#but there are too many questions and few answers

[jamespotterismydaddy]

On the Brink

joel miller x reader smut

description: you’ve been wanting him for so long but joel can’t bring himself to give you what you want, what you deserve. a near death experience makes him realize how much he needs you

WORD COUNT: 4,2 k words

WARNINGS: smut, angst, age gap, semi-public sex, it’s also fluffy and cute at the start so no complaining about the angst

Your eyes watch him from across the yard with that same look you’ve had for the past few months. He knows what it is. Of course he knows what it is- he’s not an idiot… but that doesn’t mean he can ever acknowledge it. You’re young. Not a child by any means but for god’s sake, you’re half his age. There will be no entertaining these longing glaces you throw his way.

It was innocent at first, or at least he thinks it was. You would knock on his door, ask for his advice when it came to things like shooting and whatnot. He liked being helpful, useful. He liked that it was him that you came to, not Tommy even if he was known to be a sharpshooter. He thought that you looking up to him was the part he liked; he’s starting to realize that what he really likes is your attention.

“You need some help there, Mr. Miller?” You ask sweetly as he pulls in the planks of wood. He didn’t even see you walk over.

Joel rolls his eyes. You know he doesn’t like it when you call him that. Makes him really feel his age. “Not from you, trouble.”

He was getting the supplies together because part of his front porch was rotting and he’d be damned if he fucked his knee up some more stepping through a weak plank. He could use the help, but he just doesn’t want your help.

“You getting sick of me already?” You say, giving him that ‘kicked puppy’ look that would make any man’s heart melt. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel more than sympathy.

“Course not.” He grumbles. “I did just see you this morning though.”

“What can I say… i’m clingy.” You shrug and grin at him with a smile so bright it could light up the sky.

“Go be clingy with somebody else.” He waves you off as he picks up his pencil and ruler to start marking lines on the wood. “I’m sure any man in Jackson would appreciate it.”

You stop for a moment, like you see something underlying in his words. “That seems to imply that you don’t think my attention is purely friendly.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs but doesn’t give you any more of an answer.

“Besides, are you not a man in Jackson?” You ask teasingly, wanting to get more out of him.

He tries to keep his focus on his work so his attention doesn’t feed into your teasing. “That’s different.” He grumbles.

“Why is it different?”

He sighs, keeping his head low but letting his eyes rise up above his glasses to meet yours. “It’s different because i’m an old man in Jackson.”

You frown a little. You know what he means but you want him to explain it anyhow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ that I can’t entertain…” He gestures with his hand. “... whatever this is that you’ve been doing for the past few weeks.”

He knows. Of course he knows; you haven’t been exactly subtle. You just never thought you would be able to make him say it out loud. “And what have I been doing?”

“Askin’ too many damn questions.” He grumbles under his breath and grabs his ruler to check his cut lines again. What is it all those carpenters say? Measure twice, cut once? That must’ve been a rule he would live by.

“What is it that i’m doing, Joel?”

He stops with his work now to look up at you properly. He seems like he’s about to speak but pauses for a moment, knowing that if he addresses this then it’s out in the open. He won’t be able to neatly pack up this conversation and put it in a safe where nobody can find it. Whatever is going on between the two of you… it’s pandora’s box.

But in the moment, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“You’re flirtin’ with me, sweetheart.”

“I am.” Is all you say in reply, looking into his eyes far too deeply.

He’s a little surprised and was half expecting you to deny it. “Well you shouldn’t.”

“How come?” Your quick little replies are irritating him now.

He rubs his forehead with his thumb, feeling frustrated. You’re not stupid and you know he’s twice your age. You know why you shouldn’t. You know it makes him feel wrong. So why act so clueless?

“It ain’t right.” He grumbles. “I’m too old for ya.”

“I don’t mind.” You say softly. “I would still like you if I was 10 years older.”

“It’s not about you liking me. It’s about what’s good for you.” He sighs. “And an old man ain’t it.”

“I hardly care about pre-outbreak morals, Joel.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you deserve. A man that can keep up with you, take care of you even 20 years from now. I can’t be that.” He looks almost nervous now. He feels the same way he did when he asked Tommy to take Ellie to the fireflies. It’s a different sense of care but he still doesn’t feel worthy for you in the same way that he didn’t feel worthy for her.

“It’s you that I want.”

He sighs.

“There’s plenty more age-appropriate men in Jackson who’d be chomping at the bit for a chance with you. You should go and take your pick of them.” He continues, trying his best to push you away. It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Christ, he really wants you. But he also cares about you and that means he’s gotta try to nudge you in the right direction.

“I took my pick. Currently, he’s being difficult.” You say and he scoffs as he tries not to think about how endearing he finds your quick wit.

“I said age-appropriate.”

“Well there’s no other man i’m interested in.” You understand why he’s trying to convince you that he’s not somebody you should spend your time on. Maybe there was a time when things like age were more important but it feels miniscule now in the great span of things and besides, you can tell when he’s being self destructive. “So it hardly matters how many there are to choose from.”

He furrows his brows. Joel can hardly understand why it would be him you would want. He originally thought whatever you were feeling was a passing fantasy due to proximity, but it’s starting to appear as if it’s more than that. You’re just so full of light; he doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Y’know I can probably finish up here on my own. I ‘preciate your help though.” It makes him uncomfortable to realize your attention isn’t going to be quite as fleeting as he thought. He doesn’t know how to react to it. It’s not that he wants to hurt you. He’s just never been a man of many words.

“Um… yeah okay. No problem.” You try not to show how upset you are but it hurts for him to brush you aside so easily. “Bye.”

You walk off, regretting trying to push his hand, regretting the conversation in general… and most definitely regretting that you agreed to fill in for Tommy on his patrol shift with Joel in the morning.

~~~~~

When he walks into the stables the next day, Joel’s ready to grumble to his brother about how he has no damn coffee left and slept like shit, but is stopped in his tracks when he finds you tacking up Bellard.

You don’t turn around to look at him, you already recognize the sound of his heavy footsteps and besides, who else would be in the stables at 8am?

“I promise i’m not trying to stalk you. I already agreed to cover Tommy’s shift. Ben’s still not feeling well.” You tighten the cinch on the horse, not wanting to have any more whoopsies involving your saddle half slipping off like when you were just learning to ride.

“Didn’t think you were.” He says, already able to tell how your voice is colder. You’re more closed off to him now.

You put your foot into the stirrup and swing your leg over so you’re sat on the saddle. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel.” It’s ironic really, they way you sound so vulnerable when you speak even though you are literally sitting up on your high horse.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, sweetheart.” He says as he gets up onto his horse as well, giving her a light nudge with his heel to get her moving. “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

His false mirror words don’t fool you, the illusion shattered like glass by his nervous mannerisms. You know your conversation with him yesterday made things weird and you’re starting to wish you’d just ignored the whole thing like a normal person. You’d just really felt the need to defend yourself, never wanting to chase a man who doesn’t want you. Even if you have a feeling that he does.

But he ignores it. For the whole patrol he ignores it. The slight crack you saw in his demeanor has melded itself back together and he is back to the gruff man he usually is.

What you don’t see is his watchful eye, ever on you, protectively. You don’t know that it’s the same way that he watches Ellie and Tommy. The only people he would risk everything for, the only people that he makes sure are safe before himself. But it isn’t quite the same, is it? There’s something more in his gaze as it’s cast upon you, a hint of the same longing you have when your eyes fall on him.

“Did you hear that?” Your question puts him on alert right away. He tries to listen and he thinks his old ears are failing him before he hears the crash. It’s coming from a cabin east of Jackson, one that’s been checked through multiple times, even by Joel himself. While patrol routes are changed often, buildings are still checked regularly for anyone that might be hiding out. Clickers are of course dangerous but thinking, intelligent humans are much worse.

“Stay here. I’ll get closer and see if it’s anything to worry about.” He says, like it’s a command.

“I’m your partner, not your sidekick. I won’t let you go in there alone just because you don’t think I make good backup.”

“Jesus, woman ya really think that’s why I want you to stay behind?” You give him a look that says that’s exactly what you think but he doesn’t have time to validate you when there’s a chance that something dangerous is in that cabin right now. “Just follow at a distance then at the very least.”

That’s enough for you so you nod and the both of you hop off your horses and tie them up, not wanting them to spook at the first sign of whatever is in that cabin.

The two of you approach slowly and you try not to flinch at the crashing sounds so you can hold your gun straight. You also don’t want Joel to sense your fear. It’s not helpful for him to be worrying about you. You won’t be a distraction. He moves around the side of the cabin to look through the window and mouths the word ‘infected’ to you, holding up three fingers. You nod to show your understanding and he starts to make his way back, likely to come up with an action plan.

Though he barely makes it two feet when one of the horses whinnies. You both freeze. It wasn’t that loud, right? How good could an infected’s hearing possibly be?

Your answer comes moments later when they burst through the front door, but they don’t hear Joel. You’re the one who is in direct line of the horses.

“Shit.” You breathe out as you aim your gun and make a shot for the one in front, missing the head but hitting it in the shoulder. A shoulder shot doesn’t stop a runner.

“Goddamn it.” Joel acts quick, putting a bullet through the one closest to him with easy precision. The infected drops to the ground.

The one closest to you is still moving fast and you know you need to make this shot because if Joel misses, the last one will be on you before you can even think. You keep your hands steady, too pumped full of adrenaline to shake like you were before, and you pull the trigger.

You hear a gunshot, but it isn’t yours as Joel takes down the other runner. Your gun never fired.

Because your gun is jammed.

You pull the trigger again, and again, frantic now.

It’s no use so you drop the useless weapon. You look down for a moment to draw your knife but it’s too late as the infected tackles you to the ground.

“Joel!” The call rips out from your throat and Joel is sure he’s never heard such terror in anyone’s voice before. Well… not so sure.

You hold the infected back as well as you can, knowing that it’s over if you’re bitten, but you don’t have to push it back for long.

Joel’s gun fires and the shot rings true as the mindless flesh creature falls off next to you. A headshot taken from just the right position so the bullet wouldn’t graze you.

“Are you hurt?” The fear in his eyes matches your own as he kneels in front of you and seems to check you for injury over anything else.

Then he pauses.

“Are you bit?”

The thought comes to you at the same time. You were so dazed during the attack that it’s something you actually have to think about.

“I um… no.” You stumble over your words for a moment before speaking more confidently. “No, it didn't bite me.”

“Good.” He nods and moves on quickly, helping you to your feet.

He starts to move around, checking the infected, checking the house. He’s not focused on you anymore, like he wants to be distracted from the thought.

“One of them probably got bit a day or two back. Didn’t tell his friends and then…” He trails off, gesturing to the bodies. “This happened. Don’t think it’s something to worry about too much though. Probably an isolated event.”

He explains, but he’s rambling. Joel Miller doesn’t ramble. The near death experience is brushed under the rug, but you won’t have that.

“Joel.” You start but he cuts you off.

“I can write up the report for it. I know that’s something you’re not a fan of.” It’s idle talk, nothing of value.

“Joel.” You say his name more firmly now and he looks up at you. “I almost died.”

He clenches his jaw, the tenseness in the conversation now unavoidable. You walk closer and it takes everything in him to not step away. He wants to leave, wants to push it down, but you almost died. He can hardly wrap his mind around it. If he had shot that runner a second later, it would have bitten you, at the very least, and his next bullet would’ve been in your head.

“I know.” He grumbles.

“Do you? Because you won’t look me in the eye.” There’s desperation in the way you look up at him and it’s like he’s staring through you instead of at you.

He lets out a breath and it kills you because you can’t tell what he’s feeling. There’s emotion in his eyes but you just don’t know which one.

“Please don’t shut down on me.” Your hand rises to touch his shoulder and he feels warmth bloom in his chest. He hasn’t felt that in a long time.

His eyes finally flicker down to yours and then to your lips for just a moment. He should think about what he’s doing, he knows that. Your age should be enough to put him off, but he almost lost you only minutes ago.

He won’t deny himself any longer.

Joel’s hand lifts to your chin and your eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion as he tilts your chin up. You part your lips to speak but don’t get the chance because his mouth is now on yours. All his hunger and need and desire finally come out as he kisses you harshly. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you against him, never breaking the kiss. It’s like he doesn’t need air to breathe as he pushes his lips against yours and walks you back until a tree stops you. His tongue pushes into your mouth and he groans when feeling yours push back.

He pulls back and you worry that he regrets it, thinking he acted irrationally or emotionally. Those worries are quelled when he focuses his attention on your neck, leaving gentle kisses and sucking on the soft skin just the right amount so it won’t leave any marks. You let out a soft moan as his fingertips graze up your thigh before gripping it firmly and lifting it up against him.

“I need you, Joel.” You whisper so softly that he’s not even sure he heard you correctly.

“Hm, honey?” He still isn’t fully focused as he trails kisses up your jawline.

“I need it.” You whine a bit and he frowns.

“No.” He murmurs against your skin, kisses so soft and featherlight that you can’t be convinced he’s even touching you. “Not here. You deserve better than here.”

“Please. I’ve been waiting for so long.” You slip your hand under the hem of his shirt. “Been so patient.”

A hint of a smile graces his face. “Patient? Sweetheart, you’re begging me to fuck you in a forest in the middle of our patrol.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” Your hand slides up his chest. “You gotta finish the things you start, Mr. Miller.”

His hand grabs your other thigh and he lifts you up so you’re pushed against the tree. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of him lifting you up with ease, like he’s got something to prove. “I know.”

“Then you should learn to watch your mouth.”

You smirk, knowing just how easy it is to rile him up. “Why don’t you watch it for me?”

He huffs as if your bratty little comments annoy him, but you know he likes it. It’s easy to tell by the way his lips find yours once again. His moves are messy and imprecise. It’s so unlike him to be so reckless but it’s you that brings it out of him.

Hands are pulling at clothes and you’re quickly at a point where your pants are off enough for him to touch you. His fingers waste no time pushing past your underwear to tease you. The movements are slow now, just enough to leave you wanting for more.

“Joel.” You try to scold but it comes out more like a breathy moan.

“Hmm?” He’s not focused on your face anymore, no matter how pretty it might be. He’s more concerned with how many fingers he can push inside you before you start to whine.

“Joel.” You pout again as he feels your wetness pooling in his palm.

Three then. He thinks to himself, calculating how long he’ll have to wait to let you adjust to his cock before he can fuck you how he wants. But he already knows he’ll be pushing your limits.

“Shh, baby. Clearly, you’re not as patient as you claim to be.”

You can’t even reply, not with how good it feels when his fingers start to curl inside you. Joel continues the motions for a minute or so but it’s not what you want. It feels so damn good but this isn’t the way you want to finish.

You start to push him away and he stops as soon as he sees the hesitation.

“Everything alright?” He asks and your heart melts at the tenderness in his voice.

“I wanna feel something a little bigger.”

He rolls his eyes. “No damn patience.” He unbuckles his belt and starts to unbutton his jeans. “I’ll give you what you want then.”

He pulls his jeans halfway down his thighs- his very nice thighs- so he can pull himself out of his boxers. There’s no more slow, teasing actions. He wants to show you what your impertinence gets you. Lifting you back up with just one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance.

As the head pushes in, he watches your face so he can see how you struggle to take it. You won’t speak up though, not after you whined and begged for him to fuck you. He might be a lot bigger than you’ve had before but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it.

Joel doesn’t want to miss the look on your face as he pushes in but can’t help but glance down. The sight of your desperate pussy sucking him in more and more is almost enough for him to finish there and then, but he holds off. He won’t let this be something you regret.

“Fuck.” He groans as he pushes the rest of the way into you with a sharp thrust. You whimper, hiding your face in his neck. “It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your cheeks heat and he starts to pull himself back out again before you hear the slick squelch of another deep thrust.

“Shit, Joel.” The stretch stings but it’s a good hurt.

“I know. I was trying to prepare you but you never fucking listen.” His words sound sympathetic, no matter how harsh they are, but the way he punishes you with his dick seems to contrast that.

His hands hold up both your thighs as he leans you against the tree for more leverage so he can pull his hips back and fuck into you deeper and deeper.

“Mmm.” You moan, unable to form thoughts, let alone words.

The way the head of his cock hits just the right spot before slipping up to kiss your cervix makes you feel pleasure in a way you couldn’t previously fathom. You’ve never been fucked like this before and it just makes it oh so better because it’s him fucking you.

Joel’s deep brown eyes feel like they’re burrowing into your soul with the way he’s watching you. He lives for it, your reactions, every little sound you make. It all makes him harder as he slams into you rougher with each thrust.

“You feel so perfect, sweetheart. Taking me so damn well, finally learning how to listen.”

“Dick.” You grumble and he chuckles.

“I’m not the one who begged for this.” His hips push against yours. You didn’t think he’d be able to get even deeper but he does. “Fucking begged, honey.”

“I’m not the one who let go of all my morals for it though, either.”

It’s a dangerous thing for you to point out, almost threatening enough for him to stop. But it’s also another thing he likes about you. You always bite back. There is even some part, some sick part, of him deep down that enjoys how wrong it is. It enjoys that you, being so beautiful and smart and full of life… and so young still want him. You could have any man between your thighs but it’s Joel whose fucking you.

“I’m close, Joel.” You say after his fingers have crept down to rub between your legs. He needs you to finish first, needs it bad.

“Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeezing around me. Wanna know how you love it.”

His pace never falters as he leads you to the edge, drawing in and out of you with a pace that you didn’t think a man his age could hold. It just feels so good; you want it to last forever, but all good things end eventually.

“F-Fuck.” You moan and he feels it as your walls tighten around his cock. It almost makes him cum instantly but he pushes through enough to lead you through your high.

You’re panting now as he pulls out, spilling himself onto the forest floor. You look up at him as he lets you down gently. You’re scared, scared that it’s over now, scared that this was a one time thing. And he just won’t fucking look at you.

“Joel?” Your voice cracks. God, you hate how you can’t control it.

His head snaps back right away and when you look into his eyes… it’s not regret that you see. “It’s okay, trouble. You did good.” There is something more in the way he comforts you. “We’re good.”

It’s not much of an explanation but it relieves you. You understand him and though he didn’t speak many words, you know what lies between the lines. This isn’t the end of what’s between you.

comment to be added to taglist

@grayandthyme @littledes1re just thought I’d tag my new moots because y’all’s writing inspired me to get back into it :)

[picklemafia]

Since you’re always coming up with cool prompts and all, here’s a little one for you:

Not to sound like a nosy anon but, what’s your biggest inspiration when you write? Spill the tea 🍵✍️ And tag a few folks to answer too”

Great question! Really just little pieces of my life in general. Usually people I've met and the experiences we've had. I've had a very interesting life so it's the easiest thing for me to write about. So many different ways I could word the stories, so to speak. And so many different stories. I have bits of my life I've never touched in my writing, though I would like to change that.

@moonknightmaiden @noxnightingales @peepeepoopoo3d @butwhyareyoureyessosad @nyx-tenberis @faemaril @behindstonewalls

[bad268]

Hiiiiii

Could you maybe do smth with kimi antonelli. I had this idea where reader and him are playing mario kart and maybe she finally beats him and teases him about it. And to shut her up he just starts kissing her (if you’re comfortable writing that)

Ps: i looooove your stuff

Shut Up & Drive (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Clearly (You have reawoken my Mario Kart side-)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1171

Summary: The Reader challenges Kimi to Mario Kart and wont shut up.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“I am aware that you race cars for a living, but I could totally kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

Those were fighting words you said while flying home one night after a long weekend, where Kimi actually scored well given the circumstances. Many of the drivers were affected by the heat, and there were a few bad accidents that took out a bunch of drivers. 

In the end, only 12 drivers saw the checkered flag. Kimi still brought home points, but you could tell he was feeling the effects of driving in the hot, dirty air for so long. 

That’s why, instead of letting him sleep on the long flight home, you forced him to play Mario Kart with you. You had chugged an energy drink too late in the day. You were wired and ready to make it everyone’s problem.

“Who are you picking?” You asked as you loaded up the screen, slightly bouncing in your seat. “It says a lot about who you are.”

“I don’t know. Is Mario good?” Kimi muttered sleepily as he gave you the side eye.

“Yeah,” You shrugged, “If you like being boring.”

“Well, who do you play then?” Kimi chuckled lightly before leaning his head back against the seat and dropping the controller in his lap.

“Shy guy, always have been, always will be,” You replied immediately as you selected your favorite colour Shy Guy, and watched him stay on the character screen without picking one. “Do you want opinions or are you just trying to waste time?”

“Sure, give me your analysis,” Kimi sighed as he rolled his head onto his shoulder to look at you.

“Well, I don’t really care about character specs, but my friends really like Link, Princess Peach and Dry Bones,” You answered, showing him the characters on the screen.

“What is this one?” Kimi questioned as he landed on your sworn enemy.

“Baby Bowser,” You replied with a grimace, “Well, technically it’s Bowser Jr., but still. Nothing against the character in this game, but I hate him in Super Smash.”

“Did he personally wrong you?” Kimi chuckled lightly at your reaction.

“Yes,” You replied seriously. 

“I highly doubt that.”

“Just don’t question me,” You waved him off by bumping your shoulder against his. “Worst case, you can always choose your Mii character.”

“I’ll just go with…” He paused, using his controller to go around the characters before landing on one, “Luigi.”

“Hot, okay,” You joked as you confirmed your own character and moved to select your karts. “I like motorcycles, but that’s just me. Pick whatever you want.”

“Hey, this one looks like my car!” Kimi chuckled, selecting it immediately as you moved into the course selections. “What is the easiest one?”

“Baby Park,” You answered, going through the courses to find the specific one. You found it easily after playing it so many times and clicked to load it up.

“So, is there a reason you selected Big Blue?”

“Because I never lose Big Blue.”

“I see how it is,” Kimi said under his breath as your two characters lined up for the race. “Are you scared I’ll win?” “Nope,” You said, popping the ‘p’. “I’ve never lost Big Blue.”

“Well, get ready to.”

“Yeah, right,” You scoffed as you got a boost off the line. Before you even reached the first row of boxes, you went from 12th place to the top five while Kimi was still down in 9th. “Are you even trying? Oh my gosh, you suck.”

“It’s the first corner,” Kimi defended with a smile, “We have-how many laps is this? Three or five?”

“Why would it be five laps?” You scoffed as you threw a couple of red shells at the characters ahead of you and got up to second place. “It’s always three laps. And you better start getting better because there is not a lot of race left.”

“We’re not even done with the first lap,” Kimi said under his breath as he got into the top five.

“You’re not,” You cheered mockingly as you crossed the line for the first lap. “Y’know, this type of dominance could really bore fans.”

“We’re not even doing this with an audience,” Kimi muttered, stealing a glance at you as you focused on the game. “Should I be concerned?”

“You’re just jealous of my skills,” You teased, “You can admit it.”

“That’s not it,” Kimi trailed off as you moved into the third and final lap. Kimi had moved up to second at this point and was harbouring a red shell, but he didn’t have the heart to throw it at you when he saw that all you got were coins.

“What did I say?” You exclaimed accidentally, slapping a hand over your mouth when you remembered you were on a commercial flight. You cleared your throat before apologizing and dropping to a whisper as you shook Kimi’s shoulder, “What did I say? I told you! I don’t lose Big Blue! Never have, never will!”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Kimi chuckled as his character crossed the line in second.

“I don’t care if you are a professional driver or not! I am just too good on this track!” You continued boasting as the leaderboard appeared on the screen. “You should really take a few pointers from me. Like, don’t get rid of all of your items as soon as you get them, or maybe don’t fall off the side sometimes.”

“Okay, I get it,” Kimi sighed, but still looked at you with a soft smile on his face as he listened to you rant. 

“Or maybe hit the gas and use the exit boosts! I can show you how to drive a manual!” You continued enthusiastically. “It’s crazy how you never used a speed boost once. I am like a master at it, so I can give you a few pointers.”

“Oh, can you?” Kimi teased lightly, but you missed it completely.

“Or maybe you just need more practice!” You gasped a little louder than you had previously. “We have a super long flight back home, I know you don’t have anything to look over or do work or school-wise, and we can just play the whole time! I can show you shortcuts and teach you the ins and outs of all of the circuits, and -”

The next thing you knew, you couldn’t talk. Your eyes widened as your breath had been taken away by Kimi’s lips on yours. It took you by surprise, but it was never an unwelcome surprise to be kissing your boyfriend. It only took you a second to react, closing your eyes and melting against him. 

You dropped your controller on the tray table with your switch, opting to reach for Kimi’s hand instead when he pulled back with a cheeky smile.

“Are you going to shit up and drive now or do we need to do that again?” He asked lowly as he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

