snow-onthebeach-13 - Tumblr blog

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Imagine sleepy blowjob with Joel...

Drabble: 300 words

imagine just being completly fucked out and tired. Joel's made you cum so many times you're just beat, but after his first orgasm an hour ago, he was hard again. Butt naked on the couch, you slide your way down Joel's body, slick and sweaty, hair matted and sticky...

You get your face between his legs, lazily slobbering on the shaft. His hands go to your hair, telling you that you "don't gotta do noth'n", but he doesn't push you away.

For a while, you just suck on his balls while you stroke him. Joel gives you his sweet praises from his dirty mouth. "Yeah, good job baby... take my balls..." "Such sweet mouth" "Filthy, pretty girl..."

You don't get very far down his shaft; you're not trying to deep throat him, not trying to blow his mind. Just treating him with the multiple orgasms he's given you.

When you do take his length in your mouth, your eyes are drooping. He's grunting now, old man isn't even trying to last and you can feel his balls tighteing in your hand as you play with them like a fidget. Joel caresses the back of your head, carefully nudging you down but staying at your own pass. Your eyes droop down, tongue laving out to just taste him. Taste the sweat, smell *him*, his musk after marathon sex, after pleasuring you for hours. He tastes so uniquely Joel

He cums in your mouth as your eyes, still swollowing him down even in this state.

"Good girl..." he groans, scratching gently at the back of your head as you fall asleep. He tried to take your head off of his softening cock, but you simply grip his thick thigh. You want to stay here, connected with Joel.

He relents, guiding your head to rest on the meat of him while you continue to lightly suckle at his tip. You lull yourself to sleep with Joel's dick still in your mouth, flacide and cute, his large hand gently holding you to him. Connected. Always.

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im having his baby no im not but you should see your faces

[snow-onthebeach-13]

Touch - A Joel Miller One Shot

Summary: Inspired by that GIF. You know the one. Yeah. Nuff' said.

Pairing: Post Outbreak Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader, however they do have hair - length or colour not defined. Otherwise it’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 1.7K

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Oral M receiving/some belly worship/Joel all wet and in a towel.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: The brain rot happened when I saw those GIFs floating around again this evening... this is the result of said brain rot. 🫠

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As he steps out of the shower, padding barefoot across the floor, a threadbare white towel is wrapped snugly around his waist; its thin cotton fibres absorbing the lingering pelts of water that cling to his skin. 

The towel, worn from years of faithful service, is slightly frayed at the edges and clings to his behind tightly.

Droplets of water cascade from his damp hair, trickling down his skin in rivulets, leaving behind a trail of tiny, glassy tracks that catch the dim light of the dingy room. The air is filled with the ghostly aroma of his soap, a crisp blend of eucalyptus and mint that lingers on his freshly cleansed skin wafting out at you.

Standing before the small, chipped mirror hanging on the wall, Joel lifts a wide-toothed comb, its teeth glistening with tiny diamonds of water caught from his damp hair. With practised precision, he draws the comb through his strands, guiding them back from his forehead in sleek, smooth strokes. 

Each pass of the comb tames usually unruly locks, coaxing them into submission as they cling to the dampness of his scalp. Each stroke brings a sense of order to the chaos, as they yield to the direction of his swift hand.

The dampness of his hair lends it a sleek sheen, accentuating the natural texture and revealing shades of chestnut and mahogany hidden beneath the shimmering silver layers.

As he combs his hair back, the flex of his arm reveals the taut strength that lies beneath the surface, the muscles contracting and releasing with fluid ease. Reflected in the mirror, his image takes shape, the chiselled contours of his bronze, weathered face defined by the stark contrast of wet hair against skin.

There's a sense of cool composure about him, an aura of strength and resilience that radiates from his every pore. Drops of water pool and cling to his temples, tracing a path down the curve of his jawline before disappearing into the recesses of the towel wrapped securely around his waist.

His posture exudes confidence, his towering stance commanding as he gazes intently at his reflection - the determination in his eyes mirrored by the unwavering resolve of his physical presence.

Then, those deep, trenching eyes find yours in the mirror, enticing you to crawl off the end of the bed towards him. Revelling in the feel of your palms sliding up his broad back and over his shoulders as you press ornate kisses into the centre of his spinal column. 

He smells really good; a carbolic free scent of freshly clean skin and musk. You inhale as you run your nose against the expanse of his upper back, cheeks resting against cool, drying skin. 

Joel turns to face you, briefly catching your lips against his whilst your fingers untuck his towel, letting it fall to its death around his feet. And you can’t help but follow as you lower yourself down on your knees, admiring up at him.  

You kiss over the thick shape of his hips, the swell of his paunch, lick over his slotted belly button with a gentle hum. Trace each little freckle and scar and jagged stretch mark.

Kiss over his fingertips as they find your lips, nip gently at his thigh, slip your tongue into the high crease of it; a flurry of damp, fuzzy hairs tickling at your jaw. 

His own thick fingers curl around his hardening cock, holding and stroking himself as your hands run over the soft, downy swell of his belly again. Letting your fingertips circle around the grey, silken hairs and golden, sun-eroded skin that's warm. Splaying your digits to reach wide and far over him; the scent of his cock inches from your face as he gently pumps.

You reach your arm up, stroking over his stacked chest; fingers gliding over puffy nipples and soft hairs that are smattered and patchy with grey. You stroke down his bicep, his forearm as he works his turgid cock inside a hefty calloused palm. Feel how the solid sinew and muscle moves and flexes with every stroke under your touch.

You run your fingers in the dark hairs that cover his arm and watch enthralled at his strength. Joel strokes a thick, weeping cock in his palm as your eyes drop to it and you lick your lips. 

“Ya want it?” Joel entices, his voice a low grizzle of gravel. 

Smirking, you nod up at him as he takes your exploring hand in both of his and slides it down his groin until you’re curling your fingers around his thickness. 

“Have it, darlin’. S’all yours.”

His cock is magnificent, a work of art. Flushed a tanned pink, uncut head swollen and wet. A shaft pebbled with swollen veins and ridges, a small puff of hairs at the base. 

Tongue barely tracing the tip, your breath is a soft tease leaving him hissing in want already. You lick under his length, gentle laps of your tongue from base to tip; end flicking over the frenum and making his thighs buck at that sensitive spot.

You love the way he twitches on your tongue. The way his jaw tightens as he grinds down on his teeth, the strangled little grunts he makes as he breathes.  

You kiss his head like a long lost lover, making out delicately at a pace that is sufficiently cruel in its tease. Lips puckering over him as you suck the bulb in; you circle around the rim, hands free, lips rolling over the tip and tongue still continuing that heady tease. Your hands stroking over his heavy thighs, sculpted with muscle, you can feel them ripple beneath your touch. 

