#without the background or any idea or a story behind it

[barghest-land]

herbstosaurus

[atzaurora]

heyy! i really love your writings i was wondering if you could do a fwb!mingi x reader x roommate!seonghwa fic!! theyre all college students and mingi secretely sneaks into reader's dorm to fuck her everytime seonghwa is not there due to extra classes <3 one day seonghwa finished earlier since the teacher was absent and when he got back in their dorm he caught mingi and reader fucking, gets turned on and joins in <33 you can add anything you please, has to be ROUGH 😩 please thank you in advance!!!

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] join in

❥ 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓: Seonghwa, Mingi

➤ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: roommate!seonghwa x fem!reader x fwb!mingi

➤ 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆: imagine (smut)

➤ 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑: roommates/friends, fwb

.ᐟ.ᐟ𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.ᐟ.ᐟ: rough sex, unprotected sex, threesome, getting caught, m & f receiving

➤ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Y/N and Mingi were having one of their almost daily 'meetups' again. While those 'meetings' really only consisted of sex while her roommate was away. Just as Mingi was taking her, Seonghwa finished classes earlier and walked in on them...

➤ 𝒘/𝒄: 2.9k

➤ 𝒂/𝒏: ohhh I love this idea!!! thank you sm for requesting :P hope you like the story :33 enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]!

[𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here!

[about me] + [guidelines]!

It was a typical Tuesday afternoon, and the college dorms hummed with the soft background noise of students immersed in their routines. The distant echoes of laughter, study sessions, and conversations created a comforting atmosphere of communal life. After your last class, you made your way back to the dorm you shared with Seonghwa. The room greeted you with its familiar mix of textbooks, scattered clothes, and the lingering scent of his cologne—a fragrance that was both soothing and intoxicating, stirring something deep within you.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, trying to shake off the day’s fatigue. Your thoughts, however, drifted to Mingi. Over the years, what began as a close friendship had evolved into something far more intimate and thrilling, a secret connection that added an exhilarating edge to your life. Mingi had a way of igniting a fire within you, his touch leaving you trembling, his kisses pulling you into a whirlwind of passion that you craved more with each encounter. It had become a well-guarded secret, a ritual you both indulged in, hidden from everyone—including Seonghwa.

You glanced at the clock, a flutter of excitement stirring in your stomach. Seonghwa had an extra class today, granting you the luxury of having the dorm to yourself for a few precious hours. The anticipation of Mingi's impending visit quickened your heartbeat. You could almost feel his strong arms around you, his body pressing against yours, and the way he would devour you with his hunger.

As the time approached, a soft knock echoed through the quiet room, pulling you from your thoughts. You sat up, quickly checking your reflection in the mirror to ensure your appearance was flawless. When you opened the door, Mingi stood there with that familiar mischievous grin, his eyes dark with desire. He didn't hesitate, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Without wasting a moment, Mingi closed the distance between you, his body exuding an energy that made your breath hitch. His gaze locked onto yours, the intensity of his need unmistakable. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fiery and tender, igniting a spark that spread through your entire body. His hands roamed your form, every touch deliberate and knowing as he undressed you with practiced ease, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

Mingi’s hands moved with purpose, stripping away the last barriers between you. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to your bed, laying you down gently on the soft mattress. The heat of his body against yours was electrifying, and his whispered praise—"You look beautiful, baby"—made your heart race even faster. His lips traveled across your skin, leaving a trail of heat as they moved from your neck to your collarbone, each kiss stoking the fire that burned within you.

Mingi’s arousal was evident as he discarded his clothes, his cock already hard and eager. He wasted no time, positioning himself between your legs, his eyes drinking in the sight of your body laid out before him. There was no need for foreplay; the two of you had done this enough times to know exactly what the other needed. With a low groan, Mingi lined himself up with your entrance, pushing into you with a single, powerful thrust.

A gasp escaped your lips, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure coursed through your veins. Mingi’s hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he set a steady rhythm, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. The room was filled with the sounds of your coupling—skin slapping against skin, mingled with the breathy moans and whispered praises that spilled from Mingi’s lips.

He started slow, savoring the feel of you wrapped around him, but it wasn’t long before his thrusts grew faster and more intense. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard tapping against the wall in a steady rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. The force of Mingi’s movements drove you closer to the edge, the coil of tension tightening in your belly with each passing second.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Mingi groaned, his voice rough with lust. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his hips never faltering in their relentless pace. You could feel the sweat beading on his skin, his body slick against yours as he poured every ounce of his desire into you.

Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh as you tried to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming pleasure. Mingi’s cock hit all the right spots, pushing you closer and closer to the brink. You knew he could sense it—the way your walls clenched around him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He quickened his pace, his hands moving to cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as his thrusts grew more frantic.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. Mingi growled in response, his lips trailing down your neck as he drove into you with renewed vigor. He was rougher than usual, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises, but you didn’t care. It was exactly what you needed, the kind of raw, primal sex that left you feeling utterly consumed.

Your climax hit you like a freight train, the world around you fading to white as pleasure crashed over you in waves. You cried out, your nails raking down Mingi’s back as your body convulsed around him, your pussy squeezing his cock as if trying to milk him dry. Mingi wasn’t far behind, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep within your core.

The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing, your bodies slick with sweat as you came down from your highs. Mingi stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, his forehead pressed against yours as you both caught your breath. But he wasn’t done yet.

A smirk played on Mingi’s lips as he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty. He rolled you over onto your stomach, his hands guiding your hips up so that you were on all fours. “One more,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “We’ve still got time until Seonghwa gets back.”

You barely had time to process his words before he spread your cheeks, the tip of his cock pressing against your tight hole. The anticipation sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, the promise of more sending a fresh wave of arousal flooding through your body. You’d done this before, but the anticipation and the pleasure that came with it never waned.

Mingi didn’t hold back. He slammed into you with a force that made you scream into the pillow, your body stretched to accommodate his girth. The initial pain quickly gave way to pleasure, the sensation of being filled so completely overwhelming your senses. You moaned loudly, unable to hold back the sounds of your pleasure as Mingi set a brutal pace, his cock driving into you over and over.

The pleasure was all-consuming, your body trembling with each powerful thrust. You were so lost in the sensations that you almost didn’t hear the soft click of the door opening. But when you did, your eyes widened in shock. Through the haze of pleasure, you managed to glance up from the pillows, and what you saw made your heart stop.

Seonghwa stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding before him. His expression was unreadable, a mix of surprise and something else—something darker. His books slipped from his hands, thudding to the floor with a dull thud. The room grew eerily quiet, the only sounds now were your ragged breaths and the rhythmic slaps of Mingi’s hips against your ass.

For a moment, the three of you were caught in a tense standoff, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. Mingi paused, his eyes flicking up to meet Seonghwa’s. There was a flicker of surprise in his gaze, but it was quickly replaced by something else—something more confident, almost challenging.

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened as he took in the scene before him, a slow smirk forming on his lips. He let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “So this is what you’ve been up to while I’m gone,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. He took a step forward, his eyes raking over your arched back, your flushed face, and the way your body trembled under Mingi’s relentless pace.

Mingi grunted, his cock twitching inside you as he adjusted his grip on your hips. “Well, someone has to take care of this pretty cunt,” he growled, his voice filled with possessive pride. He continued to fuck you, his pace never faltering even as Seonghwa approached, a look of intense curiosity in his eyes.

Seonghwa’s hand reached out, his fingers tracing a line down your face, his touch gentle despite the lust burning in his gaze. “Does he feel good, yeah?” he asked, his voice low and seductive. Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you nodded, unable to form words as pleasure continued to course through you.

Mingi’s thrusts grew more deliberate, his cock driving deeper with each movement. “She’s a good little slut,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Always so eager to take whatever I give her.” His words sent a thrill of excitement through you, the mixture of praise and degradation pushing you even closer to the edge.

Seonghwa’s eyes never left yours as he stepped closer, his hand moving to cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Do you want to know what I feel like, too?” he asked, his voice thick with desire. There was no hesitation in your answer this time, your need for more overwhelming any rational thought. “Y-Yeah, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Seonghwa’s smirk widened as he quickly stripped off his clothes, revealing his own impressive erection. The air grew heavy with anticipation, the tension between the three of you crackling like electricity. Seonghwa stepped forward, positioning himself beside Mingi, his eyes never leaving yours.

Mingi pulled out of you, allowing Seonghwa to take his place. The loss of his cock left you feeling achingly empty, but the sensation was quickly replaced by the stretch of Seonghwa’s cock sliding into you. The feeling of being filled by a different man, so soon after Mingi, was overwhelming, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

Seonghwa’s strokes were long and deep, each thrust sending pleasure shooting through your veins. Mingi stepped back for a moment, watching with a pleased smirk as his friend fucked you, his cock disappearing into your tight pussy. But he didn’t stay on the sidelines for long. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck and leaving a trail of hickeys that would be impossible to hide.

“Good girl,” Mingi whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hands found your breasts, kneading them roughly as he whispered more dirty words into your ear. “You’re doing so good, taking him like the little slut you are.” His words sent shivers down your spine, the mixture of pleasure and degradation pushing you even closer to the edge.

The two of them took turns, fucking you with an intensity that left you feeling completely overwhelmed. You were caught between them, your body a vessel for their pleasure, each thrust, slap, and bite sending you spiraling closer to your next climax. Your body trembled with the effort of holding back, the pleasure building to an unbearable level.

Seonghwa’s cock hit your sweet spot over and over, his pace relentless as he drove you toward your peak. You could feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tight in your belly as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Your mouth hung open, drool escaping as you whimpered and moaned, completely lost in the pleasure.

“You like that, huh?” Seonghwa growled, his hips slamming into you with a force that made you see stars. “Such a brat, getting fucked by both of her friends at the same time.” His words only fueled the fire inside you, your body clenching around him as you hurtled toward your release.

Seonghwa’s thrusts became more intense, his hips snapping against yours as he pushed you over the edge. Your body trembled, every nerve ending lit up with a mixture of pleasure and pain. The sensation of being filled so deeply, with both men’s attention on you, was overwhelming. You could barely keep your thoughts straight, the only thing grounding you was the relentless pleasure that Seonghwa was giving you.

Your walls clenched tightly around him as your orgasm built to a crescendo. The room spun, your vision blurring as you were consumed by the intensity of it all. Seonghwa groaned, feeling you tighten around him, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you. His cock pulsed as he reached his peak, his hot seed spilling into you.

You came hard, your body shaking uncontrollably as the waves of your orgasm crashed over you. Your voice caught in your throat, the only sound that escaped was a strangled moan as you clenched around Seonghwa, milking every last drop from him.

Seonghwa pulled out slowly, his breath heavy and labored as he collapsed onto the bed beside you. His body was slick with sweat, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Mingi, who had been watching intently, wasted no time in reclaiming his position. He didn’t let any of Seonghwa’s cum escape, pushing it back into you with his cock as he thrust inside you again.

Mingi’s movements were frantic, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you. The room was filled with the sounds of your wetness, your pussy now filled with a mixture of both men’s cum, making his thrusts even more intense. You were beyond words, your mind hazy and clouded with the overwhelming pleasure.

Seonghwa, despite his own exhaustion, leaned in close to your ear. “You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing against the chaos of Mingi’s rough thrusts. His fingers found your swollen clit, rubbing in tight circles that made your back arch off the bed. You whimpered at the sensation, the combination of Mingi’s hard cock and Seonghwa’s gentle touch driving you to the brink once again.

Mingi’s thrusts grew erratic as he chased his own release. He could feel you trembling beneath him, your pussy fluttering around his cock as another orgasm built within you. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands digging into your flesh as he pounded into you mercilessly. “Take it, baby. Take all of it.”

Your body obeyed his command, your muscles tensing as you reached your peak once more. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your entire body convulsing as you came around Mingi’s cock. He wasn’t far behind, his cock swelling as he emptied himself inside you, his cum mixing with Seonghwa’s in a messy, sticky blend.

Mingi collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You lay there, completely spent, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your multiple orgasms. Seonghwa’s hand stroked your back gently, his touch comforting in the aftermath of such intense pleasure.

The room was silent, save for the sound of your labored breathing. The three of you lay in a tangled heap on the bed, the events of the last hour catching up with you. You felt Mingi’s hand find yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“You did so well, baby,” Mingi whispered, his voice soft and full of affection. “So fucking good.”

Seonghwa chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I think we’ve discovered a new favorite pastime,” he teased, his fingers brushing over your flushed skin. “What do you say, Y/N? Ready for round two?”

You laughed softly, the sound filled with exhaustion but also contentment. “Maybe after a nap,” you replied, your voice weak but happy. “I’m pretty worn out.”

Mingi and Seonghwa both chuckled, their hands continuing to caress your body as you all settled into a comfortable silence. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, but there was also a sense of peace that settled over the three of you.

As you drifted off to sleep, nestled between the two men who had just taken you to heights you hadn’t known existed, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. You had no idea what tomorrow would bring, or how this new dynamic would change things between you, but for now, you were content to just be.

And as you lay there, with Seonghwa and Mingi’s arms wrapped around you, you knew that this was just the beginning of something new, something exciting. And you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

[thydungeongal]

There's this idea floating around the general TTRPG space that's kind of hard to put one's finger on which I think is best articulated as "the purpose of an RPG is to produce a conventionally shaped satisfying narrative," and in this context I mean RPG as not just the game as it exists in the book but the act of play itself.

And this isn't exactly a new thing: since time immemorial people have tried to force TTRPGs to produce traditional narratives for them, often to be disappointed. I also feel this was behind a lot of the discussion that emerged from the Forge and that informed the first "narrativist" RPGs (I'm only using the word here as a shorthand: I don't think the GNS taxonomy is very useful as more than a shibboleth): that at least for some TTRPGs the creation of a story was the primary goal (heck, some of them even called themselves Storytelling games), but since those games when played as written actually ended up resisting narrative convention they were on some level dysfunctional for that purpose.

There's some truth to this but also a lot of nuance: when you get down to the roots of the hobby, the purpose of a game of D&D wasn't the production of a narrative. It was to imagine a guy and put that guy in situations, as primarily a game that challenged the player. The production of a narrative was secondary and entirely emergent.

But in the eighties you basically get the first generation of players without the background from wargames, whose impressions of RPGs aren't colored by the assumption that "it's kind of like a wargame but you only control one guy." And you start getting lots of RPGs, some of which specifically try to model specific types of stories. But because the medium is still new the tools used to achieve those stories are sometimes inelegant (even though people see the potential for telling lots of stories using the medium, they are still largely letting their designs be informed by the "wargame where you only control one guy" types of game) and players and designers alike start to realize that these systems need a bit of help to nudge the games in the direction of a satisfying narrative. Games start having lots of advice not only from the point of view of the administrative point of view of refereeing a game, but also from the point of view of treating the GM as a storyteller whose purpose is to sometimes give the rules a bit of a nudge to make the story go a certain way. What you ultimately get is Vampire: the Masquerade, which while a paradigm shift for its time is still ultimately a D&D ass game that wants to be used for the sake of telling a conventional narrative, so you get a lot of explicit advice to ignore the systems when they don't produce a satisfying story.

Anyway, the point is that in some games the production of a satisfying narrative isn't a primary design goal even when the game itself tries to portray itself as such.

But what you also get is this idea that since the production of a satisfying narrative is seen as the goal of these games (even though it isn't necessarily so), if a game (as in the act of play) doesn't produce a satisfying narrative, then the game itself must be somehow dysfunctional.

A lot of people are willing to blame this on players: the GM isn't doing enough work, a good GM can tell a good story with any system, your players aren't engaging with the game properly, your players are bad if they don't see the point in telling a greater story. When the real culprit might actually be the game system itself, or rather a misalignment between the group's desired fiction and the type of fiction that the game produces. And when players end up misidentifying what is actually an issue their group has with the system as a player issue, you end up with unhappy players fighting against the type of narrative the game itself wants to tell.

I don't think an RPG is dysfunctional even if it doesn't produce a conventionally shaped, satisfying narrative, because while I do think the act of play inevitably ends up creating an emergent narrative, that emergent narrative conforming to conventions of storytelling isn't always the primary goal of play. Conversely, a game whose systems have been built to facilitate the production of a narrative that conforms to conventions of storytelling or emulates some genre well is also hella good. But regardless, there's a lot to be said for playing games the way the games themselves present themselves as.

Your traditional challenge-based dungeon game might not produce a conventionally satisfying narrative and that's okay and it's not your or any of your players' fault. The production of a conventionally satisfying narrative as an emergent function of play was never a design goal when that challenge-based dungeon game was being made.

[moonwoodhollow]

Exerzierplatz - a cc lot by moonwoodhollow (feat. The Green Room & the bookshop + a retro corner store)

Exerzierplatz is a building I've been working on for a long time as it was a bit of a trouble-child. I was never satisfied with it and kept thinking that I should scrap it, because of its awkward apartment-floor plans, until I embraced the idea of using it more as a retail/café lot. The result is something I am very satisfied with and I hope it exudes the kind of ~hip/cute neighbourhood~ vibe I'm feeling.

But it's all up to you, how you'll want to use this lot: as a café, a deco lot for your sims-stories (I'd love to see that!!) or as an actual residential building.

More screenshots, info + download link under the cut!

Building background

Another historical brick building, but I'll spare you the historical background this time because I forgot which real-life building inspired me to create this one, but I can tell you how I got the idea for this building in general! (if you care)

The name Exerzierplatz is a bit misleading if you know any German, as a "Platz" is usually a public square, buildings directly next to a square usually receive the square's name as well with a house number added. The square that inspired me is quite a dismal and empty square with a huge car park, but it got me thinking about what kind of buildings originally might have stood there. The historical context here is post-WW2, which left a lot of cities in ruins. Instead of rebuilding the original structures, some cities opted for a "car-friendly" approach, meaning lots of car parks and wide streets, that nowadays feel over-dimensioned.

Now if I had to pin down an era, in which this kind of building was likely constructed, I'd say the latter of the 19th century. It's likely to be a representative of historicism, or at least has elements from this style.

So what do you get?

Exerzierplatz is a 20x20 build best placed in Windenburg, but I could potentially see it in Britechester as well. The building is partly furnished, which means the whole ground floor is furnished, while the other two floors are left unfurnished.

The ground floor includes a café, a bookshop and a Tante Emma Laden (aka a corner store/delicatessen). All three of them are fully furnished and usable as a café or a retail store. The 2nd and 3rd floors are intended as apartments, but everything's up to you!

Uses items from the following packs: I own almost all packs, so I'd say most of them, but I will update this post once I hop back into game to have a look!

Download: Google Drive (600 MB) | Also up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you’ll need the cc files from the Drive folder!)

Is the CC included? Most is! There's an Excel file with all CC that you'll need to download manually, but it's not many files. Deco Sims are NOT included.

Also a BIG THANK YOU to all the CC-creators, without their creations, I wouldn't have been able to build this!

-> Info: I've included 4 merged files, BUT! I've prepared a little note, about which ones are hard requirements, so it's up to you whether you'll include them.

TOU: Please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues (wrong/missing files, etc.) please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the house, I’d love to see it in your games.

[drdtfuitgumies]

the 100th situation!! yippee!

we've officially hit our 100th situation (not counting the pinned post)...!! to celebrate, i drew everyone* for one of my oddly specific, self-indulgent aus with a target audience of one (me); my drdt x digimon au!

version without any digimon

the au is mostly running on vibes (especially as we don't have concrete backstories for everyone, and a lot of interpretation has to be done), but the digimon adventure trilogy is the main inspiration!

disorganized notes: -) i'll be going to more detail in my other acc! linked here -) this takes place in an universe where hope's peak academy and the tragedy never existed. they still have their "talents" but they don't get nationwide recognition or anything. this helps and hurts some backstories -) i'm separating the story to two arcs. the first arc is where mai befriends everyone in the right half of the image and takes them adventuring in the digital world, ending in her untimely and unfortunate death. which was totally not supposed to happen, whoops :( this fractures mai's friend group and only the valiant efforts of a post-character development arei prevents them from completely cutting off contact with each other -) the second arc takes place ~3 years after, where mai's friends' unaddressed drama and hard feelings finally crop up again and two innocent bystanders (teruko and eden) are forced to take front seat and suffer the consequences. everyone left in the left side of the image isn't relevant to the plot and are background cameos at best but i didn't wanna leave them out -) its basically Character Building Playground for me and a way for me to cope about what could've been. but it also means that the most "content" i make up in my head is actually between the first and second arc, because i wanna figure out how awful everyone's coping mechanisms are and the falling outs that ensue...

summary of my unserious thought process behind each partner choice (more detailed in my other acc): -) the characters from hu to teruko specifically have partners who are relevant in the digimon adventure continuity. if you've watched tri in particular, you know exactly why i chose mai and teruko's partners ^_^ -) hu: morphomon. thank you lost evolution kizuna for introducing a butterfly child-level / rookie!! -) ace: patamon. they are both orange. interpreting patamon as a small angry dog was also really funny to me -) david: gabumon. protag assignment. gabumon wears a fur pelt to appear stronger and it's stated to experience a "180° personality shift" -) xander: agumon. protag assignment. they would be BEST friends -) j: tentomon. juxtaposition of cute pink baby form vs very cool and scary looking insects that shoot LIGHTNING. -) arei: piyomon/biyomon. no reason in particular the evolutions i picked just fit really well -) charles: palmon. plant. the idea of charles naming a plant "charles jr" was hilarious to me, and then the idea of palmon wearing matching goggles and a labcoat was very very cute -) whit: gomamon. sea ouppy... commonly characterized as a very laidback and fun-loving partner in digimon media. -) mai: tailmon/gatomon. Kity :) this specific tailmon is also meant to mirror monotv and behaves like it -) teruko: meicoomon. Kity :) sad kity who turns evil and fucked up :( -) eden: solarmon. silly machine digimon. also commonly evolves to the clock digimon -) min: wormmon. bookworm pun. also very vague allusion to ichijouji ken. Min is not plot relevant (for now) and she's actually way better off here than canon!! -) rose: lalamon. no reason in particular i just think they would be friends and lalamon's face is funny. -_- and 0o0 -) nico: loogamon. wolfy :) wolfy who bites -) veronika: porcupamon. spooky monokuma-esque bear -) levi: bemmon. ourple. also the one "unnatural" digimon pick that i thought fit him well. also, also hoping that digimon liberator gives me a shiny new bemmon evolution line that can work with him! -) arturo: jellymon. i had absolutely zero idea what to do with him because hes one of the two characters i cant get a grip on (for writing) so i just sicced Ghost Game's Jellymon on him

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒, 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.9k wc. ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ step-brother!yuta ﾉ stepcest ﾉ college au ﾉ jealousy ﾉ possessiveness ﾉ yuta is insecure ﾉ marking (hickies & biting)

this is a continuation of my other stepbro!yuta fic, misplaced lust. that offers some background to this fic but this can also be read as a standalone!

a month has passed since you and yuta shared that fateful night in your living room, since you’ve started seeing him as someone other than your step brother—though, you still haven’t quite settled on what to call him. yuta would insist on “boyfriend” but the word feels heavy and sticky in your mouth, like you can’t really get it out any time you try. you suppose you’re still getting acquainted with the idea of yuta as a lover rather than a brother.

all you can say for sure is that things are different.

your standing as simply siblings is the image you keep up in public, much due to your persistence, though, behind closed doors, it’s a different story. gone are the days when yuta kept his urges buried. he touches you when he pleases—stealing the sweetness of your lips in morning kisses, holding you hostage in midday cuddles, exploring each and every curve of your body as you writhe and pant beneath him at night.

it’s taken some getting used to but you’ve fallen into some sort of strange routine with him. the life you’re living is far from ordinary, though, you’re pleased with it.

tuesdays—you have class on campus and, as much as you’ve told him that it isn’t necessary, yuta practically begged you to let him take on the task of taking you to and from your classes. you’re sure he’s parked in the lot across from your building now, but you’ll have to keep him waiting a while longer so that you can exchange contact information with your new project partner.

“just sent you a text,” the boy tucks his phone away in his pocket, “did you get it?”

as if he willed it himself, your phone dings with a message notification. it’s from an unknown number but you infer that the sweet “hi! :)” is from him. you wave your screen at him with a smile and a nod before quickly saving him to your contacts.

“i’ll text you when i get home, yeah?” you look to your partner, eyebrows raised in question.

“sounds good to me.”

“great.” you offer him a wave before setting off to the crowd of cars in search of yuta’s.

it doesn’t take you long to find it, or him for that matter. he’s standing outside the vehicle at the hood, arms crossed and eyebrows pulled together in confusion. the sight leaves you puzzled yourself as you approach him. he usually meets you with a smile. it’s strange to not see the corners of his lips pulling up.