~~~~~

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[miyasmagnolias]

𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𓂇⋆⭒˚｡⋆

miya atsumu x f!reader

you invite atsumu and the boys to your spring dance showcase to raise money for a good cause — and maybe get even after the viral video incident. meanwhile, atsumu is determined to ask you out and, if he's lucky, kiss you properly this time around.

part eleven of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

a/n: a tiny bit of lore, but i used to dance throughout college (and still do to this day), so this one was super fun to write. enjoy! ( ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

"So...what kind of dance does she do again?"

"Uh..." Atsumu blinked down at the bouquet of flowers like they might contain the answer to Suna's question. "Hip-hop, I think?"

Osamu locked his car and shot his twin brother a judgmental glare. "Haven't ya lived with her for, like, eight months now? Shouldn't ya know what type of dance she does?"

"How am I supposed to know?! It's not like she performs for me in the livin' room or anythin'!"

Osamu's face twisted in disgust. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't ya."

Atsumu's face turned beet red. "The fuck is that supposed to mean — ?!"

"To be fair," Aran interjected, ever the pacifist. "Modern dance can blend together a lot of styles — jazz, ballet, hip-hop. It's really not as cut and dry as people think it is."

"See?" Atsumu said, grateful to his team captain for coming to his defense. "It's not as cut and dry as ya think it is!"

Aran gave him a flat stare in return. "Still, I find it baffling that you didn't think to ask."

The four former Inarizaki boys began the long trek from their parallel parking spot to The Bloom Room — a seventies-inspired cocktail lounge nestled in-between campus and downtown. Your university dance troupe had partnered with the small business to host your annual spring showcase, the event doubling as a community-wide fundraiser for a handful of local nonprofits.

Invite the volleyball boys, too! you'd texted Atsumu a few weeks back, along with the link to buy tickets. We need as many people there as possible. The more drinks you buy, the more goes to charity!

Atsumu didn't exactly know who you meant by the 'volleyball boys' — Osamu and Suna didn't really count anymore, and Sakusa wouldn't be caught dead in a place like The Bloom Room. Aran, on the other hand, was a welcome surprise, the captain of the men's volleyball team happily agreeing to go when Atsumu brought it up to him after practice the other day.

"I'll do anything for a good cause," he'd said, though the fluorescent lights of the locker room did nothing to hide his amused expression. "Did you end up wooing her with your extensive knowledge of Pride and Prejudice?"

"I was not tryin' to 'woo' her — I was tryin' to help her with an essay!" Atsumu exclaimed, slamming his locker door shut. "There's a big difference."

"You stopped reading every other sentence just so you could ask me what it meant," Aran said dryly, recalling the two-hour flight back from their first away game. Off the court, he'd never seen Atsumu more concentrated. “If anything, you needed help.”

Atsumu shot his team captain an offended glare. "At least I finished the damn thing. It got good — ya know, once I got used to all the ol' timey English."

Aran folded his arms across his chest and exhaled slowly. "Look, it's clear you've got feelings for this girl. So in addition to reading her favorite books and kissing her on the cheek after games, why don't you just ask her out?"

The setter shifted uncomfortably on his feet. It wasn't as if the thought hadn't crossed his mind before — just that every time it did, it was accompanied by the worst possible outcomes he could think of. Him, finally working up the courage to ask you out. You, laughing in his face. Him, having to sleep in the room next to yours every day while he died of embarrassment. Just thinking about it made Atsumu want to yak.

It was much easier to flirt with you than to actually admit that he liked you, he'd realized. In fact, Atsumu kind of hoped you'd be the first to acknowledge it. He'd dropped more than enough hints for you to catch on.

But as your spring semester continued without so much as a peep, Atsumu realized he didn't have much time left. He needed to fess up to you before you graduated and went on to become a publishing mogul or a Pulitzer Prize winner — or whatever the hell English honors students went on to do after college.

The plan was simple: get you alone after the show, hand you the bouquet he'd spent nearly an hour picking out. Pop the question while somehow keeping his ego intact. Easy peasy.

At least, he thought it was.

"Oh, are you here for Y/N?" a girl with large hoop earrings and a handkerchief for a top said when Atsumu approached the check-in table. "You're her roommate, right? She's told us so much about you!"

"She didn't tell us you'd be bringing a whole team with you," another drawled, twirling a long braid around her perfectly manicured fingers as she sized up his friends. "Sheesh."

Despite himself, a stupid grin broke out on Atsumu's face. "She talks about me?"

The two girls exchanged humored looks from across the table.

"Let's just say she's gonna really love the flowers," the one with the braids replied with a smack of her gum.

"Wish my boyfriend bought me flowers," the one with the earrings chuckled, stamping the back of Atsumu's hand. "Enjoy the show!"

The Bloom Room was bathed in sultry purple lights as Atsumu and his group navigated the crowd of friends and family that had shown up for that evening's showcase. The high-top tables and stools had been cleared out to make room for a dance floor, with rows of folding chairs now lining the perimeter of the space.

"It's awfully intimate, ain't it?" Osamu observed as he sat next to Atsumu in the row closest to the dance floor.

"I'ma grab a drink," Suna quipped, already making a beeline for the bar. Meanwhile, their phones pinged in unison. It was from you.

Are you here yet?? you'd asked in the group chat you had created with all four of them. Did you get good seats?

Atsumu's fingers were already flying across the keyboard.

Yep, front row! Break at leg! Then, before he could stop himself, he added a pink heart emoji and hit send.

"Whoa," Aran said, blinking back at the text message not a moment later. "A heart? Things must be getting pretty serious."

"Shaddup," Atsumu tsked, folding his arms across his chest. At Osamu and Aran's bemused stares, he asked, "What? It ain't the red one! The red one is the serious one!"

"Dunno, man," Aran teased as Osamu stifled his laugh. "A heart's a heart."

Atsumu's confident expression faltered as he said, "W-Well, do ya think it's too much? Should I edit it?

"I think it's a little late for that," Osamu drawled just as their phones pinged again. They all looked down at their screens.

Great! you'd replied, hearting Atsumu's message. Can someone take a video of me pwease?

On it, Suna texted back. He returned a few minutes later with a tequila soda in-hand.

"Dude," he murmured as he sat back down. "What was up with that frilly pink heart? Keep that shit to yourselves."

Atsumu rolled his eyes.

"Good evening, everyone! Take your seats, take your seats," the girl with the hoop earrings said into the microphone as the remainder of the crowd settled in with their drinks. "My name's Mina, and I'd like to personally welcome you to the Silk Club's third annual spring showcase!"

A wave of applause ricocheted through the venue.

"We've got an incredible lineup of talent here tonight representing several on-campus dance orgs, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show," she said. "As a reminder, all ticket and drink proceeds go towards our city's women's shelter and the center for LGBTQIA+ youth, so I encourage you to get as drunk as humanly possible! It's for a great cause!"

