#I LOVE THEM SO MUCH OKAY!!! I’M NORMAL ABOUT THEM

[bxeckers222]

summary: paige was your bestfriend, and you’re only friends, right?

right?

word count: 10k

warnings!! cursing, angst

again, only my second time writing so don’t judge too hard, and if you have suggestions please please tell them to me !!

Paige is my best friend. everyone knows this, we’re inseparable.

except to me, it’s more than that.

the late night drives, the cuddling, the nicknames she has for me, and the always being around her.

i’m in love with her.

part of me thinks i always have been, like i was born to find paige bueckers.

we met when we were young, our parents are good friends. the first memory i even have of Paige was outside her house. it was burning hot, and i’d say we were about 4 years old at the time, playing in the pool. we don’t have that “we hated eachother at first” story, we really just clicked.

Paige knows i’m a lesbian. she’s always been supportive, even when i came out to her at the age of 13, her views, and the way she loved me never changed.

she’s never really been open about her sexuality with me, just a few “oh she’s hot” here and there, but then theres her celebrity crush on Steph Curry that makes me question everything she’s ever said.

she’s also never been open about her feelings towards me. there was the time we kissed in the 10th grade, but that’s normal for friends to do right?

right?

| present day. you’re 17 in your senior year of high school, in paige’s bedroom. it’s a Friday night. |

“hey babe can you hand me that pencil?” she asks me

there’s one of the nicknames i was talking about earlier.

i stand up from her desk i was sitting at and hand her the pencil, sitting down beside her on the bed, crossing my legs. she scoots closer to me, sitting just close enough just to make sure our arms were touching, a small gesture that meant more to me then she knew.

“doing homework on a Friday night? really?” i said, with a teasing tone in my voice.

“can’t help it, pre-calc final on Monday”

“i took mine today, need help?”

“please, I’m dying over here”

she handed me her notebook and pencil, her notes are a wreck. i can barely read her messy handwriting.

“well no wonder you’re struggling p, how do you even read this?” -i say with a laugh.

she rolls her eyes playfully and nudges my arm.

“please just help me, math is supposed to be your thing, not mine”

she was right, math was always my strong suit, hers being english. we balance each other out, one of the many reasons i love her.

“okay so, to begin with you need-“ i started.

“this is so boring” she retorts back. “let’s do something more fun, i don’t want to study anymore. i have all weekend”

“but Paige you-“ before i could get the rest of my sentence out, she’s speaking again.

“cmon let’s go to the park or something, i can teach you how to shoot basketball” she adds.

“paige, honey it’s almost dark”

“oh well, it’s okay. not dark yet” she pleads, before adding- “i’ll drive”

“fine, let’s go”

“great!” she says, as she kisses me cheek before she stands up, i think this caught her off guard as much as it did me. her cheeks turned a light shade of pink before her lips curled into a smile while she slipped her shoes on.

this is normal friend behavior. that’s all, right?

right?

she grabs one of her many, many basketballs and we walk downstairs, getting in her car.

we get in her car, and she turns her favorite playlist on. it’s the one she always has on shuffle, it’s titled “anotha banga.” you would think since she liked english so much she would atleast spell the words right, but i guess that’s just who she was. she didn’t care about small things like that.

i care too much about the small things, and that’s my problem. but really, the “babe” and kissing me is just friendly. right?

right.

i have to keep telling myself that.

she’s straight.

right?

right.

right?

we’re driving with the windows down, it’s the beginning of april so the weather is starting to get nice again, but still chilly enough to wear hoodies and sweats everywhere. it’s a nice evening, around 60 degrees outside, and not a cloud in sight, the sunset becoming more evident and as beautiful as always.

she’s, as beautiful as always.

she’s wearing a UConn hoodie since that’s where we’re headed in the fall, yes “we’re”. I told you we really are inseparable. along with that, it’s some grey nike sweats, and her basketball shoes from 10th grade, that she thinks it’s bad luck to get rid of.

“is it too cold for you? want me to roll the windows up?” she asked me

“no i’m okay, it’s perfect”

“if you get cold, there’s an extra hoodie in the back if you want it”

i wasn’t cold, i just wanted to feel closer to her. wearing her hoodie would do for now.

i reach into the back seat and grab the hoodie, slipping it over the plain black cropped t-shirt i was wearing.

she looks over at me with a smile, straightening the hoodie out as she drives.

“you look great, you should keep that one” she says as she pats my thigh

i can feel the blush creeping across my face. my cheeks are hot at this point

“really?” is all i can manage to say back

she lets out a small laugh and returns her focus on the road

“really, it looks good on you”

she always knows exactly what to say. my lips curl into a soft, genuine smile

“well thank you, you can have one of mine next time we go to my house. your choice”

“i’m holding you to that”

“i know, don’t worry i won’t forget”

we finally make it to the park, it’s daylight but barely. the evening sun hiding behind the trees, but still casting a glow on her face that makes my heart skip a beat. she’s always been beautiful, but it’s astonishing how good she looks right now. i’d kiss her right now if i could.

she walks me over to the basketball court, talking about how she can’t wait to teach me the proper shooting form, how she can’t wait for me to watch her succeed in college ball next year.

i’m just as excited for her. i can’t wait to go through the next chapter together.

together?

you know what i mean.

we make it to the court and she immediately starts shooting, all of her shots sinking effortlessly.

“baby c’mere, your turn”

nicknames again.

i walk over to her and she positions herself behind me, handing me the ball

“okay so what you’re gonna do, is plant your feet and when you release the ball, push with your left wrist”

she makes it sound and look so easy

“paige i don’t think i can do it”

she laughs again, moves her hands to mine, helping me hold the ball how i’m supposed to

“you got it, i know you do”

she takes a step back and crosses her arms with a smile, like she’s proud of what she’s watching. she’s always wanted me to get into basketball with her, but my thing has always been soccer. it’s convenient, we can always go to each others games because our seasons don’t collide. and trust me, i’m at every single one of hers, and she’s at every single one of mine.

i shoot the ball, and as expected, it bounces off the rim and i miss.

Paige just laughs, a whole-hearted laugh, one that instantly made me laugh too.

“Paige stop i’m embarrassed” i say with a fake pout.

“no no it’s okay really” she says breathlessly, still laughing her ass off “you dummy, you’re shooting with both hands- let me help you again”

she gets back behind me and positions me again, her hands lingering on my waist for a little longer than normal before she steps back again

“you got it this time, 100%” she smiles and nods before adding, “i believe in you”

i take a deep breath and shoot the ball again, this time it swishes through the net.

i turned around and locked eyes with her, honestly i had never seen her so excited in my life. not even that time when she wrapped a string around my loose tooth and tied it to a door knob and slammed it. yes it hurt, but yes it worked.

i smile at her, and she smiles back.

“well paige, looks like you have some competition. better watch your spot on the UConn team next year”

she walks over to me and wraps her arms around my waist, holding me close to her, and speaks with a warm tone.

“not even close, but that’s was a good shot if it makes you feel any better”

“it does actually, thank you”

there’s a silence, not an awkward one. it’s only silent because i caught the glance of her looking at my lips, then back up to meet my gaze again.

my cheeks flush red, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“you’re beautiful, y’know that?” she says as she brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear

i take a moment to gather my thoughts. should i say it?

no. might make things awkward.

what if it doesn’t?

i should say something.

“paige i..” i start, but then stop myself.