“hey, what’s wrong?” you question. if you were in the privacy of either of your apartments, you’d reach out to smooth out the crease between his brows.

yuta reaches for you, large hands coming to rest on your hips before he pulls you closer. you frown and shake your head in a silent reminder that people are watching—people who shouldn’t see you in such a position. much to yuta’s dismay, you knock his arms away and take a step back. your action seems to upset him further. “who was that guy?”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his question. if you thought his investment in your relationships before you hooked up was concerning, then the tabs he keeps on you now border overbearing. you can’t talk to a guy within his line of sight without being questioned about it afterward.

“he’s just a classmate,” you reassure him with a sigh.

your disinterest in the conversation does nothing to ease yuta’s nerves. a piece of him knows that his jealousy may be unwarranted, but, to be fair, you’ve never gone as far as sharing contact information with another guy—and right in front of him, at that. “a classmate that needs your phone number?”

“yes,” you swear you see his frown deepen with your answer, “but only because we’re working on a project together.”

yuta trusts you, he does, but knowing that you’ll be working closely with a guy he’s unfamiliar with leaves a sour taste in his mouth. he’s well aware of how the minds of men work and who’s to say this one won’t make a move on you?

though, as he looks into the depths of your eyes, yuta reminds himself that it’s you. you wouldn’t let things escalate that far, you wouldn’t betray his trust—right? 

large hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing over each of your cheekbones. midnight eyes bore into yours as he asks, “you promise?”

your heart jumps in your chest—at the feel of his rough palms on your face or the unexpected question, you’re not sure. the intensity behind his lidded gaze almost makes you forget where you are, that he’s not supposed to be touching you like this here, where anyone can see. you take hold of his wrists, pulling his hands down from your face, opting to hold them between your bodies to keep them hidden.

“i promise,” you tell him, voice low so that only the two of you can hear.

the warmth of your hands and the softness of your voice relieve all the tension that’s built up in yuta since he was met with that unsavory sight. he squeezes your hand, lips pulling up into a soft smile. 

he knew he could trust you.

life with yuta is as normal as it can be outside of your interactions with your poor classmate. the boy really hasn’t done anything wrong but he still unknowingly bears the brunt of yuta’s irritation and resentment. a simple text from him informing you that he added content to the document and would appreciate you looking it over earns a grimace from yuta if you take too long replying to him.

so, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised when your phone vibrates with a notification—no, two notifications from yuta during your library meeting with your acquaintance. you hope it’s not rude to shift your attention to your phone for a moment. two messages one after the next implies urgency.

> where are you?

> you said you’d be back by 6

so much for urgent. you click the button on the side of the device to put your screen to sleep, not bothering to reply. you’re sure you’ll be wrapping things up here soon and the process will go even quicker if you don’t break to text him back. you make a mental reminder to respond to him as soon as you’re done, flipping the phone so the screen is facing down on the table.

you’re barely able to get another paragraph typed out before your phone is buzzing again, not with a notification but with a phone call. despite not being able to see the caller display, you have an idea of who it is.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize to the man across from you, grabbing your phone off the table. “you don’t mind if i take this, do you? i’ll make it quick.”

he waves his hands in a show of nonchalance. “no, no, go ahead.”

you offer him an apologetic smile before stepping out of the room you two reserved to dedicate some time to your project. when you hear the click of the door announce that it’s closed, you press the accept button on the call.

“hello?”

“where are you?” there’s mild panic laced in his voice as he continues. “you didn’t reply to my texts.”

you should have seen this coming. he isn’t always like this—so obsessive over your whereabouts, but you think you have an inkling of what’s got him so on edge and he’s sitting in the room you just left. “yuta, i’m still at the library. we’re almost done.”

hearing your voice is like an anchor for yuta, keeping him grounded from his unwelcome, wandering thoughts. he tried not to worry when the clock hit six and you weren’t walking through the door, briefly thinking that you got caught in traffic or some other minor inconvenience that kept you a few minutes. 

though, as more time passed, the hypotheticals turned to something less innocent—ones that centered around you and him and the sorts of things you could get up to in a room with just the two of you. it made yuta’s head and heart hurt in a way he’s never experienced before but the pain is beginning to subside now that he’s heard from you.

he’s tempted to ask about what’s keeping you but for his own sanity, he buries the question, choosing instead to tell you, “i was just checking in.”

“everything’s fine.” you nod despite him not being able to see. 

you hate when he gets like this, stressing himself out over nothing, letting nonexistent things eat away at his mind. but, in the same breath, you love being the one to bring him back to earth, the one he finds solace in. maybe that’s why your voice softens with your next words. “i’ll be home soon.”

there’s a shaky sigh of relief on the other line, one you’re almost sure wasn’t meant to be audible.

“good.”

the final straw comes a couple of weeks later when yuta’s outside your door, fishing around his pocket for the key you’d given him when you moved in. though, before he’s able to find it, the door swings open.

he expects to be met with the sight of you in your loungewear—shorts that ride up your thighs and a shirt that leaves a sliver of skin on your tummy exposed—but the person standing before him is the last person he wants to see, especially in your foyer.

it’s your project partner.

yuta’s eyebrow twitches as he looks at the man, silently wondering just what the hell he’s doing inside your apartment. he’s got a comfortable grin on his face that slowly falls as he turns away from you to find yuta standing in the hall. there’s confusion written over his features and if yuta wasn’t so annoyed, he’d laugh—he’s the one who should be confused.

“hey, man,” your classmate greets yuta cautiously before turning to you. “you know this guy?”

the question seems to be enough for you to finally recognize yuta’s presence. you don’t smile and hug him like you usually do when he shows up at your place. no, instead, your eyes widen like he’s the unwelcome one.

yuta’s skin warms with his boiling blood as his dark gaze flits over to meet that of your guest. “i’m her b-“

“brother!” you cut him off. with the look in his eyes, you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t going to say another word that started with the same letter. “he’s my step brother.”

“oh,” the man nods, “nice to meet you.”

yuta musters up as friendly of a smile as he can. if you didn’t know him as well as you do, it would have simply looked like he was caught off guard meeting a new face. and while that’s partially true, you can tell that the smile is forced—that his teeth are really clenched behind his lips and that the sentiment is not shared.

your classmate turns back to you, not taking notice—or, at least, choosing not to acknowledge—the thick awkwardness in the air. “well, i’m heading out. see you in class.”

you give him a wave as he slips out the door past yuta, whose sole attention is now on you.

it doesn’t take a genius to tell what’s on his mind.

“yuta…” your voice usually has a calming effect on the man but it doesn’t seem to work this time around as he slips into your apartment, fingers running through the messy strands of inky hair.

“what was he doing here?” there’s an edge to his tone as the question fills the air—one that’s a mixture of anxiety and possessiveness, something different than what you’ve heard over the past few weeks.

you close the door before facing yuta. the darkness in his eyes from earlier lingers but the anger has dissipated, replaced by uncertainty. the latter is just as chilling. 

something tells you that your explanation, no matter how truthful, won’t get through to him—not when he’s so worked up. still, you try to make it clear that nothing was going on between the two of you. you reach out to take his hand in yours so that he stops tugging at his hair. “we were going over our presentation, that’s all.”

the stare he meets you with is heavy, almost intimidating. “you had to bring him home to do that?”

“i didn’t feel like driving to campus so i had him meet me here.” you can see yuta’s jaw clench at your justification. you drop his hand in favor of placing yours on his face. his skin is warm beneath your hands and your fingers graze over the curves of his cheekbones and jaw. he softens under your touch, though the insecurity sticks to his expression. you hope your next words are reassuring. “but nothing happened—i swear.”

there’s an honest glint sparkling in your eyes and a softness to your gaze that convinces yuta that you wouldn’t lie to him—not about this, not about anything. with a deep breath, yuta’s hands come to rest on either side of your waist and he nods—more to himself than anything.

he dips his head down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. it’s eager and greedy, like if he doesn’t do it now, he won’t ever be able to. his tongue runs over your lips, swirls in a dance with yours as he breathes in your air and scent. it’s dizzying and your head is spinning even when he pulls away.

his nips at your lip, nose pressed against yours. “you’re mine, right?”

you nod, parted lips glistening with yuta’s spit. 

“then show me.”

the journey to your room is clumsy, kisses interrupted by clothes being strewn about the hallway. though, when you do finally make it to your bedroom, your back meeting the mattress, yuta wastes no time letting his lips roam all over your body. he sucks and nips at your delicate skin, leaving dark marks of his love on your neck, your collarbone, your chest.

the simple sensation draws a melody of moans from you that reaches yuta’s ears, swelling his heart and his cock. he groans—the erection between his legs is almost painful and he finds relief in grinding the head up and down your folds, letting it bump against your clit. the contact elicits a sharp gasp from you and the sound only feeds yuta’s arousal.

he can’t hold himself back any longer.

sinking into you feels like the closest yuta will ever get to paradise. he fights his eyes from rolling back, stops himself from drooling, as he bottoms out in a practiced motion. he usually gives you a moment to adjust around him but he’s far too worked up to allow you the courtesy this time around, almost immediately setting a tempo with his thrusts.

the sound of skin slapping skin as his hips snap into you accompanied by the squelching of your wetness fills the still, thick air of your bedroom. yuta’s choked groans join them and he lets his head fall to rest at the crook of your neck. 

his tongue pokes out to lick at your skin, lips latching on to leave yet another purpling spot behind—a sign of his love, a sign that you're his. 

the thought causes yuta to bite down on the side of your neck, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to leave an indent of his teeth. he raises his head to meet your eye, labored breaths tickling your face as he hovers above you. he swallows before pressing his forehead to yours, hips still bucking into you.

“you’re mine,” he breathes out, nails digging into the sheets on either side of you.

you can’t tell whether it’s a question or a statement but you nod the best you can regardless of which it is.

his dark eyes bore into yours, a mixture of passion and possessiveness swimming in his gaze. “say it.”

it takes a moment for you to find your voice and even when you do, your declaration cracks. “i’m yours, yuta.”

“that’s right,” he dips his head down to kiss you, smiling against your lips before pulling away, “all mine.”

yuta’s hand finds its way between your bodies and to your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bud and drawing heavenly whimpers from you. he starts to lose the rhythmic pace he set as his climax creeps upon him, each thrust growing more and more erratic. a fire sparks to life in your abdomen with the added sensation and you can feel the heat seeping beneath your skin, penetrating your nerves. every part of you is on fire.

the stimulation is soon too much for you, pushing you over the edge and into the deep end of pleasure. the sharp breath you suck in is followed by shaky moans as you ride out your orgasm. with all the pretty noises you’re making and the way your cunt flutters around him, yuta follows not far behind you.

he pulls out before his seed can spill inside you, the warm white ropes of cum spurting on your belly instead. his own moans mingle with yours as he comes down from his high, chest rising and falling with each of his heavy breaths. 

his eyes flit up to yours, hand reaching out to caress the side of your face. you lean into his touch instinctively which makes his lips curl up in a smile. you wouldn’t do this for anyone else, would you?

you really are his.

thanks you for reading! if you enjoyed, please reblog or leave a comment! ᡣ𐭩

[netherfeildren]

Greener Memories of Better Men

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

Joel Miller is one of them. 

-OR- 

Sarah’s gone and Joel wants to feel close to her again. He reconnects with someone he used to know along the way.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Grief; Child loss; Emotional hurt/comfort; Angst; Fluff and smut; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Size Difference; Size kink; Dirty talk; Truck sex; Praise kink

A/N: This was planned for a long time, and then just happened all at once today without prior thought. Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 10.8K

Read on AO3

When she got very sick, towards the end, they used to listen to “The Weight” by The Band all the time. He’d sit at her bedside playing it for her over and over again, and he’d watch her breathe. For hours, he’d sit there and watch the rise and fall of her chest, the slow, weak thrum of her pulse in her neck beneath the wan and clammy skin, listen to the sound of her fight to continue existing. Sometimes, when she was a little more on this side of lucid, when she’d let him look at those gorgeous green eyes, she’d mouth the words at him through cracked, parched lips. Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed? The still beautiful sound of her laughter, not made any less lovely despite its weakness now, when she adapted the lyrics to suit herself, take a load off, daddy. 

And sometimes, when she was keen on showing that superior and tremendous wit, that intelligent mind, the eye she had for seeing within and through him, she’d say that Fanny was the friend they’d always needed, but had never had. Like she knew, she knew there were times, only sometimes, where there was something missing, an imaginary figure that would have been nice or helpful, that was sometimes wished for. A mother, a wife, a partner, a friend, something they might have both needed or liked to have, perhaps, even especially, now, at the end. 

It had been a slow crawl towards death, for a long time, and then, suddenly, a mad dash to the finish line she’d seemed desperate to win. 

At times he’d been angry, angry and resentful and so fucking filled with a rage so deep it terrified him at the unfairness of it all. Sometimes there were parts of Joel that wished it was him lying in that bed, rotting away from the inside out by that invisible poison crawling through his little girls veins, but then the idea of Sarah being the one left behind, the one left alone, seemed an equally terrible fate, and he could not discern which was the worse of the two evils. And so he was left with nothing but this terrible impotence warring inside of him against his equally terrible anger. 

If he could have carried the weight of her illness for her, he would have. If he could have bore the pain and suffering of it, he would have. He would have eaten his own heart, cut off his own limb, forsaken everything he’d ever known, to have taken her suffering from her. He’d told her they’d be brave together, that they’d get out of it together. Eventually though, that mad dash had ended, and after it was all done, she’d been the only one to be brave, and he’d been the only one to get out of it. If that’s what it could even be called. Sarah had died and Joel had been left with nothing more than whatever half life he pretended at now. 

It’d been a year and a half since then, five hundred and sixty seven days since he’d put his only child in the ground. Days of living his life as if a thousand raging gladiators screamed and readied for battle in his mind while he lay limp and motionless in their midst. While he lay limp and motionless as the rest of the world went on around him. He failed all the time now, it seemed. Failed at being a father, a man, a brother, in his waking hours and in his dreams. And sometimes he wondered or worried at what she’d think of him now, if she saw what he’d let himself become. A limp and useless thing in the shadow of the memory of what he’d always been or wanted to be. 

But he remembered love, he remembered loving her, and he thought that if he held onto that, perhaps, he could be something again. Certainly not himself, or who or what he’d been before, but he could find the wherewithal or the strength or the conviction to be something, surely, he could be something again. How could death have the ability to touch such perfection? He could not understand. So, if he could no longer be a father, Sarah's father, then he could find it in himself to at least be alive, couldn’t he? For her, at least, for that memory of loving her. 

He sees the flier at the YMCA one evening, after he’s finished his workout. For months he’d gone from work to bed and bed to work. Gotten soft and lazy and horrible, half dead, but he’d had a dream a few weeks ago, a memory of them at Lady Bird Lake when they’d go and feed the ducks. She’d wanted to burst into the water after them, catch one for herself. Skinny little arms and legs flailing as he caught her around the waist, stopping her from rushing in after the poor things as they paddled madly away from the lovely little terror that she was. The thing he was now was not the man, the father, he had been before, not even a fraction. And he’d felt disgusted and ashamed and frightened with himself at the thought of her ever seeing the creature he’d become. He’d gone for a jog that evening after work. As exhausted and beaten down from the day as he’d been, he’d tied on his sneakers and forced his body to move. It had felt terrible and cathartic and he’d thrown up in his front yard afterwards, pathetic, heaving sobs wracking his body as he emptied the contents of his stomach in the overgrown grass and tears dripped down the tip of his nose, right there for the whole world to witness. But he’d gone out again the next day and the next and the next, and then he’d gone and gotten a membership for the Y, paid the thirty dollars and promised himself he’d make it there a few days every week. Pushed himself week after week to exhaustion and tears, even, sometimes. Wilting into bed at the end of the day like a felled weed, but he couldn’t stop. 

Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream. 

So he tried to not think, and he tried to keep going. 

They used to walk down there all the time before, to the Y, Joel, Sarah and Tommy. She loved to swim, and the three of them would jump in the pool together and play for hours every summer. They were good memories he knew he needed to keep fresh in his mind, like a muscle that needed to be exercised constantly. He couldn’t, didn’t want to lose them. 

The flier called for volunteers to show up for an event at Sarah’s old elementary school, “Breakfast with Dads” requesting fathers who could show up for those children who didn’t have a father figure in their lives. He’d stood still as a statue, reading the poster over and over again for almost ten minutes there, in the middle of the bustle of the busy gym around him. He could still remember the last time he’d picked her up at school with perfect clarity, the way she’d looked, curls bobbing around her, green eyes shining, shooting out the double doors towards him. She’d always been good in school, smart and lovely and friendly. He’d had to make the difficult decision to pull her out almost a year before she’d died, when she’d started getting too weak from the treatments to continue going in person. He’d not been back to the place since. Didn’t know if he was capable of walking through those halls she used to walk through, where she’d been happy, had friends, been a kid. 

He thinks about it for days afterwards, afraid and unsure and awkward with himself. Worried the children will be able to smell the deceit on him, the fact that he isn’t really a father anymore, lying on the soft purple rug of her perfectly preserved bedroom. A mausoleum to her memory that he meticulously cleans every Sunday to maintain exactly as she left it, staring up at the stick-on stars of the ceiling. He thinks that perhaps it would be good for him, that perhaps he would like the chance to feel like a father again, to remember what it is to have some spunky little kid talk at him for hours on end the way Sarah used to. And if nothing else, he thinks that there might be some child out there without the commodity of a father, the way he is without the blessing of his daughter, who would appreciate the fact that he’d shown up. Perhaps, he can make some kid not feel as alone as he always feels now. 

The morning of the breakfast dawns bright and warm, but with the faint scent of impending rain in the ether. She’d died on the same kind of sunny, tremulous day, and Joel’s hands shake as he walks up the steps of the elementary school. Flashes of the memory of her running out of these same double doors, skipping down the steps, curls flopping and gap toothed smile more luminous and sillier than any sight he’d ever beheld before. His heart beats like a hummingbird in his chest, hands clammy and shaking and ridiculous. He cries all the time now, at any and everything and it embarrasses him but is also so strangely freeing. He’d watched that ridiculous, but not really, movie Uptown Girls last night and had wept like a child at the end of it, all throughout it if he’s being honest. Huge mistake for the night before he was supposed to show face bright and early and have some kid inspecting him. Tommy’d shown up this morning with coffee and burritos and told him his face looked swollen, fucking asshole, and he’s once again ridiculous and embarrassed and awkward and shaking with nerves as he takes a few deep, calming breaths, before stepping into the Sarah’s old cafeteria. 

The large room is loud and chaotic, the bright sound of children’s voices and laughter and commotion, and people, there are a lot of fucking people. Two different lines of men, traversing the entire wide room, starting at a long table on one end and snaking through the lunch tables. It seems he wasn’t the only one who’d seen the posters, who had felt the need to come here today. He’s inspecting the lines, deciding which one seems to be moving faster when he hears his name, soft and breathy and incredulous, voice like a fucking angel: “Joel?”

He turns and there you are. “Joel Miller?” You almost stumble towards him, hand almost outstretched, eyes almost swimming. The last time he’d seen you was the last time he’d picked Sarah up here, and there’d been real tears in your eyes that time as you got to your knees, and his daughter buried her face in your neck, your soft hair, as she cried and told you how much she’d miss you, how much she didn’t want to go. You’d been her last teacher before she’d had to leave school – she’d never gotten to finish the year with you, and it had been a painful and difficult parting for the both of you. One he’d not appreciated fully in the moment, but now, looking at your shocked face, like you’ve seen a ghost, the memory rears its head in his mind, the sound of your voice trying to soothe her, trying to remain strong, stifle the sound of your own tears. You’d gone to the hospital once, near the end, the nurses had told him, in the quick hour he allotted himself to go home and shower every day, to say goodbye to her. Had sat at her bedside and laughed with her, brought her a card and a bright bouquet of yellow daisies in a pretty, blown glass vase from her entire class. It had been near the end of the school year, what would have been the end of Sarah’s second grade year, and he’d been glad, after the nurse had gushed about the pretty young woman who’d come in, made Sarah laugh and smile, perked her up for even a few brief moments, he’d been so fucking glad he’d missed you. He hoped he’d never have to see you again, could avoid the memory of his daughter in your care, the way the two of you looked at each other, like you shared a secret, a friendship, a connection, that of pupil and teacher, but also just two girls, something special and sacred. He envied it and resented it and was glad he’d missed you and grateful he’d not had to see you, but he was also grateful for the fact of you, that you’d been able to give her something she’d needed and he could not provide. 

He whispers your name, and you finally reach him, hand fully outstretched now, not an almost anything anymore, and your small, delicate fingers grasp at his thick forearm. The soft touch burns. 

He places his big hand over yours, completely engulfing you, and when he whispers your name back he feels a tremble in your limb. “Joel, I’m so glad to see you,” said with so much sincerity he feels the backs of his eyes pinch. He did not think the hardest part of this day would be seeing you again, a person who’d known and cared for his daughter so deeply. 

“I– I’m glad to be here,” he chokes, coughs, tries to take a steadying breath. “I saw the posters– just thought… I just thought it’d be nice for me to come around.”

“Yes,” you squeeze his arm gently, “Yes, of course. Welcome, please, I’m really so glad to see you here. There are so many great kids here today–” you cut yourself off, and your face does a funny sort of uncertain thing, you shake your head, try and give him a small smile. A deep breath, and then: “There are so many kids here that need someone. It’s a real good thing you came.”

“Yeah, well… I just wanted to– to feel– to remember–” he shakes his head too, unable to continue, but he sees that you understand. You slide that small hand into his, wrapping around two of his thick fingers and pull him around and further into the room. Nodding your head and smiling back at him like you’ve got the best sort of secret you’re about to let him in on. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to your seat. I know just the person for you.”

-

“Joel, this is my niece–”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” All the sass in the world and a scarred eyebrow to boot. 

“Ellie,” you say nice and slow, voice soothing as if trying to calm a wild banshee on the verge of revolt, it makes him smile a small smile, “We’re gonna be nice. You promised this morning.”

“Ugh, fine,” she drops her head back on her neck, and he can see the whites of her eyes flash as she rolls them as far back as they can surely go. “Stick me with the dinosaur, what do I care?” Christ, he mutters under his breath, trying to hide his scoff of a laugh with a rough cough. He turns his head to rub his chin against the hill of his shoulder, running a hand over his whiskered face. 

“Ellie– Mom said you can’t go to the sleepover tonight if you aren’t nice. Right?” You try and reason with her. 

“Fine. Whatever – nice.” And she flashes a big old, saccharine grin, wagging her eyebrows at you. 

“Okay,” you turn back to him, bringing your hands together in a soft clap beneath your chin and giving him a small and painfully sweet little smile – worried and probably a little afraid for him. He shakes his head, “It’s alright, we’ll be okay,” he says low, distracted by the sight of your small hands, fine and delicate looking, and the dainty gold necklace that sits at the hollow of your throat, a little golden pendant of your initial. 

You nod your head slowly, turn back to give the kid, Ellie, one more stern look, and then turn to walk away, leaving him to face her alone, and no, he most definitely does not glance at your ass as you walk away from him.

He turns back to look at the kid, and she rolls her eyes again, turning back to flip open the book she’s got infront of her on the lunch table, a one Will Livingston’s No Pun Intended: Volume Too. 

He snorts a little, sighs and settles into the cramped bench made for a child, thick thighs barely squeezing into the space between the table’s edge and the seat, knees bumping the underside. “Well aren’t you a pleasant one.”

“Yeah, a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. What’s your problem?”

“Jesus, kid. How old are you?”

“Thirteen. How old are you?”

“Forty eight.”

“Old.”

“Yeah.”

“So, why'd you get stuck with the leftovers? Where's your kid?”

He clears his throat, “Uh well, she– she’s not here anymore. Or I mean– she doesn’t go to school here anymore. She died. A while ago.”

“Oh, shit.” She’s quiet for a beat, looking down at the open page of the book, It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope. It’ll still be stationary. “That sucks, man. I'm sorry.”

He supposes the correct response is: “Thank you,” he nods his head awkwardly, still unaccustomed to going through the motions of having to tell people and accept condolences. He doesn’t think it’ll ever be something he gets used to. 

“I think…” she tilts her head side to side, letting the thought slide between her ears, flips to the next page, I walked into my sister’s room and tripped on a bra. It was a booby trap. “That my dad is dead, or at least a dead beat or something,” she snickers. “Don’t know. My mom never talks about him.”

Dead or a dead beat, he mutters, shaking his head, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s hard– being a parent, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah… hardest thing in the world–”

“Is it like – like weird… to not be one anymore?”

He feels his stomach drop out from under him, coughs roughly, “Dunno… I guess– I guess in ways I still feel like a parent. Think I’ll always feel like that. But in other ways, yes, it’s… weird.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense. You don’t forget how stuff feels, right?”