Laughter and applause rippled across the crowd. Beside Atsumu, Suna tipped his cup back until all that was left was ice.

"Now without further ado, I have the pleasure of introducing to you our opening act," Mina continued. "The Silk Club is a group of young women whose mission is to feel empowered and body confident in their dance. This is their third year hosting their annual spring showcase in support of the local nonprofit community, and they are incredibly excited to perform for you all tonight. I myself have been a part of this team for two years now, and I can confidently say there's no other group I'd rather shake ass with to raise money. So without further ado, give it up for Silk!"

The crowd whooped and hollered as several silhouetted figures emerged from the back room and assumed formation on the dance floor. Meanwhile, Atsumu's heart kicked up a notch as he scanned the shadows to find you. Beside him, Osamu frowned.

"Shake ass?" Osamu repeated under his breath. "Don't tell me — "

He was promptly cut off as the opening chords to Mariah Carey's "Obsessed" blared through the speakers, the spotlight flickering on to reveal you — in the tiniest black tube top and skirt — staring back at the audience with a sultry pout on your face.

Aran's eyes widened. Suna nearly choked on his ice. Osamu ran a hand over his face and glanced toward his brother, who — for all intents and purposes — looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Because you were hot. Nay — you were hot as fuck.

And everyone in that room knew it, too.

"I thought she did hip-hop!" Aran yelled over the music as you danced across the floor in your stiletto heels, your confidence radiating with every body roll, every hair flip.

"Dunno what kind of hip-hop you're watching, but this certainly isn't it," Suna shot back dryly, having already hit the record button on his phone.

Except Atsumu wasn't even listening. All that occupied his brain was you. Batting your eyelashes at the audience. Rocking the headscarf you'd styled into your long hair. Touching yourself in places that made Atsumu feel faint. You looked like the seventh member of Katseye, only prettier. How hadn't he known this about you?

"Why you so obsessed with me? Boy, I wanna know..."

The crowd went completely ballistic as all the girls on your team planted their hands on the sticky floor and shook ass in perfect unison. Only then did Atsumu notice the phone in Suna's hands.

"Would ya not film my roommate's ass like that?" he stammered, doing a double-take.

Suna merely shrugged and said, "What? She asked me to."

Then, before Atsumu could argue further, you were sauntering up to him. Soft smile. Pouty lips. Eyes that could disarm him in an instant. You ran a delicate finger along the curve of his jaw, tilted his chin up to look at you. And winked.

For fuck's sake.

"I think you can see the exact moment his soul leaves his body," Suna deadpanned, scrubbing through the video after you and your teammates had struck the final pose to the sounds of ear-splitting applause.

Osamu elbowed his brother in the ribs and said, "Ya alright in there, Tsumu?"

Atsumu just stared at the dance floor as you and your teammates took your bows. Brain empty. Face steadily draining of color. His grip tightened around the bouquet in his lap as he tried to careen himself back to earth.

Asking you out was going to be way harder than he thought.

Atsumu's heart rate more-or-less returned to normal after that, the rest of the show featuring a variety of modern dance crews, cultural clubs, and K-Pop cover groups. Nothing as outrageous as the opener, but perhaps that was for the best. Atsumu didn't need his nervous system compromised for a second time that night — especially with the question he was about to ask you after the show.

The Silk Club closed the showcase with a much tamer, less anxiety-inducing routine to "Rocket" by Doechii, the choreography maintaining your team's signature charm while showcasing your versatility of style. Atsumu cheered for you as you danced your heart out in the center of the room, your energy infectious as the music coursed through your every muscle. From your cheeky smile down to the soles of your sneakers, it was clear you loved being up there. The entire time, Atsumu couldn't stop grinning.

He was the first to give you a standing ovation by the end.

"Seems like Atsumu isn't the only one who can work a crowd," Aran drawled in amusement, standing up so he could clap for you properly. Beside him, Suna snapped about a million pictures.

Osamu merely hummed in agreement and said, "Pretty sure this is the first time he's been more enamored by someone other than himself."

As usual, Atsumu didn't hear a damn thing — just clapped his brother on the shoulder and said, "I'll be right back."

Several families and friend groups had since flooded the dance floor to reunite with their performers, Atsumu shouldering his way through with the bouquet clutched to his chest. Your friend Haru had found you first and was currently gushing to you about your performance, Atsumu maintaining his distance for several nerve-wracking seconds before your eyes eventually latched onto his. Your face broke out into the sunniest smile he'd ever seen, and by God. You were beautiful.

You said goodbye to Haru and made your way towards him. His arms found purchase around your waist as he lifted you several inches off the ground and squeezed you as hard as you could.

"Hi," he murmured into your hair. It smelled of your sweat and shampoo.

"Hi," you whispered back, your voice warm and breathless. "What did you think of the show?"

"I..." Atsumu trailed off, the mental image of you throwing it back flashing across his mind. "I didn't know ya could move like that, that's for sure."

A chuckle rumbled out of you as he set you down. You adjusted the oversized jersey you had changed into for the finale and said, "Yeah. I'm a little embarrassed that you and your friends got a full view of my ass, but it's whatever."

"Well, for what it's worth, it looked good." Then, after realizing what the fuck he'd just said, "You. Y-You looked good, I meant. Shit."

You were full-on laughing at this point. "That's high praise, coming from the king of low sets himself."

The tips of his ears turned red as he finally remembered the bouquet in his hands.

"These are for ya," he said, watching your eyes soften as he gave them to you. You lifted your nose to the assortment of wildflowers like you did with all of your books. "Ya looked incredible up there, Y/N. Seriously."

"...thank you, Tsumu." A shy smile worked its way onto your features before you admitted, "No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

"Ya bein' serious right now?" he asked, equal parts surprised and pleased with himself. You nodded. "Well, that's only cause ya haven't invited the right people before."

You rolled your eyes. "The right people being you?"

"Damn straight," he said, already reaching for you a second time. "Come 'ere."

He wrapped his arms around you in the middle of the crowded dance floor, his cheek resting against the crowd of your head. Relaxing into his embrace, you listened to his heartbeat through this shirt. Steady. Grounding. A little fast. But then again, so was yours.

You craned your neck to look him in the eye. He gazed down at you like you were the only other person in that entire room.

Pulse picking up speed, Atsumu slowly leaned in until he was a mere breath away from grazing your lips against his.

But before he could kiss you, someone was already calling your name.

"Y/N!" Mina hollered, the both of you jumping backwards like two guilt-ridden teenagers. She scanned the dense crowd from the front of the room like a mother who'd just lost her child at the zoo. "Y/N, where the hell are ya?! We're taking a group picture!"

Clearing his throat, Atsumu adjusted the collar of his jacket and tried to channel whatever nonchalance was left in his body. Beside him, you haphazardly tried to fix your hair. The two of you locked eyes once more and, gradually, started to laugh.

"Go," Atsumu said, jerking his chin towards your teammates. "Don't keep 'em waiting."

Mashing your lips together, you looked like you wanted to argue. But your teammates were already calling your name.

"Come out to eat with us afterwards?" you offered, a hopeful expression on your face. "I think a handful of us are going to that new Korean spot downtown. You can bring the boys, too."

Chuckling, Atsumu nodded. "Sure. We'll be there."

"...okay," you eventually managed. It did little to mask the dazed, if not mildly disappointed expression on your face. "I'll see you soon."

And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

"Ya boys in the mood for Korean food?" Atsumu asked his friends when he found them lingering outside the restrooms.

"Why, what happened?" Osamu asked, shooting his brother a grin. "Yer plan fall through?"

"Yep," Atsumu quipped, throwing an arm around Osamu's shoulders. "I'm 'bout to drown my sorrows in an army stew."

"At least you gave her the bouquet," Aran offered, drying his damp hands on his jeans. "You only spent half the afternoon trying to pick it out."

"Seriously," Suna mumbled, eyes never leaving his phone. "You owe us dinner for the amount of moral support we're showing you right now."

The three of them debated how many dishes to order the entire car ride there. Meanwhile, Atsumu stared out the window, wondering when the hell he'd be able to get you alone.

"I never thought I'd see the day someone actually outdrank Mina," you giggled, fumbling with your keys to the apartment. "How much soju did Suna have?"

"I dunno, but he was scarily composed after all those domino shots," Atsumu murmured as you both entered through the front door and turned on all the lights. "Passed out like a light in the backseat, though."

Even though he'd barely managed to talk to you during dinner, it was surprisingly fun to see you relax for once. You were excited to introduce Atsumu and his friends to the people you had danced with for the past several months, grateful to see everyone get along so well in between spoonfuls of bubbling hot pot.

"It's nice to finally meet the best roommate she's ever had," Mina had teased, already four shots in. She flung a sweaty arm around your shoulders and said, "Her words, not mine!"

At that, Atsumu raised an eyebrow and grinned. "The best, huh?"

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he swore your face turned two shades redder at that.

Now, Atsumu watched from across the kitchenette as you meticulously trimmed the flowers he'd gotten for you, your fingers nimble as you arranged each one into a vase. The gentle hum of the air conditioner filled the silence between you, along with the rhythmic snip of your scissors.

Without looking up, you said, "You're staring."

"Am I?" Atsumu drawled, a smile toying on his lips. "Was just admirin’ yer makeup. Is that what they call a full beat?"

You nearly choked on your laughter. "Where did you learn that from? TikTok?"

He lifted a noncommittal shoulder. "I have my sources."

Smiling, you said, "Well, would you be so kind as to grab my makeup remover from the bathroom? I've been dying to get this off."

Five minutes later, Atsumu poured himself a glass of water as you tried removing your eye makeup with a soaked cotton round, a dark streak of eyeliner now smudged halfway across your face.

"Did I get it?" you asked, blinking at Atsumu from where you sat atop the kitchen counter. Laughing, he put down his glass and began wiping it himself.

"I like when you look like this," he confessed, gently dragging the cotton round across your skin.

Frowning, you said, "Like a rabid raccoon?"

"No, ya twerp. Ya know what I mean."

You didn't say anything for a long while as he continued removing your makeup. You felt your face warm beneath his touch as he did so.

"Thank you for coming to the showcase tonight."

"Of course. I wouldn't have missed it for the world." Then, after a brief pause, "Ya know, as the best roommate you've ever had."

You groaned. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

"Not a chance," Atsumu drawled. He cupped your cheeks with both of his hands and inspected your face from different angles beneath the warm kitchen lights. "There. Squeaky clean."

Neither of you moved as you realized just how close you'd gotten to each other. You, your knees grazing against his torso. Him, the warmth of his palms sending a pulse of electricity down your spine.

"Atsumu..." you breathed, your voice merely a croak.

"...yeah?" he managed, brown eyes searching yours for something — anything — to indicate that you wanted him closer.

"...is there a reason you're always so nice to me?"

Lips parting, he said, "I think ya know why."

You closed the gap and kissed him not a moment later.

Now, Atsumu had imagined what it would be like to kiss you — had even dreamt about it, embarrassingly enough. But nothing, nothing compared to the way your lips worked against his now, each movement slow. Deliberate. Almost like you were asking a question.

You like me? you seemed to ask, fingers curling into his t-shirt, pulling him closer. Atsumu merely cupped the back of your head and deepened the kiss, the feeling of his tongue against yours extinguishing all doubt from your mind.

Yes, he thought, melting into you completely. Yes. I always have.

He braced his hands on either side of the kitchen counter, boxing you in. Your hands slid into his hair. A low moan escaped the back of his throat when you parted your legs for him and wrapped them around his waist. Fuck. He couldn't believe this was happening right now.

But before he let himself fall any further, he had one thing left to ask.

"Wait — wait," he stammered, pulling away from you suddenly. Lips swollen. Hair disheveled. Heart hammering in his chest.

At your confused expression, he asked, "Will ya go to dinner with me?"

Your chest rose and fell as a bemused expression crossed your features. "Are you asking me out right now?"

Atsumu gulped back and said, "I just...I wanna be sure I do this right."

Heart twinging at his words, your hands gently traveled down from his hair to cup both of his cheeks.

"You know, I thought you'd never ask," you drawled, eyes gleaming in adoration as you beheld him. Your roommate. Your friend. Your best friend, if you were being totally honest. "I'd love to."

The stupid grin that broke out on his face had you pulling him in for another kiss.

a/n: thank you for the love on these past couple of chapters, y'all! i'm slowly but surely responding to messages and comments — but in the meantime, please know that i appreciate all of you for reading this sappy lil' fic of mine. it means the world to me.

(next chapter will cover atsumu and y/n's first date mwahaha. stay tuned.)

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[superbassbuck]

Making Out for America

Chapter 5: Insure Domestic Tranquility

masterlist || one || two || three || four || five

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x America's Sweetheart!fem!reader

Mentions: 18+, enemies to lovers, slow burn, set during thunderbults*, sexual tension, forced proximity, arranged marriage, panic attacks, mental health issues, angst (lots of it), no y/n

Word Count: 4.5k

gif by sebastiansource || dividers by cafekitsune

The next day came, and you stood at the podium, the same Jameson Foundation banners rippling in the wind gently above you. The first few questions were exactly what you’d anticipated, the press opened up with questions on your father’s legacy and the foundation’s continued growth.

But you knew deep down, you knew where everyone’s real interest lay. And that was with Congressman Barnes.

It was a strange kind of irony. You had only agreed to this engagement to shine a spotlight on the foundation, on your father’s work, his legacy, the cause he devoted his life to. And while the turnout today was bigger than usual, it was clear they weren’t here for that.

They were all here for the man with the metal arm and the headline-making engagement. And it was only a matter of time before they started asking the more personal questions. 

"You've spoken so passionately about the foundation, but I think the public is curious about something else too. How has life changed since your engagement to Congressman Barnes?" one of the reporters questioned from the second row. 

You forced your smile. “It’s certainly been… an adjustment,” you said smoothly, just like you practiced. “Our lives were already demanding before, and combining them has been both a challenge and a privilege—” 

Another hand shot up before you even finished. “Was it love at first sight?”

You recoiled slightly, trying hard to fight the cringe creeping on your face. You weren’t used to a crowd like this. They interrupted you before you could even finish your sentence. 

This wasn’t the Jameson Foundation crowd anymore. It was a crowd full of Capitol hounds, eager for a stupid headline. You actually felt bad for Bucky for dealing with all this bullshit. 

You laughed softly, and that sounded real enough to pass. “Let’s just say he made a strong first impression.” Not technically a lie.

The crowd chuckled politely, and the questions started coming faster now. 

“What’s something we don’t know about the Congressman?” 

You hesitated for a moment, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because there wasn’t much you could answer. Bucky never let you get close. Most of what you knew was already known to the public. You stood up straighter, trying to come up with something. 

“He makes very good chili dogs,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “And his vibranium arm is dishwasher safe.” 

That entices another round of chuckles and wholehearted laughter from the crowd. You sighed in relief. The fact that his vibranium arm was dishwasher safe probably made him look silly, but the crowd is eating it up. 

“Do you see yourself stepping back from the foundation to take on a more traditional role… say, as the Congressman’s wife?”

“Absolutely not,” you said firmly. “This foundation is my life’s work. Congressman Barnes supports that, and he always will.” 

He better, you thought quietly. You straightened yourself to mentally prepare for the next question, but then another voice cut through the crowd. 

“Are you two… truly in love?”

Your breath hitches. When Bucky was asked this question during his interview yesterday, the lie came so easy to him. It came off so naturally that you almost believed him. He and Voss warned you, reminded you how to smile, how to speak in a way that felt heartfelt without being too vulnerable. And still, for some reason, your words caught in your throat.

You hadn’t had many relationships. Your world has always been a little isolated, your focus locked on the foundation and your career. You’d lived in your own little bubble for so long, but then there were those moments with Bucky that burst the bubble. 