“You taste so good, Joel… So hard for me.” You whine.  

You suck off the crystalised bubble of pre-cum seeping out of him; a simple purse of your lips around his tip, sweet salt flooding on your tongue. 

Thick around your lips, he slowly goes all the way down as you open wider. 

You’re a vision; hollowed cheeks, swirling tongue. Joel gulps; a stray, grey curl falling across his forehead as he stares down at you panting. Wanting.

Wanting nothing more than to pick you up and fuck you senseless; drive you deep into the mattress hollering his name, but his feet stay planted in place, your hands on his thighs and lips sucking around his cock. 

“Look a’me,” he husks as your mouth opens around him further to take him in deeper.

Your eyes flit up to his - two darkening orbs staring down at you, pink velvet lips parted. 

“That damn mouth, darlin’...” he groans looking skyward. Eyes glazing over and neck cords beginning to rise and twist. “Fuck, that’s good. God damn.” 

Massaging his balls as you suck him in deeper, your nose presses into that warm, puffy skin and breathes in the scents of bergamot and flesh. 

He starts to rock his hips, fucking gently into your mouth. His giant palm coming up behind your head as he slides further down your willing throat.

You love the touch of him, fingers tightly wringing at your skull, roots of your hair getting snagged. You work him up and down with your lips clamped tighter around his cock. Tongue massaging against his shaft, fingers massaging around his firm balls.

“Ya so good at sucking my cock.” He grunts.

“My cock, Joel.” You correct, a string of saliva threading from his shiny head to your lips. 

“Always yours, darlin’. So fuckin’ pretty like this for me, ain’t ya? Fuck.” 

You bring him to that point; that moment when he feels like he can’t hang on much longer. Your mouth popping off the end of his head and simply going back to just licking him, enticing a small growl at the back of his throat.

“Darlin’-” he warns. 

“Joel.” You reply coyly with a smirk. 

He likes the agony, you can see it in his eyes, despite his lips curling back. That beautiful excruciation when he’ll not quite leap, but will teeter dangerously on the edge and sway. It’s fucking gorgeous, the precarity of it all. The weakness in his strength, the painful desire in his eyes.

How his hips involuntarily buck and his thighs shudder. How his balls pull tighter in their swell around your fingers. How his cock flinches and throbs as your tongue brushes over sensitive spots. How you bring him to his knees with just your mouth. Tongue swirling around and lips closing over the head as you suck him back in. 

“Bet ya so wet for me, ain’t ya?” He groans, watching himself slide into your hot, wet mouth with a fevered pace now.

You want it, want him. Hard and thick in your mouth like this. Heavy against your tongue. It makes you wet, makes you positively buzz and flare for his fat cock inside your mouth.

You squeeze your thighs together, your slick already dripping out of you.

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” He feels the vibrations on his head as you hum and murmur.

He always knows. Knows how you’re so wrecked for him. He pops out your mouth as you fist your saliva around him.

“Joel. Come for me. Please. Let me taste you. Let me please you… come for me, Joel.” 

He grunts at your soft compulsion, the way your skilled tongue slides over his tip, teasing into the slit and tasting the glossy liquid that drips silky out of him. 

You pump him faster, palms on either side of his cock, pulling back and forth, as he whines above you; a broad, towering totem of grunts and pants. 

“M’gonna come.” Joel takes his cock and pumps fast. An explicit snarl lacing around his teeth. Flared nostrils and a strained neck.

Roped, veined hand manhandling his cock as your mouth opens and your tongue rests on the underside of his head, waiting for your thick, creamy reward. 

“Lemme see.” He groans.

You open your mouth wider as he spills out in plentiful squirts into that wet flesh. Sweet expletives crack from him, gasps and wheezes tumbling out of his mouth in the giddy frenzy.

Pearly froth on your tongue, you suck and lick him clean, making his legs fully buckle.

A hefty hand brushes through his hair; damp grey curls fluffing up again with the heat coursing over his skin.

You lick your lips, holding his stare as he strokes down the side of your face with a thick finger; deep chocolate eyes melting down his cheeks, he regards you for a few moments looking all the way up at him with a blooming smile. 

Breathing out, Joel juts his chin out at you with a single nod towards the bed.

“Your turn, darlin’.” 

Thank you so much for reading this Joel story. I hope you enjoyed it. Comments are always welcome, as are re-blogs if you liked what you just read. Many thanks! 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

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Reasons I’ve heard why Princess Kate is “missing” in no particular order:

• BBL

• facelift

• prepping for going on The Masked Singer

• growing out a bad fringe

• mental breakdown (possibly due to William knocking up Rose Hanbury)

• going on drag race All Stars (courtesy of Bianca Del Rio)

• they’re getting a divorce

•induced coma

• she’s straight up just dead and the royals are just digitally “weekend at Bernie’s”-ing us

• she’s moved to a small town and has met a man who doesn’t know she’s a princess and is teaching her the real joy of Christmas.

• she’s recovering from abdominal surgery on medical advice (booooooo)

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Hi! sorry for not posting life had been crazy. i wanted to let you know that i am writing for Mlb now!! ive always loved baseball so i hope you guys send in requests! here are the players!

freddie freeman

mookie betts

shohei ohtani

bryce harper

dylan cease

tyler glasnow

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This is important.

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I love abortion: all day every day 😊

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If King Charles dies on or before March 25th, 2024, he will technically be the shortest-reigning king in English history.

Anyway, like to charge, reblog to cast.

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i need a mother. i need a father. i need an adult figure to hold me in their arms. i need them to tell me there's no shame in failing and trying again and breaking things and not knowing how to make it all better. i need someone to tell me that sometimes we just can't make things better and it's alright; someone to remind me I'm human and that's fine.

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The number of times I've caught myself in the middle of telling myself how worthless, unlovable, dislikable and embarrassing I am is too many. It's almost every day.

And sometimes I correct myself and say "I am not unlovable" "I am allowed to make mistakes" "I have grown and changed since then."

Sometimes, I just wallow in the shame.

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in honour of reputation’s sixth anniversary, put your top three tracks in the tags

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"Our Tawtute"

Onlyfans!Lo'ak x OnlyFans!Neutral!Reader x Onlyfans!Neteyam

A/n: it has been on my mind since yesterday just dropping it and running away. I didn't indulge too much into the onlyfans thing BUT I might do part 2 where it's more about that etc and less smut

Word count: 2,4k

Summary: as you were getting more and more famous on OF, two popular brothers noticed you.