“you what?”

silence.

my breathing speeds up and my heart drops to my stomach.

i need to say it.

it’s eating at me.

i have to say it.

“i love you. you know that right?”- i finally speak up.

“and you know i love you too, right?”

i nod my head. - “yeah. i know”

silence again.

come on idiot. say it.

i open my mouth to talk again and she cuts me off - “you don’t have to say anything else. i know what you mean. and i promise i feel the same way”

“you do?”

she lets out a small laugh, “was it not obvious?”

“god paige i thought i was the only one feeling this way”

“you idiot, i’ve loved you for so long”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“i thought i was obvious enough”

i don’t know what took over my body in that moment, but whatever it was, im glad it did.

i leaned in and kissed her, wrapping my arms around her neck. holding her close to me like she could disappear any moment. months, years of built up feelings all slipping away between our lips.

it was slow at first. gentle, sweet. then she moved her hand to the back of my neck, deepening the kiss.

she pulled away first, and rested her forehead against mine, i watched as she smiled, and still held me close.

“wanna stay with me tonight?” she asked

“of course i do, is that even a question?”

she kissed my forehead and grabbed my hand, squeezing it gently as she led us back to her car

after we get in her car, she leans her head back against the seat and looks at me, still holding my hand, that same beautiful smile playing across her lips that i’ve seen all day.

“paige?”

“mhm?” she says back quietly

“there better be a lot more kissing now that we’ve established this”

she nods her head and laughs- “oh you know it”

she leans over and gives me a quick kiss before she starts the car to head back.

“oh and one more thing” she adds

“what is it?”

“can we stop by your house so i can pick out that hoodie you promised me?”

“you’re serious?”

“of course i am, you have one of mine, so it’s only fair that i get one of my girlfriends hoodies too”

“girlfriend?”

“shit, you know what i meant, but only if you want”

“then it’s official paige, you’re my girlfriend”

“i like the sound of that”

“yeah p, me too”

we drive to my house and she picks out a grey hoodie with my soccer number on it, and she wasted no time putting it on.

[hsangel64]

Hey!

❤️

I love your works! Was wondering if you can do a Ellie x ADHD reader who always loses her stuff and have self-esteem issues. With lots of fluff❤️

Thank you!!

i’ll always be there

pairings: jackson!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: ellie just knows you the best

warnings: small bit of angst but mostly fluff!! mild cursing

a/n: thank you guys for all the requests keep them coming i love it all!

no matter how hard you tried, you just seemed to lose everything. sometimes your body and mind would be moving at two different speeds and you just misplaced something and completely forgot where you had placed it. before you and ellie established your relationship you had been friends since she had gotten there with joel. she noticed you had a tendency to lose your things, so she started to watch you closely so she could be there to grab the thing you were looking for when you asked her where it was.

you two were attached at the hip, you basically lived with her and joel all before getting together. spent day and night with her, there wasn’t a day that went by that you weren’t together, so it was easy for ellie to watch you and figure out where you’d place your “missing items.”

once you both had gotten together, ellie moved into the garage so you decided to follow behind and move in with her. you would think that being in a much smaller place you would know where your things were…that definitely wasn’t the case.

you were ruffling through the pile of clean clothes that you could not get yourself to put away for the life of you, trying to find your switch blade. you were due for patrol in 30 minutes, lately you’d made yourself late due to this same issue, but you didnt want to be late again and piss off joel. it was 7am and ellie wasn’t even awake yet, you were trying your best to be quiet but you were stressing out, running around the room and going through drawers you had looked over again. ‘maybe you just didn’t see it this time.’ you thought to yourself.

you heard ellie move over on the bed, watching as she searched for your body and only a got cold blanket. she rubbed her eyes and saw you looking over at her, tears in your eyes from the stress of looking around. a frown came to her face.

”honey…come her.” she beckoned you and you dragged yourself to the bed, plopping down next to her.

”what’s up?”

”i don’t know where my switch blade is and i have patrol in 30 minutes.” you groaned.

”did you check the coffee table?”

”yes i checked there a million times!”

“might want to check again.” you sat up.

”i already-“

”just check my love.” you got up from the bed and mad your way to the table, searched for a second and saw it laying right there. you swore you checked the table a million times. slapping your hand on your forehead, you couldn’t believe she knew.

”how the hell did you know where it was.”

”i just know.” you thanked her, gave her a kiss and ran out the garage to make it to the stables on time. usually you never felt bad about ellie having to find your things, it was just a normal thing for you two.

this day was different, you were searching in the stables for your horse brush. ellie was on patrol with jesse so you definitely couldn’t ask her, you were getting frustrated knowing you had just seen the brush the day before.

“hey you okay?” you heard a voice behind you causing you to whip around. it was this guy who moved to jackson about 2 months ago, his name is jeremy, you two didn’t know each other well, only had been on a couple of patrols together.

��oh hey jeremy…i’m fine don’t worry about it.”

“did you lose something again?”

“what-“

“yeah you seem to misplace a lot of things..”

“oh, um yeah usually ellie-“

“helps you? yeah we can all see that. you’re an adult you know…you shouldn’t have to have your girlfriend find everything for you. you should just know where your stuff is.” your eyebrows furrowed, you hadn’t thought you lost your stuff that much for others to notice. did you really lose your things a lot? you started to think about what ellie might have felt, was she ever annoyed with you, did she hate it?

“ellie is probably tired of it, you should probably think about that.” your face dropped as he walked away, feeling yourself shrink. you would be lying if you said that didn’t make you feel like shit. you never really noticed the amount of times ellie had to help you find something, she did it so often all the times just melted together. you ended up giving up and walked back home, you decided from now on you were going to keep track of all your things, no matter how hard you had to try. you did not want ellie to get tired of it.

after a long patrol day ellie was ready to be home, she made the long trek home from the stables. ellie was ready to see you, it was around 8pm so she knew you would be home. opening the door she was met with a cold breeze and no you, confused she called out for you and even checked in the bathroom. still no sign, so she went behind the garage and there you were sitting in the small garden you had taken care of.

“hey baby, why are you out here so late?” you jumped from her voice, frightened you turned towards her and gave her a small smile.

“oh just last minute watering the plants.” she walked closer and pulled you into her side.

“you found your watering can okay?” you nodded and kept watering the rest of the plants. you usually weren’t this quiet when she was gone all day, usually you had lots to say.

“hey you okay?” you nodded towards her and kissed her cheek not wanting her to ask more. she took that as your response and you both stood in a comfortable silence, as you finished watering the plants.

“lets get ready for bed yeah?” you followed behind her as you made your way back into the garage for bed.

it had been a week since you kept an eye on your things, you didn’t think ellie had noticed but she did. you all of a sudden stopped loosing your things and ellie was suspicious of it. she loved helping you and wondered what happened, so today was finally the day she would ask you about it.

you both had the day off and had a few errands to run together but for the most part you both had stayed inside. the morning was slow and comfortable, sleeping in together and spending an hour watching a few episodes of the new friends dvd that joel had gifted you. you both got dressed in some comfy clothing and went around town trading around some things you guys needed replenishes of. that only took two hours until you were back home in bed aside ellie reading a book. she figured this would be the perfect time.

“hey baby can we talk about something?” you looked up from your book, you never like to hear that phrase.

“oh um yeah what’s up?” she moved your book away from you and held your hands.

“i’m just going to be straight forward…why have you not been loosing things…?”

“really? i uh haven’t noticed.” she gave you a look and you sighed knowing she doesn’t believe you.