The way he looked at you while you comforted him during his panic attack, like you were the only person that could keep him grounded. The softness in his eyes once he slipped the wedding ring on your finger delicately. 

How natural it felt, sleeping next to him, held tight like he didn’t want to let go.

They were small things, maybe even meaningless to him—but they stuck with you. 

All these rare yet soft moments shared between you two would make any woman fall in love. 

You sucked in a breath when you realized everyone was waiting for your answer. 

“I do love him,” you said clearly. “And I truly believe that if my father were here today, he’d be proud to know I’m marrying someone as exceptional as Congressman Barnes.”

Once your interview was finished, George drove you across town to Bucky’s office for a quick “debrief” on the rest of the week’s agenda. It was the kind of thing that easily could’ve been handled over email, but of course, Voss insisted it be done in person.

In her exact words, she said, “I know you two can barely tolerate each other, but at least try to act like you enjoy being in the same room.”

So here you are. Both you and George walked into the building, and in George's nature, he insisted on waiting in the hallway. 

As you enter the room, you find Voss and Bucky already seated at the table, mid-conversation. They both stop talking as soon as their eyes land on you. 

“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Barnes,” Voss says warmly, rising to her feet and pulling you into a quick, professional hug.

You return the gesture with a polite smile. “Voss.” You glance over at Bucky and he’s keeping his eyes down on the papers in front of him, not looking at you. 

“Bucky,” you say evenly.

He doesn’t look up.

“Have a seat,” Voss gestures to the empty chair, that was unfortunately, right next to him.

You hesitate for a moment. You’re not sure if you even want to sit next to him. A part of you understands that he just wants to keep his distance—but pretending you’re not even in the room? 

It was a new low. 

With a reluctant sigh, you take the empty seat. You glance in his direction, hoping for some kind of acknowledgment. Nothing. His eyes stay fixed on the papers, as if you’re completely invisible.

“Your interview was fantastic,” Voss says with a bright smile. Either she’s blissfully unaware of the tension between you and Bucky, or she’s choosing to ignore it. 

“You made our Congressman look like a dream,” she adds, nodding towards Bucky. “The way you two answered those questions was so convincing, I almost believed you were actually in love.”

“Yeah,” you force a polite laugh. “Bucky almost had me fooled too.”

Voss chuckles, and she pauses for a moment, looking at Bucky to see if he has any intention of adding to the conversation. 

Bucky finally looks up from his papers with a clenched jaw. “Glad to know I’m such a convincing liar,” he mutters, still not looking at you. 

Oh, so now he addresses you—and with a sarcastic remark at that. 

You raise a brow and cross one leg over the other, not looking at him. “Actually, now that I think about it, your ‘ I am very much in love with her’ line could’ve used some work.” 

Bucky shifts in his seat, propping one hand on the arm rest as he finally looks at you with a disbelieving look. 

Voss laughs nervously, glancing between the two of you like she’s not sure if she should be here or not. “Well, whatever you did, it worked. The public is starting to love–”

“You know,” Bucky interrupts her, his eyes glued on you now. “That’s rich, coming from someone who used the phrase ‘strong first impression’ like we met at a job interview.” 

You finally look at him with a tight smile that you know will get under his skin. “Well, isn’t that what this entire relationship is?” 

Voss clears her throat, clearly trying to keep the meeting from derailing. “Okay, okay,” she says, waving a hand. “Let’s focus. You two can bicker like an old married couple later—” 

“And what the hell was up with that dishwasher-safe arm comment? You’re painting me as a joke,” he bites back. 

“You can’t be serious,” you scoff, glaring at him now. “I’m not painting you as a joke. I made you seem approachable. It was a cute fact.” 

Bucky mumbles grumpily under his breath and sinks back into his chair. 

You tilt your head and sweeten up your tone, just enough to make sure you piss him off. “Don’t be so sensitive, sweetheart . It was cute.”

You see his jaw clench as he turns away, avoiding your gaze now. But the flush that’s creeping on the side of his face gives him away.  You lean in closer, trying to get in his face. 

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” you tease. “I thought we were supposed to be practicing with the nicknames… you know, to make them feel natural?”

Bucky opens his mouth to snap back, but Voss’s voice cuts through before he could even get the chance. 

“Okay, you two can rip each other’s throats later,” Voss says firmly. “This week we’ve got engagement photos scheduled, and after that, I suggest you two start locking down wedding plans.”

You nod, keeping your focus back on Voss. Even though you’re not looking at him anymore, you can feel the tension radiating off of Bucky next to you. 

“Ultimately, the wedding date is your call,” Voss continues with a serious tone. “But as your press secretary, I’d recommend holding it soon after the photo release—strike while the media is still buzzing.”

“Fine by me,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug.

Voss smiles at your response. Then her eyes flick between you both, her eyes lingering on Bucky a bit longer when she realizes he isn’t responding. 

“What about you, Congressman?” she prods gently.

He doesn’t respond. Bucky just stares down at the papers in front of him like they were more important. Voss lets out a long exhale through her nose and pushes on, undeterred.

She dives into a fully detailed rundown—rambling on everything from upcoming press appearances and engagement photos to how the two of you should present yourselves when asked about your relationship. Her words start to blur into one long stream, like background noise. But you do catch a few key points, something about Bucky making an appearance at one of your upcoming foundation events, something about “maintaining the illusion.”

Finally, Voss rises from her seat, collecting her folders with a dramatic sigh.

“Well,” she begins. “I’ll leave you two be to—“ she waves a hand vaguely between you, “sort out whatever lover’s quarrel you’ve got going on.” 

Then she strides out the room with her heels clicking, the office door closing behind her.

A very awkward and uncomfortable silence settles between the both of you. You glance over at Bucky. He’s still staring down at the papers in front of him, chin propped in his palm, doing a painfully good job of pretending you don’t exist. 

Again.

“Is this going to be a thing now? You ignoring me unless there’s a camera in your face?” you spit out. 

Bucky’s fingers twitch slightly, but he still doesn’t look up. 

“I get it, okay?” you go on, your voice getting shaky despite your efforts to remain poised. “This whole thing sucks. But I’m still showing up. I’m trying to make this work. I’m trying to make you look good. The least you could do is acknowledge I exist.”

His jaw clenches, and still, he says nothing. His eyes remain glued to the paper in front of him, like if he just stares at it hard enough, you’ll disappear. 

“Nothing?” you whisper in disbelief. “God, I don’t even know why I bother.” 

You stand, pushing the chair back slightly. The sound startles him, but he still doesn’t lift his head. You get it—this was only for show. But if you were going to be bound to each other for the rest of your lives, the least he could do was treat you like a human being. Because the other night, when you stayed at his place, he did treat you like you mattered.

Now it feels like he’s built his walls back up twice as high as when you first met him. And no matter how hard you try, you can’t climb them. You can’t even see past them.

“I understand that this whole thing is for public appearance,” you say softly, your back turned to him. “But I didn’t sign up to feel like I’m some… some burden. I’m not your enemy, Bucky. And I don’t know what I did to make you treat me like one.”

You give him a moment to see if he’ll say anything. But he doesn’t. With a heavy sigh, you begin walking towards the door. 

“I’m trying,” he finally murmurs under his breath. “I’m doing the best I can.” 

You stop with your hand on the doorknob. You turn slightly to him and say, “Then help me understand, because I can’t keep guessing what version of you I’m going to get.” 

And then he’s quiet again. 

“I’m standing here trying,” you mutter with a voice crack. “And you won’t even look at me.” 

“I can’t,” he says quietly and broken. 

You turn to face him fully now, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. His eyes are unfocused, locked on some distant point in the office like he’s not really here.

“You won’t ,” you corrected him. “You won’t let me in.” 

“No,” he snaps suddenly, pushing back from the table and rising to his feet. “You don’t get it. You can’t get it.”

His sudden movement startles you, but you don’t feel scared—just surprised. His voice is rough and strangled, like the emotions are catching in his throat. His body is shaking again, and before you even realize it, you’re already taking small steps towards him.

“You think I’m keeping you at arm’s length because I want to?” he says, voice shaking uncontrollably. “You think this is easy for me? Sitting here pretending—when every time I look at you... I—”

He stops himself short, his breath hitching. 

He turns away with his back to you, bracing both hands on the table to support himself. His whole body is trembling as he tries to keep himself grounded. 

Your hand rests gently against his back, and he stiffens under your touch.

“When every time you look at me… what?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t and he can’t. Because if he says it, if he tells you what he’s done, he doesn’t think he’ll ever see that softness in your eyes again. And that… that would break him.

As you’re standing there, watching him crumble apart again, your heart can’t help but ache for him. Even if Bucky isn’t really yours, watching him like this, hurting and haunted, it makes your heart crack wide open for him. 

No one wants to watch the person they care about suffer. 

“No matter how many times you push me away,” you say softly as you rub your hand gently on his back. “I will always be here for you. You just need to let me in.” 

Bucky shudders beneath your touch. “You don’t know what I’ve done,” he whispers. 

“No,” you admit softly. “I don’t. But I know it wasn’t really you. Whatever you did, you were controlled. You were used.”

He lets out a hollow, bitter laugh and shakes his head, lips trembling as he tries to fight back his emotions. 

Then, he finally lifts his head slowly. His eyes meet yours for the first time, and the look in them nearly knocks the air from your lungs. 

There’s so much pain in them. Guilt, self-loathing, and grief.

Your hand reaches up instinctively, cupping his cheek, tilting his face towards you, to make sure he sees that you’re still here. He doesn’t move away. Instead, his fingers come up to rest over yours, holding your hand there with a gentle squeeze. 

“Why are you being so kind to me?” he asks, voice so quiet and broken. 

You blink, forcing back the sting in your eyes. “Because I see you, Bucky. And beneath all the pain, I know there’s a good man trying to do the right thing.”

Bucky swallows, and his hand rises to gently cradle your jaw. His fingers are rough, but he holds you with a softness that makes your chest ache. He leans in closer—close enough to feel his hot breath against your lips. He hesitates, giving you every opportunity to pull away. 

Because what he’s about to do next will change your relationship forever. It would mean more than a stupid signature on a piece of paper. More than a stupid ring on your finger. And more than a stupid interview.

And yet, you don’t pull away. 

So he leans in closer and kisses you.

And it’s not for show. There are no cameras around. It’s not for press. That kiss was just for you . 

His lips are warm and soft. He moves slowly and carefully, like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he makes the wrong move. Once Bucky realizes you’re not pulling away, when your hand moves to the back of his head, something in him gives out. 

The kiss deepens, and his hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you against him. The kiss is messy, aching, and full of all the words he couldn’t say. 

When you two finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, catching his breath. He shuts his eyes as one hand is still caressing your face, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a shaky breath. “I don’t know what possessed me to do that. I… I shouldn’t have done that.”

You might’ve taken offense to that once, but you don’t hear any regret in his voice, just fear. Fear of what this means, fear of what he’s allowed himself to feel. Despite his words, you knew deep down that that kiss wasn’t a mistake, it was real. 

And you know he felt it too.

So instead of pulling away, you gently reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Hey,” you whisper. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. It’s okay.” 

Bucky was wearing a simple crisp collar button up shirt and some slacks. He didn’t have the usual tailored tux he was used to being photographed in. Voss had told him to keep it “classy and casual” for this shoot. Her exact words had been, “Wear something that makes you look domestic.”

Whatever the hell that meant.

The shoot location was set in a soft field of greenery. Tall grass swaying gently, flowers blooming in warm colors. It felt wholesome and peaceful. Any real couple would’ve loved to have engagement photos taken here. Bucky stood there, tense in the middle of it, waiting for you to arrive.

He had offered to pick you up himself, but you’d insisted George bring you instead. He didn’t blame you.

Things had been awkward, really awkward, since the kiss. He didn’t even know why he did it. It wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to. God . He’d lost count of how many times he’d looked at you and felt that same need, that dangerous and selfish need to kiss you. But it was the first time he had acted on it.

He couldn’t explain what it was about you. Your warmth, how inviting you were, the way you saw straight through him. It was so opposite of the life he’d known.

Bucky knew he shouldn’t have kissed you, that by kissing you, it would change everything between you two. That by kissing you, it’d only make the truth about your father hurt even more.

You deserved honesty, and he’d kissed you with a mouth full of secrets. 

But what made him feel even worse was that he didn’t regret the kiss. Not one bit. Especially after the way your hand slipped to the back of his head, pulling him closer. 

He shudders at the memory. 

He knew he was a terrible man, but he didn’t think he’d stoop this low. But when you reassured him and told him it was okay, then surely you must’ve felt the same way? Surely, the feelings are reciprocated—whatever feeling this was. He didn’t know anymore. Feelings are hard. And he hasn’t felt anything like this in over seventy years. 

Bucky was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the car pull up. 

“Good morning,” your soft voice calls out from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts like sunlight cutting through a haze of dark fog.

He straightens up immediately. He turns, and when his blue eyes land on you, he feels like his breath was knocked out of his lungs. 

There you were, standing tall, probably the most stubborn woman to ever exist. But despite that, Bucky knew with certainty that you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

“Morning,” Bucky mumbles, his eyes taking you in up and down, not even trying to hide it. “You look… good.” 

Fuck . Bucky mentally cursed at himself. You were standing there looking like a dream, and the best he could manage was the most generic compliment known to man.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and still, the only thing I can come up with is “looks good?” 

You stood there with a raised brow. Your hair wasn’t done with a million bobby pins this time. It was made just how you like it. Your makeup was light, nothing camera-heavy, just you. And the dress flowing lightly in the gentle breeze topped it all off. 

Bucky swallowed hard as he watched you glance down at yourself, the softest smile tugging at your lips. That smile, God, that smile— it messed him up more than it should have.

“Well,” you say with a light shrug, glancing down at yourself, “if these are going to be framed and hung up for the world to see… I figured I might as well wear something that actually feels like me.”

Bucky nods firmly, agreeing. “Looks good.” 

“You already said that.” 

Goddammit. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes,” the photographer calls, adjusting his tripod. “Right this way, please.” He gestures toward the center of the field.

Bucky clears his throat, extending a hand for you to grab, and you do. Your soft hand slips so softly and so easily in his as he leads you to the center. He watches as your eyes trail to his left arm. 

“You’re not covering it up,” you point out innocently. 

He glances down, then back at you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I’m not,” he says quietly.

The photographer adjusts his lens, looking through it as he calls out, “Let’s start with something simple. Just stand close together and face each other—hold hands.” 

Bucky steps closer to you, his hand never leaving yours. With his free metal hand, he hesitates before grabbing your other hand. Catching him off guard, you reach for his instead, grasping it firmly. You angle your body towards him, and for a brief moment, your eyes meet.

His breath gets stuck in his throat. 

“Closer,” the photographer calls. “Let’s see some of that newly-engaged warmth.”

Bucky takes a step closer, swallowing nervously as he looks down at you. You also take a step forward until there’s barely any space left between your bodies. 

You glance up to meet his eyes again. “This warm enough for you?” you tease, your voice low enough for only him to hear. 

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh, his gaze steady on yours. “You tell me, sweetheart.” 

Now your breath hitches. You knew that he’s only saying it to keep things “natural,” but no matter how many times you two petcall each other, it always makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The photographer keeps snapping away, muttering compliments like “perfect” and “hold that right there.”

“Now let’s try one where he stands behind you, arms around your waist,” the photographer instructs.

Bucky feels you hesitate for a moment, but his feet is already moving before he can think. He stands behind you, his arms slip around you and you tense under his touch. His arms lock gently at your middle, pressing against your belly, pushing you closer against him. 

You’re thrown off guard at how natural this feels. 

“Now look over your shoulder at him—yeah, just like that,” the photographer praises. 