Warnings: 18+!, degradation & praise, oral (Lo and Nete receiving), unprotected sex, penetration (I tried to keep it neutral so there aren't mentions of which one), aged up characters

Translation:

Tìyawn - love

Yawne - beloved

Tawtute - human

The smut begins under divider with moons etc if you wish to scroll straight to that

You were popular thanks to your OF platform, but not as popular as the Sully brothers. Perhaps it was the thrill of them being practically aliens, or their big cocks, or the way they were treating people in their videos. Your content was a little bit different. In the past, you used to post things with your partner but as you broke up, you decided to go solo. The Sully Brothers always had a little human toy to fuck, sometimes a na’vi, but all that you had were toys. Nevertheless, your platform was growing more and more even with you going alone. Your fans have been proposing the collaboration between you and The Sully Brothers for some time now, but you weren't sure if it was something you would want to do. After all, you did such videos only with your partner, not two hot strangers. But as your rank became higher, fans began to propose that match to The Sully Brothers and these two wouldn't let such a prey go.

And what The Sully Brothers want, The Sully Brothers get. Once they heard of you and saw your videos, they needed more. There was something about you that they didn't see in anyone else. Of course, all of the people in their videos were wonderful and pleasant to work with, but you seemed… different. When their manager contacted you, you refused, writing that it's not your kind of thing. The manager tried a couple more times but your answer never changed, that is until The Sully Brothers paid you a little visit. It amused them how shy you were despite being such a slutty little thing before the camera. After hours of talking and negotiating, you agreed to make one video with them, especially after they offered you a month to get to know them. They wanted you to be comfortable, you looked like such a sweet thing… and you did get comfortable. Hanging out with them every day for a month, getting to know them better, learning their routines. The three of you quickly became some sort of friends, and the bond between you was rather developing quickly. You loved spending your time with them, they weren't such mean fuckers as they made it to be on their platform. After all the tests were done to make sure that all of you were healthy, it was time for your collaboration. One of the most surprising things was that they didn't have any staff, the brothers were recording by themselves, setting up microphones and cameras. They wanted the experiences to feel more realistic because it was no surprise that more or less ten people on the set, talking constantly was no fun.

That day you were very nervous. Performing alone and performing with others was a huge difference, but you wanted to try something new. They eased your nerves a little by using a few jokes, they were bad but calmed you down anyway. After preparing everything, like setting the cameras in different angles, microphones, and lights… it was time to act, or perhaps it would not act at all? Just a natural pleasure.

“You look so pretty, tìyawn” Lo’ak bites your earlobe not so gently.

“You came to real men for good fucking, slut?” Neteyam took pleasure from degradation, and for sure he wouldn't hold back tonight. He planted a soft kiss on your neck. The brothers undressed you, slowly like you were the most fragile thing they got to touch. Whispering into your ears all the filthy things and praises. Your cheeks were flushed, despite knowing them they still were making you all shy and blushing. They were brothers and yet, their approaches weren't the same. Lo’ak liked to go roughly and quickly but he was praising you at the same time, while Neteyam loved to degrade through words but his actions were teasingly slow. Their eyes admired you like you were the finest masterpiece. And to them? You actually were. They laid you down on the huge table, that way they had great access to your mouth and your hole. Lo’ak got behind you, caressing your ass cheeks. He couldn't hold himself back, giving you a few spanks, enjoying your whimpers with a smirk. Neteyam stood in front of you, slowly running his thumb along your lips. He enjoyed how soft they were. “Lick, use those slutty lips for something useful. Do it slowly,” Neteyam demands. You obeyed immediately, giving his tip little licks, tasting his precum. Neteyam caressed your hair, his breath growing heavier. Lo’ak spits between your thighs before moving his hand there.

“Is it your first time, tìyawn? Taking cocks as big as ours? First time taking real cocks? I wonder if your previous partner could even compare,” Lo’ak’s finger teased your hole slowly, making it even wetter thanks to his spit. He knew damn well that it was your first time, but he wanted the viewers to know it too. Neteyam slowly pushed his tip into your mouth, his eyes sparkling as he noticed your own widening. He didn't rush it, letting you adjust to his tip as Lo’ak was stretching your hole with his fingers. You moved your head forward, trying to take more of Neteyam’s dick, you were eager for it, almost hungry.

“Certainly it is. A little greedy whore, trying to take so much despite it being the first time,” Neteyam chuckled as you were trying to wrap your lips around his girth. It was no surprise that he was fucking huge. 

“I'm going to get myself in, yawne” Lo’ak entered you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You whimpered around Neteyam’s length as Lo’ak stretched your hole out. He didn't waste any more time, pounding into you like an animal, when Neteyam was moving his hips gently holding himself back from destroying your throat. Lo’ak was a sweet talker but he was rough during sex, Neteyam was the opposite. 

“You are just a little toy for us to use,” Neteyam ‘reminds’ you as he pushes his cock deeper. Lo’ak chuckled grabbing your hips and putting you a little up, so you were on your hands and knees, yet he didn't stop fucking you, and neither did Neteyam. The older brother smirked, noticing what Lo’ak intended to do, a great shot indeed. They put their hands together above you, creating the fucking Eiffel Tower, looking straight into the camera. Their apartment filled with the undeniable scent of sex and your moans. 

The three of you looked great, drowning in the pleasure. It was that type of chemistry that is usually hard to find. The way you were lying on the table, the same one from their most popular videos. Little whimpering toy but with you, they seemed… more eager. Lo’ak pumping his dick in and out of your tight hole, making you moan around Neteyam’s thick cock. They let you lay back down on your stomach as they noticed your legs shaking.

“Such a tiny human, taking our cocks so well. Do you like it, tìyawn?” Lo’ak taunts, knowing that you couldn't respond with a mouth stuffed full of Neteyam’s cock. 

“Look at their body, they clearly do. Slutty tawtute, wouldn't give up even when their body fails,” Neteyam grunts as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You choke and moan, making both of them chuckle. Your saliva and Neteyam’s precum dripped down your chin as Neteyam continued to use your mouth. Lo’ak took the camera into his hand, the other hand coming hard across your hip, leaving a red mark. He focused the camera on his cock slamming into you.

“Fuckkkkk, see how easily it goes in? Such a good little toy, we’re proud.”

“You want to show your fans how good The Sully Brothers are fucking you? You want to show them how desperate you are for us?” Neteyam mocks, driving his dick deeper into your mouth. All the questions were rhetorical of course, they knew the answer but teasing you made everything better. Neteyam was becoming rougher than before, you could guess he was close by the way his cock twitched. You hollow your cheeks to make it even more pleasurable as you move your ass back against Lo’ak, to take him even deeper. “Fucking whore, I knew the shyness was just a facade,” Neteyam squeezed your neck tightly as Lo’ak began to spank you, leaving red marks all over your ass. The way you tried to take both of them so bravely but you were just a helpless toy underneath two strong aliens.