“babe, is there something i’ve done or..” you looked down feeling embarrassed.

“okay…you remember the day you had patrol and i was in the garden when you came home?” she nodded letting you continue. “well when you were out i was at the stables and of course i misplaced the horse brush so i was looking around for it. jeremy snuck up behind me and basically told me i should act my age and stop loosing my shit. he told me that you probably were tired of finding my things for me and i guess it made me feel bad so i made sure i knew where my things were so you didn’t have to find it all for me.” you twiddled your thumbs waiting for her response.

“what an asshole.” she said under her breath and exhaled. “baby, i promise on my life that i am not tired of finding things for you, i enjoy that i can be there for you like that. i love it actually.”

“really?”

“yes i promise, i think its cute how you thank me every time. you always give me a kiss on the cheek and say ‘thanks babe.’ it makes me feel like i did something good.” you frowned at her not in a say way, in more of an admiring way.

“you always do good with me.”

“i want to make life easier for you, i know it’s hard in the type of shit world we live in but the type of normalcy we do have, i want to make you feel less stressed and if knowing where you’ve misplaced things is what helps then that’s what i want to do.” you pulled her in for a kiss, it only lasted a second but it was a second full of love.

“i love you ellie, a lot a lot.”

“i love you more.” she pulled you in for another kiss, you smiled into it as she placed her hand on your cheek pulling you in deeper. you didn’t feel so bad about losing things anymore.

———————————————————————————

tag list: @gracie1234567891011 @abigaillovestoread

@sqandroct14

a/n: requests are open, perm taglist is also open please comment if you’d like to be added!!

[littlexdeaths]

𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 - 𝐚.𝐚.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞

abby anderson x plus size reader

part one | masterlist

word count: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only, gay pining ofc, brief mention of overeating, light smut, some cheesy goodness, a literal wet dream, manny and nora are a meddling duo we hate love to see coming

a/n: i just want to say thank you so much for all the love on the first part of this fic! genuinely wasn’t sure on the kind of reception it would receive. also a huge thank you to my bestie @undead-supernova for beta reading and helping me edit. i do plan on making this a into little series, so i hope you all enjoy xx.

“Late again,” Nora says in a sing-song-like tone as you burst through the flaps of the medical tent. 

There’d been a lull in patients since this morning and thankfully it’s still just the two of you. Nora has seen you in worse shape than this since you became roommates over a year ago, so it’s not nearly as embarrassing when you hunch over, bracing your hands on your knees to steady your ragged breathing. 

“Jesus, did you sprint all the way here?” she asks, tone bordering on playful concern. 

“Y-Yeah, just…need a minute. I’m fine,” you wheeze, giving her a thumbs up. 

She just shakes her head with a fond grin but continues to sterilize her tools while you take a seat on one of the empty cots and allow your breathing to return to normal. 

“So, ya gonna tell me why you came sprinting in here like a bat out of hell?” she eventually asks once you’ve calmed down, a knowing look on her face.

You simply shrug, unable to meet her gaze as you return to your feet. 

“Just realized how late I was,” you lie, continuing across the tent. “Didn’t want to leave you stranded.”

You cringe inwardly when your voice raises an octave, something she clearly catches. 

“Uh, huh, okay,” she snorts, unconvinced. “If you say so…”

She thankfully drops the subject for now, but knowing Nora, she wouldn’t give up so easily. You just hope you can come up with a better explanation by the time your shift ends. The last thing you want to do is own up to your own cowardice. So you try to keep yourself busy by organizing the supply shelf, compiling a list of items that are getting low. 

The both of you settle into a comfortable silence as you work, but that calm doesn’t last for long—it never seems to. 

Another group of recruits comes stumbling in from their first patrol, and the chaos of the morning resumes. You're just thankful she doesn’t have the chance to bring up your flustered state the rest of your shift. You’re exhausted by the time Mel comes to relieve you a few hours later, giving you stern orders to go eat something and get some well deserved rest. 

But you inevitably find your way to the library, wanting to bury your nose in a book after the day you just had. It definitely wasn’t an excuse to avoid your friends that were enjoying dinner in the mess hall.

The library is practically empty when you arrive, which is unsurprising. Majority of the soldiers in the WLF don’t seem to have much of an interest in literature, even if it would do them some good. You begin to wander the makeshift stacks in a daze, your fingers lightly trailing over the worn spines. The aroma of frayed paper and oak welcoming you back like an old friend. 

While you weren’t always able to find comfort in food, you still had books. You’d willingly lose yourself in tales of romance and make believe for hours, anything to make the horrors of your day to day reality a little less daunting. So you peruse the aisles with intent, pulling book after book off the shelves. But nothing seems to capture your interest like you’d hoped. 

You’d skimmed through the pages of multiple books, but knew you didn't have the mental wherewithal to endure a story about cancer ridden teenagers falling in love or a woman faking her own disappearance to get back at her shitty, cheating husband. You didn’t need any more tragedy plaguing your thoughts. 

You’re about ready to abandon your search altogether, feelings of frustration beginning to bubble up inside you when you pass one of the many reading nooks. There’s a thick novel that’s been left behind discarded on one of the chairs but it’s the picture on the cover that stops you in your tracks, causing a warm flush to creep up the back of your neck. 

You’d seen books like these over the years during patrols, spicy novellas as Manny had so lovingly referred to them—but you’d never taken an interest in one before. 

A couple is sprawled out on a deserted beach, their bodies entangled in a passionate embrace while the raging sea continues to crash around them. The woman is devastatingly pretty, a sheer nightgown clinging to her unmistakably curvy figure. Her head is thrown back, a look of complete bliss ingrained on her soft features. But it’s the male that you are unable to tear your gaze away from. 

His face is obscured, buried completely in the woman’s bosom as he ravishes her. His dark blonde hair is long and luscious, cascading over his broad shoulders. And his body, while toned in all the right places, has a feminine quality to it that makes your breath catch. 

Why does he remind you of her? 

But before you can decide to overthink it, you quickly snatch the novel off the table, keeping it tucked securely under your arm as you rush back to your room. Nora is miraculously absent when you slip inside your shared space, but you’re grateful for the solitude as you speed through your bedtime routine. 

You feel so much more relaxed after washing your face and brushing your teeth, slipping on an oversized t-shirt before crawling into bed. You pull the covers up and over your bare legs, clicking on your bedside lamp before rolling onto your stomach and flipping open the book. 

The premise is…incredibly cheesy to say the least, a damsel being taken aboard an enemy vessel and held captive while out at sea. And yet somehow it’s still entertaining enough to hold your interest. But once you are introduced to the captain of the ship (and the eventual love interest) you almost toss the book aside, because of course his name is Gabriel… 

The universe has to be playing some cruel joke on you. 

You don’t remember exactly when you dozed off, the worn romance novel left dangling between your nimble fingers.

But you awake to a pair of strong hands grazing over the dip in your hips, the sound of waves crashing around you. You can taste the salt in the air when your lips part, a soft sigh tumbling from them. 

A gentle drawl of your name has your eyes fluttering open and the sight before you sets your pulse racing. 

Abby, always Abby. 

She’s breathtaking. Her blonde hair is down, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves as she hovers above you. Her freckled cheeks are flushed from the harsh wind, her look of initial concern melting away when your lips curve up into a warm smile. 

“There she is,” she murmurs, her calloused fingers cradling your jaw. “Thought I lost you for a minute there, pretty girl.” 