You turn your head over your shoulder, and the breath catches in your throat. Bucky isn’t looking at the camera. He’s looking at you. Only at you.

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, and you’re pressed so tightly against him that you’re sure he can feel it. His arms around you are warm, solid, protective, and in this very moment, it doesn’t feel staged. It doesn’t feel fake. 

In this very moment, Bucky was yours. And you were his. 

Your voice comes out shakier than you’d anticipated. “Bucky—” 

But before you could get the words out, he leans in, pressing his nose against your hair, inhaling you, taking in your scent. You hear him let out a soft sigh as his body relaxes behind you, but his hold on you is still strong. 

“Excellent!” the photographer calls out, adjusting his lens again, completely oblivious of the tension between you two. “Let’s do one where you’re kissing now.” 

Bucky goes still. His hands are still resting gently at your waist, and you sense his hesitation. Like he's stuck between instinct and restraint.

You tilt your head back slightly to look at him. “We don’t have to,” you say quietly, offering him an out, even though your voice betrays a hint of hope. 

After everything, you didn’t want to push him, not after how weird things had felt since that first kiss that you two never even addressed.

Bucky’s gaze drops to your lips, then slowly finds your eyes again. He doesn’t say anything yet, just places his hands more firmly on your waist and gently turns you to face him. His lips part to speak, and when he finally does, his voice is low and hoarse.

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” he mutters, only loud enough for you to hear. 

You pause for a moment. Your eyes flick down to his lips, then back to those blue eyes that keep inviting you in—whether you liked it or not. 

“I want this.” 

Bucky breathes in sharply. Just like before, his hand rises to caress your jaw with a careful tenderness that makes your chest flutter. Then, he leans in and kisses you. 

He kisses you like no one was watching. He kisses you like you truly belong to him. He kisses you in the way he would want to, regardless if there was a camera or not. 

The camera shutter clicks in the distance. The photographer says something encouraging, but to Bucky, it’s just noise. He can’t hear any of it, not over the pounding of his own heart, especially not when your lips move so naturally against his. 

And that’s when it hits him. That feeling he’s finally come to recognize. 

The feeling he never knew he was even capable of having.

It washes over him now, and it’s undeniable and terrifying all at the same time. 

Bucky is in love with you. 

back || next (in progress)

[aluinwe]

broom - jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 460

If pressed, Regulus would admit to being a little nervous about spending this Christmas with the Potters. Just under a year ago, he had arrived at Potter Manor with only the clothes on his back, the wand in his hand, and a set of fresh bruises blooming all over his body courtesy of his mother and her recent discovery of his relationship with the Potter heir.

He knew James loved him, he told him every day, not just in words but in little actions. He knew Sirius loved him, as he’d taken to loudly proclaiming the fact at least once a week across the great hall. He even knew that Mr and Mrs Potter (“Please Regulus, don’t be so formal, call us Monty and Effie) loved him, when he received their regular care packages filled with his favourite sweets and a copy of Potions Monthly already annotated with Mr Potters insights on the articles, and questions for Regulus to answer.

So yes, Regulus was nervous, as this was the first Christmas he would be spending with this family, his family, and he desperately needed to make sure the gifts he got for everyone were perfect.

Sirius was easy, he’d teamed up with James and got him a brand new leather jacket and several patches to customise it with, along with a promise to teach him the sewing charms he’d need to ensure the seams never frayed. Sirius thanked them with tears in his eyes, and only a minor amount of ribbing about “couples presents already” and “don’t think you’ll get away with this every year”.

Mr & Mrs Potter were slightly more tricky, but he accepted their thanks along with their hugs for the matching stirring rod and wooden spoon he had got them, both their passions symbolised.

But James was impossible. What do you get for the boy who already owns your whole heart?

He had been struck by inspiration in the middle of the night – a memory of their first date, chasing a slightly wonky snitch that had been caught a few too many times across the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, quickly losing light but barely noticing as they had been lost in each other. When they finally landed, gracelessly bounding towards each other, their first kiss with James’ hands cupping Regulus’ face, and the feeling of the splinters on James’ fingers because he never cared for broom maintenance. James saw any moment spent with his broom that wasn’t flying it as a waste of time.

“Broom polish?” Sirius exclaimed, as he watched James open the gift. “I love you brother, but is that really the best you can do? If Moony got that for me I’d–”

“No” James interrupted, tears in his eyes. “It’s perfect. Exactly what I needed”.

[vicolette]

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐭 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n, part two of Brother's Admirer, not proofread

"Why did you drag me here?"

Irene gave you a look that told you everything you needed to know, awkwardly avoiding her gaze as you stared at your suddenly-very-interesting shoes. Embarrassment washed over you as you now not only had to endure her teasing, as if that wasn't bad enough already, but also meet Pau.

Pau Cubarsí – the little brother of your friend, who was the psychotherapist of your mother. You had met Irene months ago, when she had randomly approached you and asked if your mother was her patient, and that is how the two of you became best friends.

Irene and you immediately hit it off, going on dates together and sharing a love for many interests, yet you never planned this.

You were in love with her younger brother.

Now, as you stood by the gates of FC Barcelona's training ground and heard some yells from the players, you felt your heart race incredibly fast, that it almost hurt you. With a dizzy min and a shaky voice, you struggled to maintain your composure.

"Wait-" Your friend suddenly said as she tapped her chin, wondering about something that was definitely not important. Before you could ask her to drive you home and get away from here, Irene lightly grazed her hair as she looked at you.

"Hey, I need to check if I still have something in my car." At that moment, you had genuinely believed her and gave her a nod, staring at Irene for a few seconds and then looking back at the facilities. All of a sudden, you didn’t feel her presence beside you and got the hint.

She was trying to hit you up with Pau.

A few quiet curse words left from your mouth as your gaze followed her figure, until she took a corner and eventually was out of vision. Some time after, athletes from the big club started to come out to get back home, who always stared at you. Raphinha had firstly thought you were a crazy fan, before you avoided his gaze and awkwardly whistled. Kounde just nodded at you and Lamine?

Oh, Lamine.

Lamine slightly narrowed his eyes, a smirk dancing on the corner of his lips before he practically came up towards you, dragging Pau behind him. Your heart dropped to your feet, publicly shaming yourself for every single life decision that brought you here.

"Yo! I know you." Lamine said with the very same way too much enthusiasm in his voice, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he tried to remember your name. "Who were you again? Y…"

"Y/n." Pau interrupted him on instinct, his eyes completely focused on your features before he turned his head to look away, earning a slap on his back from his best friend.

"Right! Well, I see you here sometimes." You nodded and were about your speak, yet your mouth was left hanging open before Lamine realized something.

"Oh, shit. I need to go, my dad is gonna be mad." Although you hadn’t met his parents, from what the media told you, they were actually pretty chill and not too strict. However, as you watched Lamine sprint to his father's car, you had thought otherwise.

Pau, who had met his parents, didn’t think so. It was obvious that Lamine was purposefully trying to keep you two alone, even if it wasn’t much of a smart decision when their teammates continued to walk out and they could only see two teenagers not even daring to physically touch each other.

"You know where Irene is?" Pau suddenly questioned, wiping the sweat off of his hands as he saw you lightly tense up.

"Yeah, said she needed something from her car, and then she would be back." You answered honestly with a shy smile gracing your beauty, making Pau also smile and nod his head.

Nevertheless, it soon became clear that she was taking her sweet time and not beating around a bush just to talk with someone, which was definitely not what the two of you were doing.

"So, uh-" As you tilted your head to look at Pau, confusion growing while he stared at you, he mentally started to beat himself up for even speaking, feeling his cheek get redder by the minute.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Nothing! Nothing…"

And after that, it was pure silence as you stared at him with a shocked expression, before shaking your head 'no' and biting on your bottom lip. This was embarrassing.

"No?" Pau repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying, which was obvious by the way he looked at you up and down to both admire your beauty and to question every other man's choice of love.

In response, you could only laugh and shake your head in disbelief, surprised by how bold Pau was being. "No."

"Oh. Wow. Okay..?" He curiously remarked, blinking a few times to make his point clear. Meanwhile, you only felt your heartbeat speed up, feeling shy under his gaze.

"Wait, so that means that we can go on a date, right?" All of a sudden, he blabbered it out and gave you a stare that told you everything – he was dead serious.

"Well, yeah."

"No, wait." Pau raised his index finger to stop you from speaking, thinking for a while about his own words before he finally said his thoughts out loud, repeating himself. "Dear Y/n, do you wanna go out with me?"

His words were endearing to you, and even more so when you had noticed his obvious seriousness. Pau was a sweet boy, after all, bug you had never seen him from this perspective. "Sure, whenever you’re free."

Pau pumped his fist and grinned at you, awkwardly rubbing his nape as he realized how odd his actions were and muttered a quiet apology. Just then, you two felt Lewandowski walk by with his phone held on his hand in a suspiciously manner.

"Lewy." The said person stopped walking, hiding his phone in his pocket while he turned around to face you two with a big smile on his face.

"My favorite teammate, Pau!" He so clearly emphasized the word 'favorite', as if it would save him from being jumped by the younger. "What do you need?"

"Delete that video, idiot."

"Uh…" Lewandowski hesitated for a moment, or at least feigned hesitation, before a wide grin grew on his face as he already took some steps back. Pau followed with slow movements, before their movements began to speed up. "Nah, good luck on your first date, though!"

"Come back here, you bastard!"

– A/N : eighth I hate this the title doesn’t even suit ts

[n0tamused]

I have a request!!

Currently watching suits (highly recommend). How about a Lawyer! reader x Dr. Ratio, Sunday, and Aventurine?

₊˚⊹♡ "My partner is a lawyer!"

A/n: This request has been marinating in my inbox for way too long, but regardless, I do hope that whoever reads this enjoys it!<3 I love this request, so please feel free to request more characters for the same prompt! I missed writing Ratio chat </3 Admittedly, I did not watch Suits (shame on me ikik shut up), and so idk really how they talk on the show, so whatever I mentioned here is a dramatized version from my own knowledge in law.

Contents: Dr. Ratio/Aventurine/Sunday(separate) x GN!Lawyer!Reader, fluff

Ko-Fi |  Masterlist

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Veritas Ratio

-As a man of knowledge himself, Veritas certainly holds great appreciation for those that are keen on learning and executing the knowledge they hold, and he is most appreciative of justice - which as a natural course involves admiration for you as well

-He has heard of your achievements far long before he met you. A few times he read the articles you wrote for the local news agencies, but he held most interest for the online educational videos you put out. They were short, concise and aimed to help the people that were not in the financial situation that would allow them to seek out their own lawyer

-So when he did meet you he was full of chitter and chatter for you, all contained in a well crafted box of mannerisms and polite words. But anyone from the outside would notice that he seemed much more tolerable with you than with others

-Many months down the line and with his hand in yours, he wonders how it all came to be - him? Romantically involved with you? 

-If you have a haunch over a certain theory or a certain topic, Veritas is there with you to explore it further and give his own input on the topic. Doesn’t matter if it is a subject that’s not the most familiar to him - he is a sponge for knowledge and knows how to research efficiently.

-He respects your privacy which you uphold with your clients -that is only to be suspected of you to do, otherwise if you told him of the “tea” from your clients, he would have begun to raise an eyebrow and question your work ethics

“Dear,” he began with a huff as he came to stand in your doorway, one hand holding up papers which were clearly not his. “I found the documents you were looking for. Be more careful next time with where you put them” he said as he walked inside your shared bedroom, his slippers making the distinct noise across the floor of shliiippp-shloop. “Where were they?” you question, confusion marking your entire face as you reached out to take the documents scribbled with your handwriting. “I found them on my pile” was all he said as he crawled onto his side of the bed... .... “Veritas..” “Hmm,. yes?” “Is this your handwriting?” The answer was clear as day as you noted the long paragraphs underneath the  big block of text you wrote about a legal theory you wished to dive deeper in. You had stared at them in your sleepy daze, for a moment thinking it was your writing which you, somehow, forgot about. But no, your eyes did not deceive you. Dr. Ratio clearly spent a lot of time on this document. Did he intentionally take it from your pile? One had to wonder. His greed for knowledge sickened you.. He huffs beside you in feigned denial and you chuckle at him.

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Aventurine

-When Aventurine was served the fact you work in the legal field he gave off a crisp whistle, his first thoughts being “that must be a lot of words”, accompanied by a lighthearted jest that he now has someone who he can rely on should he get in trouble. At that you have to jokingly reprimand him and tell him to not get into any unnecessary trouble

-He might start to tease a little, throwing out little remarks that frame that stereotypical view people have on lawyers, or anyone working in the legal field for that matter

“I have cash on me right now that I’d be more than happy to pass on into your capable hands, should you agree to…pull me out of this sticky situation” he says with a wink as he waltzes into your office, his eyes taking in the shelves stacked with books old and new, as well as the statue of a blindfolded woman holding up the scales. His gloved fingertips touch one of the scales, making it tip down. His answer is a long and tired sigh.

-But one day he surprised you with a box of sweets after a particularly harrowing case, his tone unusually mellow and inviting as he invited you to join him for a walk. 

-Aventurine is not the man you go for if you want to have a chat about one legal theory or the other, but if you find yourself in a pinch and could use getting a word with someone out of your reach - Aventurine can make a few calls to help you out

“How do you even have the patience for all this?” he asks incredulously, his pointer finger touching one of the thick files resting on top of your desk. “Don’t tell me you actually read all of this” his figure seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging, face falling, trailing around the table to come up next to you. “I did..” you replied, focusing far too much on the papers before you. “You’re way too boring” he countered, followed by a quick kiss to your cheek.

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Sunday

-Before the Dream shattered, Sunday didn’t think too highly of anyone who wished to uphold justice within Penacony, deeming there was simply no need for it while he was working to set the perfect order. There is no crime, no faulty businesses or people to sue in his world, and there is no place for them either. So why should lawyers and judges exist?

-Of course, this view was nothing but another way he deceived himself into believing that the path he was following was right, just even. This view changed drastically after the shackles on his body were lifted.

-Sunday considers the job rather prestigious. If there were no people like you, or people with the same wish to bring justice and security to your society as you do, the world would be a much darker place

-He is silent in his curiosities and admiration, never directly asking you inquiries, partly due to some guilt still eating away at him from his past

-But he does not shy away entirely if you approach him first

-He knows more about the ways an old monarchy would work, but he welcomes your insight on the society you live in now and strives to build and enhance by giving yourself to this role. A part of him also worries when he sees you haunched over your table instead of resting in your quarters. Not once did you wake up with a blanket drawn up over you or a refreshing drink sat in front of you

-Sunday doesn’t quite believe it once your relationship develops into one of romance. It was most unexpected and it leaves him with more questions than answers. But now, he finally feels at ease to fire them at you

“But why?” One of his wings sags lower than the other, as if burdened by the piercings they hold. “Would that not be counterproductive or unjust, rather?” He is looking down in thought, his brows drawn closer together, although his voice carries no frustration or denial to the wisdom you were sharing. “The ones who set this law down have inspected the longest duration a pregnancy can last, even taking into account any abnormalities that can happen during the same. If the duration for this lawsuit was unlimited, it would risk the position of the man that was suspected to be the father”. A moment passes in silence, but then he nods, his wings raised back up with newfound strength and another question already filtering in through those soft grey feathers

-Conversations with him are mellow, although Sunday spends more time listening than talking himself. He lets you rave on about anything that may be making you happy or frustrated at the moment, and he is at his happiest when you return to him with another successful case under your belt.