“Yeah, you don’t forget how stuff feels.”

“Do you like space?” she asks suddenly, very seriously, knocking her head to the side, looking up at him with big, baleful, hazel eyes. His heart twists in his chest.

“Sure, yeah. Space is alright.”

And then another seeming one eighty: “If you could do anything you wanted, where would you go? What would you do?”

“Don’t know, never really thought about it. Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

“Cool. What kind?”

He shakes his head, Jesus, I don’t know… “Sheep. I would raise sheep.” She nods, doubtful, unimpressed look on her face, and he frowns at the look, “They’re quiet, do what they’re told.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. So, just you and a bunch of sheep. Romantic,” she says sarcastically. 

“What about you? What would you do?”

She points a single finger up towards the ceiling, ah, space… “Probably because I’ve always been here, never left Austin, single mom and all, ya know– I’ve read everything I could in the school library… Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favorite is?”

He could understand her on this. He felt, too often, like he was still right where she’d left him. “Sally Ride,” he says, of course.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride!” She slaps her hands down on the table, “Best astronaut name ever,” Shakes her head, whistling through her teeth appreciatively. 

He nods his head, yeah, figures. “So, your aunt…” and he feels a hot flush spread over the tops of his cheekbones, real smooth, Joel. At least he’d waited this long. 

“She’s my mom’s sister. She’s great. The three of us live together – kind of like my second mom, I guess. Or like they take turns being mom and dad. We’ve always been together.”

“That’s great, kid. She’s great. She– she was my daughter’s teacher, I’ve known her for a while now.”

“Yeah, she really is. I punched this girl last year,” she says way too excitedly, “Bethany,” rolls her eyes, “For being a huge dick, man, like seriously, she was. And she got me out of it. Backed me up with the principal, Mr. Kwong. No one else would’ve stuck up for me that way.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Seems like her style–”

“Protective,” she snickers.

“Yeah–” 

“And good. Her and my mom, they’re a unit, the three of us. Don’t know, I’ve never seen anyone take care of each other the way they do. Sometimes…” she looks away a little shyly, “I misbehave,” she says slowly, “Like the fighting. For no reason, I guess. And I know it worries them. But I’m trying to be better, not fight as much. My friend Riley, she’s a good influence. She stops me when I get too riled up.”

“I reckon it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, is what I’d say. I’m sure being thirteen is difficult,” he says a little sarcastically, but giving her the approximation of a small, warm smile.

“Fuck you, man,” she laughs, “It’s difficult as shit.” It hits him then, suddenly, that the kid just needs someone to talk to, someone other than perhaps her mother or her aunt who she knows love and worry for her so much. A third, impartial party. Joel had come here today and been able to be that for her, and as inconsequential as it may seem, after all he’s lived through, it’s everything to him. 

The teachers and school administrators begin the process of handing out the breakfast: pancakes and bacon and sausage and fruit, and Ellie tells him about her book, full of terrible puns he pretends to frown at but also can’t really help but laugh at with her, and about a comic she loves Savage Starlight. Endure and survive, she tells him, is the motto, and he can’t help but think the idea is far reaching and significant in its truth. They sit and talk and laugh together, and it’s easy, this surly kid who pretends at being angry, hiding her charm with a potty mouth and a scowl, but who’s really nothing but sweet. It makes his chest ache and his throat go tight. So much so, that after a while he needs to excuse himself. He tells her he’s going to the restroom and runs off like a coward, the devil and his memories on his heels to take a few deep breaths, a moment alone to collect himself. 

He rushes out of the cafeteria, bursting through the double doors and out into the hallway, scurrying to find a lone corner to hide himself and his shame and grief away in. He makes it to a shadowed alcove at the mouth of an empty hallway of classrooms and presses his hands to the concrete blocks of the wall, painted a soft blue color. He stares at the pockets in the aggregate and tries to take deep breaths, feels the air pass through his lungs, inflate his belly, and then back out, transformed into the world as something else. Sometimes he wishes he had the ability to transform his grief into something else – a non-memory, perhaps. Sometimes he wishes he could forget the whole thing, a terrible, selfish, disgusting thought. But pain makes terrible creatures out of us sometimes, and Joel has existed in a pool of such pain these past five hundred and sixty seven days that sometimes it’s difficult to recognize himself anymore, his desires, his goals, if he even has those anymore. Like he’d said to the kid, it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, and he was trying so very hard to be good, better. 

“Joel?” That soft voice again, a shiver claws its way down his spine, and he shakes his head at the wall, letting his hot, pinched eyes fall closed. 

He coughs, trying to clear his throat, “M’fine. Just needed a second–” Coughs again. And then he feels that small hand from before, at the small of his back. You rest there, gifting him that brief, comforting touch, and he reaches behind himself to clasp you around the wrist, keep you there with him, silent for a moment while he tries and fails to collect himself. His fingers wrap entirely around your wrist and something different and hot and alive flutters deep in his belly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it. I’m just– It’s overwhelming being here. I’m sorry. I’m okay,” he rambles. 

“It’s okay, Joel. Just take your time.” Your voice is too soft and gentle for a hard and broken thing like him. 

“She’s a good kid,” he tries and fails to keep his voice steady, comes out all hiccupped and cracked instead, and he feels you step closer, not touching him anywhere else, but he can feel the heat of you against his back. 

“She is,” you whisper.

“S’got a fuckin’ mouth on her.”

“Yeah…” You try and laugh, fail.

He cracks and splinters: “I didn’t think it would be like this coming back here… seeing you,” voice breaking, “She was sick for so long, and I knew she didn’t want to leave me. I knew she was so fucking tired, but she kept holding on just for me. And I told her it was okay, I told her to go and that I’d find her again one day, and now I don't know who I am or what I’ve become, and all I can think about every single day is that if she saw me now I worry she wouldn't recognize me anymore.”

“You’re trying, Joel. That's all that matters. I know you are. I can see it now even just here today, you being here–”

“I wish I could see her smile again, just once–” he cuts you off, not really listening. His ears filled with static noise, chest heaving. Your other hand comes to his flank, and it’s too much: this place, your touch, the kid, all of it, all of his memories and all of his grief, and he shouldn’t have come here today. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and for a second, right before he pushes you away, he squeezes your wrist tightly, as tight as he can without really hurting you, lets the heat of your skin burn him, and then lets go of you, harshly shaking you off. 

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have come here today, I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

“Joel–”

“Tell Ellie I’m sorry, but I have to go.” And like a fucking coward, like a man his daughter’d be ashamed of, he leaves, runs away from you and the memory of her and another child who needs something he is not equipped to give. 

He listens to the sound of your voice calling after him, and he is nothing but sorry and nothing but too much of a man he wishes he’d never been made into. 

-

You’re on your second margarita when he walks in. Trailing his brother, serious, sullen look on his handsome face. When you’d seen him this morning, after all that time, after the last time which had been so painful and so sad and so full of regret for the circumstance of it, you’d felt like your heart was about to burst through your chest. You thought about him so often, about her, more often, probably, than was warranted or healthy, but the experience of having a child such as that in your care, such a special little person, and having to witness the extinguishing of such a bright flame… Well, calling it a tragedy was entirely inadequate in the face of all it truly was. 

Anna was kind of dating the bartender that worked here, and with Ellie away at a slumber party tonight, the two of you’d decided to have a girl’s night out that you were almost certain was going to turn into a slumber party for Anna with her bartender, Ben, as well. 

You eye the two brothers as they find their spot at the far end of the bar, watch as Tommy, you remember she used to talk about him all the time, flags down Ben to order them two beers, appreciating the way Joel pulls on the glass bottle with that soft, frowning mouth of his. 

He’s so sad. There’s no other word for it. Sad and hurt and made into a sort of tragedy of a man that you wish desperately, and even though it’s not your place, that you could do something to help. The sound of him choking back tears this morning, the sight of him laughing with Ellie, she’d warmed to him immediately which was a miracle all on its own, and he is, you think, a man with so much tenderness to give that has nowhere to go now. And it is nothing but the gravest and saddest sort of tragedy. 

“Hi, Joel.” Eventually, you muster up enough courage, after one more margarita, to approach him. You think that, perhaps, he’ll be annoyed to see you again, another reminder of his past and the difficulty of the morning, but you need to just talk to him one more time. To thank him again for being so brave, to reassure him that he’d done good. Tommy’d abandoned him to brave the waters of the bar a while ago, and he turns in his stool at the sound of your voice to peer over his shoulder. You love his beard, thick and lush and so soft looking, his thick, dark curls, slightly threaded with silver at the temples, and his ridiculously broad back. He’s wearing a dark green button down that brings out the colors in his eyes, tight around the swell of his thick biceps. He’s gorgeous and so fucking hot, and he makes you feel silly with nerves and fizzy bubbles deep in your belly. 

“Hey–” he clears his throat, says your name softly, with a hint of apology. “Hey.”

“I saw you come in earlier, and I– I just wanted to come over and say hi and thank you again for this morning. It was a real nice thing of you to come today.” You try and swallow the shyness and nerves in your voice, but you’re pretty sure you fail spectacularly, can just picture Anna’s mocking giggles as she watches you twist your fingers and fidget in front of the man. 

“You already thanked me,” he says gruffly, “And besides there’s nothing really to thank me for.”

“I know, but again, or anyways,” you stutter, “And there is.” There’s absolutely no reason for these nerves, you know this man, have known him for years, “It was a good thing of you to do. Ellie really liked you–”

“You gave her my apologies, right?” He cuts you off, a thing akin to desperation and worry coloring his tone. 

“I did, don’t worry. She understood.” He looks like he wants to ask what excuse you gave her but forces himself into silence, looking down at his hands in his lap sullenly. “I don’t know… I just wanted to say thank you again.”

“Alright. And I’m sorry too, about earlier – after. I was an ass.”

“You weren’t. I shouldn’t have gone after you, should’ve given you your privacy. I’m sorry. I was nosey.”

He shakes his head, looks up at you with those hazel eyes, “No, I wanted you to come after me.” His voice is rough, like it costs him something to admit this truth to you, “Thank you.”

You have to look away, glancing back at Anna who gives you a wide, cheesy grin and a thumbs up, followed by a much more inappropriate hand gesture. You roll your eyes at her, a hot flush burning your cheeks. “That’s your brother, right? Tommy?” You turn back to him. 

“Yeah, it is… You wanna sit?” He gestures to Tommy’s empty stool. 

“She used to talk about him all the time.” You take the offered seat, nervous for a second that he’ll resent you bringing her up, react badly, but he gives a soft laugh, looking after his brother. “Yeah…” he says slowly, “They were real close.”

“That’s really nice,” you say sincerely. You catch Ben’s eye, and he nods his head at you, turning to get the two of you another round. “You two having a boys night out?”

He gives a short laugh, bringing his beer to his mouth again, pressing the lip of the bottle to his smile, “Guess he was just trying to do the same thing you are right now, distract me, make sure I’m alright or somethin’,” a quick shake of his head, and then takes another drag, and you watch the thick muscles of his neck work as he swallows. You have to look away from the sight, cross your knees together tightly, pulling down the hem of your wrap dress to keep it from riding too high. 

Ben comes around at that moment to place two shots in front of the two of you. “Here you go, baby girl,” a wink and that smarmy little smirk that makes Anna lose her head, for some inexplicable reason, “Tequila for you and your friend here.”

“Baby girl?” Joel eyes you, as you push the shot towards him. 

You roll your eyes, “Ignore him.” He takes the shot from you, fingers brushing yours briefly and you swear you feel a slight jerk move through him. You want him to want you so badly, you think suddenly. 

“Shall we?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a soft laugh. 

“Seems I don’t got much of a choice,” before clinking his glass against yours, touching the base of it to the bar’s surface, and then shooting it back, not even an insinuation of a grimace as he swallows the strong alcohol, while your face puckers ridiculously. 

Gross. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking on the lime Ben had left also. “He sweet on you or somethin’?” 

“No, not at all.”

“Huh, not so sure about that,” he eyes your sister’s boytoy almost sourly, and you get brave or reckless or something, all of a sudden, when you press right up to his ear, your breasts against his arm, emboldened by the liquor or the soft hazel of his eys, or the breadth of his shoulders when you whisper right into the peach fuzz covered shell of his ear, “He’s fucking my sister. Not me.”

He freezes, a soft, masculine sound rumbling deep in his chest before he clears his throat. He sets the glass down, and then slowly turns to face you, gripping your knee briefly as he spins on the barstool to bring your legs between the space of his spread thighs. He’s so thick everywhere. 

“Is that so?” The place on your legs where he’d gripped you burns and throbs and the other, softer place between your thighs drips and aches. You nod your head at him, temple resting in your palm propped on the edge of the bar. Ben walks by again, snagging your attention from Joel’s molten gaze, “Gimme permission to come over tonight?” he says as he passes. 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh after him, and you swear you feel the whisper of Joel’s touch on the curve of your bare knee again. When you turn to look back at him he’s staring down at you, a flush sitting high on his cheekbones. 

There’s something slightly bold or desperate or sad stirring inside of you, and you need to hear the sound of his voice. You wish you could make things better for him. You wish that perpetual look of grief didn’t sit so deeply embedded in his gaze all the time now. 

“You know that feeling of knowing someone, but not knowing them?” He asks you suddenly. “You and I, we’ve known each other for years. You were Sarah’s teacher, and she talked about you all the time – her last teacher – and I felt like I knew you, even though I didn’t really, not in a way that mattered, not in the way I would have liked, if I’m bein’ honest, but we knew each other peripherally. And I wanted you, all that time ago,” he laughs a boyishly shy little huff of laughter interrupting the rush of his confessed words, the crests of his cheeks flushing bright, “In that way you want someone you don't know but see all the time and want to know better. And now, it’s like… like we’re meeting again for the first time, but in a different way, in a way we’ve never met before, and yet you know so much about me already. You knew my daughter, spent time with her, you cared about her – it’s… I don’t really know what it is I’m trying to say, to be honest. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, another unsurely shy laugh, and you reach out to set your hand softly on his knee, rubbing the thick, muscular ball of it. It’s okay, you nod and shake your head at him at the same time. Confused also, with what you’re trying to convey, but knowing you want him to continue anyway. “You knew me before in a different way, and I’m not that man anymore. And I don’t know who I am now, or I’m beginning to relearn, but I’m not there just yet,” He trails off, and then softly: “Have you ever not known yourself?”

You tilt your chin slowly, watching the slow rove of the leftover tequila in the glass as you roll the base of it along the grain of the bar. “I’m… I’m not sure. Would it be very naive or arrogant or shallow to say, no? That I’ve always known myself, that even when I was lost or afraid, I was still certain of who I was, or at the very least, who I wanted to be? Like… like sometimes when you’re uncertain of the next step, or– or of what it is that you want to do next, but you still know the direction, maybe? Or what ending you’d like?” You give a brief huff of laughter, not really meaning to laugh, but expelling the air anyway, glancing down at where you’re still gripping his knee. He lays his own large paw over your much finer hand, calluses on his palm that you can feel on the back of your knuckles. “I think now we’re both, maybe, not making sense. But I think that sometimes happiness is only the peripheral thought, the peripheral ending, like obviously we all always want to end up happy. I was always open to the journey, open to the different avenues my life could take, but all I’ve ever wanted was for me and Anna, and then later, Ellie, to be okay, to be happy. Nothing else matters after that. The way I get there, the way I’d make it happen never mattered. Only that, in the end, we’re okay.”

“No… I know exactly what you mean.” His brow caves in on itself, “I know exactly what you mean because I failed at that. That was all I ever wanted too, and look at what I ended up with. She’s gone, I failed her.”

“But you didn’t, Joel,” you say with all the fervor you can pull from your heart, all the certainty you absolutely know that he’s wrong with. You bring your other hand to his other knee, leaning forward to make absolutely sure he’s understanding. “You can’t honestly say that. You’re right, I did know her, and that little girl was an exceedingly happy child. If anything, you were nothing but a triumph, and you need to hold on to that, and think of it every single day for the rest of your life. You were triumphant in that girl. Never forget it.  There is not even a shadow of failure in the memory of that child and the life she led.” And this does not seem like the appropriate environment to be having such a conversation, but you push on. His hand tightens over yours almost painfully, his blunt rough nails digging into your soft skin. “When she died – was she scared? Or peaceful?”

“She was so fucking brave,” he chokes. “She was so fucking brave. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in that heart. I’d swallowed all of it. I’d swallowed all the fear either of us could ever carry. She’s the one that held me while I fell to pieces. While I lied through my fucking teeth and told her it would be okay, that I’d be okay, that she could rest, she could go. And held me and tried to soothe me and told me she’d see me again one day, but not too soon. Eight years old, dying and comforting her father, cracking jokes. She was so fucking brave, and I’d promised her that we’d both be – that we’d both have courage and both get out of it, and in the end, I ended up being nothing but a goddamn liar.” And there are tears in his eyes, and maybe you shouldn’t and maybe you’re overstepping and maybe it’s the alcohol, but you lean forward in your barstool, that boldness and that desperation and that sadness pushing you along so that your knees are sliding further between his spread thighs to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him tightly to yourself, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, big hand coming up to cup the back of your head. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, even though you know the words are redundant. Even though he’s probably heard them an antagonizing amount of times. You are so sorry, and you have to tell him that you wish you could help him in some other way, that he’d not have to bear this alone, that he’d never have had to live it at all. I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m sorry that you lost your daughter, and I’m sorry you’re alone now, and I’m sorry we didn’t know each other better before, but maybe we can know each other now. I’d like to know you now more than anything else.

You feel the rattle of his wide back as he takes in a shaky breath, and you slide your hand soothingly up the broad expanse to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he laughs wetly into the warm space beneath your jaw, rolling his forehead against your shoulder, “I’m killing the mood,” and you feel the wet press of lips to the soft spot beneath your ear, right at the vulnerable hollow. Your heart stutters, and you shiver a syrupy sweet little jitter down the line of your vertebrae in the clutch of his arms, letting your head fall to the side to open yourself further to him, you smell good, whispered into your skin, but the two of you are sitting at the center of the crowded bar, industriously dedicated patrons hooting and hollering around you, and you can feel Anna’s nosey gaze zeroed into the back of your head so you pull away, letting your hand on the back of his head drag around along the edge of his jaw, fingernails pulling through the soft whiskers of his beard so that you can feel the snick, snick, snick of each bristle beneath your nail. 

“Let’s go outside,” you whisper, made only of boldness and desperation and want now. Wetness pooling at the center of you. 

He pulls back, and his hand slides to grip your jaw in his wide, rough hand. The architecture of you feels inconsequential and without strength or steel in his grasp. “For what?” Voice serious but also knowing, also provoking. 

“I wanna kiss you.” Might as well be honest now that you’ve got his hands on you.

“I think that if we go out there, I’m gonna do more than just kiss you. You prepared for that?”

“Yes, let’s go,” and you’re already pulling him out of his barstool before the words are even fully out. His hand goes to your elbow to steady you as your feet meet the ground, and you can’t help but give him a small laugh. “Are you okay?” Just making sure.

“Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart. Are you?” His gaze is so warm. 

“Yes.” And you can’t help but smile widely up at him. He gives you a huff of laugh through a half crooked smile that looks a little bit like the sliver of the moon when it’s nothing but a silver crescent in the sky, hand wrapping entirely around your bicep to tug you closer. You feel a little bit out of control when you slide your hand over his belly, and his eyes go immediately dark and molten, rubbing slowly up his chest. He makes a deep, rough sound, low in his throat. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He pulls you along behind him, and as you’re making your way together out the door, you hear the sound of Anna whooping and whistling loudly behind you right before the bar door slams shut. 

He tugs you along behind him, and then passes you gently in his hands to walk in front of him as he weaves through the crowded parking lot, his wide chest, smoldering hot through his clothes, pressed up against your back, big hands wrapped around the soft of your hips. You feel him nosing into the curtain of your hair, smelling you and humming appreciatively, and you realize that he’s steering you towards the back of the parking lot, his familiar truck tucked into the far dark corner, and you twist, suddenly, in his arms, walking backwards and reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands go to the small of your back, bunching your dress in his hands tightly so that you feel the humid night air against the uppermost backs of your thighs. The look in his eyes is so dark, so wanting, and he presses you tight against his chest, your breasts squished up against the hard planes of him. He’s not even looking where he’s going, and your feet are barely touching the ground anymore as you tiptoe backwards, guided by his embrace. One of his hands comes up to grip the curve of your jaw, and then you feel the side of the truck against your back. He hoists you higher up towards his mouth, “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and before you can even think about saying yes, yes, please, finally, he’s swallowing your breath in his mouth, eyes still slightly open to watch you as he does it, pushing his tongue into the wet gleam of you to taste everything you so desperately want to offer him. He nips at your full bottom lip, then laps at it soothingly, and you moan for him, head falling back on your neck to open further for him, cradled now in the palm of his hand. Your hands smooth down the sides of his neck and then curl to scrape your nails down his stomach, and he groans into you, one thick thigh shoving between your knees. One of his palms slides over your hip to grip the curve of your ass, the other coming up, gentle yet unyielding, to circle your throat and tip your chin up to him as he pulls back to look down at you. The hand on your ass tips your pelvis into his and pulls your core along the broad expanse of his thigh so that your pussy slowly rides the hard muscle, once, twice. “Joel–” you gasp. 

“Back seat,” he orders, tugging the truck door open and hoisting you inside. Are you really about to let this man fuck you in the back seat of his truck in a crowded parking lot? Yes, yes, you are. He follows in after you, and then slams the door shut behind him, encasing the both of you in this quiet, paused moment before he’s pulling you forward to straddle his lap, spreading his legs wide to widen your own stance perched atop him. You listen to the sound of your panting breaths as he runs his hands over your curves, squeezing and kneading as he goes, and you plant your palms on his strong chest, smoothing them down over his belly, reaching the line of his belt to tuck them inside, he growls low, leans forward to lick at your throat and you feel the tug of his fingers at the tie of your wrap dress, then the pull of the fabric as he bares you for his eyes. You pop the first few buttons of his shirt as his wet mouth moves down the thrumming line of your neck, over the wing of your clavicle to the tops of your breasts where he pulls back to take you in. You’re wearing a soft pink lace bra and a matching thong, and as his eyes move down the length of you, the fire already smoldering within seems to ricochet up to a burning inferno. There is something about the look in his eyes, compared to before, compared to the usual look, that is even more thrilling than just the fact of him gazing upon your naked body. He’s always so serious, melancholy and sad and straightforward, in a way. But taking him in like this, the way he’s looking at you now like he wants nothing more than to devour you, to push inside of you, it makes it all the headier. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you,” he murmurs, smoothes his hand over your breasts, thumb catching and flicking at your nipple, down the soft swell of your belly, stopping at the little bow at the front of your thong. He pushes the sleeve of your dress over one shoulder and tugs you forwards, you feel him lift the back of your dress over the curve of your bottom, his hand following the path of bared skin, taking in the tiny scap of lace disappearing between your asscheeks, and he makes a breathy, desperate sound, “Where the fuck are the rest of your panties, little girl?” He pinches the lush of your ass, smoothes his hand down and around to cup you between your legs, and you’re sure he can feel the soaking wet there because you listen to the sound of his gasp, and then he’s pressing there, seeking out your clit and rolling gentle circles to the swollen, throbbing nub. You run your hands up his chest into his hair, gripping there, pressing your nose into the thick curls to take in the scent of him and then running them down the heavy swell of his biceps. He’s so masculine, hard in all the places you’re soft, and wet, for him. His other hand grips your hip to pull you closer, rolling you onto the thick line of his erection, and oh God, he’s big. You can tell just like this, thick and long. Your hand moves to his belt buckle, pulling at the leather and the zipper of his jeans, and then you’re slipping your fingers beneath his boxers and wrapping around the thick heft of him. “Jesus, fuck–” he gasps. 

You fist him tightly, squeezing at the thick root of his cock and sliding up to the fat head to twist there gently. His fingers move beneath the line of your panties, finally making contact with your bare skin. 