“Are you going to come for us, yawne? Such a brave one, I'm so proud. You’re taking me so well,” Lo’ak caressed the red marks on your ass. Then there was Neteyam who squeezed your neck tighter.

“Go on, slut. Cum for us, show us how grateful you are for our alien dicks.” It felt like your soul left your body as the two of them filled you with their cum, almost like the three of you were in sync with releasing. You choked a little, Neteyam released so much cum it was hard to swallow so some of it dripped down your chin. You were sure it would be the end of the video but the brothers seemed to have other plans. “We’re switching, brother. My cock needs to get a taste of that slutty dripping hole,” Neteyam caressed your cheek before going to take Lo’ak’s place. Lo’ak wasn't so eager to leave your heat but he knew that Neteyam wouldn't let this opportunity go. Slowly he moved to the other side of the table.

“How are you feeling, tìyawn? Are you up for another round?” Lo’ak caressed your hair gently, running his fingers through it. You were breathing heavily but the thought of rejecting it didn't ever come through your mind.

“Yes, always… please,” you breathed out, trying to catch your breath.

“Such a good toy, you are doing so good,” Lo’ak kept caressing your hair.

“And you didn't have a threesome before? What are you? Born to be a whore?” Neteyam pushed himself inside you, painfully slowly. His pace was slower than Lo’ak’s but his thrusts were deeper. Lo’ak strokes his cock a few times, teasing his tip against your closed lips. They were slick and swollen from taking care of Neteyam earlier.

“Such soft pretty lips, tìyawn” Lo’ak praises. The contrast between brothers was driving you crazy.

“Pretty and slutty,” Neteyam corrects Lo’ak, pushing in and out of you slowly.

“That too. Ready to take my cock like the little obedient thing that you are?” You moaned in answer, as Neteyam was already rearranging your insides. “Then what are you waiting for? Open up.” You opened your mouth without hesitation. Lo’ak quickly slid his cock inside, testing you but it didn't take him too long to set a punishing pace like he did earlier while fucking you. You focused on breathing through your nose, it wasn't every day that your throat was getting fucked. You were choking and gagging, moaning around him but Lo’ak enjoyed it. It wasn't a bad experience for you either, it was a special occasion to suck a dick like that. At least Neteyam massages your sore ass, bringing you relief. Lo’ak closed his eyes, whimpering already as you were driving him to his second orgasm.

“We will ruin them for any other man, won't we? Little tawtute, trying to play with big men,” Neteyam grunts as his cock hits the best spots deep inside of you. You could feel the coil beginning to form in your stomach as you mewled helplessly, drowning in the pleasure of being used.

“We will. I'm going to cum in this little mouth and you will swallow every single drop, won't you, yawne?” Lo’ak did not give you a chance to answer. Your cheeks were red just like your ass, your body all wet from sweat and cum, but you didn't mind it. You were burning, the brothers were consuming you like the flames. “Move those soft fingers, caress my balls,” Lo’ak let out a shaky breath. His cock sensitive from previous actions. You obeyed even though you could hardly think, your hand moved to caress his balls. Lo’ak was bucking his hips into your mouth, as he was chasing his climax. Neteyam’s fingers dug into your hips, leaving bruises as he held himself back. It was always a little challenge before them, Neteyam didn't want to cum before Lo’ak. Your mewls were turning them on, proving just how much control they had over you, how they were able to turn you into a mindless doll. It didn't feel like an act or just work, perhaps they were that good, this seemed real, or it was real. You forgot about the cameras completely, just focusing on the sensations. You were dangerously close to your edge.

“What an obedient thing,” Neteyam surprised you with some kind of praise.

“I'm going to cum, fuckkk” Lo’ak’s body became stiff as he released himself into your mouth. You struggled to swallow all of it but you were determined to do so. “Mm, I'm so proud, not even a drop wasted,” slowly, he pulled out of your mouth. Neteyam pulled you up immediately, on your hands and knees again, your back arched for him. Lo’ak was caressing your body gently as you were trying to calm your breath down.

“Good tawtute, arch this slutty body for me. Cum before me or you won't cum at all,” the force of his thrusts increased, and you could feel the air being knocked out of your lungs. Lo’ak’s hand intertwined with yours, something that he hasn't done in the videos yet.

“Now we can listen to their pretty moans,” Lo’ak caressed your hand with his thumb. Neteyam rolled his eyes, grabbed your ass, and his finger dug into it. You whimpered, the coil finally snapped and your body trembled as you came hard thanks to his cock.

“That's a good little pet. Doing everything that your masters tell you to do,” he squeezed your ass even more as he reached his peak. You mewl, feeling his cum filling you up. Lo’ak turned the cameras off as Neteyam carried you to the couch. They sat on each of your sides, cleaning you up and giving sweet kisses as you were trying to breathe normally and stop your body from shaking so much.

“You did so well, I'm sure the video will go viral, yawne” Lo’ak caressed your cheek softly.

“Yes, you did well, our tawtute” Neteyam ‘jokes’. Maybe you didn't know, but they were sure that they just found a perfect addition to their platform. THEIR little toy. You belonged to them because they weren't going to let you go.

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hey guys! So I’ve been having writers block as of lately and if you guys could send me requests I would appreciate it I need some inspiration 🫶

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I miss my mans

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My kind of Man

I swear to God, his the man that I want in life. I just can't get over on him, his toooo dreamy and too perfect to be real. I love all his imperfections.

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our future lives - shohei ohtani soft au

trope: childhood best friends to strangers

word count: 5.9k words

author notes: (this will be a bit long so if you want to jump straight to the fic, go right ahead!)

I wrote this in retrospect to the days i spent with my high school newspaper publication team. Recently,  an old friend and org mate from the school newspaper (who i have not spoken to in years) followed me on instagram and it took me down memory lane.

This was a time when a boy who (coincidentally enough, also played for a sports team) used to read drafts of my silly stories and poems of fictional heartbreak and would compliment my writing all the time. He was my best friend until he wasn’t.

This was when everything was awkward, confusing and unsettling; when I didn’t believe love could blossom beyond friendship. And when it was already right in front of me, I chose to run away.

With Shohei Ohtani as my current muse, I write this to close the what ifs our high school memories have left us. And when love finally visits us once again, instead of running away, maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to look at it straight in the face and say, "welcome, I hope you enjoy your stay."