-After a little while you may also notice Sunday becoming even more aware of his actions - suddenly he is nitpicking his wording or the actions he takes - what if someone decides to sue him for this small thing? You have to reassure him a few times that the law is not that strict, giggling while you’re at him when you see his almost fearful and alert face, wings puffy and in a cramp

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[kotonoba]

Make Stupid Choices, Win Stupid Prizes (Katakuri/F!Reader)

Summary: Oven convinces Katakuri to try a new "trending" prank on the reader.

a/n: Been writing a lot of angst recently, thought I should lighten up the mood with something lighthearted. I also love this sixteen-something feet of a man.

Warning(s): slightly ooc, fluff, comedy, established relationship

Inspo.

Posted on AO3

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“I don’t think that’s smart, I don’t think she’ll like that very much,” Katakuri fussed over with his siblings. The recently hot and trending topic was to do a ‘current girlfriend vs. next girlfriend,’ and a lot of different responses came; most of them were rather violent. As the second son of Big Mom, everyone expected perfection from him, everyone but you. You knew he still had to be human enough. And human he was to you, aside from being several feet taller than you, and several times stronger than you. You’re more than grateful he hasn’t ‘accidentally’ killed you in his sleep yet. 

“You love her, don’t you?” Oven questioned; Katakuri answered with a nod, but beneath his calm demeanor lay a worried demon. “Come on, I’m sure it’ll be okay, she loves you, and you love her too, I’m sure she’s aware it’s just a joke and would love to play along. Playing is a sign of a healthy relationship!” Oven exclaimed happily, as Katakuri mulled over those details, Oven glanced off to the side at his other siblings, “Right?” There was a light discourse before they nodded and gave him a thumbs up. 

Some time had passed by the time you had gotten home from helping with the shipment and intake of materials for your next big project. You had a big dream and an even bigger ambition to succeed. You returned home to your shared abode with your boyfriend, who seemed more jittery than usual. You were hoping for something more intimate when he had said he wanted to do something with you. What you didn’t expect to see was a small transponder snail looking back at you as you turned to face your boyfriend, who knelt to get to eye level with you, “what’s the snail doing here? Who’s watching?” 

“Just my siblings, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you saw through his calmness, and saw how much he was fiddling with his scarf with his fingers. He was a friendly giant in your eyes, though not everyone agreed with you. He probably only showed you that side of himself because he fancied you. 

“Hm…” you side-eyed it a few times before turning your attention to your boyfriend, “alright, what is it?” 

You watched him closely; it seemed whatever he planned to do was weighing on him too much. As you were about to move to comfort him and relax, you heard him speak. You smile, and watched closely in response, “as many of you are aware, this here,” you watched him leisurely wrap his arm around you, “is my current girlfri–” you’re not aware of what you were thinking. But when you heard the words ‘current’ slip out of his mouth hidden beneath his scarf, you felt a vein pop, and all rationality fled you in the blink of an eye. You’re a normal civilian trained in self-defense originally because your parents worry that you would get kidnapped, and again because your boyfriend says he fears for your safety.

Without a second thought, a burning sensation rushed through your body, gathering at your hands. For a second, you recognized that to be Armament Haki. Still, you didn’t even process how you knew how to use it, you throat-chopped your boyfriend, which caused him to fall back in the middle of his introduction. A stupid one at that; the transponder snail widened its eyes as you turned towards your boyfriend, who was gasping for air. Trying to crawl back to you to calm you down, “you want to say that again, Charlotte Katakuri?” 

The color drained out of Katakuri’s features as he saw what could be his future with his Observation Haki, a future where he sustains more wounds than in his fight with Luffy. “I– ack–” he massages his neck through his scarf, reaching over to the snail to turn off the transpondance, “Oven just– he said it would be fun to try the trend with you, I–” he cleared his throat, a tinge of metallic liquid tainted his tongue, “I didn’t want to–”

“But you did,” you hissed, raising your hand again, Katakuri quickly protectively clasped onto your hand, “was that fun for you?” 

“No, respectfully, I didn’t think it was a smart decision either, but I couldn’t just say no to my siblings.” You knew Katakuri loved his siblings, no matter the hardships they put him through. You let your anger subside a little, watching him kneel back to your height, “I’m sorry for making such a stupid decision, but you sure are strong, maybe my next girl–” you didn’t give him time even to consider finishing that question when you placed him in a head lock this time.

“‘Current’ now ‘next’? You have a death wish, Charlotte Katakuri.” Katakuri’s features paled as your headlock tightened around him. He could easily break through, but he didn’t want to; to him, this was a sign of a healthy relationship. 

You let go of him after a bit of suffocation for him as you head back towards your shared bedroom, “where are you going?” 

“No kisses, no cuddles tonight,” you hissed, moving to close the door behind you.

Katakuri moved to hold onto the door knob, a look of distraught painted his features, so much so that his mouth was left agape after his scarf had fallen to the ground from the shock, “wh-why!?” 

You pried his hands off the door knob, “make stupid choices, win stupid prizes,” you growled, slamming the door behind, locking it after it was closed shut. 

Katakuri had never regretted listening to his siblings as much as today. However, it confirmed that your feelings for him were genuine, but you were stubborn enough to leave him in shock, standing outside the door to your shared bedroom for the entire night without opening it, no matter how he apologized.

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[imagination-mess]

A Second Chance at Life (Touya Todoroki X Fem!Reader) Chapter 8

Summary: For the past five years, you’ve been raising your son as a single mother. You’ve successfully avoided questions about his father by claiming that he died during the Paranormal Liberation War. From what you believe, this isn’t a lie. The last time you saw him was when he personally escorted you to U.A.’s shelter amidst the chaos in the streets.

Unbeknownst to you, he has been alive all this time, clinging to life in a facility working to keep him alive. His father, Enji, has been desperately searching for someone willing to heal him. After his presumed death, a single photo of you and Dabi began circulating through the underground, hinting at the nature of your relationship. To protect yourself and your child, you had to pay someone to stop the pictures from spreading further.

The photo provided answers to a long-standing question: who was the healer Dabi had been protecting? It identified you as the healer who had been deemed untouchable, but it also brought unwanted attention.

A/N: Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors in advance.

Word Count: 1.9K+ Masterlist of ASCAF Previously Chapter Seven

The soft beeping of machines was the only sound Touya could hear as he slowly woke up, surrounded by the sterile, familiar smell of the hospital.

His eyes fluttered a few times before his vision adjusted. Above him was a plain white ceiling and a fire sprinkler. His gaze drifted to the sides, spotting two windows on opposite ends of the room, curtains drawn for privacy. His attention landed on a whiteboard with a large, clearly printed message:

Please press the button in your left hand when you are awake.

Was this a dream?

Or…

Was he dissociating again?

The last thing he remembered was being rushed through hospital halls, the lights overhead blurring past as they pushed him in urgency. He couldn’t make out what they were shouting. His body had been shutting down against his will.

He used to think it was a myth — that your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die.

But it wasn’t a myth for him. He saw it and felt it. Terrifying and painful, moment after moment replayed. And at the end of it all, there was you , walking someone back to the U.A. shelter. The last thing he remembered was your smile, but even that was hazy. Your face wouldn’t come clearly. Just a blur. A voice he barely held onto.

He could hardly remember your face now. Too many years spent dissociating during confinement, using it as a shield from the pain that came when even the strongest meds stopped working.

Now, he didn’t feel pain.

Now, though, there was no pain…only a strange weight in his limbs.

He tried moving his fingers. They trembled. Slowly, he felt the small object in his palm. It took every bit of focus to curl his fingers around it.

His thumb brushed over the button as he clenched his teeth, focusing all his effort on making his body obey.

A soft chime rang through the room.

His body gave in, muscles relaxing, too exhausted for anything more.

A few minutes passed before a familiar face entered the room.

Kaito, your father stepped in, offering a soft, reassuring smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Todoroki. I am Dr. (L/N). Let me run a few quick examinations before we get you some soup to start with. Then, we'll work toward solid foods. I’ll also catch you up on everything that’s happened, alright?"

The white-haired man came beside him and wrote something on his clipboard, glancing at the machine beside the bed.

"You’ve been unconscious for over a month now. It took longer than expected for you to wake up. You’re going to be disoriented and sluggish for a little while, and probably confused. It’s normal. Nothing to worry about." Kaito said, putting the clipboard down and hearing the water faucet turn on.

"I'm just going to test your strength. I'll place my hand in yours, and I want you to squeeze as hard as you can. After that, we'll see if you can move your toes and fingers. Then we'll get you some soup. You need to be on a liquid diet for a bit."

Kaito moved closer and placed his hand within Touya's grip before glancing up at the doctor.

"Squeeze my hand as best as you can. I’m just testing how well the operation connected your nerves to your muscles. After that, you can try moving your toes whenever you wish," he explained.

Touya did as he was told but struggled. He could barely manage it, but he did it. That was the best he could do. He had to try again with his right hand, the one he had believed was destroyed. His right hand was much harder to move, and he realized just how much heavier it felt compared to his left.

Kaito was watching him carefully, but his expression remained unreadable. He walked away, grabbing his clipboard once more. He returned to Touya's bedside and flashed a light at his eyes, prompting him to follow it. As he did, Kaito wrote something down.

"One last thing. Can you speak for me? One word would be enough. Even a curse word would count," Kaito asked with an amused smile.

Touya’s throat felt painfully dry, as if he hadn’t spoken in years. Despite the discomfort, he forced the words out, even though it felt like sandpaper scraping against his throat. A hoarse rasp escaped, and he tried to swallow, barely managing it due to the lack of saliva.

"W-what had-hap-pened?" His voice was weak and strained barely above a whisper. "You were taken in as a case study to see if someone with severe burns and near-death injuries could survive if their body was healed. It was done with your father's permission. No one wanted to take your case until Dr. Remedy was contracted by your father as a last resort." Kaito lifted his eyes from the clipboard, briefly meeting Touya's gaze.

Touya’s eyes widened at the mention of her name— your hero name, which was also the name you went by as a doctor.

"She’s the only reason you’re alive right now. If she hadn’t gathered doctors from across the nation to help you, you wouldn't have made it. The others, along with her, are dealing with the consequences, even after over a month. Many of them ended up in the hospital and have been banned from using their quirks for the next few months, for their own safety. All because everyone who worked on your case was treated as a case study. They overused their quirks."

Kaito paused before continuing.

"They all did it for scientific reasons, ignoring the fact that you were a high-profile criminal. They were doing it to help future patients with burns like yours. But the cost was too much for those doctors, who are now facing the consequences. In other words, you’re going to be the only person in this nation to undergo this dramatic transformation." Kaito looked directly into Touya’s eyes.

"Take this opportunity. Another chance at life. Your body costs the well-being of 15 doctors and 5 nurses. You better take care of it. Otherwise, you're wasting Dr. Remedy’s belief that people like you deserve second chances." ____________________________________ The next few weeks, Touya cooperated with the physical and occupational therapists, walking through the hospital with a walker. He felt like a baby deer learning how to walk again. The only reason he went along with it was because he was sick of feeling like a damn baby.

Due to his physical condition, his stay was extended until he could move on his own, after which he’d be transferred to the rehabilitation facility. He rejected visitation from his family. He felt too vulnerable like this. Too exposed. He didn’t want to see their pitying stares.

He heard the arguments outside his hospital room. His father, Enji, tries to see him, getting rejected every time. The old man had nothing but time to waste, showing up day after day, just to be told no.

As much as Touya hated getting help from strangers, the staff had been patient with him. They didn’t push him too hard. Some nurses definitely judged him, but at least they kept their comments to themselves. The hospitality was… normal. He was treated like any other patient.

They didn’t look at him with pity. They encouraged him, even when he told them to shut up and mind their own business. They just ignored his outbursts and kept going.

His quirk-canceling cuffs rotated between ankle and wrist restraints. Military grade, due to his classification as a high-profile criminal. The staff rotated the cuffs regularly to prevent weakening or discomfort while he regained strength. They were far more advanced than the ones he’d seen before. He remembered snooping through your apartment out of boredom, finding backups of your hero costume and the old quirk-cuffs tucked away in the closet. Those things looked like toys in comparison.

Once he was able to speak normally again, a therapist from the rehabilitation center started visiting daily for his sessions.

If he could, he would’ve jumped out the window by now.

He knew he’d agreed to his younger brother’s rehabilitation plan. Something that would hopefully work in the court system’s favor. But in truth, he didn’t care about all that. He just wanted out. Out of confinement. Out of pain. Out of this miserable limbo.

He did think of you, a couple of times.

After he regained his voice, his lawyer began visiting twice a week. What he didn’t expect was for your mother, Reika, to actually keep her word that if he left you out of the chaos, she’d represent him. She planned to take his case, even in the event that the League was taken down.

She was a terrifying woman who demanded respect. If you didn’t give it, she’d drop you as a client without hesitation. Well known in both the legal world and the underworld under a different name and a different mask.

She may have been a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. When she made a deal, she kept her word so long as you kept yours.

“Touya, your father is a piece of shit.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. The expression on her face told him everything. 

If she could kill the old man herself, she would.

“What did he do this time?”

“Acted like a misogynistic prick,” Reika snapped, her voice full of disgust. “Like I haven’t defended more high-profile criminals than most lawyers ever dream of. He pulled that ‘I’m the dominant man in the room’ garbage gave me that stare like I was supposed to flinch. Tried talking over me like I was his damn secretary.” Her tone shifted into a mocking imitation of a deep, gravelly voice. “ ‘I’m the alpha in the room.’”

She scoffed and leaned back in her seat.

“Honestly? I was one bad moment away from stabbing him in the neck with my pen.”

She clicked that same pen in her hand, her fingers twitching with irritation. "Anyways, none of that old geezer. I wanted to review what I have so far with you to ensure that you aren't surprised if it gets brought up in the court." Anyway, enough about that old geezer. I wanted to review what I have so far with you—to make sure you’re not surprised if it gets brought up in court.”

"How is (Y/N)?" Touya whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

 He knew it was out of the blue.

He’d eavesdropped a few times. Doctors and nurses mention how this would be the longest leave of absence you’d ever taken.

He knew he had a better chance of getting an answer from Reika than from Kaito. Kaito was always accompanied by someone. Touya couldn’t show that he knew him personally, and he understood why. It would launch an investigation, especially with all the pro heroes and police constantly walking around.

Reika paused for a moment, glancing up from the leather folder she always carried to jot down her notes.

“She’s doing better. Got discharged about a week ago,” Reika said, tapping her pen against the folder. “She’s being forced to take a six-month leave, but other than that, she’s okay. You’re not the reason she was bedridden. There was just an incident with Endea—”

“Did he hurt her?” Touya cut in sharply.

“No. It was indirectly... surrounded by other factors,” Reika replied, shifting into her lawyer voice. Touya shot her a look, but Reika didn’t flinch. She simply flipped to a new page in her folder, her tone shifting coldly as she dove into the notes and legal strategy for his upcoming plea hearing. --------------

Anyway, how are we feeling about Touya being awake now? He already hates feeling weak, and now he has to talk about his feelings? He’d rather jump out of a window, especially if it means talking to a stranger.

This chapter was going to go differently, but I decided to delay a certain scene. There’s actually another deal Reika and Touya made, which is the main reason she’s representing him during the war. The chaos happening in these streets is no joke.

The next 2 chapter will explore how Touya and Remedy met as teenagers: one struggling to survive in the streets, and the other trying to help people with nothing but good intentions. Spoiler alert: Touya is the stray cat, skeptical of the preppy cat.

Any thoughts or theories? I’m all ears! I’d love to hear them. Thank you so much for everyone who commented on the previous chapter! You guys are the reason why the chapter got posted earlier than expected. Your comments seriously mean the world to me. 💖 I’m so grateful to know there are people who want to read more. Next Chapter 9

[lisbeth-kk]

This was what I was talking about yesterday @totallysilvergirl - enjoy...

To enlighten you all a bit: the gay sex has happened; one night only.

That should be enough to go on, wouldn't you say?

