery fee. 

Fuck. Joel Miller.

---------------

Thanks for reading!

[kgirlgroup-stan]

Pretend Pt.1

fluff, g!p reader.

Y/N pov

College is full of surprises, something is always happening, even if you dont want it. My way of avoiding it was by studying, like now.

Being surrounded by nothing but books and silence. Allowing me to fully focus on my studies and for this upcoming exam i had.

I had my rhythm going before it was interrupted by a screech of a chair being pulled next to me.

"hi, y/n right?" I let out a small sigh, being annoyed that i was being interrupted. I looked over to see a very well, or i guess popular, girl at our campus.

The one and only Huh Yunjin. Which made me even more confused since why would she be talking to me. Me and her are complete opposites.

While she was outgoing, had lots of friend, loud and always talking to someone. I was one to stay inside, keep to myself, no friends, quiet, constantly studying, and having my earbuds in to avoid talking to someone.

I looked around the library, trying to see some heads peaking out, waiting for someone to pop out saying this was a prank. But nothing came. I looked back at her as she waited for my response. All i could do is nod, still confused as to why shes around me.

"sooo, whats a girl like you doing here?" she leaned against the table while resting her head on her hand, looking at me with a very small smirk on her lips.

"studying" i gave her a bland response, wanting nothing more for her to just go away. Dont get me wrong Yunjin is incredibly beautiful, but i was just feeling uncomfortable being in her presence.

"so cold to me" she pouted her lips a bit. I rolled my eyes a bit before looking back down at my notes. "look at you, smart and hot." I tensed up at bit.

"what do you want Yunjin?" i scribbled something down, trying to ignore whatever that comment made me feel.

"just wanted to talk to you." her grin widened when i looked back at her. I gave her a 'be fr right now' look. She sighed before sitting up. "fine, you got me. I need a favor, BUT i also just wanted to talk to you because i wanna get to know you better." she batted her lashes at me. 

I ignored the last comment again, keeping my bored expression the same  despite knowing that the tips of my ears were probably turning red. "What do you want?"

"soooooo basically i have a family dinner happening and I KNOW they are going to be asking me questions as to why I'm single and i dont wanna hear it. So without much thinking i instantly thought you would be the perfect candidate, so what do you say?" she clapped her hand together and set them on her lap as she gave me her famous smile.

"For one, what makes you think imma say yes, and two why me? you could literally ask anyone and trust me, they will instantly say yes," I looked at her even more confused that before. 

"that the thing y/n. I know they will, but here you are putting up a fight. You dont give in to me instantly because you hold yourself up well. I like that. Your different y/n, a good different. You're smart, attractive, selfless, and much more that you dont see." Her eyes softened with every word she spoke, if the tips of my ears weren't red before they defiantly are now.

"w-what are you saying? we dont even know each other well" she smiled and grabbed my hands, holding them in hers. I gulped before making eye contact with her.

"i've noticed things about you for a long time y/n. Which is why i know your perfect for this. I want to take someone to my family that i know will love and approve of. Sooo..?" i let out a soft sigh, i looked deeply into her eyes trying to find some sense that she was lying. 

"fine." i lowly let out. She gave my hands a squeeze as you smile grew impossibly wider. 

"thank you, pick me up at 4:30pm and we'll leave right after. I'll text you more details." she stood up then stopped when i looked her a bit confused on how she has my number already. "wow you dont remember, Im hurt." she pouted again. "Mr. Yimes class project." 

"ahhhh yes yes, sorry. That was like so long ago." she giggled at my response before leaning down and pecked my cheek, making me freeze at the sudden contact. "its okay, as long as you remembered now. Ill see you tonight." she winked, turning and walked towards the exit, leaving me in a shocked state.

After a few second, i composed myself and decided to stop studying as i knew i wasnt going to be able to focus.

**Time-skip**

Its embarrassing to admit that i actually tried to put effort in an outfit for someone that probably wont care. But here I was 3:54pm, knocking on Yunjin's dorm room door.

After a few minutes, she came out looking incredible. I couldn't manage proper words so i just showed her the flowers i got her. "t-there for you and uh y-you look n-nice." I slapped myself mentalty.