Songs i listened to while writing: (repeatedly, repulsively, and obsessively)

Right where you left me - taylor swift (evermore)

Shouldn’t be - luke chiang

You are in love - taylor swift (1989)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

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I didn’t feel anything at first but when realization sank, I almost doubled over. A familiar feeling punctured somewhere on the middle of my chest, like a pounding, beating of a drum. While an economics faculty was waiting for me to check out her library card, she chatted animatedly with her colleague and I couldn’t help but eavesdrop. When the words “homecoming”, and “shohei ohtani” were mentioned in one sentence, I almost dropped the books on the professor’s feet.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation… Did you say Shohei Ohtani is coming back…?” I croaked.

“Yes! It’s on the news everywhere. He’s attending his former school’s foundation anniversary as a baseball alum.” She hushed excitedly. She almost looked like she was blushing. 

“Professor, didn’t you graduate from Rosewood High School, too?” 

She and her friend looked at me expectantly, like I’m some sort of Bingo announcer about to shout their magic winning number. I nodded slowly, a small smile formed my lips.

“Wow! You and Shohei Ohtani were schoolmates, then! Were you in the same year?”

“Has he always been so tall?”

“Did he have any girlfriends back then?”

The pair of them launched their questions like an automatic rifle, I swung albeit defensively, and yet I couldn’t duck myself for cover in time.

I shrugged and quietly said, “I didn’t really know him that much, he was always just playing baseball, I guess.” 

Before they could respond, I pushed my thick-rimmed glasses back to the bridge of my nose and went back to my Excel spreadsheets. They said their thank yous and skipped their way out of the library. 

Finally, quiet again. 

Like every typical librarian, one glare from me could snap chatty visitors’ mouths at an instant. I reveled in the silence of my humble workplace, with shelves taller than any average person, filled with books old and new. I could spend hours in the silence, tapping on my computer archives, or shelving books from the returned pile. This is the job of my dreams. Customary, routine, familiar, comfort zone.  

I realized that I have been tapping the letter Y key from the keyboard, lost in thought. I couldn’t believe the words I heard earlier could ever be strung in one sentence, not even in my wildest dreams. I tapped my legs restlessly. It couldn’t be true, could it?

How many popular Shohei Ohtanis could make girls this flustered?

There’s a one-hundred one percent chance that the result is, well, one. 

To preserve my peace of mind, I decided to google him, and when the results showed the rumor to be true, I almost spiraled in my seat. 

Did you know Shohei Ohtani in high school? The words from the two professors rang in my head. 

I knew damn well who Shohei Ohtani is.

Shohei and I have been friends since the day we learned how to talk. We lived on the same block, sat together in class, shared snacks during recess, we’d bicker loudly and fight like the worst of all enemies. According to our mothers, when he pulled my hair after I had claimed his Spiderman lego toy,  I screamed so loud it could be heard two houses down the block. He felt so guilty about it and rushed to peck me on the cheeks so I’d stop bawling. Not sure how accurate our mothers’ anecdotes are, if they had been exaggerated or not, but they said, after that fight, little Shohei had treated the little me sweeter after that. 

On good days, we played swings in the playground. We walked home together and would visit each other’s houses to play board games and Bomberman until it was no longer comfortable to stay in each other’s bedrooms without getting weird ideas.

Upon reaching puberty, I had grown in breast size, started getting my periods and hormonal mood swings while Shohei had grown a foot taller and his shoulders stretched widely. He lost his baby fat and developed muscle definition after playing sports. It was a time in our lives when it was officially awkward to hold hands while crossing the street, or for him to playfully grab me by the neck. If we did, we would get notes from the schoolmaster for indecency.

It wasn’t only the skinship that changed. Shohei grew to be more popular with the girls when he performed well in high school baseball. He was tall, fit, respectful and most importantly, he had a kind smile that would make your heart do a tap dance. And so my heart wore dancing shoes everyday.

While Shohei was busy playing his ball games, I joined the school paper as a news writer. The club meetings took up most of my afternoons then when i used to spend it by waiting for Shohei. By the time he finished practice, I would still be in the school library, either my face buried in a stack of books, or fingers furiously tapping an article on my laptop.

“You can go first. I don’t think I can go home yet, not unless this article writes itself.” I said one afternoon, not looking up. I was preparing an article for the school sports festival, where Shohei was the third-year representative and captain. I heard him walk up to me and braced myself. Tap tap tap.

He set his gym bag and batting equipment on the table and sat on the chair beside me.

“I’ll wait.” He said calmly. He crossed his arms over the table and closed his eyes, as if to sleep. He sat there in silence, baking in the sounds of my keyboard smashing my unnerving thoughts and emotions. 

Suffice to say, I didn’t get anything done after that. The smell of soap and cologne crept up to my nose and his broad shoulders lightly touched mine. Him sitting so innocently with his head on the table was enough of a distraction. It also didn’t help that on my periphery, I knew that he was facing my direction. In the next three minutes or so, I allowed myself to stare at his face: bags under his eyes were slowly showing, his well-defined nose, his mouth slightly agape, with evidence of picking and biting the lower lip skin.

When he startled awake, I scrambled to close the laptop monitor so loudly I thought I had cracked the screen. Embarrassed and face probably beet red, I stood up to leave. He carried all of my bags that day. When I offered to carry his gym bag, he refused.

In the last few weeks of that semester, I had become interim editor-in-chief. Shohei’s games had ended and our deadline for the year-end publication drew nearer. That meant I had made the library my second home like a bridge troll, only allowing brief, important conversations. My entire table was covered with mock newspaper clippings, sample layouts, glue, stacks and stacks of drafts that went through multiple, desperate, bloody revisions. This and the rest of my academic subjects I balanced gingerly on a thin line. Shohei would continue to visit and wait by the other corner of the library, pretending to read mystery thriller books he picked from the shelves. Most of the time, he slept. I never saw him study, even in the library. He didn’t need to as he aces all his subjects while hitting home runs on the field. I always suspected that he astral projects in his sleep and studies inside the realm of dreams. That’s probably why no matter how much he slept, he was still constantly tired. 

In other words, Shohei always seemed like he never had to try. He was good at everything. And I always had to work hard just to be able to stand on the same playing field as he is, at least once or twice. 

One particular day, when afternoon classes were canceled to give way to the club meetings, I was in my usual spot in the library with Zumi, our layout artist and a third-year from class B. We were finalizing the layout design before submitting it to the publishing house. Shohei was in baseball practice and had been MIA from the library all week.

A group of girls suddenly filled the library.

“He’s not here!” I heard one of them say. They noticed Zumi and I chatting quietly in the corner. 

“Hey, you’re Y/N right?” A girl with jet black hair siad. Her skin was white as porcelain. She had retainers on, the ones that looked unfairly pretty on lucky pretty girls.