*************************************************************

The text from Mike was unexpected. I hadn’t given him much thought since he took me to meet Sherlock.

Hi, John. What happened? Met Sherlock the other day. Said you didn’t move in after all. I know he can be a bit strange, but I thought you two would get along. Hope you’re alright. Text or call me if you want to meet for a pint. 

My heart raced as if I’d sprinted up the hill to the castle. I had so many questions for Mike.

“How was he? Did he seem sad or was he relieved I was gone? Did he ask about me? Do you have his number? Did you give him my number?”

The list went on and on, but in the end, I didn’t ask any of them. In fact, I didn’t answer the text at all. What good would it do anyway? I had fled from the only good thing that had happened in my life in decades, and I couldn’t go back. It would be too embarrassing. I hadn’t the faintest idea how to uphold a relationship. Until now, I hadn’t even wanted one.

“Stop it! Get him out of your mind or you’ll go crazy.”

I bought a new SIM-card the next day. New phone number. A fresh start. Just what I needed. Only the persons I knew and valued in Edinburgh were added to the contact list.

A few days later, I was tidying the pub’s tables and got a glimpse of something familiar in a discarded newspaper. Sherlock in all his glory, tightly fitted shirt and suit, perfectly styled curls, and that mouth. I stared until my eyes stung and then my heart clenched painfully. By his side, stood a gorgeous woman. Her arm was possessively looped with his and when I took a closer look, I saw a smear of lipstick on his neck.

I didn’t bother reading the article, but tossed the paper in the bin, quite forcefully, closed for the night and went home.

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@calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @redmondcollege @helloliriels @meetinginsamarra @221beloved @a-victorian-girl @chriscalledmesweetie @whatnext2020 @jobooksncoffee

[denial-permanente]

Hello Mrs Edge and Tom. I don't have an account here so I'm using my husband's. I am the "ebony goddess wife" of KC. You posted his message here a few weeks ago.

I want to echo what he said about your blog being so helpful to me (to both of us really). When he showed me this chastity stuff I was turned off by just about everything I saw and I really did not want to think about my husband as a sissy or abused or anything like that. I have read a lot of your answers to questions and I love how you have made chastity about your husband's devotion and not just some kinky sex thing. That is where I am hoping to bring our marriage. Also I am guessing it must be Tom who picks out the pictures but it really has been nice to see images of regular looking black women (and Asian, Indian, etc) and not images that look like cartoons. They help me feel more comfortable about seeing myself the way my husband sees me.

I did want to comment about the crazy changes that have been happening to me for the past few years. I go from feeling cold to getting hot flashes that make me want to tear off my clothes and not in a good way. And I don't "feel like myself" anymore. I want to be intimate with my husband but sometimes I can't even stand the thought of having sex.

I go from feeling guilty for keeping him locked to thinking that if I feel this bad then maybe he should too! lol I've read the questions from other women in "no penetration" marriages. I had no idea that this was a thing until recently but now I understand why. The few times I have tried are just uncomfortable and don't really do anything for me for some reason.

Sometimes when I feel like an orgasm would make me feel better I do make him worship my pussy. It also helps to keep him interested which helps make me feel less guilty about leaving him locked up all the time. I also remind him that he asked for this but I have to admit that he rarely complains.

I am happy to see that you still get pleasure from PIV and you still allow your husband to get pleasure from intercourse although I'm not sure how much pleasure he gets if he has to wear a strap on lol. But I am seriously wondering if I will ever feel like having sex again - I mean intercourse - with my husband. If you have any advice on getting through this I think it would be helpful to a lot of us! lol

Thank you for following up on your husband's post. I totally understand what you mean by you "don't feel like yourself." My change came a bit earlier than most, and it was several years of hot flashes, night sweats, cold spells, and crazy appetite swings. Nothing felt right, and I started gaining weight. My doctor says that my metabolism slowed way down, I was tired, and the last thing I wanted was my husband bothering me for intimate time. When you are not comfortable in your own skin it's just so hard to relax and enjoy intimacy.

It really did take several years for me to get past the perimenopause and have things start settling down. Yes, my husband was locked up for most of it, not that he really needed to be because sex just was not on the table (or anywhere else 😆) anyway. I don't want to say that he was "locked and forgotten" but honestly he might as well have been. A few times I did offer that he just unlock the cage and take it off, more out of sympathy or pity or something. To his credit he remained caged on his own.

When I finally started feeling better, we did get back to intercourse and foxing. Fortunately I did not get the vaginal pain that so many women get after menopause. However, things were definitely different. My lubrication was very thin, and I would get sore more easily. We went through different lubes (and now we us organic coconut butter from Trader Joes lol). Oh, and I'm a lot more prone to UTIs. I used to think it was the vixskin, but boiling and disinfecting didn't help. My gyno told me that it was a common condition, and she gave me some antibiotics which I take a dose of whenever we have sex.

Now, if you are not enjoying intercourse and your gyno can't make any suggestions, it's okay. You already keep your husband locked, so he has already learned... or is learning... how to manage his own libido and how to turn his energy into pleasing you instead of worrying about his own orgasm. This is why I tell women who message me that they do not need to feel guilty about this change in your sex life. He asked for this... to be locked and for you to take charge. This is one of those things that happen in life that you have no control over, so all you can do is control how you deal with the situation.

I am learning that there are more "no penetration" marriages than I ever would have guessed, and while a lot of them are done out of some kind of kinky game, some of them, like yours are more because Mother Nature was not kind. If this is the way you are leaning, please remember that your husband wants all the best for you. You can still reward him with your hands or by letting him rub himself on you (he must have a favorite place lol), and then lock him back up. Or you can use a vibrator to help take the pressure off of him. If you have read some of the other women's stories that have written in, some men find the idea of being denied penetration to be a turn on.

Finally, please keep an open mind. You may come out of this once again being able to enjoy intercourse, at least, when you start feeling somewhat normal... or rather, when all these things that are happening start settling down. And there are a lot of resources and articles for you to check online. You may not feel better about it but at least you'll know that you are not alone. Best of luck hon and let me know how you're doing.

[zazaiafe2]

heyy, first I wanna say that I recently discovered your blog and I loved it, you make things that are seen as "mystical " so natural and scientifically. My question is how do we become or grow the chances to wake up aware in void, I know it's not your focus but even for the goal of shifting, I mostly enter void unaware. Thanks for the attention

Hey ! First, thank you for your words, I really appreciate it.

Actually, you’re not the first one asking me a similar question, I already answered something close recently, you can see it it's on my account, but let me give you a full, more precise answer because your question is kinda different.

The issue with waking up aware in the Void State isn’t much about "magically triggering awareness" but rather a mix of preparation, cognitive programming, and brain state stabilization(It also tends to depend on the people).

Almost everything I describe in my post applies both to entering the Void,to staying aware once you’re in and to waking up into it. The problem is: for many people, they might cross into the Void but still slip into unconsciousness due to certain cognitive habits or nervous system imbalances.

So first what makes awareness drop?

-High executive control collapse: the Void state suppresses self-talk & DMN (Default Mode Network), but for many, awareness is tightly linked to their inner monologue.

-Overfatigue / micro-sleep tendencies: especially if the body is too tired or if there’s no preconditioning for maintaining non-verbal awareness.

-No prior training of silent awareness: If someone never trains silent cognitive awareness without inner monologue, it’s very easy to cross the border and simply "black out".

What really helps to stay aware:

1️⃣ Prepare your brain BEFORE your attempt

-Mild sensory + cognitive stimulation deprivation 1-3 days before: reduce social media, heavy thinking, complex tasks, screens...

-Very stable sleep schedule (huge factor, often ignored(because it's a bit annoying)).

-Passive dissociation training: practice daily being aware while your mind is silent.Look softly, observe your surroundings without engaging, let thoughts float without attaching.

2️⃣ Reprogram your unconscious trigger

You can actively program your brain to link the entrance of the Void to a trigger of silent awareness:

Every day before sleeping, do micro-sessions where you practice:

-> "When I feel detached, my awareness stays calmly floating."

"Even when my mind is empty, my awareness remains softly awake."

"Silence = I stay calmly aware."

Use these as very slow, gentle autosuggestions. Don't be robotic; use a very soft tone in your mind, linked to the relaxed physical sensations.

3️⃣ During the attempt itself:

The WBTB (Wake Back To Bed) strategy is very helpful for awareness retention: sleep 5 hours → wake up → stay 15-30min awake while gently visualizing being aware in the Void → go back to bed.

Use floating body visualization before you're going to sleep after wbtb :

→ "My body is ultra-light, gently floating, all weight is gone."

->"When I'll do a micro awakening I'll be in the void."

->"The next time I'll be aware i'm gonna be in the void."

This reduces sensimotor anchoring and helps your awareness float rather than collapse.

4️⃣ Post-shift reinforcement (optional but helpful):

After you have any Void experience (even unaware), take a few minutes to reinforce your brain with:

-> "Each time I enter, I stay calmly aware."

->"My mind easily floats while my body disappears."

->"The more I enter the Void, the more natural awareness feels."

You can totally adapt the affirmations but you get what i'm trying to say.

This creates long-term unconscious reinforcement.

Special note:

Many people underestimate how much we rely on verbal inner monologue to feel conscious. Silent awareness is absolutely trainable, but it's often not trained. Some call it Open Monitoring meditation. Even a few minutes per day can massively increase your chance to wake up aware in void.

Highly dissociative profiles (DPRD, some neurodivergent profiles, autistic profiles etc.) may have an easier time accessing pure awareness if they use this correctly.

But even without that, awareness retention is absolutely learnable with the right cognitive framing and gentle preparation.

In short:

→ Prepare several days before (mild cognitive rest).

→ Sleep stability.

→ Practice silent awareness daily.

→ Program associations via slow autosuggestions.

→ Use WBTB + soft physiological tricks.

Happy shifting (or whatever you wanna do with the void)

[absolutebl]

This is a BL Challenge for you (if you want to accept them) :

1.) Is there a BL that you finished even when :

a. You love the story but not really fond of the actors (maybe the acting or other reasons)?

b. You love the acting (the series as a whole) but not really fond with the story?

2.)

a. Is there a BL that you dislike at the beginning but when you finish them, it became one of your favorite?

b. What is your fav BL cover?

3.) Please write your top 3 or top 5 favorite tropes in BL.

From each trope, write at least 2 BL that you love.

4.) Who are your top 5 (or top 3) top & bottom from your favorite BL media, the top and bottom don't have to be from the same BL.

5.) What are you favorite BL from the 1990s and 2000s?

6.)

a. BL you finished that is just bizarre but you still enjoy them?

b. BL that have stayed with you (special for you) or influenced you (at least 5 titles)?

7.)

a. BL that you love only (mostly) because of the sexy scenes?

b. BL that is your guilty pleasure?

8.) Your fav non-canon BL ships from any media?

9.) Your top 5 or top 3 fav each for Green Flag BL couples & Red Flag BL couples.

10.)

a. What is your first BL that made you got into BL?

b. What BL that made you cry (happy or sad)?

Thanks if you want to answer all of the above! Feel free to answer how many that you want...

Also, thanks so much for your BL recs & reviews! 🤩😆

OMG this is so fun! Exactly what I wanted to do this morning (and not work). Challenge accepted!!! (I also added a few for s&g)

The BL Challenge Questions

1.) Is there a BL that you finished even when :

a. You love the story but not really fond of the actors (maybe the acting or other reasons)?

This is hard, very rarely does BL get me on story alone. It would likely be from Korea or Japan. Picks up an examines Life Love On the Line. Sets it back down gently. Maybe Blueming? Don't kill me stans, but Bump Up Business? Would I put some of the first season HIStory in here.?

Honestly? I'm super hard pressed to name a BL that got me on story alone.

b. You love the acting (the series as a whole) but are not fond of the story?

One instantly springs to mind for this, Eternal Yesterday. I knew what I was in for with that story from the start. We all did. But it is still horrible.

Also My Stand-In, The On1y One, and The Time of Fever. Oof.

I would put a number of second seasons into this category too like Minato 2, or To My Star 2. And quite a few of early BLs with missed or muddy endings like I Am Your King. All the true dark BLs and moody artshouse stuff have to be set aside, I think, because I knew what I was in for. Well, except The Effect and HIStory3: The BL That Shall Not Be Named. Never forget. Never forgive.

c. You're not fond of either just some kind of BL masochist?

Cupid's Last Wish and Ossan's Love in all iterations. (WHY did I do that to myself)

If I had a do over I would have dropped CLW. Now that I have a solid DNF policy in place (and there is so much BL airing I can be picky) there are quite a few BLs I wish I had simply never wasted time on in retrospect.

2.) Is there a BL that you dislike at the beginning but when you finished, it became one of your favorites?

Ooooh another easy one! Bad Buddy. It started as a trash watch and became a praise watch and it stuck that landing like nobody's business. I live blogged it, so you could all watch my CTJ moment in real time.

There are actually a few others in this category like My Beautiful Man, DNA Says Love You, even Love Sick but I wouldn't say I disliked them as much as I did BB at the start.

3.) What is your fav BL cover?

You mean OST? Oh good, another easy one (I have so few songs I like from BLs).

Eternal Yesterday's Sunshower by Ayumu Imazu

Ooo, now I'm listening to it. Yay!

4.) Top 5 favorite tropes in BL. For each trope, write at least 2 BLs that you love that represent it.

Whipping Boy - My Beautiful Man, My Personal Weatherman

Stepbrothers (or similar family taboo) - Unknown, Cherry Blossoms After Winter

Age Gap (specifically were the younger is the aggressor) - Minato's Laundromat, Old Fashion Cupcake

Student/teacher - Private Lesson, Love Class 2 (side couple)

Kink - KinnPorsche (side couple), The Next Prince (side couple) - neither of these are BLs I love, but I love these couples in them.

I know I have some other rare topes too, but I wanted to choose 5 obviously recognizable ones.

5.) Who are your top 5 top & bottom seme/uke from your favorite BLs, they don't have to be from the same BL.

I specifically tried to pick not from the same BL as a challenge.

a. Top 5 seme

Dean in Until We Meet Again

Solo in Oxygen

Shin in Minato's Laundromat

Togawa in Old Fashion Cupcake

Karan in Cherry Magic Thailand

Gotta say I eliminated a number of favorites because they were too toxic (my bad) and others because they did not come from a favorite BL. But most went to the wayside because they didn't fit the ideal of seme well enough. Bye bye Taiwan.

b. Top 5 uke

Taekyung in Light On Me

Sangwoo in Semantic Error

Kakeru in I Cannot Reach You (possibly my favorite of all time)

Amagi in Takara & Amagi

Won in Unintentional Love Story

Different reason for eliminating favorites with the uke. Blushing maidens and super tsunderes don't make my cut.

Gotta shout out My School President for satisfying both.

6.) What are you favorite old BLs?

a. From the 1990s

I would argue that BL as a genre (defined as such by watchers and critics) did not exist until after 2000. So instead here is a blog post on some 90s movies that, in retrospect, have certain QL leanings. Old Guard Queer Cinema for BL Lovers.

b. From the early 2000s

Seven Days

Another easy one. Always shows up somehow. Someday everyone on this hellsite will have watched this show and it will be primarily because of me.

And then I will disappear in a puff of smake and accomplishment.

But here are some early BLs you might not know about that I also enjoy.

7.) 5 BL you finished that is just bizarre but you still enjoy them?

The Sign

To Sir With Love

Secret Relationships

Pit Babe

Laws of Attraction

8.) 5 BLs that have stayed with you (special for you) or influenced you?

We Best Love

Dark Blue Kiss

Until We Meet Again

Seven Days

Old Fashion Cupcake

9.) BL that you love only (mostly) because of the sexy scenes?