She giggled at my flustered state then grabbed the flowers with thank you before sniffing them and placing them in her doom.

"Thank you again for the flowers, you didnt have you. But i must say you look great." she nugged my side as we walked towards the car. 

"i know i didnt have to but i just wanted it to seem more geniune, you know?" i gave her a shy smile and received a bigger one from her. We reached the car and drove off. I gave the AUX to her and got lost in a bit of conversation on our way to her parents house.

Once we arrived, i felt the nerves kicking in and Yunjin seemed to notice. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly. "its okay, youll be fine but if it gets too much just tell me okay." she looked at me with a genuine look of concern on her face.

With her touch alone it was enough to reassure me, I gave her a soft nod before making our way to the house. 

Her dad answered the door and welcomed us in. I firmly shook his hand and i received a warm smile. "Honey, Yunjin is here and she brought a guest." he yelled out to his wife with a playful teasing behinf his voice.

Almost instantly Yunjin's mom came out of the dining room with a surprised look on her face. it instantly changed to something warmer when she noticed us. She gave both of us a hug, "wow its nice to see a new face around here."she smiled at me before turning to Yunjin. "about time you brought someone. You better be good to her, she seems like a good soul. Now come on, foods ready."

Me and Yunjin looked at each other a bit nervously before smiling at each other. Dinner went by more casual than i thought. There were some questions about our relationship, which were answered and nobody thought twice about it.

 After dinner Yunjin's mom said for us to hang out in the living room, so we exactly that. We spoke about random things before her sister came out on nowhere and just stared at us.

"what?" yunjin sisterly grossed out look, which Yunjin's sister did back. I laughed a bit at the similaries between them. Then as quickly as she came, she disappeared. We turned to look at each other in confusion and laughed it off. 

After some time bonding it was getting late. We said our goodbyes and headed out. The car right back to Yunjin's place was nice. Nothing but comfortable silence. Even as Yunjin hand was wrapped in mine the entire way.

Once reaching campus, i walked her to her dorm. "do you want to come in, my roomate is out?" she stepped inside and looked back. I was starting to get nervous but made my way in.

She led me to the couch and she walked off to put the flowers i had gotten her into a vase.

"they loved you know. My mom, my dad and even if she didnt show it especially my sister." she glanced up at me with a soft smile resting on her lips. I fidgeted on the couch.

"I'm not so sure why, i was just being me. I didnt even speak much." my hands started playing with a loose string on my pants. 

I heard a small huff from where Yunjin was at, making me look up and seeing her, now done with the flowers, make her way towards me then stopped right in front of me.

"thats exactly why they loved you. Because you were just being you." she placed her hands on my shoulders, pushing me back against the couch. Then she slowly got on top of me, her legs on my sides, never once breaking eyes contact with me.

"you didnt have to do anything, even when you did speak, even when you laughed, even when you stayed silent then could feel that you are a great person y/n" she leaned more into me, the tips of our noses touching.

My senses felt hightened, they way she was pressing against me, the smell of her perfume invading my nose, my eyes getting lost in her brown ones, my ears picking up the way she began to take low deep breathes. All i could do was grip the fabric of the couch.

Then slowly she leaned down and captured my lips. Soft. thats all i could think. my hands made their way to her waist, gripping it slowly as i felt my body relax into the kiss.

She grunted in surprised against my lips before pulling back and looked down. I looked down with her realizing that i was starting to get hard. I looked away embrassed, i opened my mouth to apologize but was cut off by a firm kiss on my jaw, making me squeeze her waist.

"no need to be shy about it y/n, its natural" she kissed higher before turning my head with her hand  to look at her. I felt the other hand run done my stomach and rest against my member, grazing it lightly, making me let out a shaky breath.

She smirked as she placed her hands back on my shoulder and pecked my lips. "too bad i dont third base on the first date huh?" I couldnt help but playfully scoff and lean my head back with a smirk on my face. 

"your evil. this is not how i thought today would go." i moved my head so i was looking at her again. 

"yeah me neither but hey im not compaining." her hand played with the back of my neck, her smirk now turning into a smile.

I was about to say something back before we heard the noise to her door start open. Yunjin quickly got off and made it seem like we werent doing anything. Thankfully but this time my boner was also gone.