Blurry images of the sea overtake you, water filling your mouth and lungs before a pair of strong hands pull you out of the treacherous waters and onto the sandy shore where she breathed life back into your lungs. 

A biting gust of wind has a small shiver wracking through your body, your nightgown entirely soaked through. The thin material clings to each dip of your curves, leaving very little to the imagination. But she isn’t faring much better as the waves continue to crash against the shore, washing up and drenching your entangled bodies. 

Salty mist clings to your lashes, a few droplets wetting your lips when she leans closer but the warmth of her breath stops them from trembling. Another forceful wave has her hips rocking forward, pulling a needy moan from your throat. 

“Touch me,” you breathe. 

And the dam breaks. 

Her lips are soft but urgent when they collide with yours, kissing you with a kind of desperation that makes you dizzy. Your hands slip around her waist, swallowing her throaty moans when you nip at her lower lip. You only pull away when your lungs are begging for oxygen, but her mouth never leaves your skin. They trail along your jaw and down your throat, sucking on a spot behind your ear that has your toes curling in the sand. 

“Abby, please,” you plead when her fingers dip between your parted thighs, the blonde hushing you with another firm kiss. 

Her fingers slide easily through your slick folds, the pad of her fingers barely brushing over your clit before they continue their descent. She curses softly when she feels the full extent of your desire, gathering more of your wetness on her fingers. Your hands slide up her back, nails digging into the broad expanse of her shoulders when she slowly guides one of her thick digits inside—

A loud knock on your door startles you awake, your body jolting upright in bed. Your body is flushed, chest heaving as you try to come back down to reality. The red light from your alarm clock blinks, reading 4:45 am, and you let out a frustrated groan before collapsing back against your mattress. You weren’t supposed to be back at the medical bay until much later in the afternoon, so someone must have been dead or dying if they were pulling you this early. 

The throbbing ache between your thighs continues to mock you as you glare up at the crack in your ceiling, and you honestly want to throttle whoever is on the other side of the door. They couldn’t have given you fifteen more minutes? 

Another knock sounds again, but this time they’ve grown more impatient as they bang their entire fist against the solid wood. 

“Okay, I’m coming!” you shout, unable to stop your annoyance from bubbling to the surface. 

Well, you certainly would have by now… 

You slide the blankets off your bare thighs, swinging your legs over the side of the mattress. You hiss when your feet touch the cold tile, blindly searching for your bunny slippers that you keep tucked under your bed. But you end up finding that cheesy romance novel first, the cover an almost carbon copy of your dream. 

There she is… thought I lost you for a minute there, pretty girl. 

You unintentionally press your thighs together, further damping the fabric between them. But you quickly shove the book under your pillow before you allow your mind to wander again, reaching back under to find your slippers. Your arms stretch above your head as you stand, rubbing the remaining sleep from your eyes while you pad over to the door. 

You pull it open without a second thought, not exactly caring about your disheveled appearance until you see who is waiting for you on the other side of the door…

and your heart just about falls into your ass. 

Abby is casually leaning against your door jam, her eyes immediately dropping to skim over the bare skin of your thighs before they flick back up to meet your startled expression. Her hair is still damp but pulled back into her signature neat braid. She looks so effortlessly gorgeous it’s really unfair. She’s wearing her normal patrol clothes, a gun strapped to her upper thigh and her pack draped across her back. 

“Nice slippers,” she remarks and you suddenly wish the stadium would crumple apart and swallow you whole. 

It’s then that you finally notice Manny, who is also in patrol attire, leaning against the wall on the other side of the hall. He lets out a low wolf whistle, raising his brows in a suggestive manner as you try to tug your sleep shirt a little further down your thighs. 

“Ay dios mío, princesa, gonna give a guy a heart palpitations lookin’ like that.” 

You scoff softly, rolling your eyes before tucking your legs safely behind your door. Abby looks between you both for a moment, a deep frown settling onto her features when she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“How long will it take you to get ready?” she asks, her tone strictly business. 

But it still makes your stomach flutter. 

“Ready for…” you trail off, your confusion evident. 

Abby sighs. “So Nora didn’t tell you.” 

“Tell me what?” 

“We’re doing a supply run today, outside the city. She told Manny you were switching with her, because Issac wants her at the hospital for the next couple of days,” she explains. 

You immediately notice the smug expression on Manny’s face, now understanding the reason for Nora’s unexplained absence after work. Oh, you were going to kill them both. 

“She absolutely neglected to mention that,” you mutter, trying to keep the full irritation out of your voice. “Just…give me, like, 20 minutes and I’ll be ready.”

Abby nods, shrugging away from the wall and you can’t help but notice how her muscles flex beneath her shirt. Heat pools in your middle, teeth sinking into your lower lip as your traitorous thoughts begin to wander back to your dream…

And how her muscles felt when they tensed under your fingertips, her warm breath lingering against your neck, and her fingers, oh god, her fingers, when they slid in between the plush skin of your thighs…

“We’ll meet you down at the mess hall, chica,” Manny’s voice instantly snaps you back to reality, the male shooting you a playful wink before he guides them down the hallway. “Grab ya something on the way.” 

You don’t have a chance to answer before they turn the corner, Abby sparing you one last glance over her shoulder. You practically slam the door shut in a panic once they’ve disappeared from view, your body collapsing back against it. 

You are so, totally fucked. 

⇢ part three.

[irb-pascalito-99]

You Make Loving Fun

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader (No outbreak AU)

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 11.1k

Summary: Part three of Father Figure. Boundaries get blurry as you and Joel continue to talk in secret.

Content warnings: dbf!Joel, smut, phone sex, dirty talk, use of pet names, mentions of abandonment, fighting with a parent, parent!Joel, soft!Joel, teasing, mutual masturbation, come play

A/N: Sorry this one took so long to post. Summer is a really busy time for me so I might be a bit slower releasing content. I’ve decided to turn this into a series so this part is quite a bit longer in order to add more context. Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

P1 | P2

Dividers thanks to @saradika-graphics

It’s become a new routine of yours in the month that passed since your first phone call. Before bed every night you slip off your clothes, pose yourself in your underwear, and send Joel a picture.

Joel: You can’t keep sending me pictures in your pretty little underwear sweetheart.

You grin at the text. This is how the conversation always starts. He always starts with something along those lines. A reminder that what is happening between the two of you is wrong, even if neither of you can stop it.

You: You want me to leave you alone?

You bite your lip in anticipation of his next text. The little bubble with the dots appears and disappears several times as he contemplates what to send before a picture appears on your screen.

In the picture Joel’s large hand clutches his bulge over his black boxers. Below the picture is another text.

Joel: What do you think?

And this is where the conversation always goes. It’s inevitable by now, an undeniable draw between the two of you. Around the third time Joel stopped pretending it wouldn’t happen again, no longer ending his phone calls with ‘this is the last time’, because you both know it won’t be.

He seems to be fine as long as it stays on the phone. He won’t acknowledge anything about your dirty conversations in person, but on the phone he lets it all out. You tell yourself that can be enough, for now at least.

You slip your fingers underneath the band of your lacy panties and take another picture for him. There are only a couple of seconds after you hit send before he calls you.

“You really are trouble darlin’,” Joel’s voice rasps the moment you answer the phone.

“You like it though,” you chuckle in response.

Joel makes a quiet sound of agreement before he starts ordering you around again. This is also always a part of it. He likes to be in control, and you are more than willing to let him.