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans

The Sign

Deep Night

Love in the Air (sigh)

Jack & Joker

10 more here from 2023 and prior. My Stubborn might get into this category too.

10.) BL that is your guilty pleasure?

2 Moons Ambassador probably. But I don't really feel guilty about BL. Here are some of my all time favorite Trash Watches,

11.) Your fav non-canon BL ships from any media?

I try not to ship unless strictly called for so, Devil Judge probably.

12.) Your top 5 fav each:

a. Green Flag BL couples

ThamePo

WandeeGoodday

Monster Next Door

My Ride

Your Sky

Just to name a few. I have MORE. 2024 was very good to us.

b. Red Flag BL couples.

My Personal Weatherman

Our Youth

The Time of Fever

the stepbrothers in HIStory 4 (I KNOW)

far too much MAME

13.) BL that got you into BL?

Until We Meet Again

I had seen some before it from Japan (Takumi etc..) but I thought of them as a rare one offs (not a genre). Which they kind of were. I think it took Thailand really entering the field to drag my arse in whole hog.

Honestly, my memory from 2019 Bl is so Hazy it might have been Love By Chance instead. But UWMA is my origin story and I am sticking to it.

This is one reason I advise, if you keep a spreadsheet, to have a column for "date you watched" as well as "date it aired."

But I didn't even have a spreadsheet back then. Early days...

14.) BL that made you cry (happy or sad)?

A hard one, since it isn't charted on the Spreadsheet of Doom. And I cry A LOT. I'll just pick 10 recent ones:

Unknown

Love For Love's Sake

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

When it Rains it Pours

See Your Love

Our Youth

Secrets Happened on the Litchi Island

Caged Again

Heesu in Class 2

The Time of Fever 

(source)

[cercess]

Beneath New Skies - Chapter IV

Lingering Shadows

𖤓 Tags: sweet sweet angst 𖤓 Rating: General 𖤓 Word Count: 2.2k 𖤓 Notes: the angst begins babey!! I'm so excited about the next couple chapters. They may take a little bit because I intend to work on a few requests. If that interests you at all, or if you want to request something yourself, feel free to send me an ask! As always, I hope you enjoy the chapter. 𖤓 Previous Chapter 𖤓 Read on AO3

In the previous chapter, the city was attacked by Nikador's Titankin. The reader tried to escape the city with their father, and the orphan Serena, but were stopped by a large monster. In hopes of saving their companions, the reader attempted to distract the Titankin and were injured as a result. Just as they thought they were done for, Phainon and the Outlander (Stelle and Dan Heng) arrived and swiftly dealt with the attacker.

What were you thinking had become your father’s most said words over the course of the past couple hours. When he asked you for the first time upon catching up with the other citizens, you answered honestly: “I don’t know, I just had to protect you and Serena.” After the third time he uttered the phrase, you assumed it was more of an exclamation than an actual question. 

“What if you had been seriously injured?” He asked as he pressed a poultice of poppy to your freshly-stitched wound. “Or worse,” his voice cracked in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. 

His unfamiliar vulnerability made your heart ache. Your endless justifications died somewhere between your brain and your mouth when he took your hand. “Don’t you ever do that again. It’s my job to protect you.”

You squeezed his hand, not knowing what to say. His concerns were justified; even you questioned your actions. If Phainon hadn’t shown up, you’d be dead. That harsh truth weighed heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry father. I won’t do something like that again.” 

He stared at your intertwined hand for a long while, obviously contemplating what to say next. Your father had never been a man of many words, instead allowing his actions to define his character. It was why he was so respected in Okhema; a dedicated physician and apothecary who never let his patients down. 

“I love you, Father,” you decided to close the gap for him.

“I love you too. More than you could ever know.” He patted your hand before reaching for the bandages. “You need to keep this clean and dry for the time being. If you notice inflammation, tell me immediately.”

“I know how to treat a wound. I learned from the best.” 

Your father cleared his throat awkwardly as he began dressing your injury. “So… that Chrysos Heir?”

“Phainon?” There was no hiding your relationship any longer. Part of you was relieved to finally have everything out in the open; you were used to being honest with your father. The other part braced for his disapproval. 

“He seems to care for you a great deal.”

“He’s very kind.” 

“What I saw was more than kindness,” your father wound the bandage tightly around your arm. “He cares for you. Deeply.” 

You smile absentmindedly, “you think so?” 

“I know so. And you care for him just as much.” He sighed as he tied off the dressing, “I do worry about you getting involved with the Chrysos Heirs.” 

Your heart cracked in your chest slightly, “why? Phainon’s never endangered me.” 

Your father shook his head, clearly considering his words carefully. “I worry that he’s influenced you to endanger yourself. What you did today was reckless. You don’t need to be a hero, you just need to survive.” 

Thinking back on the situation, your father had a point. As you stood there, facing down an impossible enemy, all you could think of was making those you loved proud: saving the day, even if it cost you your life. On the other hand, the situation had been so devoid of hope, that doing noting would have probably resulted in your death anyway. Nikador’s Titankin were not known for their mercy, and the one you encountered certainly seemed unwilling to let you pass. Of course, you only survived because Phainon and the Outlanders showed up just in the nick of time. Your actions ultimately served no purpose other than getting you hurt. That stung more than any blade. 

“The Chrysos Heirs,” he continued, “are not like us. They’re born with a greater purpose, which they have the skills to pursue. Your Phainon seems capable of fulfilling his destiny, and that is what worries me.” 

“You don’t want him to succeed?” 

“Do you know of Lady Aglaea?” Of course you did, everyone knew Lady Aglaea. She had helped protect the city during the Titankin attack! She was Phainon’s mentor, and he had nothing but good things to say about her. “I do,” you responded warily. 

“There are rumours that the demigod has lost her humanity as a result of inheriting the Titan’s powers. Some say her ability to love no longer exists. If Phainon ascends just as she did, there’s no telling if he would even be capable of holding affection for you.” 

You had always worried about the differences in your blood. It was an anxiety that had started somewhere deep in your heart, and slowly spread its thorns throughout your veins. Your father's words not only made briers creep further through your body, but caused them to rot and fester. What made matters worse was that your fears were mostly unfounded. Phainon had been nothing but good to you, yet your doubts lingered. In a way, you felt unworthy of him; like there were others that could truly appreciate him without reservation. You wanted to, so badly that it ached within you constantly, but the possibility of being cast aside terrified you. 

Noticing your silence, your father placed a hand on your back, “have you spoken to him about these things?” 

“No,” you admitted sheepishly. “But I’ve wanted to.” 

“Then you should. If things are truly meant to be between the two of you, then it will all work out.”

“That’s a very romantic sentiment coming from you.” 

“Matters of the heart don’t come naturally to me,” he darted his eyes to the floor, almost shamefully. “But I know well that when something is right, you can overcome the obstacles.” 

“Was it like that with mother?” The two of you never discussed her. You knew she came from a high-class family, and that your father’s seat on the citizen’s assembly was inherited from her, but nothing more about who she was as a person. 

“Your mother and I came from different worlds. She was a member of high society, and I was nothing more than a herb picker. It wasn’t until I met her that I realized I could be more than what my birth dictated.” He smiled wistfully into the distance, an expression you had never seen on your father’s face. Sure, he smiled from time to time, but that look of unequivocal devotion had never once crossed his features. “Her father didn’t approve of me, even after I became an apprentice apothecary. But your mother was stubborn. She refused to let her family keep us apart. In some ways, I see myself in you. I know how it feels to be cast out because of your station, and I don’t ever want you to have to endure that.”

His reservations about Phainon suddenly made a lot more sense. “What did she think?”

“She told me that I was a fool for listening to her father. The opinions of others never meant much to her, so she never understood why that rejection hurt me so.” He suddenly knelt before you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Don’t you ever let those Chrysos Heirs tell you that you’re lesser.” You gently squeezed his hand, “why would they say such a thing?”

“There are rumours spreading amongst the Council of Elders, that Lady Aglaea has turned into an unfeeling tyrant that prioritizes this Flame Chase Journey over the rest of us.” Acting as both an apothecary and physician meant your father heard almost everything going on in Okhema. People trusted him, and as such they tended to let things slip. Usually he paid no mind to idle gossip, especially when it came to politics.

“You’ve always said the Council are a bunch of stuck-up elitists themselves. Why would you believe that?” 

“I don’t know if I believe it, I just want you to be careful. He clearly makes you happy, but Phainon may one day have no choice but to move on. His path in life is both a privilege, and a burden.”

A knocking sound pulled your attentions away from the conversation. Standing in the open doorway was Phainon, his hand still raised from rapping on the wood. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, I tried knocking on the store’s door, but you didn’t hear me.”

Your father snapped back into his professional demeanour, “is there something we can do for you?” 

“I came to speak to your child.” 

“I’ll give the two of you some space. It’s about time I got started on dinner. Will you be staying?” 

The invitation seemed to catch Phainon off guard. He stuttered slightly before giving his answer, “I need to head home after I’m done here.”

The older man nodded before leaving the room. You fiddled with the edge of the bandage awkwardly, not knowing where to begin. After your conversation with your father, there were about a million things you wanted to say, none of which you knew how to properly verbalize. You wondered just how much of your discussion he overheard. 

“You scared me,” Phainon broke the silence as he slipped into the chair next to you. He took your hand in his, tracing the outline of your knuckles with his thumb. 

You stared at your intertwined hands. “Thank you for saving me.”

Shivers were sent coursing through your body when he gently grabbed your chin, and titled your face upward so that you met his eyes. “You never have to thank me for that.” 

Seeing his face made something within you crumble. Tears stung your eyes as you threw yourself into his arms. He pulled you close, holding you like you were the most precious treasure in the world. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.” He whispered against the top of your head.

“You don’t need to apologize.” You buried your face in his chest. 

“You’re hurt,” a deep sadness lingered in the cadence of his voice, like an out of tune instrument. 

This discordant melody lured you from the comfort of his body. You looked up to find him already staring down at you, sorrow staining his brilliant eyes. 

“I’ll be alright, Phainon. I’m more worried about you.”

He traced his thumb over your bottom lip, “why would you be worried about me?” “Your fight with Nikador. How did it go?”

His sigh was heavy, an omen of the bad news to come. “I thought we killed them, but it seems Nikador has divided their divinity.” 

“There are multiple Nikadors?” The image of the weapons laying at the Titankin’s feet flashed in your mind. If another attack were to be launched on the city in its weakened state, there was no telling the destruction that would be left behind.

“Don’t worry,” he grasped you tighter, “I’m headed to Castrum Kremnos with the Outlanders and Mydei tomorrow. We’ll finally put an end to Nikador’s madness.” 

Ending Nikador’s madness… after all the chaos the mad titan had wrought, it was about time they be put to rest. But another concern took priority in your mind: their Coreflame. Phainon had spoken of it before, how he would end Nikador’s reign of terror and claim their power for himself. Your father’s words replayed in your mind, if Phainon ascends, there’s no telling if he would even be capable of holding affection for you.

The rot flared in your veins as you struggled to be happy at the opportunity. What if he were killed in the attempt? What if he did succeed, and you became a footnote in the divine book of his life. That ugly, gnarled fear made your heart race in your chest. 

Killing Nikador, and rising triumphantly as Okhema’s new divine hero, was all that Phainon had ever wanted. He had never told you much about his past, but whenever he spoke of his mission, it seemed like a shadowy figure spurred him forward. That drive ignited something in him, something tempestuous and forlorn. There was more to his heroic desires than virtue, and you feared that the Coreflame of strife would only amplify the darkness within. How could a demigod born of Nikador feel anything but a desire for bloodshed? 

Of course, there was also the possibility of Nikador killing him, which was an even worse outcome. You wanted to believe that even if he inherited the Coreflame, Phainon’s good would still somehow shine through. How could it not? But death was a finality. You closed your eyes and saw the procession as clear as day; his lifeless body being paraded through the streets as the people placed flower around him, until he lay in a bed of flora. Okhema’s hope would be snuffed out alongside him, and the sun’s rays would no longer bring warmth and comfort. Instead, they would serve as a mournful reminder of the world’s last true hero.

The rot spread until it reached your tongue, forcing out selfish words. “Don’t go… please Phainon. I can’t lose you.”

You expected him to pull back in disgust. Instead, he held you closer. “I’ll be alright. It’s just like I always say: I’ll come back to you.” 

If you do come back, will you still care for me? “Do you promise?” Now wasn’t the time. He didn’t need another weight added to his overburdened shoulders. You resigned yourself to the pulsating miasma within. If he returned and ascended, then you would tell him your fears, and accept your place, whatever it may be. If he died, you would harden your heart, and mourn bitterly for the rest of your days. Better to keep the ugly inside than infest him too. 

“I promise, nothing will keep me from returning to you.” 

You let him hold you close until circumstance ripped you apart, as it always did. 

[phantombegruvia]

SFTH MURDER MYSTERY - PART 3 [JOHN JACOB POV]

part 2 << part 3 >> part 4 MASTERPOST

*CW for talk of death and child death, and talk of potential vomit

[WAYNE MANOR LOBBY - 17:01]

John Jacob couldn't control his breathing. He had just watched a child die, for fuck’s sake. The death itself was horrific too, John had to shuffle backwards slightly to avoid the wee child's blood from getting on his shoes.

Ethel stepped forward, through the sticky blood, and poked at the boy's face, “wakey wakey! You said you were going to perform for us! Well, come on!” She carried on to prod.

“He's dead, Ethel,” Rumpled informed her.

“Oh, is he? I hadn't realised,” she responded, with no hint of sarcasm, “that doesn't mean he can't perform.” She leaned into his ear, “WAKE UP!”

“I did think she was insane,” Tracy says, “but now I realise she's insane insane, and I've gotta respect it.”

John was too busy trying to not throw up to care for what they were saying. He barely registered being dragged to the next room.

[WAYNE MANOR DRAWING ROOM - 17:03]

He was unceremoniously plonked onto one of the many sofas in the huge room. Derek was placed next to him, also in the exact state as he was; pale and shivering, eyes glossed over.

“The three residents of the manor are dead,” Margaery began, “two died the same day ten days ago, and one just now. The kid didn't even know that the others had died.”

“But how? I mean, Wayne was the kid's adopted father, how did he not notice?” Tarquin questioned.

“He said something about Wayne disappearing often,” Rumpled recalled, “why would he need to do that?”

“Why would Batman feel the need to kill the man who helps the people of Glasgow with his money and power?” Margaery contemplated.

“Unless this ‘Batman’ didn't kill him,” Juliet shrugged, “and it was a setup?”

There were a few hums of contemplation.

Suddenly Esmeralda perked up, “the butler!”

“You think the butler killed Wayne?” Amanda asked, “that's quite.. cliché.”

“No, I don't,” Esmeralda began, “the tea, it was half drunk.”

Tracy perked an eyebrow up, “What's that got to do with anything?”

“He was drinking it, when he died, what if he didn't suffer from a sudden heart attack? What if he was poisoned?”

“Which would mean that he was murdered too,” Rumpled caught on quickly, “two of the three were killed.”

All this talk of murder made John rather queasy, and he had no idea why. He's seen death before, he's caused death before, so why was this different?

“Too much of a coincidence-” Margaery started.

“No such thing!” Ethel interrupted, “coincidences don't exist, it's just a silly word that people came up with to explain things.”

“The boy was murdered too, then,” Margaery gave Ethel a deathly glare, “but.. how? How could somebody have even-”

Brriiingg

The sudden noise made the entire group freeze.

Brriiingg

There was a telephone on a small table in the corner of the room.

Brriiingg

Whoever is ringing may have answers.

Brriiingg

But the question is, who dares answer?

The answer with the most votes will be the one to answer. The answer could have effects on the overall story.

*HINT: the person on the other end of the phone may have important answers - who is the best person to pry those answers out?