"hi yunjin.....and yunjin's pretty friend" her roomate came in looking a bit tired but changed when she noticed me. I sent her a wave and Yunjin rolled her eyes. "leave her alone Chaewon."

Chaewon had a mocking pout on her lips as she shrugged her shoulder, while she made her way to her room and winked at me before closing the door.

I cleared out my throat. "well....your roomate seems nice." i awkwardly looked her Yunjin who was glaring at Chaewons door.

"shes not nice when she wants to take things that arent even hers." Yunjin said in a low voice, low that once could easily miss. I pretended to not hear mainly because i didnt know what she was talking about.

She then look at me, her gaze softening." well i just want to say thank you again for today. It meant a lot." It took me a bit by suprise on how fast she was able to change.

"o-of course, i had fun and i enjoyed it." a reassuring smile made its way to my lips. She looked over my featured for a second before leaning in and kissing my lips agasint.

"im glad, cuz i did too."she whispered agasint my lips before backing up. Smiling smuggly at my expression. "i hope you dont mind continuing to accompany me to those family event."

I didnt even proccess what she said but i felt my head agreeing with whatever she just said. She giggled at my burning red ears. "good"

I snapped myself out of the trance "y-yeah" then slowly stood up, making Yunjin stand up with me. "w-well see you M-monday." i awkwardly made my way out her door, i turned to look her her smirking at me while leaning a bit against the door frame.

"alright, see you then." i turned and was about to walk when i was stopped. "arent you forgetting something?" i turned back and patted myself down. My keys. I looked up to see Yunjin swinging the keys on her finger. 

I sighed and got closer to her to grab my keys. Just as my hand was going to grab them she pulled them back, making me look at her confused. " i need something first." she then closed her eyes and pointed at her lips.

I couldnt help but laugh at her antics but ultimately gave in. I leaned in and placed a firm kiss on her lips and pulled back with a grin.

"fine, you win this time. Goodnight y/n." she handed me my keys before closing the door to her dorm.

I took a small moment and began to walk to my building. I still couldnt believe how this day ended up but one thing is for certain.......i dont think im pretending.

[echodoctor]

#YES SOMEONE ELSE SAID IT#it really is such a concept with soooooo much potential for emotional devastation#also adding on a thought Ive had spinning around. Siffrin post-loops still doing the thing where they ignore pain or tiredness because they#dont want to be a Burden.#BUT. THEN THEY REALIZE THAT LOOP FEELS IT TOO.#And then suddenly theyre doing everything in their power to actually get rest and remember to eat and take the pain meds and-#Bonus points if the party sees this and start doing just the smallest smidgeon of guilt-tripping whenever Sif passively self-harms#Loop is both flattered and sad and smug and offended that this works so well#anyways

Yes, absolutely, perfect. It really showcases how these two can be the ultimate distillation of being able to love your own flawed self when you see it in other people.

Like, when you and a friend both have depression or anxiety, and they make a tiny mistake and think everyone hates them- and you can immediately, instantly see that they did nothing wrong, and reassure them that they're still loved and good and mean it completely.

Even though whenever you've done the exact same thing in the past, you've beaten yourself up about it for days.

Siffrin can't imagine loving himself- until there's Loop, literally themself but also another person, and suddenly he can reach out with compassion even after Loop actively tries to kill him.

As with a lot of things for these two, I think the sense-sharing thing could be very healthy and mutually healing post-canon, but would get a bit fucked-up if it happened during the loops due to getting trapped in the Sifloop Mutual Guilt Vortex.

Siffrin on one end thinking "They're stuck being unable to feel anything at all and here I am enjoying this just because someone is finally touching me... Ugh, I'm so selfish." And then Loop on the other end thinking "I'm literally using their body like it's still mine even though they're an actual person now... Ugh, I'm so selfish."

They need to be able to have real conversations with other people from time to time or they echo chamber each other into believing they're the most toxic people on earth by accident. When they do have that outside reality check, though, their relationship can be very beneficial.

The fun thing about being in a fandom with other people is that not only do I have access to my own headcanons, I can take common headcanons I see other people talking about and combine them to devastating effect.