“Fucking wet little cunt. Shit, you’re soaked for me, baby.” All you can do is moan as you pull him out of his jeans. He’s heavy in your palm and your mouth waters as you take in the sight of his big cock. Thick and long, wide, drooling head an angry red verging on purple. He hooks the gusset of your panties to the side and slides the underside of the shaft through your swollen lips, pressing the fat tip to your clit, and then sliding along your slit to catch softly at your opening. “Joel, please–” you moan. The head of his cock catches again and again, and you’re so wet, coating his thick length in your slick. He reaches to pull both cups of your bra down, exposing your breasts to his gaze and when his mouth latches onto one peaked nipple, sucking sharply, his other hand wrapping around the heavy weight of your other breast you cry out, fingernails digging into his thick shoulders. You use your grip on his shoulders to drag yourself along the length of his shaft while he sucks and nips at your breasts, pulling back to gently slap the full side of one, sending a jerking shiver through you while he watches how it jiggles and sways for him. “Shit, you’re too fuckin’ pretty,” he groans, and you’re about to come just from this, just the feeling of his thick cock sliding through the lips of your sex, and you tell him so, wet mouth presses to the arch of his ear, you tell him you’re about to come, but he changes the angle, presses his hips up and then the tip of his cock is breaching the dripping mouth of your cunt, stretching you wide to take him and you both pant and gasp, burying your face in his neck as one wide hand presses at the base of your spine, forcing you to take more of that impossible length. You feel the pinch and snap of your thong around your hips as he rips the scrap of lace off of you, and you think you must shake your head or something, make some soft sound because he tuts his tongue in a gentle reprimand, “All of it, baby. The whole thing.” He squeezes your breast, strums at your nipple, presses a feather light kiss to the hinge of your jaw, and you feel your cunt flutter around him, sucking him deeper so that he can wedge that thick cock further inside of you. “Yeah… Fuck, yeah. Just like that, good girl. You asked for this, sweet girl.” You hitch and sob into his neck, clawing at his shoulders as he finally forces you down all the way onto him, buried balls deep in your weeping, fluttering pussy. “Now you’ve gotta take the whole thing, no cryin’” He sounds like he’s spitting the words through clenched teeth, struggling to get them out despite the demand of them. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers, “Taking my big cock in this tiny little cunt.” He kisses your ear, your throat, pulls back to suck on your nipples, all while his hands on your ass start to rock you on his length, working you loose and wet and pliant. 

“Fuck– fuck, Joel–” 

“I know, I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? But you can take it– deep breath, you can take it.” He fucks up into you, holding your hips steady as he feeds you his cock over and over again, and you drip down onto his balls and the leather seat beneath. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Tell me–”

“It’s so– it’s so good. Wanted it so bad–” you slur, wet cheek pressed to his shoulder, you mouth at his neck, little teeth digging into the thick line of muscle so that he’s growling, thrusting up quick and a little painful into your cunt, tip punching right at your cervix. 

“Lemme see you– I’ve gotta see you,” he says suddenly and presses you back. You reach back to plant your hands on his spread knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. His gaze is almost manic, licking over your skin, your bouncing tits as he fucks up into you, the swell of your tummy glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, down finally to the place where he’s fucking in and out of your swollen, blushed cunt, stretched obscenely around the base of him. “You’re so goddamned lucky we’re in a car right now,” he growls. He jerks you back into him, both hands squeezing your ass in each palm and rolling you hard and fast onto his impaling cock, your swollen clit presses into his pelvis on every thrust in, and you feel your cunt pull tight and then go loose as you start to come around him. Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes – just like that. His cock kissing your g-spot with every press inside. You sob into his neck, pull at his hair, scratch at his shoulders and neck as you gush around him. 

He surges up then, orgasm not entirely abated, and flips you over onto your back, laying you down on the truck’s bench. He pulls his dripping cock out of your still grasping clutch to kneel down on the floorboard, hulking form entirely too large to fit in the tight space, and drags the broad, flat of his tongue through your drenched sex, tasting the echoes and throbs of your climax, sucking your clit and your come into his mouth while you sob up into the roof of his truck. He pushes your knees up to your chest, displaying you for himself entirely and devours you. “Fuck, there ain’t enough room in this fuckin’ truck to eat your cunt the way I need to,” his accent suddenly heavier, a sharper twang cutting off the end of his words, lost to the taste of you and the feel of you and the scent of you. You lean up onto your elbows, sweaty face burning bright hot with shyness as you take in the sight of his mouth wrapped around your clit, lapping at your leaking sex. He looks up at you, reaches up to wrap one hand around your breast, one of your legs is hanging down the length of his back over his shoulder, the other hooked at the bend of his elbow to keep you open and spread wide for him, and the two of you hold gazes for a moment. His eyes flash with something… different to desire or lust, something more in tune with whatever it is that’s happening here between the two of you right now, something more than just a quick fuck. You whisper his name, and his eyes flash again, predatory and desperate, and he’s pushing up, the wet sound of his mouth unlatching from your pussy and crawling back up onto the seat bench, pressing his slick wet mouth to yours and licking into you, sloppy. “Taste–” he orders, he pulls back, fists the root of his cock and feeds it back into your gaping cunt, “That’s what it tastes like when you come for me.” His voice is a growl, something like a commandment or a promise, something else that hums beneath the mere words, something that says this is happening again, I need this to happen again, I’ve wanted this longer than I can say. He fucks into the very end of you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, let him maneuver and manhandle you to his liking so that both of your ankles lay limply over his shoulders, pressed entirely in half for him to pound into you. 

“Open your fucking eyes,” he pants. “Look at me,” he begs. You do, and you watch a bead of sweat roll slowly down his temple, over the curve of his jaw to the point of his chin, and then drip and splash down onto the swell of your breast, seep into your skin. 

He’s so deep like this, right at the heart of you, and it hurts and it feels good and you can’t help but think about the next time already, hope that this can happen again. “Yes, Joel,” you gasp, “Please, don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He grits, lifting one hand to hold on to the edge of the window above your head, the other gripping at your ass to pull you onto him harder. “Yeah, just like that– Taking me so well, baby. Taking the whole thing like such a good girl.” He’s so big, maybe too big, and he pounds into your cunt, forces you to take the entire thing, thick thighs bracketing your frame, cock punching at your womb over and over again. You feel cock drunk, Joel drunk, and you turn your face to press into the back of the seat crying, telling him you’re about to come again. 

“God, yes, yes, you’re such a good girl. Come on my cock again, one more time for me.” His thrusts speed up, harsher, stronger and he’s saying your name while you sob out his, while you leak around him. “Hey,” he grips your jaw, gives your head a little shake, “Hey, baby– you gotta tell me where. Where can I come? Inside? Can I come inside?” It sounds, a little bit, like he’s beginning. 

You nod your head, yes, gaze delirious, unfocused, the swell of his anchoring bicep is so thick and distracting, and you start to milk his thrusting cock inside of you, muscles squeezing tight, fluttering loose – please, please, please, come inside of me, please, I want it so bad. He groans, grits a curse, your name, something that sounds like gratitude, and then he’s filling you, thick cock kicking and jerking and spitting his come right at the mouth of your womb, inciting your own orgasm to throb again, again, harder, deeper. 

-

He drops his head to the damp crook of your shoulder, takes in the heady scent of your sweat and sex, licks a path up the side of your throat. He’s careful not to ask you to bear the full, heavy weight of him, and he pulls his hips back, shivering at the sensitive slide of his spent cock falling from your wet cunt. He sits back, grasps your knees to keep you spread and watches the flutter and clench of your hole as the thick white leak of his spend starts to drool out of you. He gives a low, appreciative hum, and then bends forwards to press his face into your tummy, nuzzling there softly. Your hands come to his hair, panting chest heaving, and he mouths and sucks at the skin of your stomach, the undersides of your breasts as you both catch your breaths. He looks up, then, suddenly, a thought occurring to him, “You’re going to have dinner with me, right?” Voice a little frantic. 

You give him a slow, lovely smile, eyes sparkling, “Think we’ve gone and done things a little out of order here, haven’t we?”

He frowns in mock severity, then presses his face back into your tummy, another soft kiss, and shakes his head slowly, “No,” another kiss, this one to your hip, “Not at all. This morning counts as breakfast together.” He looks up to give you a quick, boyish grin. “How I see it, that’s actually an extreme dedication to order. Breakfast, sex, dinner.”

You sigh, laugh softly, “You know… I’m actually a little hungry right now,” you say contemplatively.

“Burgers? Fries?”

“Milkshake?”

“Well, we’ve gotta have somethin’ to dip ‘em in, right?”

“Of course.” Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him up towards your mouth, “You’re so smart.”

“Very true. You’ve gotta stick with me now, I’ll teach you everything I know.” A kiss, another and another. 

He rests his face back on your belly, looking up at you, and you run the pad of your thumb over the fan of his lashes, and he feels so happy. 

-

It’s been months since then… and still even now, when he looks at you, all he knows is that he’s sure you saved his fucking life. 

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[3nni3]

What happens in teledisko, stays in teledisko...

cw: +18, nsfw, rpf, consumption of alcohol, smut (handjob), cursing, lowkey exhibitionism. f! reader

a/n: when the idiots get an idea for a story, i make it happen. this is my first smut i've ever published, and english isn't my first language, but i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this. also if you find any mistakes, no you didn't 😅

no word count because idfk i wrote this in my phone's notes app👍🏻 kinda short one

okay let's go

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

The night had started out with getting drinks at the nearest Späti. You two had been wandering around Berlin for a few hours now, getting drinks at every corner store. After seven different spätis, and six beers (one stop was to get a bottle of water, even though the tall man who accompanied you wasn't that excited about your drink of choice) you started feeling tipsy and tired.

Sightseeing in Berlin was amazing, but tiring. You felt the energy being drained from your body and ready to return to your hotel, but the man who was sat next to you in this tram had other ideas.

--

"Found it!" he basically dragged you after him, holding your hand gently but firmly as you approached the teledisco booth. This was a mutual agreement earlier today, before you felt too tired, but your time together was getting closer to an end so you pushed past the exhaustion and enjoyed the moment.

You stop in front of the screen to choose a song, and he stands next to you, his hands now in his pockets.

Scrolling through the music lists, looking for the perfect one, you find something. "Can we do Gimme Gimme Gimme by ABBA?" you ask and press the button, without waiting for an answer. He grabs you by your shoulders and pushes you in the booth, closing the door behind him laughing.

The first notes of Gimme Gimme Gimme starts playing, lights flash and the vibe is intense. You scream out the lyrics together, your arms against each other as you feel the beat of the music in your body.

The space is small, not much air left between you two as you glance up at him, noticing his eyes on you, the hot air in the booth making him sweat and his face glisten. 'He looks so fucking hot' you think to yourself as you suddenly get pressed against the wall, startled. His chest is flush against yours as he gently tilts your head up, feeling his breath against your lips as you look him in the eyes.

"You're gonna be the death of me..." his voice is a whisper, but loud enough for you to hear. He captures your lips in a heated kiss, the music fading in the background as you feel his tongue brush against your lower lip. The intensity of the moment drowns your thoughts and your mind gets blurry. The blonde man's hands explore your body as yours find their way to his hair, pulling slightly as he moans against your lips. That must be the most gorgeous sound you have ever heard. You pull away to breathe, he smiles against your lips as the song nears it's end and you hear the last chords of it playing.

"Another song or do we get the fuck out of here?" he asks smirking. You push him away, laughing, as you pass him and step out of the booth, going back to the screen to choose another song. Joost stands behind you, and you feel him take a step closer. His chest pressing up against your back and you feel lips on your neck, making your breath shaky. Shaking him off of you, you open the door to the booth. "Ladies first," you joke as he rolls his eyes laughing, entering the booth.

Stepping in the booth after him as Call Out My Name by The Weeknd starts playing, and everything feels like a fever dream. Beautiful man in front of you, smiling his charming smile, you both surrounded by music and flashing lights.

"So this was your song of choice huh?" his voice low as he presses you against a wall once again. You feel his hand dragging down from your chest, over your stomach, to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up as his fingers trace your inner thigh. Whimpers leave your mouth as he grins at you, pressing his lips slowly against yours.

"What's up with all the teasing?" you ask, pulling away for a moment, playing with the buckle of his belt, and it opens...accidentally? Oops. Your fingers find their way to the waistband of his boxers, sliding ever so slightly underneath it. As a shaky moan escapes his lips, he laughs quietly, his eyes closed and his head slightly tilted back, mouth staying open. You slide your hand a bit further and his eyebrows furrow as he whimpers, begging for any kind of friction with the desperate sounds leaving his mouth. He drags his hand up your thigh, thumb getting dangerously close to your heat, turning the tables as you're now the one who's desperately trying to hold back the whining.

"Oh so this is how you wanna play?" you smirk as you slide your hand fully in his boxers, placing your fingers firmly around his length as your thumb brushes over the tip. He lets out a loud moan, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the beautiful sounds as you stroke him up and down. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut and his concentration drifting away enough so he drops his other hand down from your thigh, fully at your mercy now.

"You sure you wanna keep doing this here?" you ask as he moans again. "I truly do not give a fuck." he answers with his head still tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. You grin and move your hand faster, as he grabs your shoulders to gain some kind of balance. As if it wouldn't be hard enough to maintain your own balance with how tipsy you are, you now need to hold up the man who's literally towering over you. His head falls forward on your shoulder as your thumb brushes over his tip again.

"I'm not gonna last much longer, liefde..." he lets out a chuckle, but not amused one. More like an 'embarrassed about how strongly he reacts to your touch' one. Proud smile creeps up on your lips as you try to hold the man up while he moans shakily in your ear. "The song isn't that long either." you remind him, and the exciting realisation hits you both that anyone could open the door any second and see this all.

You feel yourself getting more wet by every moan he lets out, every breath you feel against your neck. He presses his mouth on the soft skin of your neck, nibbling as he tries to muffle out his begging whimpers. You work your hand up and down, earning more and more beautiful sounds that get louder by every stroke.

You feel him twitch in your grip, his teeth on your neck making sure there's going to be a mark to remind you of this later. "Don't stop... please liefje, please don't stop," his weak words can be heard repeatedly against your neck as your strokes get faster and faster. His hips thrust up to meet the movement of your hand, chasing the high. The last chorus of the song starts playing in the background and your hand works it's magic on his length, feeling the twitching again.

With a final few strokes you feel your hand being coated by his warm release. High pitched whimpers leave his mouth, turning into breathless chuckles as his forehead remains rested on your shoulder. "Fuck...liefde..." he tries to catch his breath, "you're insane..." he finally manages to mumble, still chuckling, as he lifts his head up from your shoulder to meet your eyes.

You laugh, pulling your hand out of his pants and fixing his belt as the song's final chords fade out. He opens the door, places a soft kiss on your lips and steps out as you walk behind him, wiping your hand to a tissue you found in your purse.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

CW: incel-like behavior

WIBTA if I brought up a topic from our group chat to my therapist?

Important background: this story does not take place in the US and everyone (except my therapist) is autistic. Names are fake in case anyone from the story uses tumblr for some reason. English is not my first language.

Six years ago, my therapist convinced me to join a therapy group organised by her. The idea behind the group is to help autistic people like myself get better at social interactions, managing our emotions, things like that. It’s been quite fun, and I enjoy the monthly sessions.

My therapist encourages us to talk to each other and meet up in between and/or after sessions, so we have a group chat for that. In that group chat, we essentially talk about whatever we want without the fear of being judged. Last couple of days we had, let’s say, an unfortunate conversation.

One of the members (Peter, 20sM) went on a rant about a girl who rejected him in favor of some ugly guy (we never got to see pictures of said guy) and that he felt “betrayed” and began believing he won’t “find any woman who will love him”. Some of us consoled him, saying that it sucks but he should focus on other things he enjoys to cope/move on. Another member (John, 19M), however, gave him “advice” which sounded a lot like incel talking points – how most women are selfish and superficial, how he’d need to be tougher/more selective to find “one of the good ones”, things like that.

There are 4 girls in the group chat including me, and none of us said anything regarding that (we sort of pretended that didn’t happen). Neither did the 8 other guys. Personally for me, I didn’t feel safe doing so because I’ve had a bad experience with a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I decided to just not talk about it and block both Peter and John. I don’t know how the other girls felt about that conversation because they didn’t talk about it with me.

I’m thinking about bringing this topic up the next time I have solo therapy (after this post is up, at least). I’m worried I won’t be well received for two reasons:

1) My therapist has explicitly said she doesn’t care about what we do in the group chat and we should solve problems ourselves.

2) Other members will find out about this and accuse me of leaking information and generally being hostile towards me.

WIBTA if I brought up this conversation to my therapist anyway?

[secretlysamcro]

Kuttes & Bruises 🐦‍⬛

Female reader x Jax Teller

💀 - DV! talk of DV, Violence, Swearing, SMUT SMUT SMUT: If you’re under the age of 18, easily offended or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request:

“Hello, I have an idea. I was thinking that the reader at first is in an abusive relationship and her boyfriend makes a mistake of trying to hit her public. Jax who was parked nearby, comes to the aid of reader. Jax offers reader to live with him as a roommate till she can get on her feet and she agrees. During that time reader gets a new job and Jax develops feelings for her. One day she tells Jax that she made enough money to move out. This makes Jax heart break little and He tell her to staying with him along with his feelings”

Back story:

For two long years, you found yourself trapped in this relationship with your boyfriend. Displaying the perfect relationship, yet behind closed doors your boyfriend’s actions revealed a violent side. Leaving your body marked with cuts and bruises that you desperately concealed from the world. However, unbeknownst to the both of you, today was the last day he’d ever lay hands on you again.

Jax listens closely to the escalating exchange between yourself and your boyfriend, his senses on high alert. His Harley is parked just a few spaces away. Close enough for him to catch the heated conversation between you both. Every word, every tone and every subtle change in your voice and demeanour is observed by Jax as he keeps a watchful eye on the unfolding scene.

You find yourself trapped in the passenger seat beside your boyfriend, a barrage of accusations being thrown and shouted at you as he falsely accuses you of looking at other men.

“He let me pass, I just said thank you” You respond, your voice very monotone.

The windows are down, the volume of his voice not being controlled in the slightest. No doubt in your mind that anyone in close proximity can hear this turbulent exchange.

As your boyfriend’s words fade into a background noise, you feel the boiling anger within you reaching its breaking point. The constant accusations, the verbal assaults, the physical assaults, every little thing within your relationship has pushed you to the edge and you can feel yourself about to erupt.

His voice thunders through your mental fog, snapping you back to reality. “Are you fucking listening to me?” he says, his tone harsh and demanding attention. You find yourself reconnecting to the present moment.

“If you weren’t so fucking insecure, maybe you-“ your seethed words were immediately cut off. The sudden shock of the impact sets your head spinning, the ringing in your ears growing louder as you register the pain that your boyfriend had conflicted, once again.

In that exact moment, Jax had witnessed it all. He saw how hard your boyfriend’s hand connected with your face. It caused him to feel an intense boiling anger, surging through each and every vein in his body. Without any hesitation, he jumps off his bike with a fierce determination to defend you.

Before you’re able to react, the drivers side door is swung open and your boyfriend is pulled out onto the sidewalk by a blur of movement. Loud thuds and punches fill the air as the unknown man strikes him from various angles. The sounds of your boyfriends pained grunts and cries for help filling your ears, a dark sense of satisfaction begins to creep over you.

Jax stops immediately as he becomes aware of your presence, hovering just above him. He lifts his free hand to sweep back the unruly strands of hair that have fallen across his face, as he maintains a firm hold on your boyfriend with the other hand. “You okay?” Is all he can manage to say right now, the concern for your well being hanging in the air.

You move your head side to side, in a slow defeated way as you silently confirm to Jax that you’re far from okay. Your boyfriend, who is still under Jax’s weight witnesses this. “Stupid bitch” he says, spitting out flecks of blood that stain his mouth.

He glances down and notices the patches on Jax’s vest, realising the unpredictable situation that he’s in. He then manages to break free, in a desperate bid to escape he suddenly frees himself from Jax’s grasp, pushing him away, only to make a frantic escape to the car. He swiftly reverses, narrowly avoiding hitting you and Jax in the process before he accelerates away. Jax with his quick reflexes, quickly pulls you out of harms way causing you to both end up sprawled on the floor together.

As Jax rises to his feet, he offers a helping hand to ensure you find your balance as well. “What’s your name darlin’?” He questions, his voice carries a hint of concern and also warmth as he attempts to soothe your unsettled nerves.

"Y/N" you respond. He smiles warmly as he leads you to a nearby bench, moving with calm and purpose. He tells you that his name is Jackson, but everyone calls him Jax. "Does he always treat you that way?" Jax questions as he attempts to untangle the history of your relationship. You nod slowly, feeling the gravity of your situation resting heavy between you as you sit down next to each other. He shakes his head in disbelief at your answer and you can almost see the anger physically building on his face. It makes you wonder why he is so concerned about you, someone he doesn't even know.

The tears you were managing to hold back, creep out silently as you see the reaction Jax had. You do your best to hide the tears that are betraying your usual strong facade.

"He does this a lot?" Jax says, looking at you intently, waiting for your answer. You nod again, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. He shakes his head harder this time, the anger flickering across his face as he mutters cursed about your boyfriend under his breath, his frustration evident. Jax glances down at his bloody and bruised hands, twisting his 'SO' ring nervously. You cant help but feel a twinge of guilt for the injuries he has sustained because of yourself and your boyfriend.

"Thanks for that..." you manage to mutter, paired with a small smile despite the pain. He smirks back, a slight glint of mischief in his eyes. "Don't thank me... I should have done a lot more than throw a few punches" he replies, wiping his hands on his jeans as he slowly rises to his feet. It feels a bit strange of him to ask, but with your jerk of a boyfriend having abandoned you, he decided to extend an offer. "I can give you a ride home... you know, if you need one?” he suggests, hoping you'll accept.

"I, um... no, I cant... I don't want to go home yet. I don't want to see him... ever" you reply, your voice confident that this will be the last time. "You can drop me to a nearby motel though... if you don't mind?" you add, not wanting to turn down Jax's offer of help.

Immediately, Jax's expression shifts to one of concern. "A motel? are you sure..." he asks, clearly uneasy with the thought of you being alone in a rundown motel, especially in the shaken state that you're currently in.

"Look, I err... I have a spare room at my clubhouse, you're more than welcome to stay there for a few nights, you know to get yourself back on your feet, figure out your next move, or whatever" he offers, aware that it might come off as a bit forward since you've just met.

He catches the small flicker of wariness in your eyes and laughs softly, the sound easing the tension that currently hangs in the air. "Don't worry," he says, as a reassuring grin spreads across his face. He begins to tell you about the motorcycle club that he leads. You can tell how passionate he is about it with the way he speaks. "You'll be safe there, no matter what" he assures you.

"Okay" You agree, a flutter of nervousness settles in yours stomach, but the thought of returning to your abusive (now ex) boyfriend sends a cold shiver down your spine. The promise of safety sounding too tempting to turn down.

The moment you agree to stay at the clubhouse, you can see a tiny spark of excitement light up Jax's eyes. Jax feels a sense of relief as he knows you wont be heading back into harms way. "Alright, just give me a second" he says, pulling out his phone. "Just need to make a quick call, then we'll head out" The confidence in his voice, reassures you, making this small leap into the unknown feel a little less daunting.

The line picks up, and Jax starts talking straight away. "Yeah, Mom, i need you to tidy up the dorm a little, okay?" He rolls his eyes like a teenager being scorned. "Jesus christ Mom... can you just do it... please?" His voice carries an assertive edge, clearly used to navigating these sorts of conversations. "Im just helping out someon-... a friend.... Alright, ok, thanks mom" He hangs up.

[5 months later]

"Jax!" you shout, racing down the stairs from Jax's spare room, which you now call your room. "I got the job!" you shout again, even louder.

In the kitchen, Jax freezes, the carton of orange juice halfway to his lips. His eyes widen in surprise, and then a grin stretches across his face as he hears your good news. "Ahh, Darlin', I knew you would!" he calls out to you, rising to meet you as you rush into the kitchen. Before you even make it fully into the kitchen, Jax wraps you in a comforting embrace, a wave of pride within him. His heart flutters slightly as you squeeze him tighter, unaware that the same butterflies are dancing in your stomach too.

You settle into your chair at the kitchen table, with Jax taking a seat across from you. You chat about your upcoming job, discussing the role, the hours you'll be doing and more. "...and once I save up, I’m gonna start looking for my own place" You laugh slightly as you look up at Jax "finally get out of your way..." Your words land on him like a ton of bricks. "you're not in the way" Jax reassures you, his usually steady voice carrying a trace of worry.

Your stay in the clubhouse dorm was short lived - just under two weeks. Jax had introduced you to most of the guys and some of his family, and you fit right in, getting along with everyone, especially Jax's mom, Gemma, which was a rare occurrence.

In fact, it was actually Gemma who suggested you move in with Jax. She had caught the whispers among some other club members, who were frustrated that they could no longer use the dorm to hide the nights they shared with the crow eaters from their wives.

Gemma also noticed how much calmer Jax seemed with you around. Though she didn't know you well, he had shared some details of the circumstances in which you both met, and Gemma, having walked many paths in her own life, understood your situation and therefor felt a connection to you.

Once you agreed, you provided Jax with the address of the house you used to share with your ex. He took Happy along, and together they gathered your things. Happy, living up to his name, helped Jax to give your ex more than just a mild goodbye...let’s just say he wont ever be able to put his hands on another woman again and Happy has gained a new smiley face tattoo.