“Take them off.” He growls. You scramble to pull the last pieces of clothing from your body and then bring the phone back up to your ear.

“Ok, I’m ready.” You plant into the phone. Already your thighs are sticky with arousal.

Joel chuckles at your eagerness, and then you hear the sound of his belt jangling on the other end of the line as he takes off his own pants. There’s more shifting on his end as he gets comfortable. You squirm while you wait for his instruction.

“Joel,” you whine, desperate to touch yourself but not willing to do so without his permission. Joel chuckles again.

“Okay sweetheart, okay.” He says in that low gravelly voice that makes your skin tingle. “Start with your breasts baby. Run your hands against them gently.”

You close your eyes and run your hands up to your breasts. You whimper as your fingers gently brush against your hardened nipples.

“That’s it, good girl. Now pinch your nipples for me.”

You whine again as you follow his instructions.

Normally you wouldn’t take this much time with yourself. You tend to get it over with quickly, vibrator between your legs and eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in your fantasies. More often than not these days they feature Joel.

“God you make me so fucking hard girl.” Joel groans. He must be touching himself right now. At least you hope he is. “Those goddamn noises you make. So fucking sweet baby. Got me thinking about them all the fucking time.”

“Joel,”

“Go on baby,” Joel grunts, the slick sounds of his hand around his cock in the background. “Bring a hand down and touch yourself, slowly. I want you to feel your body on the way down the way I would if I was there.”

You leave a hand on one of your breasts while you move the other down your torso. You feel the soft curves of your body on the way until your fingers dip between your thighs.

A pool of wetness causes your legs to glide against each other. Your fingers slip easily through your folds. You can’t help but gasp as you feel how wet you are.

“Feel good sugar?” Joel asks.

“So good Joel. I’m so fucking wet.” You glide your fingers up and down your folds again.

“Fuuuck,” Joel groans. “Fucking touch your clit. I wanna hear those beautiful sounds again darlin’.”

You begin to circle your clit, your hips pressing up against your hand in search of more pressure. At this point you’re fighting every urge to scream out in pleasure.

Your dad’s room is just down the hall from yours. If you make too much noise he’s certain to wake up, but God it feels good. Every sensation is heightened knowing Joel is listening to it all, telling you what to do.

You focus on the sounds he’s making. Every grunt and panting breath accompanied by the increasing speed of his cock thrusting into his hand causes your pussy to pulse. You’re doing this to him. Despite his better judgement. Despite his attempts to end it, he can’t get enough. Truth be told, neither can you.

“I need more,” you whine, desperate to fill your aching hole.

“What was that sugar?” You can tell he’s getting a lot of enjoyment listening to you struggle like this.

“I need more, fuck Joel I need-” your fingers rub your clit furiously, but it isn’t enough. “I need-”

“What do you need, baby?” He goads. “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”

”Fuck, inside. I need to put my fingers inside.” You pant.

“Ask nicely sweet girl.” Tears of frustration are forming in the corners of your eyes.

“Please Joel. Please let me put my fingers inside.” You beg. He chuckles at your desperation.

“Good girl, go ahead. You can put your fingers inside.”

You let out a soft moan as your middle and ring fingers sink into your throbbing cunt. You match your pace to the speed of Joel’s thrusts without him asking. The ache between your legs is quickly replaced by a growing tension in your stomach.

The world around you melts away a bit. It’s just you and Joel. Your sounds mingling over the phone line. Your desperation frantic, as you both chase the pleasure just out of your reach.

You’re close to the edge, peering right over that cliff. You can’t hold it back much longer. Orgasm always teaches you quickly with Joel, a miracle considering half the time you had sex with your college boyfriend you didn’t come at all.

“Joel I’m gonna-” You start. Judging from Joel’s groans he must be close as well. You wish he’d let you watch this part. You want to know what he looks like when he releases. You want to see the bliss on his face where there’s usually so much tension.

“Don’t-” Joel growls. “Not yet, want you to come with me baby.”

You whimper, certain that what Joel is asking you to do is impossible. How could you feasibly hold off on release with his grunts in your ear?

“You can do it darlin’. I know you can.” Joel says, noting your apprehension.

“O-okay,” you say between shaky breaths. “I’ll try.”

“Fuck baby that’s it, such a good girl.” Joel groans. You can barely register what he’s saying.

Your body aches for release. You hear him start to fuck his fist harder. Lewd squelching sounds from your fingers struggle to match his thrusts.

“Joel, God. Fuck, I-” You struggle to string your thoughts into anything resembling speech. It’s too much. It’s all too much. Your legs tremble beneath you as you struggle to keep yourself from tipping over the edge. “I don’t think- I can’t-”

“I know, sweet girl.” Joel mumbles sweetly. “I know it’s a lot. You’re doing so good for me, fuck, just gotta hold on a little longer. Almost there.

It’s so good it hurts. You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything this intense before. Everything in your body is aching for release, screaming for the bliss you’re denying yourself.

You can hear skin slapping against skin as Joel yanks his cock even harder than before. Just the thought makes your mouth water. You continue thrusting your fingers in and out. In and out.

“I’m gonna, fuck I’m gonna-” Joel grunts. With your eyes closed you can picture what he looks like right now. The veins in his neck protruding. The sweat breathing on his forehead. His teeth clenched tightly together. “Okay babygirl. Come with me. Fucking come.”

Your orgasm explodes, his command being the last thing you needed. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. You welcome the burn, let it consume you. As you’re losing mind over every heightened sensation in your body Joel moans loudly in your ear, finding his own release.

Moments later, when your fingers have left your legs, your body is still twitching against your mattress. The room is still spinning around you, but slower. You can finally hear Joel’s panting breaths over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

“You still alive over there?” Joel teases between breaths.

“Barely,” you joke. Joel chuckles on his end of the line.

This is always the part where the loneliness sets in. The build up is great, phenomenal even. It’s so easy to forget where you are and the circumstances between the two of you in the heat of the moment. It’s the wind down when you really ache for him. If only you could curl your body against his, feel the warmth of him against your skin. If only you could see his chest rise and fall.

“I wish I could see you right now.” You find yourself murmuring into the phone before you can stop the words from coming out.

Stupid. The arrangement you have is so precarious right now. Why would you say that? Why risk what he’s already been so reluctant to give? You hold your breath while you wait for his response. He’s been silent long enough, maybe he didn’t hear it.

“Me too.” He mutters back, so quietly you’re convinced you made it up. There’s a long pause before Joel speaks again. “You should get some rest.”

“M’not tired.” You mumble despite how heavy your eyes have gotten. You hate hanging up every time. It’s nice to have Joel to yourself. The version of him nobody else gets to see is only ever reserved for these late night calls.

“Sure you’re not,” Joel chides. “Get some rest, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

You think your heart skips a beat.

“You promise?” You ask.

“I promise,” he responds. “Now go to bed.”

A stupid grin spreads across your face.

“Fine, good night.” You can’t be certain, but you think you hear him murmur something along the lines of ‘Sweet dreams, sugar’ as he hangs up the phone.

—

Your father drops a stack of papers on the table in front of you as you eat your eggs the next morning.

“Wha-” you start, reaching for the stack with bleary eyes. You’ve only just started drinking your morning coffee, so you’re still very much half asleep.

“Job openings in the area.” Your father sits down across from you with his own mug.

Your eyes shoot up from the papers in your hands to glare at him.