I nodded.

“Are you Ohtani’s girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?” I blurted out, eyes almost popping out of my eye sockets.

She chuckled. “Right? I couldn’t believe it myself too. I know Ohtani only sees you as his best friend.”

I couldn’t respond right away. It was true but why did it sting so much?

“But they’re always together, I saw her give him a lunchbox during breaks.” A petite girl with a wolf haircut emerged from the sides. She had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. 

The rest of the group murmured in unison.

“Our mothers are close friends, so it was natural for us to grow up being friends, too.” I said irritably. Not only was this irrelevant but it was so annoying that a bunch of girls would question her decade-long friendship. 

“I don’t have to spell out the dynamics of our friendship to you.”

“If that bothers you so much, why don’t you personally tell Ohtani’s mother to stop asking me to bring his lunch boxes for him.”

It was quiet for a few seconds. I was afraid that it would escalate into a screaming match or a brawl that could result in us being kicked out–or worse, banned–from the library. The herd of girls glared at me and I glared right back. 

“Um, a-as you can see, he is not here.” Zumi breaks the silence, clearly intimidated but she soldiers on. “And you’re disrupting our meeting.” 

The first girl gives me a pointed look and spins on her heel and the rest follows. 

Zumi sighed in relief. “Oh my god, Y/N, I thought I would experience my first visit to the schoolmaster’s office before graduation.” She rubbed her sweaty palms together. 

I stifled a giggle, anger fading. Zumi’s gentle personality softened me right away. I couldn’t help but smile at her. 

“Don’t worry, Zumi, we don’t start fights but we sure as hell can end them.”

Shohei and I met less and less after that. I had purposely avoided him as much as I could because I still felt upset and he didn’t even have a vague idea about other girls spreading rumors about us. Another reason was I didn’t want to be referred to as “Shohei’s female best friend” anymore. His growing popularity in school made me only slink back down to the pits of the social hierarchy. 

I also wanted to take some time away and contemplate my feelings about our friendship. He’s only a friend I grew up with. We shared meals together and walked home together. He would hug me when I’m upset and I would console him when his anger skyrocketed. These are common best friend behaviors, right? So why else would it suddenly change? Why don’t we ever stay like this forever?

Weeks after my so-called Shohei blackout, I was left alone to clear the table I had claimed in the far corner of the library when Shohei popped in to visit.

The school year had finally come to a close, exams and ball games concluded, and the year-end paper was now distributed to everyone on campus: Shohei’s team pictured on the front page headline, declared as the year’s champions in inter-high school level.

He had a copy of the newspaper in his hand, grinning.

���Nice article, Y/N.” 

“Is it nice because it had your winning face covering the entire spread?” 

“I mean, you finally got an article on the front page!” He was waving the paper to you, pointing at the byline, as if you’ve never seen the layout more than a hundred times already. “Written by– your name! How cool is that!”

“My name is in a tiny font under your 32 font-size on the headline. I promise you, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is for me, though. I read it word for word. I loved it. You’re so good at words, Y/N” his eyes crinkled at the sides and I waved him off, blushing. 

“I’ve seen enough of this newspaper, I think I’m going to be nauseous.” you faked a retching sound.

“I’ve started seeing that damn thing in my dreams, Sho.” You grimaced. “Please hide that from me. Or I will rip it into shreds.”

Shohei giggled boisterously. You immediately swiped your hands over his mouth.

“Sshh! The librarian will hear you!” You looked around nervously, relaxing after realizing the librarian was nowhere in sight. “I don’t want to get kicked out on our last day of school.”

He held your arms away and uncovered his mouth from your hands. “Seriously, though, I’m proud of you. You worked so hard for this all semester.”

“Well, the subject was interesting to write about.” 

“Is that right?” he smiled, mischief glinted in his eyes. 

“”Rosewood’s revival after years of being dormant in high school baseball” was a pretty cool angle to write.” I said. And it truly was. The moment I saw the efforts and hardwork of Shohei and his inspiring leadership setting a momentum into the games, I knew right away that I had to call dibs on the story. 

“Uh-huh.” He was just looking at me, hands still wrapped around my arms, locking me in place. 

“It was a story worthy to tell and I just happened to tell the story. It all just–” I tried to mash my hands together, demonstrating the words synonymous to merging, fusing, blending. 

He pulls me close and rests his hand at the back of my neck. I could feel the snug of his embrace melting me into a puddle. He hesitates but leans in. It was soft, abrupt and merely testing the waters. He pulled back slightly to look at my reaction. I didn’t know what I looked like, but what I did know at that moment, my heart bounced uncontrollably like a basketball. I swear I thought it would burst my chest open. 

When I didn’t react or push him back, he leaned in for another try, this time, with more intent, meaning, and weight on my lips. When we parted, he looked away sheepishly that all I had to do in response to the kiss was to pull him in a tight hug. We stayed like that for a few more minutes because neither of us knew when to let go, or even wanted to. We just stood there relishing our newfound warmth while concealed in between the quiet and that precious corner space that held us. I don’t know how to define this feeling yet… but I could get used to this.  

Nothing further ever happened after that sweet library moment because the next day, we received news that Shohei Ohtani was granted a full scholarship overseas. Thanks to his impressive performance during the last game. Ohtani joked that it was mainly because my frontpage piece was so well-written, it moved the university scouts’ ice-cold hearts to tears.

“You’d be an idiot not to go.”  I was at the kitchen counter of our home, setting the newly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven to cool down. It was a Saturday morning and Shohei visited, like any other day. 

“I’d be alone, though.” he was wistfully eyeing the cookies on the wire rack. “I’m scared I might fail and be a disappointment to my dad.”

His arm slowly reached for the cookies but I immediately swatted him away.

“It’s still hot, dumbass.” I gave him the bowl where the cookie dough was originally mixed. He dutifully scooped the remains and popped a finger in his mouth, he grinned, satisfied. 

“You won’t be alone because everybody likes you. And you won’t be a disappointment because you work twice as hard than everyone else. You’re Shohei Ohtani, for god’s sake.”

He doubted but I knew what he was thinking because I was trying not to think about it, too. If this was about the kiss, we can let it go. We can forget about it. It was just a kiss, this was our future and it shined brightly in front of him. It would make me a selfish person to try and block that from him.

“There won’t be a Y/N there, though.” he said, eyes trained to the cookie dough he held. “My best friend won’t be there.”

“I’ll be right here when you come back. Besides, we can always email each other, like we always did in computer class.”

I didn’t tell him this but it also broke my heart to say those words. I will definitely miss him, sure. He’s been a constant presence in my life that once he leaves, it would definitely leave a big hole in my life. 