The first few days living with Jax were a bit awkward as you both navigated each other’s routines but by the end of the first week, everything fell into place. From the outside, it would be hard to believe you were just two strangers, it was as if you had known each other for a very long time.

Jax furrows his brows, wanting to make sure you understand exactly what he is saying. "Seriously y/n, You kind of ground me…I’m a better person with you around" he admits, aware of how vulnerable he sounds in this moment. You tilt your head slightly, drawn in by the sincerity in his voice. A small smile tugs at your lips, mirroring the familiar smirk that Jax also has.

"You know I could never thank you enough for everything you've done for me... but I've got to get back on my own two feet..." Jax sits up straighter in his chair, a look of discomfort crossing his face at the thought of you moving out.

Though the smirk lingers on your lips, your voice takes on a more serious tone. “You can’t expect me to stay here forever.” Without missing a beat, Jax replies, his stance unmoved. “But what if that’s what I want?”

“What do you mean?” You murmur, wondering if this conversation is steering in the direction of which you desire. His words echo again, “what if I don’t want you to leave?” This time, he sounds more confident. His tone assertive as if he knows exactly what he wants.

“Well… then I’d ask you why” you respond, maintaining your composure but sounding curious at the same time, as you stand up from your chair and lean against the kitchen counter, now closer to Jax.

As he turns to face you, a coy smile plays on his lips. “Then I’d have to confess a few things” The air thickening with anticipation.

You can feel your eagerness growing as you chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiously waiting to hear these unspoken confessions. “Oh really?” You tease, “Things like?” The words leaving your lips, a slight touch of neediness.

Jax rises from his seat, his towering frame overshadowing you. He takes a step closer, the heat between you growing more intense as the seconds pass. “Like this” he says, his voice deep and low as he leans in closer, leaving a kiss on your exposed neck.

He pulls away slowly, your gaze following his every move, your body craving more - so much more. “Wanna hear the rest?” He whispers, seeking your confirmation before carrying on. You nod desperately giving Jax the green light. With your agreement, he moves closer to you once more. His body now pressing against yours.

His movements are slow and deliberate as he lifts his hands to your face, gently cupping you in his palms. The cold touch of his rings against your skin is a huge contrast to the heat he’s causing you to feel inside. The kiss starts off slow and gentle. His hands moving to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You smile into the kiss, feeling that one wayward strand of hair that Jax always has out of place brushing against your forehead.

“What took you so long?” You say playfully, knowing this moment was bound to happen sooner or later. “Fuck knows” he laughs, as the kiss becomes more intense.

His hands travel down to your shorts, his fingers slipping under the waist band. He keeps his gaze locked on yours, constantly seeking permission and reassurance with each touch, making sure that you’re completely comfortable with his actions.

The sensation of his touch against your body causes your breath to catch in your throat. “Fuck, y/n you’re so fucking wet” he mumbles into your neck, his words making your clit throb as you coat his fingers with your desire. He groans deeply as he begins to explore further, feeling you react to his every touch.

Your eyes shift down to his lower half, where you notice his reaction taking place. His hard, growing cock is clearly visible, straining against the fabric of his loose grey sweatpants. You can’t help but let out a little whimper as you instinctively grind your body against him. The need and desire is driving you wild. You can feel every inch of him, pressed against you, as you can’t help but imagine how it would feel having him inside you right now.

He continues kissing and sucking at your neck as he teases you with the light, sensual circles of his thumb against your clit. Giving you that warm pool in the pit of your stomach.

You softly pull at the back of his head, encouraging him to stop the kisses for a moment. When he does, you look deeply into his eyes and utter the 3 words he’s been dying to hear. “I need you”.

His eyes widen at the words as he removes his hand from your soaked pussy. He grins as he sees the sight of your desire left on his fingers. He brings them to his lips, tasting them as he imagines all the things to come. “Mhmm” his voice raspy, “You taste so fucking good” his eyes beaming at the sight of the wetness you've left on his fingers. You take his hand and use your tongue to clean off the remaining moisture, making a show of tasting yourself on his skin. His eyes darken and a low growl rolls from his chest. He swallows hard, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you taking pleasure in this act, he can’t help but to act on his desperation.

With a swift and powerful movement, Jax bends you over the table, sending the open carton of orange juice spilling on the ground. He pulls your shorts and panties down with a rough tug exposing you to the cool air. He quickly kicks off his sweatpants and boxers. Your face is forced down into the cold, hard surface of the table as you feel your wrist locked in his firm grip and he pins them behind your back with one hand. You’re finally experiencing the raw power that Jackson Nathaniel Teller possesses.

He lets a bit of saliva fall free from his mouth and onto his other hand, rubbing his thick cock back and forth, getting ready to push it into you. He taps it gently on the mound of your ass, before you feel his weight lay into you, your arms still pinned beneath him. “Ready for me? y/n” his lips brush against your ear, he already knows the answer, but you still let out a little “hmm hmm” anyway. You feel his weight shift off you slightly, anticipating his next move. He begins teasing you with his cock, gliding it between your dampened lips as you silently beg him to enter. Just when you think can’t take it anymore, he finally pushes himself inside of you with a single, strong movement, filling and stretching you to a point where you can’t hold in your moans, even if you tried.

“Fuck, Jax” you moan out, your cheek grazing at the table as your body adjusts to his girth and length. Your hands clench into fists as he pushes you to the edge of insanity, your desperate to cling onto the sides of the table for support, instead you find yourself at the mercy of Jax’s firm grip, holding you into place with a level of control that both excites and thrills you.

His voice is strained and breathless. “Mhm, f-fuck y/n” he manages to let out between gasps. “Tell me…” he tries to say, struggling to form a coherent sentence as he keeps up his relentless rhythm. “Ughhh fuck…” he swiftly pushes his hair out of his face, his locks sticking to his sweaty forehead as he continues to pound into you. “Tell me you’re gonna stay”. He manages to let out, over the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the kitchen. There’s a hint of pleading in his voice, alongside the obvious pleasure he’s feeling. He wants, no, needs reassurance from you, needs to hear that you plan on staying with him.

You fully surrender to him, sinking deeper into the pleasure and give in to his dominance. Your moans are muffled by the table as you understand what he truly wants - you to be his. As the pleasure becomes more intense, you utter the words “I’m gonna sta…” But before you can finish, jax loosens his grip on your wrist, finally allowing you to be free, but instead pulls tightly onto your hair, lifting your face slightly off the table, wanting to hear every sound that escapes your lips with out any obstacles in the way. “Tell me darlin’… say it!” his voice takes on a deeper, possessive tone as he demands to hear your reassurance.

“…I’m gonna…c-c” you become completely undone beneath him. Your body jerks and wriggles as your bruised, wet walls massage him in response to your pleasure. Jax can feel himself wanting to let go too, but he prolongs it just a little longer. He wants you to experience your own release first, before he allows himself the same pleasure. He continues to move against you, his movements becoming more unsteady and erratic as his own need to release builds up.

His hands, now moved from your hair, form a steady but careful grip around the front of your neck, holding you in place as he digs deeper into you, the sensations overwhelming you both. “That’s it baby girl, come for me” are the last words he manages to say, through short, rugged breaths.

With a quick, but reluctant motion, he pulls his engorged length out from inside you. He hovers over you as he begins stroking himself. You and your pussy already missing how full he makes you feel.

He aims with precision as you feel the warmth and stickiness of his cum land all over your back, Jax grunting as he speaks “yeah… yeah…y/n…fuuuck”.

You look over your shoulder to see his face twisting in undeniable pleasure, a sight you could get used to.

The room falls silent, as jax crashes down on your back. Both of you taking a moment to catch your breaths as you regain your composure after that heated, intense moment. Jax finally lifts himself off of you, his body now sweaty and glistening alongside yours.

He picks his sweatpants off the floor and uses them to clean up all traces of him that linger on your body, taking his time to ensure it’s all gone, before wiping the cum off his own stomach and chest.

You finally peel yourself away from the table, turning round to face Jax as he pulls you closer by your hips. His voice is a bit shaky, a hint of nervousness despite the intensity of the previous moment. “So…” he begins, uncertainty and vulnerability still in his tone. “So… I guess I’m staying” you say, your quiet laugh filling the air, signalling your agreement to what you’ve just committed to.

The familiar, sly smirk appears back on Jax’s face as he playfully suggests “I mean, I can always convince you again” he teases, cocking his head slightly clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “I don’t doubt that, Teller” you respond teasingly.

He reaches for his boxers, slipping them back on and handing your shorts to you as you do the same. He then takes a seat at the table, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and lighting one up.

You move around and stand next to him, asking, "So what? Am I like your old lady now?" with a mocking tone, poking fun at the term "old lady" that Jax had introduced you to before. He chuckles slightly at your question, knowing the underlying meaning behind it.

Jax knows that you need clear confirmation before making this step to a significant change in your life. He inhales deeply before responding.

“Yeah, you are” he finally answers back fast and with confidence.

The smoke swirling around him as his eyes meet yours. He gives a little nod, confirming your status as Jax Tellers old lady.

[one year later]

“You ready sweetheart?” Gemma’s voice breaks the silence in the room as she carefully adjusts the veil on your head. You turn to face the mirror, taking a moment to admire yourself in your wedding dress - a day you never thought would happen. You take a deep breath and look at yourself one final time, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I’m ready” you let out in a confident, soft whisper.

Jax stands at the altar, alongside his best friend Opie. He notices Jax’s nervous behaviour and asks “You nervous?”Jax can’t help but fidget in place, scanning the surroundings ahead of him, anxiety and excitement written all over his face. Opie reassures him with a firm pat on the shoulder, trying to calm his nerves.

“You know it’s gonna be okay brother” he says “she’s the one for you man, we all know it… so do you”. The confidence and trust in Opies words is present, and Jax is able to draw strength from them.

The ceremony as a whole was truly beautiful, filled with little details that represented you both as a couple. Emotions ran high especially when you both said you “I do’s” with a few tears shed and a room full of love and complete support.

You and Jax manage to steal a quiet moment together, tucked away in the corner of the after party. After a day of being the centre of attention, it’s a relief to have a moment in peace, just the two of you, the newlyweds.

“What was that little thing you and Ope did there?” You smile, ear to ear. “I promise to treat you as good as my leather, and ride you as much as my Harley” Jax laughs as he repeats the phrase, the creases around his eyes deepen as he smiles at you, the love in his look is undeniable. “Another one of our traditions” he says, as he traces small patterns against your bare arm with his thumb.

“I love you so fucking much y/n” he confesses, his voice filled with emotion and his eyes welling up slightly. “The both of you” his hand instinctively moving to caress your stomach, the secret you both share adding an extra layer of special to the moment.

“Jackie boy!” Chibb’s voice calls out. Jax moves his hand discreetly from your stomach. But the sharp eyed scotsman catches the subtle movement. He walks towards you both slowly. “Your Mothers needing you in the photo booth” he lets Jax know whilst giving you a knowing wink, a silent acknowledgment of what he’s just observed.

[four and a half years later]

You sit on the floor, drawing pictures with your eldest son Abel. Baby Harley is sat in her bouncer quietly observing. You glance over at Abel’s drawing.

“What are you drawing baby?” You ask, a small smile on your lips. “I’m drawing our family mommy… there’s you, see, and then me and daddy and that one is Harley” the sweet innocence in his voice tugs at your heartstrings, a beautiful representation of the family that you and Jax have created together.

Abel glances up at you, a curious expression on his face. “Mommy… where did you and Daddy find eachother?” He asks, as he continues moving the crayon across the page waiting for your response.

You take in a deep breath as your thoughts drift back to that very morning, the day that you and Jax had unexpectedly crossed paths, his presence changing your life in ways you never could have imagined.

You smile, looking over at Abel as you explain. “Mommy needed a place to stay for a while, so Daddy let me stay here” you explain, keeping the situation simplified, but still letting your son know how kind his Daddy was - and still is, opening his home to you, even though at the time you were still a stranger.

Jax chimes in from the kitchen, with a hint of humour, “yeah! and it was only meant to be for a few days!” He laughs to himself, as he’s sat at the very same kitchen table (still going strong by the way) that was involved in the moment that changed the course of your lives forever.

He bites his lip gently whilst smiling as the memory of that day, so many years ago now, lingers in his mind. He takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s trying to capture the moment in time again. The smells, the sounds, the raw emotions all flooding his senses.

You laugh, shaking your head at Jax’s comment. You turn your attention back to Abel who is patiently waiting for more details. “Daddy told me I could stay, until I sorted things out and got back on my own two feet…” you explain, looking over your shoulder to the kitchen door, seeing a slither of Jax’s figure sat at the very table. “…but I never did leave” you finish the sentence, twirling your ring on your wedding finger. Your words hang in the air.

Jax walks into the living room, slumping down on the black leather couch as he watches over his wife and two children. He can’t quite recall the specific reason as to why he was in that parking lot all those years ago. However, he knows he had to be there for a reason, and that reason, was you.

He catches the smile that you direct towards him a subtle cue that you’re expressing your love for him. This particular smile has become a silent language between the two of you, a way of saying “I love you” without making a sound. The corners of his mouth pull up in response, his own way of acknowledging your sentiment and returning the unspoken words of his love.

I know, I know this took me ages too! So apologies once again haha! Thank you to the anon that requested it, I’m actually really proud of this one 🫶🏽

🖤 @ravennaortiz @theesirenteller | here you go my lovelies! I hope you both enjoy too!

On to the next request 💅🏽

apologies for any mistakes also, I’ve read over this a thousand times so it’s literally like a blur to me x

SEND IN UR JAX TELLER REQUESTS! this is a no judgement zone. Honestly🖤

💀photos, gifs and music is not mine. (Apart from being edited and put together)

XOXO secretly samcro

[atinyslittleworld]

Unleashing Desire

demon!mingi x f!reader

Summary: A shy college student, Y/N, is drawn to Mingi, a demon. Their mutual attraction intensifies, leading to a passionate, feverish encounter as Mingi unleashes his dark side, igniting an uncontrollable desire.

Word Count: 1,732

Genre: dark romance, paranormal, fantasy

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mingi is described as a demon, the story explores themes of losing control and surrendering to darker impulses

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters, settings, and events are entirely imaginary

The cold air brushed past Y/N as she walked through the crowded college hallway, her books clutched tightly against her chest like a shield. She was used to feeling invisible, always melting into the background, unnoticed. But today, she felt something different—something unsettling but not unwelcome. It was a pull, a magnetic force drawing her attention to the figure walking toward her.

Mingi.

There was something about him that no one could quite place, and yet, everyone was aware of it. He wasn’t like the others—he carried an aura that was dark and mysterious, a brooding intensity that clung to him like a shadow. He never spoke much in class, but when he did, his voice resonated through the air, deep and haunting. His eyes, dark as the night, seemed to pierce through whoever they landed on. And yet, it wasn’t fear Y/N felt when their eyes met. It was something far more dangerous.

As they passed each other, Mingi’s gaze flicked toward her, just for a moment. It was quick, subtle, but it sent a ripple of warmth down her spine. Every time they crossed paths, it was like this—glances, brief and fleeting, but enough to set her pulse racing.

Mingi noticed her too. Every time she passed by, his senses sharpened, his demon instincts flaring. She was different from the others—her energy, her quiet presence. There was a pull he couldn't explain, an invisible thread that seemed to tie him to her, and it unnerved him. The more they encountered each other, the stronger the connection felt, leaving him unsettled yet intrigued.

But tonight, things would change.

The college party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and the thrum of music vibrating through the walls. Mingi had come, though he wasn’t sure why. Parties were never his thing, especially when his demon side felt more agitated than usual. The house the party was being thrown in carried an odd aura, something that unsettled him from the moment he arrived.

As the night dragged on, the energy in the house seemed to press in on him, suffocating. His demon instincts were growing harder to control, his eyes darkening as the power surged within him. Needing to get away from the overwhelming chaos, Mingi slipped upstairs, finding an empty room. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping his thighs, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

But it was no use. His demon side was too strong tonight, spurred on by whatever strange energy lingered in the house. His eyes darkened further, turning pitch black as he felt the hunger rising, the need to let go, to release the darkness that had been building for so long.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Y/N stepped inside, her breath catching when she saw him sitting there, his head lowered, his darkened eyes barely visible through the strands of his messy hair. She had no idea what had pushed her toward the room, only that she had felt compelled—drawn toward something. Toward him.

Mingi looked up slowly, his black eyes meeting hers. For a moment, time seemed to stop. The air between them was thick with tension, an electric current running through the space that neither of them could ignore. Y/N closed the door behind her, locking it without a second thought. Something about the way he looked at her, the way the darkness in his eyes mirrored the heat she felt inside, made her body move toward him on its own.

Her breath was shallow, her heartbeat erratic as she approached. Mingi’s eyes tracked her every step, his chest rising and falling heavily as his control slipped further. He felt the pull, stronger than ever before, and it scared him. But the moment her hand reached out, her fingers brushing the sharp outline of his jaw, something inside him snapped.

Y/N stared at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Beautiful.”

Mingi’s dark eyes widened, his breath catching at the unexpected word. He had never been called beautiful before, not when his demon side was so close to the surface, not when his eyes were black with power. But Y/N wasn’t afraid. She stood there, her touch soft, her gaze steady as if she could see past the darkness, past the monster inside him.

Without warning, his hands shot to her thighs, gripping them tightly as he pulled her onto his lap. Y/N gasped softly, but there was no hesitation in her. She straddled him, her body pressing against his as their lips collided in a kiss that was raw and desperate, filled with an intensity neither of them could contain.

Mingi kissed her hungrily, his hands roaming her body as if he couldn’t get enough. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she pressed her chest against his. The heat between them was unbearable, a fire that seemed to burn brighter with every touch, every kiss. She could feel the darkness in him, the wild, untamed power that threatened to consume them both, but instead of pulling away, she leaned into it.

Her body moved instinctively, her hips grinding against his in slow, deliberate movements that made Mingi groan into her mouth. The friction between them was maddening, and Y/N’s skirt swayed with every roll of her hips, brushing against his thighs as she pressed herself harder against him.

“I’m burning up,” Y/N whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with desire.

Mingi’s grip on her hips tightened as he pulled her even closer, his breath ragged as he felt the same heat coursing through his veins. His core burned, the hunger inside him growing stronger, more uncontrollable. Y/N’s hands moved to the hem of her shirt, and before he could process what was happening, she pulled it over her head, tossing it aside.

Left in nothing but her bra and skirt, Y/N’s skin glistened under the dim light, her body flushed with heat. She leaned into him again, her hips grinding harder against his lap as she whispered, “I’m still burning…”

Mingi’s control shattered completely.

With a low growl, he gripped her waist and flipped her onto the bed, his body hovering above hers as his demon side took over. His blackened eyes bore into hers, wild and untamed, but Y/N didn’t flinch. She welcomed it, her hands reaching for him, pulling him closer as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Mingi’s lips crashed against hers, the kiss rough and desperate. His hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her as if he needed to memorize the way she felt beneath him. He was lost in her, lost in the heat and the fire that consumed them both.

Y/N gasped as Mingi’s hands moved to unclasp her bra, his fingers skilled and quick. The garment fell away, and Mingi wasted no time, his mouth moving to her chest as his hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him. Y/N moaned softly, her body arching into his touch as her hips began to move on their own, grinding against him in a slow, rhythmic motion that drove them both wild.

“I can’t… stop,” Mingi groaned against her skin, his voice thick with lust and something darker.

“Then don’t stop,” Y/N whispered, her voice low and commanding. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Her words sent a shockwave through him. Mingi growled, his hands gripping her thighs as he pressed himself harder against her, his body moving with a force that left Y/N gasping. The room pulsed with energy, the darkness between them swirling, growing as their bodies collided in a feverish rhythm.

Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps, her moans filling the air as she moved against him, her hips grinding faster, harder. The friction between them was unbearable, the pleasure building to heights she had never known. She could feel Mingi’s hands on her body, rough and desperate, his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched.

“I’m still burning,” Y/N whispered, her voice thick with desire as her hips rocked harder against him. “I’m still burning…”

Mingi’s demon side surged forward, fully unleashed. His eyes darkened even more, the hunger in him becoming something primal, something untamable. He growled low in his throat, his hands gripping her thighs as he thrust against her with a force that left her gasping, her back arching off the bed.

In one swift, urgent motion, Mingi reached down, his fingers working quickly to unzip his pants. He fumbled for only a second, the need overwhelming, his breath catching as he freed himself, the tension between them unbearable. The sound of the zipper breaking the air made Y/N’s heart race, her anticipation spiraling as she watched him with darkened eyes.

Mingi’s breath hitched as he moved against her, his control hanging by a thread as he pressed his body against hers, their heat merging as one. Y/N's hips ground against him harder, her skirt moving with the rhythm of her movements, driving them both closer to the edge.

Y/N’s body trembled beneath him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she cried out his name, her movements frantic and desperate. The pleasure between them was overwhelming, pushing them both to the brink of madness. Mingi’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he lost himself in the wild rhythm of their bodies, the fire between them consuming everything in its path.

And then, everything shattered.

Y/N’s body tensed, her breath hitching as the pleasure reached its peak, her back arching as she cried out his name. Mingi followed, his body shuddering above hers as the heat between them exploded into something neither of them had ever experienced before. The air around them crackled with energy, their auras intertwining in a way that felt both terrifying and intoxicating.

When it was over, they lay there together, their bodies still entwined, the room thick with the remnants of their shared passion. Y/N’s fingers brushed over his cheek, her breath still coming in soft, uneven gasps as she whispered, “I’m not afraid of you, Mingi. I never was.”

Mingi stared down at her, his chest tightening at her words. She wasn’t afraid of him—of the demon he had become. Despite everything, despite the darkness inside him, she had embraced it. And somehow, he knew deep down that this was only the beginning.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-Twenty One

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: This entire chapter will be in Angel's POV! Hence the gif! Now before any of y'all ask, no! This isn't a love triangle chapter. Its about a girl who meets someone that has gone through the same thing she has and they have a moment together where they help each other over come those evil parts of their pasts (Platonically) Two people finding their "friendship" soulmates, if ya will.

FUCK YOU. EAT SHIT. KILL GOD. DETHRONE.

We are Fallenvvitch. Goodnight.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid @casangel1986 @qualityvoidcollectorsblog @myownthoughts12 @jilliemiw86 @bellaboo967 @halloweenaesthetic @collapsedglasshouses

READER

I sat on my bed with the notebook perched on my lap with papers and discarded pens all over my bedroom. Salem curled up on my pillow next to me, his purring an eerily calm background noise as it combined with the scratching of my pen on paper. 

“I know it’s colder where I’m at,” I muttered in a soft tune. 

Ew, no not that. 

I scratched through the words with such force it ripped through the paper. 

“Fuck,” I cursed while tossing the book onto the floor then rubbed ink-stained hands over my face. 

I went through four different pens by now and changed the paper from my spiral notebook to printer paper. I had been held up in my room all night writing, not wanting to be bothered. With our tour starting in a few days, we needed to leave tomorrow which meant I spent most of my day and afternoon packing and getting things in order. 

For the last few days, Hollow Souls had been working tirelessly to practice our setlist and make sure all of our visuals were spot on. It was our first tour of just the three of us and my nerves were taking over every aspect of my life. I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I was about to spend the next two weeks with my favorite artist. 

nothing, nowhere. 

Joe’s music had been a huge part of my healing process for years so when he reached out with the idea of opening up for Hollow Souls, immediately we agreed. Even though the nerves were still there, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I couldn’t count how many times I picked up my phone, wanting to text Noah, but always backed out. I told him I needed some time, truthfully I think I needed it to remind myself I could be my own person and succeed with this band for a little while. 

Maybe I needed to prove to myself that I was able to take the lead of this band without anyone pointing the finger, thinking it was someone else behind the curtain. There wasn’t someone else. It was me.

My heart began to stutter in my chest, blood running cold, so I took a deep breath while counting to four; exactly like Dr. Poulos told me to do. Soon, I felt heat spread within me as the image of Noah danced behind my eyelids. I missed him and yearned for his presence. My stomach was in knots since the second I left his house a few days ago. 

“I know it’s warmer where you are,” my eyes snapped open as the words fell from my lips. 

Fuck, that's good. 

We confessed, we told the truth. A weight was lifted off me. Noah loves me. 

He fucking loves me back. 

“I know it’s warmer where you are, and it’s safer by your side,” I sang while quickly writing it down on a fresh piece of paper.  “Right now I can’t be what you want, just give it time.”  

I began to ache at times, my stomach was sore, and my head would pound. It was often like this that I began to think I’d caught a cold. I wasn’t- it was just me feeling empty. I knew whatever this moment of self-reflection was, it was worth it. I love Noah and he loved me back.

We’d be together; soon. I had to believe that. I knew in my gut. I trusted it but I hope he trusted me.