“You can’t be serious.” You say through clenched teeth while maintaining eye contact. He’s like a dog with a bone, your father. This fight gets dragged back to the surface every couple of days. It’s becoming as routine as clockwork.

He says he’s just looking out for you, but the pressure feels enormous. You have a hard time explaining the anxiety that builds within you every time you think of where you want your life to lead. Yet your father remains persistent in his attempts to push you forward. The printouts of actual jobs in the area are an interesting development.

“We’ve talked about this.” Your father’s voice adopts that tone he always gets when he’s laying down the law. There’s a seriousness in it he doesn’t typically have, but something condescending as well. Almost as though you’re still that small child who nearly lit the house on fire when attempting to cook macaroni and cheese on the stove— an anecdote your father still loves to share with anyone and everyone.

“Yeah, we did,” You talk slowly, pushing the papers to the side. “I told you I’d look for something myself.”

“And I’m just trying to help your research.” He responds innocently.

“I don’t need your help.” You say, the exhaustion evident in your voice. “I’m perfectly capable of finding a job myself.”

“I never said you weren’t capable. I just think you could use a little push.” Your stomach clenches as he continues. “I got you an interview for this afternoon. It’s a financial manager position. It makes really good money.”

“Da-”

“Just go to the interview okay? You don’t have to take the job, but at least check it out.” He stands from the table. “I have to get to work, but I’ll be home for dinner tonight. I’ll text you the details for your interview.”

You stew in silent anger as he presses a kiss to the top of your head before heading out the door.

A couple of hours later you find yourself sitting in a chair at the reception desk of a random business awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers. Your clothes feel stiff against your skin. Each movement you make as you wait serves as another reminder that you don’t belong here. You’re about ready to leave when a man in a tailored suit walks up to you and extends his hand.

You stand and shake his hand, which feels cold and clammy as it grips yours firmly. He says his name— John? George? Michael?— but it goes in one ear and out the other as he escorts you through the corporate maze of cubicles.

He rattles off information about the company while you walk. You should pay attention. You should pretend to care, but you can’t help feeling miserable at even the thought of working here. They’ve done what they can to liven the place up. There’s art on the walls, big windows to let the sun in, a fake waterfall between reception and the rest of the office. Still the monotonous walls of the cubicles and fluorescent lights feel like a weight dragging you down the further you enter.

John, George, Michael opens the door to a glass walled conference room where a two of other men in suits are seated at a table. They stand upon your entry and each day their names and positions, none more memorable than the first man you met. You smile at them and shake each man’s hand before taking your seat opposite them.

Things start off well enough. They look over your resume your father must have sent them as they ask you about your degree and past work experience, though you don’t know how relative your experience at Old Navy would be in a place like this.

“And it says here you did data entry in high school?” Man number two asks. You nod, your hands folded on the table.

“Yes, at my father’s company for a couple of summers.” You reply. “He runs an automotive repair shop in town.”

Your father has started out as a mechanic. When you were little he barely made enough to put food on the table, but as you got older more opportunities came up until eventually he became the owner of his own shop. When it came time for you to get a job he offered to pay you to help out with the office work. Most of it was inputting invoices and making a list of parts needed to do repairs.

When you went up to school your father started paying someone else to do the work. Over the last couple of years he’s been able to expand the business quite a bit. He doesn’t often work on cars himself anymore, spending a lot more time behind a desk keeping the company running.

He offered you a new job at his company when you first moved back, but you declined. It didn’t seem right to go back to working for your dad, like you were taking the easy way out. You want to find something on your own, something you can be proud of at the end of the day. You’re definitely not going to get that here.

The interviewers ask you a couple of more questions about time management and organization which you answer with ease. You know you’re a hard worker. You would probably do well wherever you went. You have no problem showing them how confident you are in that, until they ask their next question.

“Why do you want this job?” It’s a simple enough question. You could probably easily find a lie to tell them if you tried. Instead you stare blankly at the wall behind them.

“I don’t.” The words tumble out of your mouth. The interviewers stare back at you, as though uncertain they heard you correctly. “I don’t want this job.”

You stand up from the table and cross the room. They remain seated as you move to the door, opening it before turning back in their direction. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

—

You make dinner and have it ready at the table by the time your father gets home. You’ve thought a lot about what you will say tonight when he inevitably asks about your job search. With how the interview went— and the fact that you didn’t search for any other jobs this afternoon— you’re certain the meal will end in a fight.

You decide to keep him distracted for as long as possible. You ask him about his day and pretend to be interested in what he has to say while eating quickly. It doesn’t last nearly as long as you hoped.

“How’d your interview go?” Your father asks before you’ve even finished half your plate. Maybe if you keep it brief he’ll be satisfied.

“Fine.” You say, staring at the table as you chew. Your father waits for more details. When you don’t offer any he lets out a long sigh.

“What happened?” He asks in a way that says he already knows you messed it up.

“I just wasn’t right for the job.” Your father raises his eyebrows willing you to go on. “I didn’t know anything about the business. I didn’t even really know what I had supposedly applied for.”

“I told you it was a financial manager job.” He starts to yell. “I sent you the address. Why didn’t you do the research before you left? I know you know better than that. Why are you so insistent on ruining your future?”

“I’m not.” You say through gritted teeth.

“You’re not?” He scoffs. “Then what do you call this? I mean I did everything for you, you just had to show up and try and you couldn’t even do that.”

He cannot seriously be getting mad at you for not having the initiative to look into a job he was forcing you to interview for. How exactly did he think that was going to work out? Your anger only builds the life he gets. That interview was humiliating, and here he is trying to blame you for the way it went. You’re over it. You’re over all of it. You’re actually glad you walked out. If anything you wish you made more of a scene.

“You know what dad, fine. I sabotaged your precious interview. I walked in, unprepared, realized I was out of my depth, and told them I wasn’t interested.” Even with your father seething in front of you a rush goes through your body as you continue to rant. “I never wanted that stupid job. I never askedYou to apply to jobs for me in the first place. In fact I told you I wasn’t ready.”

Why can’t he just let you figure things out on your own for once? He’s always been this way, helpful to a fault. Controlling is the way you would actually describe it. He picked where you went to school. He picked what you studied. He picked the dorms you stayed in and rented the apartment you lived in after that. Every aspect of your life feels like it’s been chosen for you.

“I’m trying to look out for you. I want the best for you, you know that. I’m happy you’re in love— and your boyfriend seems like a good guy— but you need a life of your own.”

You drop your fork on your plate and push away from the table despite only having eaten half your dinner. You’re not hungry anymore. You can hear your father following behind you into the kitchen.

“This isn’t about a guy, dad.” You attempt to explain yet again. “We’re not even together anymore. I just need-”

“See, that’s exactly why I’ve been pushing this so hard.” Your father interrupts. “You can’t trust your future to someone else. If your mother leaving taught me anything it’s that you gotta take matters into your own hands.”

You throw the dishes in the sink hard enough that they make a loud clattering sound, but not so hard they break. Tears are forming in the edges of your eyes. You clench your jaw and fists in an attempt to stop yourself from shaking.

Of course he would bring this conversation back to your mother. It’s where he always goes when he wants to win an argument. Everything somehow relates back to her, to him being left raising you on his own. The guilt of being his burden and the fear of becoming your mother are all bundled up in a neat little package he can drop at your feet whenever he needs to.

“I’m going to bed.” You say in his direction, then head upstairs to your bedroom before you can say anything you might regret.