Specifically, let's consider: it's not an uncommon idea that Loop can not only see what Siffrin does during the loops, but feel what they feel. Seeing through their eyes, yes, but experiencing all his other senses if they try, too.

It's also not uncommon for people to suggest that Loop can't really feel much in their new body, as a star. That touch is dull and distant, everything mostly numb. No mouth, so no taste, either.

Therefore: if we combine the two, imagine Loop deliberately using Siffrin to be able to feel things by proxy.

Touching them, so they can feel what it's like to be touched, or feeding them so they can taste it.

Given how touch-starved Siffrin already is anyway, it might actually end up being good for them both, if either of them can get past the repression and self-loathing long enough to let themselves really enjoy it.

[catabasis]

ASTEROID CITY (2023, Wes Anderson)

[ivysos2001]

Anyone who knows anything about Steve Rogers knows he’s the most stubborn person in the world (especially when it comes to people he cares about) so tbh I really can’t see a reality where he gets to vormir to return the soul stone and calmly accepts that his partner and closest friend of the last eleven years is dead and gone and moves on rather than getting there and doing something reckless and insane to try to get her back

[clockwork-carstairs]

Do you see him too? / I see him.

I never moved on from this btw. Do you see him, too? Absolute insanity to have a love like that. A love so strong nothing could ever really keep you apart, not life or death or a hundred and thirty years.

[ferallair]

I'm going to honest (please don't kill me), but I'm not enjoying the ending of the drama. (Spoilers ahead)

One of the sneaky themes (is this a theme?) of the novel is that the author throws a lot of tropes at the story and the main character just defy them, or shrug them off. For instance the "secret" identities the two main characters have that turn out to be no big deal because they each figured it out on their own. Plus, "there's only one bed" "fuck or die" "jealous over past lovers" "one leaves to face the bad guys alone" even "one has to be the top and the other the bottom." The main characters just handle it all like mature(ish) adults and the tropes evaporate like the silly little tropes they are. The drama keeps that flavor in the beginning, but then at the end we have a "fake your death moment?" And Zhou Zishu didn't instantly see through it? Novel Zishu would have known the instant he saw that corpse and their reunion would have been: "Why did you fake your death, idiot? I was worried!" "You were worried about me?" "No, I was worried those idiot sects leaders would have seen through the terrible makeup job you did on that corpse." Honestly, I'm still a little confused about the fake death thing. And the wedding? Why are we doing this? The book version was brutal and quick and thematically relevant. Only the bad guys get to live long happy lives. Setting up the wedding was just unnecessary drama. Adding tropes to a story where tropes go to die.

Don't get me wrong, I do love the drama. I especially love the bad guys in the drama. I like that they are humanized and filled out more and given interesting stories. Cuck Chair Scorpion King was fun, but Daddy's Lil Scorpion King and his crew are so much better imo. But I definitely should have watched the show first, then read the book.

Just some thoughts.

I am watching Word of Honor and reading Faraway Wanderers at the same time and almost finished with both.

Word of Honor - LOVING IT! I especially love the look of everything. I love the dynamic between the two main character and I love that, for all the censorship, there is no pussy footing around, or misunderstandings. Wen Kexing knows what he wants and once Zhou Zishu agrees he's all in. BAM, soul mates. It's kind of refreshing. The plot is definitely more plotty then the novel, which I don't hate. I have 7 episodes left and things are getting serious. Will definitely finish this weekend. Faraway Wanderers - Even more then in the show, I love that Wen Kexing is right away like "I'm gay." No hiding, no misunderstandings or playing coy, the only real questions Zhou Zishu has are if his sexual advances are serious since his caring is very obvious. The developing relationship is so satisfying. However, I was not prepared for the fart jokes. 😳

[made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad]

Words can’t even explain how outsiders coded the lyric “people who need people are the luckiest people” is

[akkivee]

read a tweet that pointed out that jyushi usually talks of blood and tears in songs, but in shinjiru chikara, not only does he not mention tears, he’s also lowkey dissing blood bonds (y’know like the bb bond) and jyushi’s the one out for blood in this song y’all LOL

[itspileofgoodthings]

ALSO I am learning how to teach very introverted students, something my natural skillset as a teacher does not help me with.