“Cause if you and I can make it through the night,” my voice was loud now as I felt comfortable with how the lyrics were now pouring out of me. 

But there was this nagging feeling inside of me that I couldn't ignore. We last texted each other at 10 p.m. that night saying we loved each other. The invisible string that always seemed to connect us was urging me to text him. This was something else I couldn’t ignore. 

It was important to me that with this new love, the love for Noah, we have made the effort to fully heal first so we do the inner work that is required to become a whole person once more. All born into our era, our family, our body. We can only be ourselves and accountable for ourselves. He needed to know I loved him, and that I’d come to him. 

Was it selfish of me to walk away after we confessed our love? I wasn’t sure. I just knew it was important for us both to grow from our experiences. So be that rare kind of true love and this bond will be eternal. That I promise him.

With a deep breath, I shifted my attention to my phone and decided to send the message before I doubted myself again. 

Me: I love you, mochi. 

Before I could even set my phone down, it buzzed in my hand with a new message. 

Mochi 🍡: I love you, angel.

The crushing weight that I felt gripping around my heart lifted as I read Noah’s message over and over again. Although we were apart for the time being, we would be alright because we loved each other. I lay here in deep thought and my mind wandered back to my primal need for intimacy.  There is that feeling of maturity, the admittance of being in love with Noah. It arrived without fanfare. Our souls were humble travelers and I could feel the bruise begin to form on my shoulder, so desperate to feel him again.

Salem rubbed his head against my arm and I brought him into my chest, peppering his face in kisses. 

“We can meet in the middle, body and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight,” I muttered to myself. 

Noah and I have a long road together, and it’s one I wanted to last. 

A knock sounded on my door before it opened slowly, Chase's stern smile on his lips. 

Uh oh. 

He leaned against the door frame. "Sweets, I love you. You know I do. But you're fucking killing me with the paint on the carpet in the dining room." 

I knew it. 

"I'm sorry! I know, I know.” I nodded with a long sigh. “It's just the lighting in my bedroom sucks compared to the light in the dining room. I'll put down a drop next time."

Malcolm came into my room, laying a kiss on Chase’s cheek before falling onto the end of my bed somehow missing the mess I created with my writing. 

“Don’t be so hard on her, Chase,” Malcolm said before motioning to my bed. “How’s the writing going?” 

I shrugged. “It’s going, I guess. I think my mind is so preoccupied with the next few weeks that it’s hard to focus.” 

“Excited?” Chase questioned. 

“Excited?” I scoffed. “I’m fucking ecstatic. In less than twenty-four hours I’m going to meet one of my idols and tour with him for two weeks.” 

Malcolm spoke next. “Feeling confident with the setlist?” 

“Yeah! I think we’ve got a good amount of songs and I’m stoked to perform Eyelids live. I think it will be a great way to tease the new album.” 

I’d been very apprehensive to put one of the newer songs on the set list only because some fans weren’t supportive of Eyelids or St. Patrick when they first came out. But Hollow Souls were evolving into a new era and we couldn’t continue to be stuck in the past. 

“Ethan said the bus will be here to pick us up by noon tomorrow,” Chase informed. “Are you all packed and ready?” 

I pointed to the three suitcases at the other end of my room but as Salem jumped off my lap to go lay with Malcolm, I realized something important. 

"Oh, shit. I forgot to see if someone can take care of Salem,” I chastised myself. 

I didn’t miss the glance the two of them shared and raised a brow as Malcolm spoke up.  "Already taken care of."

“You asked Noah, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help the smile that crept on my face. 

“Maybe,” he shrugged while giving Salem some belly rubs. 

Chase rolled his eyes before pushing himself off the door frame and sitting next to Malcolm. “Of course we did. Who else would you ask?” 

“I could have asked Jolly or Jesse. I didn’t want to put this on Noah,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

“Well, he’s basically Salem’s dad now,” 

“Malcom!” I smacked his shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” he chuckled while rubbing his arm. 

“We’re not official yet, guys,” I ran a hand through my hair before pulling my knees to my chest. “Please don’t do that.” 

“No way,” Chase shook his hand as Malcolm rested a hand on his thigh. “We’re not doing that. You need to think of the positives. You two said you love each other. Soon you will find your way back to one another.” 

“I love your optimism,” I said while playfully rolling my eyes. 

“Hey, smart ass. We know these things,” Malcolm snorted while still playing with Salem. 

“You do, huh? Do you have connections to the other side?” I teased. 

“We were watching a show last week about alternate universes and shit. It made me think that maybe there’s more of us out there, ya know?” he squeezed Chase’s knee. “Who the hell knows, maybe you and Noah fucked one night, magically fell in love, and went on the road with him. By the end of it, you moved into an apartment that’s right across the street from his house because you couldn’t fathom being away from him,” Chase spoke with a smirk.

My face reddened as I shifted my gaze downwards. “Wow, that’s-uh-you really thought about that.”

Malcolm laughed. “Or what if in another life, Noah walked through literal flames for you.” 

I snorted at that thought because there was no way Noah would risk his life to walk through a fire to save my life, even if I was hanging from a building. 

“Now you’re talking about shit people read in romance novels. Did my long-lost brother start the fire as well?” 

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m just saying, the two of you will find your way. We’re proud of you and how far you’ve come. You and Noah will grow together.”  

My heart jumped in my throat at how sincere Malcolm sounded and the way Chase’s eyes danced as he stared at me. 

“Thank you guys. That means a lot to me,” I smiled. 

“Always sweets, always,” Chase kissed my forehead. “You’re the miracle Noah needed, you know?” 

“I think he was the miracle I needed as well,” I admitted. 

READER

“Wow, Dallas. You are all such beautiful souls tonight. I cannot express our gratitude for all the support we’ve been getting this tour. We’re only four shows in and we’re having the best fucking time. Thank you,” I smiled into the microphone while tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind my ear. 

The crowd cheered wildly as Chase pounded the foot pedal of his drum, the beat making my heart thump hard in my chest. It was night four of the tour and even though it was straight show after show and I was exhausted, I let the energy from the crowd up me hype to finish tonight strong. 

The support of this tour had been fucking outstanding. Every show was sold out and we even had to move our last show into a bigger arena due to high demand. The three of us were so unbelievably proud of the direction we were headed and we didn’t want to look back. 

“Before we play our last song, I think we need to show our opener some love!” I said into the microphone. 

The crowd clapped and screamed but I frowned while shifting my weight on one foot while shaking my head. 

“That’s pretty weak. I want the fucking roof to blow off of here. Let’s hear it for nothing, nowhere!” 

Chase and Malcolm played an in-sync beat as the crowd screamed, cheered, clapped, and jumped up and down. 

“That’s better.” I nodded with a smile while adjusting my guitar. “Not many know this but I’m such a huge fan of nothing, nowhere so to be here touring with him has me fangirling pretty hard right now.” 

I peered over to the side stage where Joe was leaning, watching our set with a smile. We met a few days ago and even though I did my best to keep my composure, I was a giddy girl on the inside. He and Malcolm had a lot in common which made them click almost immediately which made tour life easy for all of us. 

“So,” I cleared my throat while staring back out toward the crowd. “Our final song is a new one and I’m so excited to perform it in front of all of you. Our new album White Noise will be released in a few months. It’s different than our first three but we promise that it’ll be worth it.” 

As the crowd clapped and cheered, I smiled. “My friends, thank you. This song is   called Eyelids.” 

As we began the song over the loud cheers of excitement, I let my eyes flutter shut as yet again, memories of mine and Noah’s night flashed in my mind. 

"Noah," I breathed while breaking apart from the kiss.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck to breathe me in. "Say it again."

I did, over and over like a mantra, as he left a mark on the skin of my neck while his hand switched to the other breast, mimicking his actions from before. The wetness that pooled between my legs was almost a new feeling, never been this turned on.

With one touch I could have sworn he entered my soul. As if my body was his key. He entered me and it fit, pun not intended. Not a thing of metal nor gold, Yet a sensation of love that came.

"I want to hear you," he left a gentle bit on the inside of my thigh

I used the small break-in lyrics to let out a deep breath, doing my best to remain centered so I could finish the rest of the song strong

Noah was in every aspect of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the song. 

His fingertips, his eyes, his lips on every inch of skin, or the way Noah steadied our breaths. “Breathe through it with me.” 

I did as he said, both of us breathing out my orgasm as our eyes locked intently with each other. I writhed against him, my arousal soaking the condom and parts of his hips. It was such a simple action but the way it set my body on fire intensified the aftershocks to something I'd never experienced. Noah stared down to the place where we met and with a noisy moan, he wrapped an arm tighter around me to pull me flush against his chest as his hips stilled for a second before he emptied himself inside the condom.

Through his sweet words and the resolution of my survival self to never let anyone else sit at my core. He was already there.

As the song ended and I thanked the crowd with a bow, I thought how relieved I was to discover my pure self. That this with Noah could be real love. There was no temptation to change because it was our real selves that bonded us. It is our real selves that each other loves.

That night, I walked away from him without listening to his pleas but now, we were different. We had grown together, for each other.  

Tonight, I vowed then and there under the bright lights of this stage that I’d stay.

I would always stay with Noah. 

“Kick ass show tonight, guys!” Joe cheered while giving us a round of high-fives. 

I smirked while whipping out my phone. “Thanks, Joe! Give me a few minutes and we can head to karaoke.” 

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Whose time zone is it tonight?” 

“Mine” I smirked into my phone while I quickly typed out a message. 

 Me: I love you, mochi.

“Oh,” a hand with a rose tattoo waved in front of my face. “Who has you smiling like that?” 

Playfully narrowing my eyes at Joe, I stuck out my tongue at him. “Someone is nosy.” 

Just then a new message popped up and my heart fluttered when I saw Noah’s response. It was the same response for the last week but every time, my smile spread wide on my face. 

Mochi 🍡: I love you too, angel.

When I went to put my phone back into my pocket, it vibrated with a new message, this time it was a video from Noah of Salem lying on a couch, one I hadn’t seen before. 

“Salem, say hi to your mom. She misses you,” Noah’s voice came from the background. 

I broke out in an even bigger smile and giggled when my cat did not move, didn't even bat an eye as Noah scratched behind his ears. But the music playing in the background suddenly caught my attention. 

The lyrics sounded so familiar. 

“Gave you way too many chances but it wasn't enough.” 

I replayed the video a few more times to make sure. 

“No way,” I muttered, not paying attention to the conversation behind me with Joe, Malcolm, and Chase. 

I quickly sent a text to Noah. 

Me: Hi Salem baby! Mom misses you! Also, I hear something in the background. Is it..?

Mochi 🍡: He’s napping. He had a long day of playing outside. 

My brow peaked. 

Me: You took him outside?

Mochi 🍡: Don’t worry, angel. We had him on a harness and leash. He loved laying in the sun on the back patio. 

“Sweets, let’s go!” Chase called from behind. “The karaoke place closes in like an hour!” 

I waved him off before texting Noah back. 

Me: I trust you with him, Noah. But what’s that playing in the background of your video? 

He responded with another video and when his face graced my screen, my heart jumped into my throat. 

Fuck. Me. 

Mochi 🍡: I can’t wait for you to hear the final version. 

“Well, who’s that?” 

Joe peered over my shoulder causing me to jump slightly while clutching the phone close to my chest. 

“Geez, can’t a girl get some privacy?” I asked with flushed cheeks. 

The image of Noah in that video played in my mind on a fucking loop and I suddenly did not want to go out with the guys tonight. 

Joe raised a brow. “Oh, that’s him?” 

Malcolm looked between Joe and me, noticing how red my face was. “What the hell did Noah send you?” 

“No-nothing. Just a video of Salem,” I stammered at first but was quick to recover.  

Chase’s mouth parted to speak but soon his eyes turned dark, jaw clenching as he stared past me. 

“What’s wr-,” I didn’t get a chance to ask because an all too familiar voice crept deep into my bones, ripping me apart from the inside out.

“You still have that fucking cat?” 

My heart sunk low to the depths of my stomach and I let my eyes flutter shut, all the breath leaving my lungs. 

No. No. No. Please, not here. Not now.

“He can’t be,” I shook my head while keeping my eyes trained hard on Chase, doing my best to stay centered. 

Do as Dr. Poulos says; deep breath in for three seconds, long breath out for four seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Malcolm spat while stepping in front of me. 

“I needed to come to check out the new Hollow Souls,” the deep voice chuckled darkly. 

I didn’t miss the venom in his words. 

But I never turned around, simply kept my gaze straight on Chase who still refused to look at me; his own hard gaze was trained on the man behind me. Joe noticed the sudden tension and rested a gentle hand on my elbow. 

“Y/N?” His words were white noise. 

I’m imagining this. He’s not here right now. There’s no way. 

“You looked good on that stage, baby. Although, I bet you’d look even better in the back of it.” 

No. No. No. 

A sharp whistle. “I know you hear me.” 

“What the hell are you doing here? Why are you here?” Chase’s voice was thick with anger. 

The voice that I spent so many days in therapy talking about let out a low scoff. 

“What? I came to see my protégé.” 

Malcolm pushed me towards Joe. “Can you take her back to our bus? We’ll be there soon.” 

I shook my head feverishly with tears brimming in my eyes, my back still to the one I refused to look at. 

“No. It’s not worth it. Please guys,” I begged while Joe wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Please come with me.” 

Chase’s eyes softened when he finally peered down at me. “It’ll be okay, sweets. We’re just going to talk; promise.” 

“Come on,” Joe urged my frozen state a few steps. 

Until that darkness pulled me back into the place I spent many days dragging myself out of. 

“Oh, it seems as if you’re back to your old ways. Fucking the opening act, huh? How does good ‘ol Noah feel about that?” Trey did the jerking-off gesture at Noah’s name.

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed as I spun on my heels, Joe’s arm falling away from me. “Don’t you dare say his name. You haven’t earned the right to talk about him!” 

Those cold eyes that I swore at one point I’d have a future with bore into my soul as he ran a hand through the curly locks on his head. Trey smirked wickedly at me. 

“I should call him up. Better yet,” He stuck a cigarette on his lips. “Maybe I’ll send him the video I took of you two ogling each other while you were on stage.” 

I took a step towards Trey but Malcolm held out his arm to stop me, only for me to push it away. 

“Go ahead! You have absolutely no fucking idea what you’re talking about. We should have had you fucking blacklisted,” my upper lip curled, barring my teeth. 

“Good luck, baby. My name gets me places, I can’t help it. Plus, I needed to come see my protege. Since I fucking made you,” Trey twirled his hand towards me with a snide smirk. 

“MADE ME?!” My eyes doubled as my voice roared through the dwindling venue as fans slowly took their time leaving. 

The stagehands and crew members paused their work to watch my outburst. 

I took a deep breath to center myself again, not wanting to create a scene right now when there were still so many prying eyes.  “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed the show. We’re doing fine without you.” 

Turning my back to him yet again, I allowed Joe to lead me away with a hand ghosting over my lower back; until Trey’s voice stopped me. 

“You’re so broken you don’t even trust yourself.”  

“Y/N,” Joe’s voice was soft as he shook his head. “It’s not worth it. Come-.” 

“Excuse me?!” I turned swiftly on my heels, hair whipping over my shoulder. 

Trey shrugged while reaching for a strand of my hair, twirling it between his fingers. “You heard me.” 

I smacked his hand away, the noise echoing loudly backstage. “No. No, I don’t think I did. Say it again.” 

“You’re broken.” Now his hands were in his pocket, a lit cigarette hanging loosely on his lips. “That uh- that new song? That's about him, isn’t it? Where is he?”

Trey made a show of looking around backstage. “I don’t see him anywhere. Oh, let me guess. You demolished it right? ‘Cause we all know you can’t have a perfect thing without doing that.” 

My hands curled at my side, knuckles turning white from how hard my nails dug crescent moon shapes into my palm.  

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Trey! You never did and you don’t know a fucking thing about Noah, okay?”

“I don’t need to. I know enough,” Trey blew the smoke towards Malcolm. 

Before he could take a step towards him, Chase wrapped an arm around his chest to pull him away. 

“You know he has asthma, you piece of shit!” I pushed Trey hard in the chest. “No. No! No! You’re not going to do this.” 

“Do what? We both get off on hurting other people,” Trey snickered while taking a step toward me. “I tell you the fucking truth. You’re on the stage singing your pretty little lullabies and maladaptive daydreams because I let you! And you know what else? That little Sykes wanna be?” 

When he made the gesture of sucking a dick, I nearly gagged in my mouth at how disgusting and vulgar Trey actually was. 

Anger filled my veins as he continued to spew his venom. Every single thing Trey said was meant for one thing; to hurt and destroy. He’d spent years perfecting it and before, I’d swim in it. 

Now? Now I was different and I wasn’t afraid of standing up to him. 

“No! Shut the fuck up!” I ran a wild hand through my hair before pointing a finger at him. “You were such a poison that I should have avoided. Every single part of you. I thought you wanted to save me but in the end, all you did was break me!” 

Tears fell from my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I refused to cry in front of everyone; especially Trey. He didn’t get the privilege to break me. Not again. 

“How dare you reach out your hand? You said you loved me but acted like you hated me,” I choked on a sob. “I should have run but I didn’t.” 

Trey flicked the ashes on the ground at my feet with a fake pout on his lips but before he could say anything I pointed another finger into his chest causing him to stumble back.

“No! I have to get this off my chest! There’s more shit I have to say!” 

I could feel the proud smiles of Chase, Malcolm, and even Joe as they all flanked behind me. Not stepping in but still wanting to be close in case they needed to. 

“You’re not half the man you think you are! You’re not! You’re abusive, an addict, and I hated the way you would make me feel. Everything I did was under a constant microscope with you.” 

I began to list things on my fingers. “I couldn’t dress the way I wanted. I couldn’t talk to who I wanted. I couldn’t even fucking talk about things that I enjoyed because if it didn’t involve you, it wasn’t important. In the beginning, you needed to know my every single fucking move. But the one night you went out with your friends and I asked where you were going, you thought it would be funny to choke me!” 

“What the fuck?!” Chase roared while stepping up next to me. 

I placed a hand on his chest but kept my eyes on Trey. “I’ve outgrown you, I fell out of every trace of love and respect for you, Trey. I’ve moved fucking past you. Yes, in the beginning, I thought that maybe there might have been a chance for us. But you found yourself on drugs and nicotine. A hollow body like a figurine and I always felt like an accessory.” 

Joe turned his head towards me with a small smile on his lips. 

“Looking back now, I can see it. You always tried to put me in the background. I wasted so much fucking time on you and you wasted so much Hollow Souls time. You held us back for so long because you thought you knew what was best for us.”

A muscle in Trey’s jaw ticked. “I fucking made you. I made this band.” 

I rolled my eyes while crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, please. Everyone knows that Hollow Souls was my idea. I was the one who asked Chase and Malcolm to join. I wrote the songs. I wanted to produce our songs but you immediately shot that idea down claiming it was too much work and not worth it.” 

Thankfully, it was long after our show ended and the main part of the venue had cleared out but there were still workers backstage as they tore down our equipment. They acted like they weren’t listening to our fight but I knew that with the glances our way every so often, they heard everything. 

“You always wanted to change shit that didn’t need to be changed,” he snarled. 

I held my arms out wide. “And look where I’m at? Every show on this tour is sold out. We had to upgrade to a bigger venue because of high demand.” 

“What?” Trey tossed his cigarette to the ground. “Do you want a fucking medal for that?” 

I stepped on the bud of the cigarette, stepping right up into Trey’s space. “You fucked with my head knowing that I couldn't take it and for that, I can't forgive you. I’ll never forgive you.” 

Chase waved over security as my final words relieved the weight that I didn’t know was on my shoulders. I thought that the last time I saw Trey I wouldn’t need to say my peace but saying it now, I felt as if I could breathe easier. 

“I don’t need you to forgive me, Y/N.” He scoffed. “Noah will never love you and that you won’t blame me for.” 

My lips twitched in a smile as I breathed through the last of my stray tears. “You’re wrong, Trey. He does love me, and I love him. You won’t disturb my peace anymore, never again. I’m moving on, and I’m happy. You should be sad, and truly I feel sorry for you.” 

I took a step back to stand in between Chase and Malcolm just as security snuck up behind Trey. 

“I hope you choke in your sleep while you're dreaming of me. I fucking hope when you suffocate in your sheets that I'll be the last thing you see. Goodbye, Trey,” 

My hands shook at my side, something that Joe noticed so he gave them a reassuring squeeze. 

One of the security guards grasped Trey’s elbow to drag him out but he ripped it from the guy's grasp. Trey eyed all four of us, his gaze lingering on me a few seconds longer than the others before he spat on the ground at my feet. 

The old me would have let that bother her. But the new me simply smirked as I watched security escort Trey out of the building. 

Ethan came up to us in haste as he looked back towards Trey. “What the fuck was he doing here?!” 

Malcolm made sure that Trey was out of sight then turned towards Ethan, pointing a stern finger at him. “Do whatever you can to get that piece of shit blacklisted from any Hollow Souls shows in the future.” 

“Bad Omens too,” I nodded firmly. 

Chase cupped my cheek. “Sweet, are you alright?” 

Through tears, I nodded. “I’m okay. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

“How do you feel?” He had a faint smile on his lips.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, really thinking about Chase’s question. 

Relief. 

This felt like a new wave of freedom. Something I’ve yet to experience in a long while. A new form. 

I looked back at my new friend and then at my brothers; my family.  Those who bring a sense of love into my life. We can make choices to care for the self and still be kind. I had so much to say to him. It felt good to release it- yet; still I killed him with kindness. Something he’d never dare show me.

You can care better for others from strength than weakness. 

At the expense of my own comfort. It’s a prudence with integrity that awaits the right moment to be brave. I felt brave. 

I was ready for my new beginnings.

Joe motioned behind me. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your bus.” 

While Malcolm and Chase hung back to talk more with Ethan about what happened I allowed Joe to lead me outside. The cool night air danced around me with a comforting touch and I let it ease my heated skin. As I made the walk towards where the bus was, Joe had other plans and dragged me to a bench at the back of the venue. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Sit.” When I didn’t move, Joe nodded to the bench behind me. “Sit down, Y/N. Take a breather. I can see the rage in your eyes and the vein in your neck is doing a weird twitch thing.” 

Instinctively, my hand went to my neck, rubbing at it, before sitting on the bench with a long breath; Joe doing the same. 

We let a long beat of silence fall between us and with the sudden breeze of cold air, I shivered and covered my bare arms suddenly wishing I didn’t wear the dress with skinny straps. 

“Cold?” Joe wondered. 

When I nodded, he handed over his jacket which I took gratefully. “I’ll make sure to give it back to you.” 

“Good,” he snorted playfully. “Because it’s my favorite.”

I chuckled while easing onto the bench, now warm. “About what happened inside with Trey-.”

Joe bumped his shoulder with mine. “Don’t even worry about it. I’ve been through something similar. I did love how you threw in lyrics from Clarity in Kerosene. ”

I rubbed my hands on my thighs, suddenly nervous. “Uh, yeah. Your album Reaper means a lot to me so it felt therapeutic in a way.” 

We sat for another long while, enjoying the quiet that shocked us for being in the middle of the city. It was in the middle of the night but neither of us was complaining. 

“It’s an honor doing this tour with you, Joe. I’ve been a fan for so long.” I smiled at him.

“Hey, the honor is all mine,” he ran a hand through his hair with a sheepish smile. “Hollow Souls has been on my playlist for a long time.”

A familiar memory of long ago crept into my mind of someone saying the same thing. 

“We're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows.”

 “Ya know, someone else told me the same thing the first time I met him,” I said with a warm smile. 

Joe’s brow peaked. “Yeah? Seems like I’ll have to meet this someone.” 

Noah flashed in my mind now; his infectious smile, his bright almond eyes, and the sound of his laughter made my heart flutter. Even though he was hundreds of miles away, our souls were always connected. It was as if he was sitting right here with me. I could feel the ghost of his hand on my thigh and his lips on mine. 

“I love you, angel,” those eyes glimmered as he watched me. 

“Hm,” I hummed while bumping my shoulder with Joe’s again. “Maybe someday.” 

READER

As I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my long locks, I sighed in content and made work of getting ready. It was an off day but I had no plans, something I intended to keep so much so that I was dressed in a pair of Bad Omens joggers and a black crop top tank. My typical stay-home outfit. 

Just when I was about to load up my laptop to continue writing, there was a persistent knock on my hotel room door. It wasn’t Chase or Malcolm since they mentioned to me earlier that they were spending the day doing a joint interview and then getting something to eat. 

Some would think it was weird that I wasn’t going to an interview with them but Hollow Souls were all for doing our own separate interviews or joint. I did my fair share of solo ones, the same with Chase and Malcolm. I actually had one planned in a few days so I wasn’t too upset about skipping out on this one today. 