He moves around downstairs for hours. Around 9pm you hear him walk up the staircase and down the hallway. His shadow blocks the light at the bottom of the doorframe. He moves, maybe thinking of knocking, but eventually retreats back to his room.

Once your father goes to bed you push the fight out of your head, preoccupied with impatiently waiting by the phone for Joel to call. He promised he would, and though you haven’t heard from him all day you know Joel to be a man of his word.

While you wait you change into a pair of sexy underwear just in case he wants some pictures. After putting it on you twist in the mirror to admire the way the soft pink lace embellishes your curves.

Another hour passes by and you still haven’t heard from him. Not even a text to check in. You lie sprawled out on the bed staring at your bedroom ceiling. The glow in the dark stars from when you were a child are still sprawled across it.

Your father spent hours standing on top of a chair placing them carefully along every inch of ceiling he could reach. A smile tugs on the edge of your lips when you think of the way you laid side beside on the floor after, admiring his handiwork.

Despite his flaws he isn’t a bad father, you know that, but sometimes you wonder if it would almost be easier if he was. Maybe then you wouldn’t carry so much guilt with you all the time.

Your mind is just beginning to spiral again when you feel your phone buzz against your chest. Immediately you answer and bring it up to your ear.

“Took you long enough.” You smirk as you sit up in the bed. “I was starting to think you were going to flake on me. Was just about to cut my losses and take care of myself.”

“I’m sorry dear. I guess I forgot we had plans.” A familiar voice says on the other end of the line, only it isn’t Joel.

The singsong voice belongs to none other than your best friend Sophie from college. When you returned home after graduating at the end of winter semester she remained at school with the rest of your friends to finish her degree. Several of them, including Sophie, were set to graduate in the spring.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” You mutter and sink back into your bed. You feel the exhaustion from your day settling into your bones and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open.

“And who would that be?” She teases. “You got a hot date or something?”

“It’s nothing.” You flush from embarrassment even if she can’t see you and tug the sheets over your body.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” She says, trying to pull more information out of you.

Why is she calling you right now? Even though you’ve only been gone for a couple of months there’s a distance forming there already. They have their lives, and unfortunately now that you live over three hours away you aren’t really a part of it. You haven’t heard from any of your college friends aside from random texts and Snapchats in the last couple of months you’ve been home.

Sophie waits a moment longer for you to say more before she moves on to the real reason she called.

“So, Lucy told me you and Zack broke up.” She says with a soft voice. You sigh and roll over in bed.

You knew this would come eventually. It’s only been a couple of weeks since your boyfriend Zack took the trip from Houston to end things between the two of you, but gossip spreads quickly. It spreads especially quickly when your now ex-boyfriend can’t keep his mouth shut.

By now the whole campus has probably heard all of the devastating details of your breakup. If only you could bring yourself to care as much as they will.

“Yeah, yeah we did.” You state. Sophie gasps at the confirmation.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Are you okay?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. It’s really not that big of a deal.” In all honesty the more space you get from it all the more you realize the relationship you had with Zack hadn’t really been built on love at all. Being with him felt like an obligation, something you were meant to do, but there was never much passion there.

He was fine, on all accounts the kind of guy you would want to be with. Maybe he wasn’t the best in bed, but he came from a great family. He was nice, handsome, but you never really had to worry about him cheating. Even your dad seemed to like him at first, but it was comfortable and easy to get complacent.

You liked not having the pressure of having to be perfect, or having a plan for everything. Life with Zack was simple, an unvaried routine you could fall into without much thought. He had a plan for his life. You just had to fit yourself into it. Passion and love were an afterthought.

“It kind of is though.” Sophie responds. “You guys were together for a couple of years. I was sure you two were going to get married.”

“Well, life moves on. I’ll be okay, really. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I just wish you had told me. I want to be there for you.” She says, sounding dejected.

You can’t help but think even if you were struggling with the breakup you probably wouldn’t tell her about it anyway. It isn’t like you’ve told her anything about your dad’s ongoing job search.

It’s not that you don’t care about Sophie. There was a time where you would tell her every detail of your life. However, lately you can’t help feeling a little hurt at the radio silence.

When you moved back you knew things would be different. Sophie is in the last semester of her undergraduate pre-med degree. Obviously she’s busy. Still you find yourself feeling like an idiot when you keep looking at your phone for a response to your texts only to see her and your other friends posting pictures on Instagram of their various adventures around the city.

Being back home really is like being back on your own little island. The only bright spot in any of it has been your escapades with Joel, but you can’t tell anyone about that.

“I mean I don’t even know what’s going on in your life right now.” Sophie continues in your ear. “I miss you girl, spill. What have you been up to?”

You look out your bedroom window into Joel’s, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The curtains are open, but his bedroom is dark.

“I miss you too,” You say, pulling your focus back to the conversation with Sophie. “Really there’s nothing going on with me though.”

“Did you find a job yet? An apartment?”

“No, not yet but I’m looking.” It feels even more pathetic to admit your total lack of direction out loud.

Here you are living in your childhood bedroom with no clue what you want to do. Meanwhile Sophie has the next ten years of her life mapped out meticulously. After graduating her undergrad she’s going to med school in Georgia. From there she’ll apply for a residency to train in pediatric medicine. She has a drive, a passion, a purpose.

“I’m sure you’ll find something.” She reassures you. You feel an intensifying sense of unease having the conversation directed at your life, so you turn it around to avoid having to explain anything else about your current life choices.

“So what’s going on with you? How’s Houston?” The question unlocks a plethora of information giving you the perfect opportunity to withdraw from the conversation.

Sophie fills you in on all of the happenings around campus since you left. You do your best to listen, but by the end of it you’re only muttering words now and again to male he think you’re paying attention. She stays on the phone for about an hour before she hangs up to join your other friends at a bar downtown.

After the call drops you look across the yard again to Joel’s bedroom window. The curtain is drawn now, but otherwise things look the same as before. He still hasn’t called or ever texted. You throw your body back on the bed with a sigh. Eventually your eyes become heavy.

You end up nodding off for a bit, only noticing when you’re suddenly awoken by your phone buzzing on the pillow beside you.

“Hello,” you huff, the sleep evident in your voice despite your attempt to hide it.

“Hey,” Joel responds. “Sorry, were you asleep?”

“No.” You lie. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance at the clock on your bedside table which reads 12:34.

“Oh, okay.” He definitely doesn’t believe you. “I can let you go if you need to get some sleep.”

“I said I wasn’t sleeping.” You snap. “I’m awake. I’ve been awake.”

“Okay, sorry.” From the sound of his voice you can tell he’s taken aback by your mood tonight.

Clearly he was expecting the sexy persona you typically greet him with on these calls. That’s what he would have gotten if he had called earlier in the night, but by now the stress of the day has worn you down to a point where you no longer care about putting on an act for Joel.

“Is everything okay?” He asks apprehensively. You sigh and turn over in bed with your phone pressed against your ear.

“I’m fine.” You state, though the rough edge to your voice remains.

“You sure?” He asks, which only makes you angrier.

“I said I’m fine.” You snap back.

“Alright, sorry,” Joel says softly, like someone trying to talk to a wounded animal. “I just got a little worried when I didn’t get a text from you tonight.”

“You told me last night you were gonna call. You promised, remember.” Did he really forget?

“I know. I just thought you were gonna text me to let me know when you were free.” Joel says. “Didn’t want to call you and have your dad overhear.”