I wanted to tell him that whatever happened in the library that day will always be etched in my memory as long as I lived, that I wanted it as much as he did, and it hurt to say goodbye to a possibility, to something that had barely even started. If I had told him that, he would’ve turned down the offer right away.

So I didn’t, and so he left. 

Ohtani and I would email constantly during our very first year in uni. He would send me pictures of the new places he visited, food he tasted, with little descriptions every now and then. You knew he was trying to include me in his new life as much as he could. In return, I showed him how I continued my simple, quiet life, how I met new friends at uni, how I ate at new hole-in-the-wall restaurants with the promise that we’d try them out when he returned back home.

Of course that didn’t last very long as life apparently came in between us. Long training hours for Shohei, and newer opportunities showed up in my doorstep as I got a partial scholarship and part-time job as a student assistant.

It went on like that for a very long time as we kept missing each other’s emails. I would already be asleep when he sends his messages and he’d be out in the field by the time I could reply. Sometimes I don’t receive anything at all at weeks’ a time.

One day, after two weeks of radio silence, I heard a girl in the washroom gush about Ohtani’s popularity overseas and how he has gotten a girlfriend. They were pretty serious, she would go on to say. She had long black hair with a pretty slender body, something like his type. 

I stood there, hands dripping wet, listening to something I normally wouldn’t believe unless he confirmed it himself. The thing is, I haven’t heard from him in weeks, so I didn’t have a choice but to believe in the words from the grapevine.

I stopped waiting for his emails to come. If he sent me new ones, I didn’t check. I busied myself in the halls of the library studying, reading and writing, writing and writing my feelings away.

I wrote until my hands got tired, until I spilled everything I needed to forget into paper. Until I welcomed a new love into my life. He was also tall, kind, and cheerful. He respected my time and he loved going to new coffee shops with me. At that point, I was overfilled with joy and contentment that I barely thought about Shohei anymore. In the back of my mind, the chapter of Shohei Ohtani is now closed and my rosy high school life became a beloved, worn out book that I no longer revisited.

Later I learned in life that some things, despite making you undoubtedly happy, could still end horribly.

My relationships turned sour, some of my friendships fell out, but the worst part of it all was when my dad had a heart attack. 

He died six months later. 

It was pretty much autopilot after that. I could only ever handle so much, I don’t think I am as brave as Joan D’arc to handle ten, twenty more scars. Not when two of the best people I loved have left my life. Not when the person I want to run the most to is… no longer there to meet me. 

I was a student intern at the archives section when the post for head librarian was vacated. I’ve already applied to multiple companies in the private and public sectors and kept getting waitlisted but the university hired me on the spot. A week after graduation, I had started my full-time job at the library, and it felt like I was somehow glued back together.

XXX

The cans of beer clinked together as I swayed the black plastic on my way home from the convenience store. Nothing beats a cold can of beer after a full meal. Also because “Shohei Ohtani” is a name I never thought I’d hear again in this lifetime. So much so, that a homecoming sounded so ridiculous that if someone ever suggested that idea to me before today, I would have laughed at their faces. It was an appropriate time to wallow in my drunken thoughts.

Four years was a long time for anyone to change. It was long enough to switch jobs, get promoted, to save up money and travel, to save up money and get married and have kids, or none at all, to study for a new degree, to meet new people and develop romantic feelings for them, to lose such romantic feelings, to forgive and move on, to develop new habits, and it is also long enough for character development if you think your personality needed an overhaul. Four years was a long time apart, a long time to forget each other to even be considered taboo. And yet. 

And yet. 

XXX

My phone buzzed against my jeans pocket. It was a text from Zumi. She now works freelance and designs her own stationery and stickers sold at mega discount stores all over the country.

“You wouldn’t believe what I just heard.” Zumi texted. Even before she could conjure a follow-up text, I responded right away.

Y/N: “Someone’s coming back to town?...”

Zumi: “WUT.”

Zumi: “U KNEW? AND DIDN'T TELL ME #betrayal”

Y/N: “I heard about it a couple of days ago and blacked out after 3 cans of beer. Sorry, Joomi-chan.”

Y/N: “I didn’t drink only because of the news, though. I ate almost 2 KGs of wagyu, too. It was the perfect drink to end the day.”

Y/N: “I ate ice cream, too."

Y/N: “I’m rambling. I”ve been restless since I heard about it.”

Y/N: “I’ll be okay, though. I always have been.”

I was about to put my phone down after the text blasts I sent to assure her when text bubbles appeared. Typing. I waited.

Zumi: “It’s alright to admit you’re not okay about this, Y/N”

Zumi: “He was a big part of your life, who ghosted you, asshole move btw, and his head’s probably gotten too big for his own good. I wonder how he walks around with that swollen head without toppling over.

Zumi: “Also, I’m only saying all of this because my role as Y/N’s only best friend is currently being threatened. I forgive you though!”

I had to laugh. Zumi was always fond of Ohtani and I even back in high school. Whenever she had time, she would join us on our katsu curry runs and hated matcha, while Ohtani and I loved it. She always preferred strawberry. She was the perfect balance in our little trio. And now, she is my voice of reason.

I paused to reread the text. Am I really okay about this? It’s a fairly small town, the chances of running into him are slim, but never zero. And what if I do meet him by chance, what should I do?

Zumi: “Text me when you feel like drinking again. I’ll sneak out and join you in solidarity!” 

Before I could send the cutest peach butt sticker to Zumi, a message from an unregistered number popped up on my notifications.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Shohei Ohtani. I got your number from your mom. I’m sorry for being abrupt like this but I just flew back from the States and will be spending a few days at home.

Do you want to meet up for some curry katsu for old time's sake?”

Holy hell, I stared at the messages in disbelief. Am I being punked right now? Where is the hidden camera? If the universe is listening right now, please, swallow me whole into the earth right now. 

I clenched the phone hard, against my chest. You are better now. Don’t fumble. 

Tap tap tap.

XXX

I don’t know what had gotten into my head that when I responded a few hours later, had agreed to meet up after work for curry and drinks. Future me would like to smack past me of five hours ago for making a decision like this. 

But here I am now, just a few stores away from the curry place I had suggested for dinner. 

Suddenly feeling conscious, I stopped by a convenience store that had a convex mirror on top of the corner shelves. I swiped lipstick on my lips and powdered my nose. I also bought mints just to play for time. I worked up the courage to text Zumi.

Y/N: So, please tell me I’m doing the wrong thing and I will turn back.

Zumi: What happened?

Y/N: After we texted earlier, Shohei texted me out of the blue and that he’s already in the town.