“Joe?” I asked while leaning against the open door. “What’s up?” 

He smiled while giving me a once-over. “Good, you’re dressed. Grab your things and let’s go.” 

“Go where?” My brows furrowed. 

“We’re not going to waste the day away inside. I have our whole afternoon planned,” Joe adjusted his hat. 

“You do, huh?” I chuckled while leaving him on the threshold of the open door so I could grab my things, not wanting to forget the small camera I brought along for this tour, and slipped on a pair of white Converse.

With the door closed behind me, I let Joe lead me toward the elevator where we waited for it. 

“There’s this sunflower field I was thinking we could check out,” Joe said. 

“That sounds nice,” I smiled while we both stepped into the elevator. 

“Hilary sent it to me this morning and said it would be a great place to clear your head with what happened last night,” he informed. 

“Did you tell her-?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek as the elevator descended. 

Joe quickly shook his head. “Nope. I only mentioned how you needed to clear your head.” 

“Thank you,” I breathed when the doors opened. 

For the next few hours, Joe and I enjoyed the peacefulness of the sunflower field. We laughed, we joked, and he told me about his life growing up as I did the same. He also told me about an ex of his that messed him up mentally causing him to hide away for a year. 

“I had to cancel shows because the depression and panic attacks were so bad I had to seek treatment,” Joe said as we neared the end of the sunflower maze. “I went to hospitals, sat with monks in Buddhist temples, and went to therapy. I was so mad that someone took years out of my life.” 

I smiled solemnly. “I understand what that’s like.”

“Therapy told me that I need to stop hating the world and hating myself. I found someone who showed me what love is and I’ll forever be grateful for her,” Joe said. 

“She sounds like a lovely person, Joe. I’m glad you were able to find your happy ending.”

We came to a stop in front of a large patch of sunflowers with him a few spaces in front of me. 

“Hey,” I called after him, beckoning him to turn around so I could take a picture of him. 

His black hood was pulled over his hat and a small bag crossed over his chest. Although he didn’t smile on his lips, I could see it in his eyes. 

“It seems like you found your own happy ending,” Joe noted. 

My cheeks burned as I waved him off. “Oh, no. Not yet. We’re not official.” 

“But you text each other every night at 10 o'clock to say I love you?” 

“It’s-,” I pursed my lips while looking around the field. “Complicated”. 

Being in an open field like this, the breeze blowing through my hair, made me remember the last time I was in a place of solace like this. 

Earlier that day. 

"Noah?" I asked while looking up at him through lashes.

"Yes, angel?"

"You have a cute nose," my voice was quiet. 

Noah tilted his head to the side. "My nose?"

"Yeah. It's just the perfect size for your facial structure," I booped his nose. 

"Did-did you just boop my nose?" Noah chuckled with a scrunched face.

"See!" I pointed to him. "You look so fucking cute; it's insane."

"Angel, literally.” 

"Mochi, literally," I mocked while sticking out my tongue. 

Joe’s soft voice brought me out of the memory and I blinked at me. “Hm, I’m sorry. Did you say something?” 

“Do you want to be with Noah?” He asked his question again while gripping the strap of his bag. 

“More than anything,” I answered without missing a beat. 

He shrugged. “Then what’s holding you back?” 

I licked my lips while shifting on my feet. “It’s not as easy as you think. After that party, so much happened and things were said that I can’t exactly forget. I was hurt and needed time away.” 

“So you just left?” 

Hearing the reality of what I did from someone else made the guilt eat away at my insides and my heart sunk low. 

“I needed to get my head together,” I defended while adjusting the black beanie on my head. 

“Do you guys even talk? Besides the usual 10 p.m. texts?” Joe asked. 

Not wanting to speak, I shook my head with a long breath. 

“Y/N, this might not be my place, but that wasn’t very fair of you to do that.”

I bit my lip, not trying to snap at Joe because all he was doing was being a good friend; something I needed. 

“My therapy session is tomorrow. I didn’t need it today,” I sighed while running my hands up and down my thighs. 

“My friend, you do,” Joe snorted. “Why are you so afraid of committing to this?” 

I played with the string of my joggers, really mewling over his question. Noah and I moved past all the bullshit and we’re ready to finally be together. So what was I so afraid of?

With a wobbly lip, I let out a shaky breath and met Joe’s eyes. “I just don’t want to disappoint him, I don’t want him to ever feel like I don’t support him or something.”

He squeezed my arm. “I don’t think you can. If you’re both more than aware that you’re human beings, Y/N.” 

“Understandable,” I nodded. “But I don’t want him to know how flawed I can be.” 

“It’s vital to face hard facts and choose to be present, honest, and mindful of what’s happening in the life of your relationship. You guys aren’t even official yet and you’re worrying about shit that you don’t need to.”

Birds chirping were muted by the sudden commotion of a group of people arriving at the sunflower patch but neither Joe nor I moved from the end of the maze we finished a while ago.

“You’re not robots, Y/N.” He began. “Erase any confusion or doubt surrounding your needs so you can learn to powerfully communicate your needs. You both need to talk. Get it out of yourselves, don’t curl up with shit alone. Don’t do that to him. Don’t assume the worst about him, especially when you haven’t even discussed things properly.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest while shifting all of my weight to one foot. “I never even noticed. In hindsight, I thought I was doing something validating. Turns out I hurt him numerous times, and he still did nothing but try to love me. Even when I wasn’t perfect. I left him alone in that hotel room because things became to real. I left him the night of the party because we both admitted we love each other. And I do. I love him, Joe. I love him so much. I want us to work. But I don’t understand why I keep leaving him. I don’t want it; I just do.” 

Joe gave me a warm smile. “I know, Y/N. You should talk to your therapist about this. I think she can give you more insight than I can offer but just know I understand. You need to approach Noah and this relationship with a loving spirit, believing that he will love you and we want to satisfy you in every way. That he is deserving of your love and kindness even if things feel too good to be true. Feel it out, you’re probably that good of a fit.”

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Joe, I don’t need another therapist.”

He snorted. “No, you don’t, but I’d like to think I’m your friend and I’m telling you, that doing this to someone you love isn’t fair. Noah deserves to communicate with you too. I haven’t met the guy or seen the two of you together but from what you told me I already know.  He fucking loves you, Y/N.”

“I love him too, so fucking much, okay? I do,” I admitted with tears in my eyes. 

“I’m not saying you don’t/. I don’t know everything but, from my experience and what I’ve learned, shit like this can ruin a perfectly good relationship because we simply don’t tell ourselves the truth.”

I cocked my head to the side confused. “Truth about what?” 

“About why you’re subconsciously running,” Joe said. “You’re scared shitless and this avoidance can lead to procrastination that delays dealing with damaging stressors on or within your relationship. It did until the pipe finally burst at the birthday party.” 

“Should I be paying you by the hour?” I joked with a small chuckle.

“If you want to,” he snorts. “No, but come on. If you want him to be there for you, to be your everything, then you have to give half as well.” 

“I know. I want to. I’ve been feeling so sick lately without him.” 

It was true. 

Noah and I seemed to have been brought together by this unknown force. The universe? Maybe: we didn’t believe in high powers, yet also knew we weren’t alone. 

Staggered over weeks, months, or years. In this time the pain of our separation was an act as a focusing lens. The point was to give each other time to see the purity of our love, to be sure that there can be only one lover for this lifetime. 

Seems silly, especially in this era. Yet, it’s how I feel. I just know.

I get almost neurotic to my knees. I know that I must get enough sleep. He made a sham of my pain. I feel like I blew a hole in my heart with an ice-cold magnum. 

Why, when he’s not around I feel lonely when there’s company around. I’m not lost, but I have been found. That level of emotional indifference is not a mark of superiority, but the reverse. I was always worth more, I just needed to educate myself as to how and why.

It hit me. My body yearned for the other half of me.  The lovers who are right for one another take away the other pain naturally, by virtue of who they are the strength of their loving bond.

I couldn’t wait to embrace him again.

Joe peered over his shoulder, noticing a group of people slowly reaching us so he motioned for me to start walking in step with him. “Of course you do. It’s like half of your entire body is ripped apart and begging for the other half back.”

I smacked his arm. “Yes, exactly like that! Even though we’re far apart from each other right now, I still know subconsciously what he’s doing without actually knowing.”

“Exactly. So you two need to talk together about what you’re facing. Discuss the realities and your key concerns. Listen to each other and reflect on what you hear for optimal understanding. Be curious and open-minded concerning each other’s ideas and solutions for relief and change. If you love him, meet him in the middle like you’re saying in the song, Y/N. Don’t just use words, act too.”

We reached the rental car and Joe leaned against the driver's door. “What do you want this song to do; to say?” 

My forehead creased as I put deep thought into Joe’s question. “I think I want to expose the vulnerability. I’m kind of like star light. Maybe it can guide the way to the ones who must travel by night. The ones who don’t know that there is something special waiting for you if you keep pushing forward.” 

Joe bumped his fist with mine. “I love that, a reminder for people. However, it’s not just about that.”

“No, no it isn’t,” I chuckled. “It’s special that we aren't so different, him and I. Somehow together we are balanced. As yin and yang, but a perfect match. All I want is for him to ask me to stay again, and I’ll always say yes.”

JOE

The conversation between Malcolm and Chase was muted as we sat at the hotel restaurant, my food going cold a while ago. After my afternoon with Y/N at the sunflower field with our conversation and everything that happened last night, something was weighing heavy on my mind. 

Malcolm must have sensed it because he waved a hand in front of my face. “Everything alright?” 

My eyes snapped up towards him and I nodded. “Oh yeah, yeah I’m good. I’m just reflecting on that whole interaction last night. 

Chase hummed while resting an arm over the back of Malcolm’s chair. “We’re sorry Trey pulled you in the middle of it.”

“It’s fine but he’s a fucking piece of work,” I said. 

Malcolm took a long drink of his beer. “Yeah. He’s always been a piece of shit. It was like that for fucking years. Trey tried to dictate everything she did. What the band did. He was off doing what he wanted when he wanted. Y/N would fall into it time after time until-.” 

“Til Noah?” I asked with a hint of a smile. 

“Yeah,” Chase spoke next. “Have you  ever heard of Bad Omens?”

“I’ve heard their name and listened to a couple of their songs. But I’ve never seen his face until recently,” I said. 

“Did he send her a dirty photo?!” Malcolm’s eyes widened. 

“No!” I shook my head with a chuckle. “Y/N showed me a picture of him in braids.” 

“Oh, that picture,” Chase snorted. 

I continued again. “Noah has a great range and a good ear; talented guy. He seems crazy about Y/N from what she said.”

“Oh, he is. Shit, he’s over the fucking moon and back and everything fucking else. They have some otherworldly shit going on.” 

“Oh yeah? Think so?” I asked Malcolm. 

He shared a look with Chase, both of them smiling. “We know so. Noah made her fucking smile again. Laugh in a way we hadn’t heard in so long. He gave her confidence when she desperately needed it. Y/N became herself again. It’s been so beautiful to watch her hatch from the sick cocoon she was in. Last night was a terrific example. We’re so proud of her.”

“Yeah, that was something; the way she stood up to him. She kicked his ass. I may not have been around or anything for long, but that was awesome to see. I’d like to talk to Noah about it.”

Chase and Malcolm shared yet another look, the former's brows raised as he looked at me.

“You want Noah’s number? That’s a bit random, no?” 

“I just want to formally introduce myself,” I assured them. “To let him know how Y/N was last night and how awesome your record is.” 

“Is that all you want to let him know? Or do you want to make sure Noah knows that you’re not a threat? Because he knows you aren’t. And he also knows that Trey hasn’t come near her,” Malcolm reassured me. 

“No, it’s not even about that,” I leaned forward on the table to rest my arms on it. “I want to keep him in the loop, I have a feeling they’re still working out this what do I say or not say phase. Y/N’s become a friend now, and I’d like to also reach out my hand so he knows things are cool on our end.” 

I shrugged. “Plus, Noah deserves to know how badass she is and that she can take care of herself.”

After dinner, on my way back up to my hotel room, I had my phone in my hand as I worked out the message to Noah. 

Me: Hey Noah, this is Joe. I got your number from Chase and Malcolm. This is a little awkward but I wanted to introduce myself. I’ve actually listened to your band- you’re really talented! The acoustic version of If I’m There was killer, seriously. 

Now in my room, I sat on the edge of my bed to send another text. 

Me: I’m texting you because I’m sure you saw the video of what happened with Trey and Y/N. I will firstly say, she’s fucking awesome! And I’m honored to be on this tour with her and the guys. Incredible musicians and incredible people. Gearing back to the whole Trey situation, he showed up out of nowhere; but I feel it’s important to let you know, at least from my side, that Y/N kicked ass. She stood up for herself and I could see she felt a world of relief.

Only a few minutes went by when Noah texted back. 

Noah Sebastian: Hey Joe, it’s Noah. I’ve heard a lot about you as well. Y/N has been a huge fan of yours for a long time. She was stoked about this tour, and yes she is awesome. Y/N’s special to a lot of us. She’s a genuine person and has a heart of gold; Chase and Malcolm as well. I appreciate your kind words. That means a lot. You know how it is- especially in this industry. And I did see the video, unfortunately. You were there?

I quickly responded to Hilary’s text before typing out my reply to Noah. 

Me: In case she needed support.

Noah Sebastian: Right, thank you for that. I hated what Trey said, I wish I could have stopped it myself but I also know how important it was for Y/N to have closure. I’m so fucking proud of her. 

I let out a loud laugh when I saw the meme Y/N sent me but swiped away the message for right now, continuing to text Noah. 

Me: You should be proud. She’s awesome and she’s over the moon about you. From what I’m told you really lit a fire inside her, and that seems to be shining through. My partner did that for me when I found her and I’m sure it’s the same for you as well. So I just wanted to pass this along and formally introduce myself. I’m sure Y/N will bring this up to you but I wanted to show you how I saw it on my end. I hope we can meet soon.

Me: Oh, also. Hollow Souls new record is going to be sick. What they’ve been working on is sounding great.

I busied myself the next long while getting myself packed since we were planning on leaving in a few hours to head to the next city. Once finished, I realized that Noah texted me back almost instantly after I sent the last text. 

Noah Sebastian: For sure! Thank you so much. I wish I could be there. But, I understand it’s not the right time. I do hope soon we can chill at my place to shoot the shit. Thank you again for sending me a text. Very kind of you and I’m sure we’ll talk soon. I can’t wait to hear her new album. We’re all very stoked about it. We’re also close to releasing our record, I’d love for you to check it out! 

Me: Hell yes!

READER

“And if you and I can make it through the night,” I hummed while sitting in my bunk on the tour bus. 

My laptop was perched in my lap as I loaded up Zoom, clicking on Dr. Poulos’ contact. It wasn’t our usual appointment day or time but with what happened the other day, I felt as if I needed an emergency session. It wasn’t because of the negative parts but for the first time in a long while, I felt good. My spirits were high and nothing could wipe the smile from my face. 

“Well someone seems like they’re in good spirits today.” Dr. Poulos’ voice sang through my speakers. 

Her graying hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had black glasses perched high on her nose. 

“I am actually,” I smiled, the kind of smile that made the corner of your eyes crinkle. 

She tilted her head. “Care to elaborate?”

I began telling her the entire story of Trey and my afternoon with Joe from top to bottom; from that night up until now. 

“I’m very proud of you, Y/N for standing up for yourself and closing that chapter in your life. And Joe seems like he’s becoming a great friend in the aspect of telling you things you need to hear.” 

“Yeah, he is.” I nodded. 

Although I was in high spirits before this meeting, something shifted in my brain and I began to stare at the keyboard of my laptop. 

“What’s the matter Y/N? You’re slipping into disassociating thought,” Dr. Poulos’ voice brought me back.  

“Nothing,” I had a tight lip smile. 

“Y/N,” she warned. “We’ve talked about this; you need to be open and transparent.”

Reluctantly, I nodded with a sigh. “Okay, well-.” 

When she motioned me on with a nod, I continued. “How- fuck this is embarrassing. How do I stop running away?” 

“Do you grasp that’s what you’ve been doing to Noah?” 

“I do,” I admitted. “But it hasn’t been intentional. I love him, I’m- I just don’t want to become my parents.”

Dr. Poulos’ gave me a small smile. “It’s great that you’re seeking to address this pattern. Building healthy relationships often involves understanding and addressing the root causes of our behaviors.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“It might be helpful to reflect on past experiences and identify any underlying fears or insecurities that may be contributing to your tendency to run away from relationships,” she adjusted her glasses. 

“I know it’s my mother, I know it is. Noah seemed to know it too since he was there that day she reamed into me,” I said. 

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, I remember that day. You were very grateful for him being there weren’t you?” 

“More than anything. He’s my safety when I feel like I have none,” I answered. 

“That’s wonderful Y/N. In Addition, I suggest practicing self-care, setting boundaries, and communicating openly with Noah as your partner, rather than your friend, which can help build a foundation for more fulfilling and lasting connections. I remember you telling me you finally admitted your love for each other,” Dr. Poulos couldn’t hold back the wide smile on her face now. 

“Yes. I do, I do love him and I don’t want to do anything to hurt him. Noah’s already so hard on himself with everything.  I don’t want to be one more thing he’s hard on himself about. I want to help, be his escape, and his safe haven. I want him to trust I’ll stay because I want to; I will always stay.” 

She wrote something down in her journal before resting her chin in her hand as she looked back at me through her screen. “I know, Y/N. You’ve spoken about this often.  Seeking support in this form can also provide valuable insights and strategies for breaking this pattern. I believe the two of you can and you won’t run.”

I ran a hand through my hair, the length becoming a big annoyance lately. “You know so much about this, Dr. Poulos. I don’t know the first thing. I want to be able to communicate with him. Not do what I have been doing.” 

“Y/N, it’s normal. It’s critical that before you speak to Noah, you suspend any assumptions or conclusions that put you at odds with him. You absolutely need to approach him by making a generous assumption; and by giving him the benefit of the doubt. This is what it means to be a team, even when you’re feeling distant. You keep loving even when you are feeling as if you are unloveable. You’re not going to do what you did with Trey.”

“Trey.” 

His name still tasted bitter on my tongue. 

“Yes,” Dr. Poulos nodded. “You got your closure on that chapter. Now this is a new one.

“I can’t shake the fear sometimes. The fear of the feeling coming at me all at once and messing it up,” I shifted in my bunk. 

“What I suggest doing when you are feeling upset or angry is to own your emotions and realize that they stem from your interpretation of the situation, not from the facts of the situation. Your fears and deep-seated beliefs about your own sense of inadequacy, unworthiness, or unlovability often lie at the root of all those negative stories you tell yourself about why life is happening the way that it is.”

“Woah,” I blinked. “That’s-uh-a great observation.”

Dr. Poulos narrowed her eyes at me while steepling her fingers under her chin. “I have an assignment for you.”

“Oh, come on! You know how busy I already am,” I joked with a wave of my hand.

She let out a soft giggle. “Yes, well, this will be fairly simple.”

“Take a moment to challenge your assumptions, and allow the possibility that something completely different could be true. Like that, you are loved! And that with patience and respectful communication, you can experience something exceptional with Noah. You said his album is coming out soon, this party could be a great way to try this. Have you thought about going?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said without missing a beat. 

“Wonderful Y/N, see this as an opportunity to vulnerably share something about yourself with Noah, be curious so that you, through this experience, can learn something with him, too.”

I’d be the first one to admit that at first, therapy wasn’t something I thought I needed. It was a waste of time to talk about my feelings with someone who didn’t understand. But right now, I was eating my words. 

“Joe was right,” I said after a few beats of silence. 

“About?” Dr. Poulos shook her head with confusion. 

“Discussing this further with you, thank you it helps,” I ended our session with a large smile. 

READER

“Not to be overly dramatic. I just think it's best. 'Cause you can't miss what you forget.” Joe sang into the microphone. 

I sat in my spot on the couch in the interview space, watching and singing along with a bright smile. 

“So, let's just pretend everything and anything between you and me was never meant,” he finished the song with a long breath. 

I, along with the interviewer, Jackson, clapped as Joe took a seat next to me on the couch. 

“That was phenomenal. We appreciate you being here with us,” Jackson beamed. 

My phone buzzed in my lap and with a glance downward, I felt my face warm at the name. 

Mochi 🍡: You look phenomenal, angel. 

“Thank you,” Joe nodded with a faint smile. “I’m sure I can speak for Y/N that we’re both glad to be here.” 

“It seems like the tour is going pretty well. Every show is sold out. How does that feel for you, Joe? I know Hollow Souls are used to this feeling,” Jackson said while fixing his notes, not looking at me. 

I tilted my head to the side, tongue brushing over my bottom lip. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He finally looked my way and shrugged. “It's just that Hollow Souls is already pretty popular. You guys are used to playing in front of a sold-out crowd.”

“Are you saying that nothing, nowhere isn’t? Or did you forget that his last headlining tour had three back-to-back sold-out shows?” I questioned with a raised brow.  

“Well,” Jackson shifted in his chair across from us and looked at Joe. 

He merely ran a hand through his hair. “Number one fan.” 

“So,” Jackson cleared his throat. “Everyone online is begging me to ask you two this but what’s the dating situation? There’s so much chemistry between the two of you in the behind-the-scenes clips you guys post on Instagram. Everyone wants to know; are you two dating?” 

Joe and I shared a look then I made a show of rolling my eyes while crossing my legs. “Just because a male and female artist tour together, doesn't mean they’re dating.”

My phone buzzed again but this time, I opened the message to read it fully. 

Mochi 🍡: Tell him who’s boss, angel. You know who you belong to.

I cleared my throat while setting my phone screen down in my lap just in time for Joe to speak. 

“No, no. I’m spoken for.”

Jackson looked at me. “Y/N?”

“That’s my name, yes. Do you have a question about Hollow Souls or the tour?” I said with slight venom in my voice. 

Typically I didn’t mind interviews but every once in a while, I’d get an asshole of an interviewer that asked all the wrong kinds of questions. 

“Video surfaced online that Trey was at the show a few nights ago and it looked like the two of you were having an intense conversation. Is there a chance he’s joining Hollow Souls again?” 

My face twitched as something inside of me burned. I leaned towards Jackson with narrowed eyes. 

“Here’s what we’re not going to do; we’re not gonna focus on my love life, or personal life. I make art, not headlines. I’m cool because I'm me, and my band is cool. The art is what’s the focus, not anything else. I do feel as if people need to understand that having a private life is my right. I don’t feel comfortable sharing every aspect. Like I said, I make art, not headlines.” 

“That’s a bold statement to make. It comes with the whole fame territory,” Jackson tried to joke. 

“I refuse to allow this time in my life to be touched, tainted, or bastardized by anyone,” I finished while crossing my arms over my chest. 

While Jackson changed his direction and tone of questions towards Joe for the next couple of minutes, I bounced my knee as the anger continued to fest low in my gut until another text came in. 

Mochi 🍡: Fuck I love when you put douchebags in their place. You’re so sexy, angel. Fuck. I’m going to think about you bossing me around all night.

A hot flash of arousal took over every inch of me as I shifted in my spot on the couch, clenching my thighs together to curb the itch that burned there. 

“Everything alright?” Joe wondered when he saw the warmth on my cheeks. 

I cleared my throat. “Yep. Totally fine.” 

It would be so easy to call Noah to have our first phone sex but the thought of messing with him later sounded more fun.

“So, Y/N. I’d love to know what the future of Hollow Souls looks like?” Jackson questioned with a different tone. 

“See? It’s not that hard to ask questions that actually matter,” I teased with a smile. “But I don’t think we found ourselves because we always knew we wanted this style and this direction but we never really had the confidence to do that.” 

“With this record though, we finally have the assurance to know that we can make it work.”

“Is there inspiration behind this new album?” Jackson wondered. 

“I've always been really inspired by dark things and the supernatural for some reason. Ghosts, paranormal stuff, death, anger, sadness.” 

I gave pause when I realized that this wasn’t exactly a happy inspiration. 

“Well, anything that’s not happy basically inspires me, which sounds kinda messed up,” I admit with a laugh. 

“A lot of the new record, I wrote when I was having a really bad time mentally. I don’t like calling it depression but it seemed like that and I couldn’t pinpoint what my issues were, or what was wrong with me but I knew there was something wrong.” 

Joe watched with a proud smile and I knew that there were a few others back home watching with their own proud smile; my heart could feel it. 

“My problems weren’t tangible things, they weren’t things I could see or explain to people so in a way it was like they were ghosts or spirits that were haunting me,” I continued. 

Jackson rubbed his chin. “Why do you think that is?” 