Zumi: He WHAT???

Zumi: Are you telling me he asked to meet up and you said yes?

Y/N: You should switch careers and be a fortune teller instead.

Zumi: You WHAT???

Y/N: Pls, pls, pls tell me I’m wrong for doing this.

She didn’t respond right away. Her text bubbles went up and down infrequently. I stood outside of the restaurant, in the cold of the night waiting for her response.

Zumi: How do YOU feel about it?

Zumi: If I were you, I, who have witnessed all the carnage all these years, I would do it. I know if you turn your back now, you’d spend another four, five years wondering what would’ve happened if you chose differently. 

Zumi: Don’t try to rationalize it, Y/N. You’re panicking now. But I know in your heart, you want answers. You want this. So suck it up and be a big gworl! 

She resonated exactly how I felt about this. So why was I hesitating?

I walked up to the restaurant and scanned the room. It was almost empty after dinner hours, except for a few white collar workers catching up on late night meals.

And then I saw him. He sat at the back of the room, his back facing the front of the shop. I could recognize those wide shoulders anywhere in a heartbeat. I made a beeline towards him.

He wore a blue polo buttoned up to his chest, creasing at the shoulders as he slouched forward. He looked absolutely different from the memory of the boy who used to carry my bags. His hair grew into thick waves and his cheeks and jawline was chiseled and defined to the bone, revealing more of his handsome face.

He stood up, smiling widely and threw his hands around me, a whiff of his sandalwood perfume and the feel of his hair pressed to my cheek brought everything back: spending lazy days in the library, the night strolls on the way home from school, sharing twin popsicle ice creams, the warmth of his hands intertwined with mine, that last first kiss. I pulled away and he gestured to me to sit down. As we both sat down, I thought, You are always finding ways to get my hopes up. 

We stared at each as I settled down on my seat. For a few moments, I felt the room was charged with cold air. His eyes traced my face making me more and more self-conscious, I had to break the ice. 

“The chicken curry katsu is good here, you know.” I said, as a waiter approached and served us water. “But if you prefer pork, it’s heaven too.”

I sipped the cold water nervously and fidgeted the hem of my plaid skirt. 

“It’s been a while.” I started.

“I’ve been busy.” He started to explain. I hate how he thinks this was his decision, how he didn’t even consider the fact that I’ve been busy, too. “How about you? I’ve stopped hearing about you since…”

“Things happened.” I simplified, but really, I wanted to give him a rundown of how things have more or less worked out okay for me–how I am doing well at my job, taking my Masters, thinking about traveling to Southeast Asia with Zumi, spending time with family on weekends, trying to do pilates at least thrice a month, and catching up with some old friends whenever we got to clear our schedules. How I am, despite his absence, was not entirely miserable. But I don’t want him to think that I am just doing this to prove a point, so I coated a response with the standard, “But I’ve been fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Same old, I’m here for business and something else. I finally got the courage to tell you this now.” He said, finishing up the last of his meal and downing his glass of water before speaking again.

I honestly don’t want to know, I want to order another glass of beer and fall asleep drunk. I want to crawl into my bed and waddle in self-pity at how I’ve spiraled back to square one, of how after all these years, I am still hopelessly in love with this unattainable man, who thinks we are still each other’s best friends after years of no contact. Instead I responded cautiously, “What is it?”

He inched forward and leaned his face on his right hand. “There’s this girl.”

I held my breath and braced myself for impact. 

“There’s this girl. We almost always never stood on the same foot. She hated sports and hated standing in the sun to see me play, but watched regardless because she had to write an article about it.

“When we finally started realizing we liked each other, I received my scholarship grant and moved overseas. If she got mad about me going MIA, I could've explained better to her that I had an accident during Spring training and was in a hospital bed for almost a month. Had she checked her emails, she would know. But she never replied. Ever.

“After a few months, I heard from our friends that she finally got a boyfriend and was in a happy, healthy relationship. I thought, ‘Oh. Good for her! I'm happy for her. Someone near to take care of her.’ but was I really, though? I got myself a girlfriend, too and forgot about this girl for a while.

“But I heard about her dad’s passing and I tried to reach her but I couldn’t. Her home phone number was disconnected, my mom said they moved out of the block and she still won’t respond to my emails.

“I couldn’t be there for her but I thought, “she'd be with her boyfriend. She’ll have someone to lean on. But then her friends said they had broken up long before the incident. She carried all those baggage all by herself? Who did she have to lean on? Was she eating okay? Was she sleeping well? Does she still smile when she watches puppies run around bumping into things?

“It seemed like the timing was never on our side. She was available when I wasn’t, I was free on the days that she was occupied. 

“I’ve always wondered if the universe played some practical joke on the two of us. If somehow, they'd ever allow me the chance to meet her again. I’ve been waiting for her for a long time now.

“Y/N, do you think if I ask her now, she’d finally be as ready as I am to meet her?”

I exhaled and felt my heart pounding. There is the thrum in my chest that felt all too familiar. Have we been missing each other’s chances all this time? Have I been getting on and off the wrong platform, just as much as he did, because we didn’t know what we wanted when we were barely twenty?

“I think you should ask her before it’s too late.” I said, catching myself, still staying on that third person narration. I mulled over the times we constantly missed each other like he had pointed out. He had been there for me when I was searching for myself and what I wanted to do, and I had watched him from afar when he was trying to meet his dreams, to the point of pushing him far away. 

“I’m asking you now. I was always late, wasn’t I?”

His brown eyes bored into mine, expectant, hopeful. “Yes. You were...but you’re here now..." I trailed off, thinking how much shock I was to hear Shohei's speech. I wondered if responding to my real feelings was the right thing to do. He had his accident, my dad's funeral, the miscommunication between us. The sudden falling out. I wondered, if after all this time, someone like me would still be worth restarting over with.

"...and I think, you’re just in time, Sho.” 

He smiled widely, showing the crinkles on the sides of his eyes, he exhaled as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"Thank god. I was almost certain you'd say no and disappear on me again." he laughed.

Freckles that I've never seen before popped over his nose and cheeks. So much has changed in his appearance but it was the same smile of the boy I love since eighteen.

“I’m home,” he whispers.

“Welcome back,” I said, finally smiling at him, too.

Shohei stands up and offers his hand as we exit the restaurant; I take it and interlace our fingers. For the first time in a long time, the tap dancing of my calloused heart has returned ever so exhilarating, like a lost pulse bringing me back to life. We are catching up on lost time, and for whatever fragment of memory that may have escaped through the cracks, we’ll slowly string them together. It doesn’t matter how many possibilities we’ve missed in the last four years of being apart. The important thing is this possibility, the right here and right now.