I pursed my lips, thinking about my answer deeply. “I think a lot of people are afraid to put it out there and talk about it but we weren’t. I think that might be a big reason people have connected to the songs that have been released so far. I feel like for anyone who’s sharing feelings of topics like that, it’s a little bit scary but I feel it's more therapeutic and cathartic to write about that stuff, to talk about that stuff and put it out there. You feel better about it. To know that other people can connect to that makes you feel even better. As scary as it at first, it eventually just pays off and turns out to be good in the end.”

“Why do you think people can relate to it?” 

I shrugged. “I guess because our new album is pretty raw and honest. There’s a lot of topics people can relate to and I think it sounds pretty great, if I do say so myself. We’re pretty proud of it.”

Jackson leaned into his chair. “I would like to jump back to the haunting aspect of this album. Can you elaborate on what exactly is haunting you, if you don’t mind.” 

We’d be here all day if I did and frankly, it wasn’t his or anyone who was watching business. 

“I’m becoming a very private person as of late so I don’t need to go into the personal aspects of my life. Just know I’m moving past things, and I’m very content. Dare I say happy with where the future will be.”

Jackson nodded. “Fair enough. Would you say you’re hopeful for what the future will bring?” 

With a bright smile, I looked directly at the camera that had been pointed at us the entire time and winked. 

“Oh yes, more than hopeful.” 

Later on that night, when I was in the solace of the bathroom of the tour bus, I wore the skimpy red lace teddy I bought earlier. The necklace and bracelet glinted under the dim light as I extended my arm to take a variety of pictures; the sly smirk never leaving my lips. 

With four different pictures attached, I quickly typed out a message to Noah right on the dot at 10 p.m. 

Me: You were bold to text me earlier like that, mochi, I could barely contain myself. Here’s a little payback. Hope you’re all flustered and bothered, whatever you’re doing I suppose will have to wait. Dream of me. I love you.

Almost instantly, Noah texted back as I was swiftly changing into my pajamas for the evening. What I thought was one text became four right after the other. 

Mochi 🍡: Matt’s right next to me, angel. What if he saw this?

Mochi 🍡: fuck, my dick is throbbing right now but I can’t do shit about it. Consider this my karma.

Mochi 🍡: I can’t stop staring at the picture. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. A true definition of an angel. 

Mochi 🍡: I’m going to call you in a little bit. I need to hear your voice. I need it. 

Switching off the bathroom light, I walked across the narrow hallway to climb into my bunk and under the covers

Me:  I’m going to bed early tonight. Maybe we can talk on the phone tomorrow. I love you.

By the time Noah responded, I was already in a peaceful, dark slumber.

Mochi 🍡: Fuck, I love you too angel. So fucking much. 

READER

"Wait," Joe shook his head at us. "You guys do this after every tour?" 

Malcolm nodded as he held the door open for all of us. "Every tour. It's become a Hollow Souls tradition."

As we all crowded into the small tattoo shop’s lobby, Joe's eyes brightened with the realization. 

“Oh, so that's why you got the tattoo of the anime character on your ankle.” 

"Yep, I smiled brightly. "Noah and I got them together on my birthday." 

The buzzing was loud in the tattoo shop as I waved at the owner who had no problem staying open late for us tonight. We finished the tour strong tonight with a hype crowd and with the adrenaline still buzzing through us, we decided to get the tattoos as soon as we left the venue. 

Joe shifted on his feet while running a hand through his hair. “You’re positive you want to get the Reaper album art tattooed?”

"This album helped me through some dark times in my life. I need to do it, especially with what happened last week. It’ll be a great way to remember a great tour and the new friend I made,” I answered while bumping his shoulder with mine. 

After we all checked in and waited, Chase ruffled my hair. “It’s almost 10 p.m LA time, sweets.”

"Shit!" I cursed while quickly whipping out my phone from my pocket. "I can't believe I almost missed it!"

Me: I love you, Mochi. Last night of tour went off without a hitch. Currently getting our typical tattoos. I can’t wait to show you what I get. 

I sat on the bed, exposing my left thigh to the artist after she laid down the stencil, and struck up a conversation with everyone as I waited for Noah to respond. Surprisingly, tonight it took him a long while to text back which made my mind wander to what he was up to. My heart didn’t ache and my stomach wasn’t filled with nerves which meant it wasn’t anything terrible. 

After my risque picture I sent him the other day, we never had the chance to talk on the phone, but I knew that it still affected him because any chance he could, Noah would send me risque texts throughout the day.

“Thank fuck,” I breathed when my phone buzzed next to me. 

Mochi 🍡: I can’t wait to see it, angel. Also, sorry it took me so long to respond. I may have taken Salem to the pet store to spoil him with a few things. I hope you know I plan on keeping him for a bit once you’re back home. Mal said you guys will be busy in the studio so no need for Salem to be home alone. I love you too, angel. 

“I would ask who has you smiling like that but it’s pointless. There’s only one person who can do that,” Malcolm snorted while his artist wrapped up his tattoo. 

I stuck out my tongue at him. “Noah told me he took Salem shopping.” 

Chase rolled his eyes playfully. “And you say he’s not Salem’s dad yet.” 

Before I could set my phone down, another message came through; one I read with a fast beating heart. 

Nick R : February 23, 2022. 929 Angelus Street. Turn Right on Luna Ave. Overnight valet is already handled. No, Noah doesn’t know when to expect you. Don’t be late, Cinderella.

Nick R: The theme is red. I think you know why. Do with that what you will.

Oh shit, that was in just over two weeks. Which meant I needed a dress. And new shoes. A new hairstyle wouldn’t hurt either. 

With a smile, I responded back to Nick. 

Me: We will be there! Unlike Cinderella, I have no intention of losing my shoe and missing my Prince Charming.

Nick R: Oh good! We are merely the mice. 

CHASE

I grumbled under my breath as I scrubbed out the fresh red paint out of the dining room carpet. How many times have I told her to put a damn drop down? Y/N’s lucky I know my way around cleaning supplies and know how to get a stain out. 

Malcolm clicked his tongue against his teeth as he leaned against the wall, staring down at me as I continued to scrub on my hands and knees. 

“I must say, I love this sight of you. On your knees.” 

I snapped my eyes up at him. “Not fucking funny, Mal.” 

“I think she’ll be really excited for what Noah has planned,” he noted. 

“Oh she’s gonna lose it! In the best way,” I agreed while continuing to scrub. 

 “I think so too.” Malcolm placed a kiss on my lips before sauntering into the kitchen to get things ready for dinner. “How long do you think Y/N will be?” 

“Not sure,” I ran a hand over my buzzed head then threw in the towel; literally. 

“You know how she is when she’s let loose in the art supply store. I’d be shocked if she made it back before dinner,” I continued while hopping up on the counter. 

Malcolm began setting out the variety of ingredients and I reached for my phone next to me. 

Me: Noah, beware of paint all over the carpet.

Noah S: Already taken care of.

I showed Malcolm the text to which he smirked. “Did we expect anything less from him?”

Me: Good. Because even though I love her to the ends of the earth, paint is a fucking bitch to clean. 

Malcolm handed me a beer, one I took with a kiss of thanks, and slowly nursed it as Noah texted me back. 

Noah S: Here’s the address. I would love it if you and Malcolm come check it out. 

Me: Definitely. Let's plan for Friday?

READER

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, eyes locked on the things scattered all over the counter, I found myself dissociating into thoughts of earlier today when we were in the studio. We had one last song to record before we started the final touches but this song was the most important. It needed to be perfect. 

I needed to be perfect. 

Which is why 

“Sweets you’ve gone over the verse we can meet in the middle at least ten times now. I think it’s good.”

Chase reassured me as I came out of the vocal booth with a scrunched up face. I did not like how my voice sounded which prompted me to do vocal take after vocal take. 

I fell to the couch in between him and Malcolm. “I need this to be perfect. I hate how my voice is sounding. It can’t sound like this. It can’t.” 

“It sounds amazing, Y/N! I promise,” Malcolm said. 

“I just-,” I ran a hand through my long hair and groaned. “This is so important to me. I want him to know I’m here. And I’m not going to leave him.”

“Noah knows sweets, he knows. He’s so stoked for this record. You know he’ll love it.”

I tossed my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, exhausted with the length. I needed my neck to breathe. It felt as if I was suffocating under the weight of it. 

“Fucking hormones,” I eventually chuckled while wiping tears from my eyes. 

Malcolm gave me a weak smile while rubbing my back. “Any pain today?” 

“A little but not much. It’s bearable.” I informed them. 

Chase nodded while squeezing my knee. “Ok, if you need a break let us know. Don’t push yourself too much. You sound beautiful.”

Salem jumped on the counter, breaking me from my thoughts, and immediately I brought him up in my chest. His green eyes stared up at me in wonder and maybe a little bit of confusion with what he saw.

“Did you have fun with Noah?” I missed you so much,” I cooed. 

Noah dropped him off while we were in the studio, us just missing each other by mere minutes. 

My fingers scratched at Salem’s neck, now realizing the bright red collar and new tag. 

“Oh, dad did in fact spoil you while I was gone. New collar, new tag, a bunch of new sushi toys. Not to mention the bed that can fit a 20 pound dog,” I chuckled. 

My shoulders went rigid when I realized what I just said. 

Dad. 

I just called Noah Salem’s dad. 

Swallowing thickly at the acceptance, I then looked at the new tag and felt my heart jump into my throat; heat spreading from the tips of my toes to my scalp.

Oh my heart. 

Salem Sebastian-L/N. 

And on the front of the tag were symbols I’d never seen before. “Huh, that's weird. What’s with the yin yang and eye symbol?” 

Biting my lip, I set Salem down on the counter and picked up my phone instead, quickly dialing the number I had memorized so long ago. 

Noah picked up after the second ring. “Hi, angel.” 

I twirled a piece of fresh hair around my finger while leaning against the counter. 

“Salem Sebastian-L/N huh?” 

A quick beat of silence. “Yeah. Figured he needed a collar with his full name. I think he likes me, he was quite needy. Is that alright?”

“Definitely alright, mochi,” I smiled into the phone. “Do the symbols have any meaning?

“You’ll know soon, angel.”

“Okay then. Keep your secrets,” I groaned. 

Noah’s infectious laughter made my stomach flip. “Will do, Frodo.” 

“I think we are due for a Lord of the Rings marathon soon. You down?” I bit the inside of my cheek, hopeful for his answer. 

“Always down, especially with you.”

I did my best to hide my excitement and was thankful Noah wasn’t here to see the way I jumped on the soles of my feet. “Wonderful.” 

There was a long comfortable silence before his rich voice came through the speaker. 

“I miss you. I love you.” 

I played with my necklace. “I miss you too, Noah. I love you.” 

“We’ll talk later?”

It was now him who had the hopeful tone. 

“Always,” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. 

“Okay.”

I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight mochi”.

“Good night angel.”

As I hung up the phone, Chase and Malcolm both popped their heads into the bathroom. They had an approving smile on their face. 

“Does it look bad?” I asked self-consciously. 

Malcolm was the first to speak. “It looks really good, sweets. We’re proud of you.” 

“New Era coming, huh?” Chase asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded with a smile. “Yeah I think so. I’m ready for it.”

“Well good. Because we are too,” he knocked on the wall before the two of them disappeared in their bedroom. 

Hooking up the blow dryer, I began to dry my now darker and shorter hair, humming along to a song that had been stuck in my head all day. 

“I was lost but now I’m found.” 

Salem jumped up onto the closed toilet seat, watching me with bright eyes.

“We’re not perfect but we’re proud of who we are,” my voice echoed in the confines of the bathroom.

[erythriina]

Crozier: Stage manager. Runs an extremely tight ship; rehearsals start and end on time, and woe betide you if you show up late. Suffers no fools, especially when it comes to safety. Fell in love with theatre as a young kid, but became jaded after years of running into educational, financial, ‘who do you know’ barriers and dealing with the kind of bigots and assholes you only get in this industry.

Fitzjames: Originally Franklin’s AD, but is officially promoted to director when Franklin has to step down for health reasons. Used to be an actor—and a pretty good one!—but moved to directing because it seemed more prestigious and respectable. In the end, he wouldn’t choose to go back, but he will twist your ear with stories of his time trodding the boards. Studied on scholarship, does everything possible to keep this a secret.

( I went back on forth on switching these two roles, with Crozier as director and Fitzjames as SM, because in canon Crozier technically outranks JFJ. In the end though I think this is more fitting, since JFJ and Franklin may have big ideas, but Crozier is the one with his head firmly in the reality of the situation; as the SM and as Franklin’s canon second, his job (whether he gets to do it or not) is to reign him in, to make sure what he wants to happen is both feasible and safe. )

Blanky: Production manager. His job is to get the things necessary for JFJ and Crozier to do their jobs. He and Crozier have worked together for years and are a tight unit.

Little: Originally the technical director, (essentially the head of the scenic department: lights, sound, set, costumes, props). Becomes official AD when JFJ becomes official director. Briefly enjoys a stint as acting stage manager in Crozier’s stead, and by ‘enjoys’ I mean he hated every moment of it.

Jopson: Wardrobe head. Woe unto anyone who eats in costume. He and Crozier have worked together before—they come as a pair—so he becomes the unofficial liaison bw Crozier and the rest of the prod team (it’s a “dad likes you best” sort of situation). Crozier eventually asks him to become acting ASM (they didn’t have one before; Franklin didn’t think it was necessary). Did some acting as a kid/teen, but prefers production; if you hound him enough when he’s in a good mood, he will, after a long sigh, perform the most perfect triple time step you’ve ever seen.

Hodgson: Dramaturg and I won’t elaborate. Is also the fight captain when it’s called for, and is extremely good at it; he’s great at teaching one-on-one and encouraging the actors while still prioritizing safety, and his flair for the dramatic lends itself incredibly well to choreographing fights. He does, however, tend to lose it and make poor decisions when given any more solo responsibility than that.

Irving: Scenographer, in charge of the overall design of the production. Stressed out 24/7. Keeps absolutely pristine and lovingly detailed piece lists, is very good with the maths for measurements. Seems too uptight for such a creative job, but in actuality is very creative, just also very shy.

Tozer: Master carpenter. He didn’t start as master carp, but his superiors kept leaving and now he has more responsibility than he expected. Outwardly seems like he doesn’t give much of a fuck, but takes pride in his work. Main operator of the power tools; will box your ears if he catches you using them without proper PPE.

Hickey: Just kind of hangs around the scene shop most of the time. Presumably he’s in charge of gluing various bits of wood together, or something. Irving once caught him hooking up with his boyfriend behind the wall of old plywood backgrounds. Later, when Irving has an ‘accident’ one night whilst working late alone in the shop, Hickey is somehow the first on the scene…

Peglar: Master electrician, head of lights and sound. Doesn’t get to do it often, but adores operating the theater’s single spotlight (getting to it involves some climbing that OSHA would not approve of). Can untangle a mass of wires faster than anyone else and knows what each and every one of them goes to. Closest he ever got to performance was dipping his toe into standup comedy (iykyk. sorry honey you fit the type)

Silna: Perennial unwilling house manager, because her family owns the place and her dad always makes her. Basically in charge of the space as a whole. Not a huge fan of her job, but finds some amusement/comfort in getting to sit in the shadows and watch the prod team bicker and make fools of themselves, bc it makes her feel competent in comparison.

[zenkindoflove]

I have a new hypothesis about why the ACOTAR fandom is so weird.

And I think it's because there is a difference between the people who enter this fandom as shippers and the people who enter because they like the romance genre*.

I think many life long shippers enjoy romance. Maybe they don't always seek out the genre but they see romance in whatever media they are engaging with and they take those characters and put romance spins on them even if those characters aren't from a romance story. You ship because of a feeling. You see a dynamic or maybe you think about what a dynamic could be and then suddenly you're pulled in. Like falling in love. But you're falling in love with the idea of a couple. How that couple ends up becoming in canon is independent about how thinking about them together makes you feel.

I think romance readers aren't necessarily shippers*. They enjoy reading romance in a romance canon but they don't necessarily ship in the way shippers do with obsession and devotion regardless of what the canon says. They ship because they see that this couple is good together and it does make them feel squishy inside. Similar to a shipper. But they weren't necessarily going to see that until the canon actually played it out. To me that is responding to a romance plot as the author intended.

And maybe that is something different than shipping. I know for myself, I can read and watch romance and feel pulled in by the love I see but I don't "ship" them in the way I have shipped my OTPs with the level of obsession and devotion and need to construct my own head canons and fanon.

And I think that is a big issue when people from different backgrounds try to talk about shipping and the ship war in ACOTAR if they aren't coming from a similar experience. As I discuss a lot on this blog, there is history and culture behind shipping. And shippers have developed a common language to discuss shipping in a way that respects others shipping habits while also maintaining your devotion to your own ship.

It seems like those who are in this fandom because they enjoy canonical depictions of romance only are often confused by people who are taking characters into their own fanons and playing around with them or are devoted to them regardless of what the canon validates or not.

If you are used to shipping generally it seems very weird for people to say things like "I ship this because they're end game" or "I'll stop shipping if they don't end up together". Because shippers tend to not ship because of end game. They would LIKE end game because having canon validation is great. But it is not necessary (I also am tempted to make a whole post defining the differences between canon vs. fanon vs. end game ships because I frequently see the ACOTAR fandom using these terms incorrectly).

I think sometimes we are talking across each other and not to each other because we don't share a common cultural understanding of fandom or approach to shipping.

*obviously people can be both. Maybe the first couple you shipped is because you got into a romance series. But the point is that shipping at its heart comes from a feeling. How thinking about these characters together makes you feel squishy inside. And that can exist with or without canon. Shipping canon couples does come with many rewards, and canon can validate and be positive feedback on your shipping feelings, but you don't ship because they're end game. You would ship them regardless because you saw something special in their dynamic and whether the canon gets it or not isn't going to stop you. I like reading romance but I find romance in any genre because my shipping brain never stops.

[yelenasdiary]

Can you do headcannons on Wanda being pregnant with reader because of the hex and having to tell Natasha on top of dealing with all the hex aftermath?

(That storyline not being picked is the loss of my life fr 😔)

Westview 2.0 Headcannons

Ignore the ugly ass title lmao, I have no idea what to title this x

These are just some of the ideas I had for the story if I did write it, unfortunately there isn't really a need to do that now so being able to share these is fun! I hope you enjoy, this is kinda long.

After Wanda clears the Hex, all she does want to do is go into hiding, seeing what she's done wrong, it made it hard for her to accept that she abused her powers for her own needs.

Things between Wanda and Nat are slightly awkward after the hex, Nat coming back from basically the dead is already a lot for her to deal with but on top of learning what Wanda did in response to grieving also throws her. She's not mad to say because she understands to a degree, she's more mad that nobody kept an eye on Wanda and made sure she was getting help if she needed.

Wanda does see a therapist.

Wanda knows about her pregnancy but it's something she struggles to tell Nat about. A lot of conversations in therapy help her take that step to tell Nat.

Wanda wants to retire from the Avengers, she wants to leave that life behind and just try to live a normal life but she knows Nat wouldn't be open to the idea.

When Wanda tells Natasha about the pregnancy, Nat can't find any reason to be upset. She's happy, she's excited but a little overtime she see's that the unexpected pregnancy throws her more than she thought.

Wanda wants to do the right thing, she wants to try and made things right. The town of Westview now have knowledge of their ordeal and think Wanda should be punished for taking an entire town hostage. Wanda doesn't seem to fight the idea.

Natasha is against the idea of Wanda going to prison, she always argues that Wanda was in pain, she was grieving and that should be taken into account whenever her and Wanda get into arguments over it. Natasha just wants to take care of her wife and unborn child.

Strings are pulled and Wanda ends up being on house arrest, has 100 hours of community service to do and will spend 6 months in prison after her baby is born. Natasha isn't happy about it but she's thankful that Wanda won't be missing years of this new chapter of life.

Wanda & Nat go to marriage counselling. This helps the two of them understand how one another feels after the hex. Nat now understands Wanda's need to do right and do time for what she did and Wanda now see's that although Nat is over the moon about having a child, she wishes that they were about to talk about it and plan it. Nat does feel like Wanda went against her will a little.

Wanda's pregnancy eventually brings the two Avengers together more. They come more excited to be mothers each week.

They buy a house just outside of New York, close by Clint's farm house so Natasha has privacy and help when the time comes for Wanda to go to prison.

Natasha is in full protective mother-mode, she's always by Wanda's side, always talking about the baby and future plans. She ignores the 6 months that Wanda will be somewhat absent and tries to distract Wanda from thinking about it.

Together, they make their new home a home that is every much them. The nursery is very much inspired by Wanda's Sokovian heritage and Nat's Russian background. They want their baby to know where they come from. Not from a hex and spell, but from two mothers that love them more than life.

Before the baby is born, Wanda tells Natasha that when the time comes, she doesn't want to hide anything from their child. Eventually they will ask how they born, they will hear talk about their mothers. Natasha disagrees, she doesn't want their child to know of horrible things Natasha was made to do but with some therapy, Natasha comes to terms with how to tell their child things without tell them the glory details.

Wanda had plenty of unusual food cravings while pregnant, one that she kept going back too was pizza topped with strawberry and caramel toppings.

Nat would always talk to Wanda's swollen stomach, telling the little unborn baby anything she would think off. At night, when Nat struggled to fall asleep, she would read a nursery book to the baby. She wouldn't wait to read them a book and be able to look over to them sleeping of smiling soft back at her.

Nat was excited to let Melina & Alexei apart of this new chapter of her life. Yelena couldn't wait to be an aunty, ofc she wished the baby was born at an age she could take the child out to do things. Melina was excited to be a grandmother but she refused to be called grandma or nan - that changed when you called her nanny Melina for the first time. Alexei was set that unborn baby was going to be a boy, he would boost about how he couldn't wait to take the little champ camping and what not. He was actually relieved when he found out his grandchild was a granddaughter.

Wanda wished she would share all this joy with her parents and Pietro.

Wanda & Nat welcomed their beautiful, healthy daughter at 10:37pm on a Saturday night in August.

They named their baby Y/n Iryna Romanoff.

You had Wanda's big, green eyes and Natasha's smile along with her red hair.

With everything that had happened over the last 9 months, all the bad and the good, Wanda was thankful that the best outcome was you. You made everything better, nothing worried the two mothers but making sure you would always be happy, safe and healthy.

Taglist: @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @karmasgxrl | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @mostlymarvelsstuff | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @angel68104 | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @caporal-nino | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @cigarsandscotchallday | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | 

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[punksalmon]

Tell us more about this Escape ending AU that you are completely normal about.

WELL, if you're asking

(i first received this ask in 28th of JUNE, but waited for my uni break so i could be as self-indulgent as possible)

the Escape AU is first and foremost my obsession with (1) epilogue-type stories as a way to deal with the conseguences of a plot (which is especially promising with funger's trauma bonanza) and (2) domestic gay people (which is ALSO especially promising with funger's trauma bonanza). i also like when the domestic couple are kind of freaks.

the background for the AU is mostly based with my number of playthroughs with the game, in particular that as soon as i had the girl and knew what exactly her ending was, i would go after literally any other ending just so she could live.

to say the summary of the dungeon-canon, ragnvaldr goes in the dungeon after le'garde to kill him and enki goes into the dungeon after the ritual of ascension, and they just join forces for survival; the girl only comes after, and because ragnvalr is partly in this whole quest because his child was murdered, he becomes somewhat protective of the girl, and then of enki, to the point of doubt about when does this affection and desire to protect is for them on their own, and when it's just comes as a second hand for the family ragnvaldr's lost. enki isn't arsed with any of it at first, but as a feral cat gaining the literal first modicum of care in its life, he starts to become less sure of how far he'd gone to obtain success when it puts this other people at risk, even without understanding (or accepting) any of it. and the girl is, verbatim, "unused to kindness of any kind" - she literally deserves the world.

the ending E, as exactly "underwhelming" as it is, is a reflection of this sense of care the characters develop: it doesn't matter what the dungeon does offer (and what really the characters do achieve in it; i personally like the idea of them facing Le'garde as the Yellow King in the dungeon, for the pathos of it all). the most important thing after the conga line of misery that funger is, is that for people that at that point had no reason to live, they suddenly get one. for it, they leave behind the dungeon and the promises within.

i still like to think that this sort of decision is not without unrest - i don't think enki would do well as a house wife, and this tension of "did i make a good choice? is this really what i want?" is interesting. i also thing ragvaldr has a little parasocial thing going because of his previous family, and i also think that idea is interesting.

as always, i like to see characters go through the ringer and then try to build a happy ending (or as happy as it can be) out of it. i feel that's a sort o theme anyone can find comfort in. and yes, i do like thinking of the funniest possible nuclear family unity Oldegård would ever see (pair of parents + one kid + a dog). (and i do like thinking about rag and enki doing it nasty. who said that.)

thank you for the ask and literally anyone who has the minimum interest about my brainworms… i loved thinking about them to write this. it also made me draw again (miraculous), so here's a little something.

first leaving the dungeons.