A twinge of guilt twists in your stomach. He had a point. You might’ve been a little hasty with your judgement, but a portion of your rational mind is already gone for the day. It doesn’t help that you can’t stop ruminating on the feelings that came to the surface during your conversation with Sophie.

Hearing about her life was just a painful reminder of how separated you’ve become. Everyone you know has goals and a direction in life. Even Joel has Sarah, the contracting business. You’re more aimless than you’ve ever been before, and your father is more than happy to remind you of that fact. That sinking feeling of loneliness only grew in the time you waited for Joel to call.

“Sorry, that makes sense.” Without the anger behind it your voice just sounds depleted of any energy at all.

“No it’s okay,” Joel says calmly. There’s something soothing about his voice. “We should’ve been more clear on the plan.”

A static sound fills the air as both of you remain silent. You tug at your bottom lip with your teeth. You can feel it already. Joel’s going to hang up. You ruined the mood and now he’s going to hang up. You’ll be alone again. You’re so sick of being alone.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not feeling up for it.” Your stomach drops. There it is, his segway into ending the call.

“Could you stay?” You find yourself blurting out before he can continue.

You know you should let him go. It’s late. He probably had things to do tomorrow. You know what the arrangement is between the two of you. He doesn’t owe you any emotional support, but you’re desperate to hear his choice just for a little bit longer.

“Of course.” He jumps in without missing a beat. “Of course I’ll stay.”

The line goes quiet again. It’s clear neither of you know what you’re doing. You didn’t expect him to actually stay, so you definitely don’t know what to say now that he has. You both speak at the same time, your words jumbling together into some morphed question.

“Sorry, you go darlin’,” Joel chuckles.

“I was just asking how your day was?” You ask.

“Oh, same old same old. Been pretty busy at work and then everything with Sarah.” You hear the rustling of bed sheets over the phone as Joel settles into bed. “What about you sweetheart? How was your day?”

“Fine.” You lie. You tell yourself that just because he stayed doesn’t mean he wants your whole story.

“I have a hard time believin’ that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I think there’s more goin’ on than a late phone call.” You tug your lip between your teeth again. “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to, but I’m here if you need me.”

“I just,” The more you think about your problems as you try to find a way to explain them to Joel, the more childish they feel. You want him to take you seriously. How is he supposed to do that when you’re whining to him about your father being mad at you and your friends not talking to you as much as they usually do? “I’m just, I’m still adjusting to being back home.”

“That’s understandable,” Joel speaks softly. “You changed while you were gone. It’s not gonna be the same when you come back. You gotta figure out where you fit in now. That takes time. Nobody expects you to have it all figured out already.”

An emotion you can’t quite name tugs at your chest, but you recognize it from the night he pulled the gravel out of your knees. Joel Miller is hot— he makes you feel things you never dreamed without even touching you— but the thing that really stands out about him is his soft side.

He makes you feel special. He listens. He’s protective of you in a way that makes your stomach twist. He sees the vulnerability you try so desperately to hide away. It makes everything between the two of you so much more confusing.

“It doesn’t always feel like that’s true.” You mutter, not to yourself than to Joel.

You think about your father, the weight of his expectations for you. All your life you’ve been ahead of everyone. You took advanced classes. You got good grades. You had your pick of colleges. Even when you arrived at college, while others were struggling being on their own for the first time in their lives you flourished.

It wasn’t until that last semester of school that you really started struggling. The weight of what was ahead of you sat in your chest like a giant stone holding you down. You barely managed to pass your classes. Now you’re here. This is the part where your life is supposed to be ramping up, and instead you’re on a detour nobody expected. So much for potential.

“Okay, even if there are people judging fuck them.” Joel says. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out. Don’t waste your time worrying about what everyone else thinks while you do.”

“Yeah, fuck them,” you chuckle. He makes it sound so simple. You wish you had someone like him in your corner all of the time. “You know, Sarah’s pretty lucky to have you as a dad.”

Joel’s silent for a moment. You begin to think maybe you pushed it too far. Why would he want to talk about his daughter with you? Your mind races for ways to cover up your blunder.

“Yeah well, I make plenty of my own mistakes.” He says finally. “Everyone does. At the end of the day the most you can hope for is just doing a little bit better than your parents did for you.”

There’s an underlying pain in his voice at the words. It makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. What were his parents like?

“Well, I haven’t gotten pregnant and abandoned my kid so I guess I’m off to a good start.” You joke. Joel doesn’t laugh. That probably hits a little close to home as well. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” Joel says quickly. “I’m not… It's alright.”

Your heartbeat races in your chest. It feels like each thing you say is the wrong thing, even if Joel seems to be okay with it. What are you doing? This isn’t a relationship. He does not need to know you like this.

“Do you think about her a lot?” Joel asks after a moment.

“Not a lot, but sometimes.” It feels strange talking about her to someone other than your father. To everyone else you typically just say you don’t have a mom. Nobody really wants to ask questions after that. “I don’t really know much about her other than she got pregnant young and then ditched once I was born, so there’s not really much to think about. I guess most of the time I think about what it would be like to have a mom at all.”

Growing up without one you had always been a little jealous of the kids with moms. When you’re little there’s so many reminders about what you’re missing. Mother’s Day crafts at school. Parent events your father couldn’t be at because of work. It gets easier as you age, but you still feel that dull ache from time to time. The ‘what if’ comes back up whenever you least expect it.

“Sometimes I worry about Sarah.” Joel says. “I do what I can, but there’s just some things I can’t fix. I mean, she’s a teenager now. She’s about to experience a whole new set of problems I can’t even begin to understand. Girls at school. Boy drama.”

“Periods.” You jump in.

“God, I’m not ready for that one.” He says. You giggle thinking about Joel struggling through the feminine hygiene section of the drug store, looking for the right kind of pads for his daughter.

“You’re a good dad, Joel. There are some things you won’t be able to change for her. Just listen to her. Show her you’re there. You’ll figure the rest out.”

“Yeah,” Joel says. “I hope so.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. This is an entirely new side of Joel. He’s not one to typically be vulnerable himself. You’ve seen the protective side of Joel. The loving dad. The caring friend. The lusty neighbor, but never this man. How much does he carry alone? You wonder how often he lets anyone in.

“I like this,” You find yourself saying. “Talking with you, like this. It’s nice. I mean I like the dirty stuff too, but it’s nice to get to know you like this.”

Joel laughs.

“Yeah I suppose it is.” He says.

“I want to know more.”

“What?”

“About you.” You continue. “I want to know more about you. Your life, the things you like. I want to know.”

You think you hear Joel adjust in the bed before he responds.

“Alright, ask away.” Joel says.

You feel the stupid grin spread across your face. You tuck your phone between your cheek and your pillow to get more comfortable, wrapping your arms around the pillow and tugging your blanket over your body.

“When you were a kid, what did you want to be as an adult?”

“A singer.” You hadn’t expected that.

“Do you play any instruments?”

“Guitar, but I haven’t played in a while now.”

You make sure to save that fact for later. He continues answering your questions, sharing stories from his life, until eventually you fall asleep.

—

You wake the next morning with your phone still pressed against your face. It must be late in the morning because the sun is shining brightly through your window.

You throw an oversized shirt and a pair of sleep shorts over the lingerie you had worn for your phone call with Joel the night before and head downstairs to make yourself a cup of coffee. As you slowly make your way down the steps you stretch out your limbs and wipe the sleep from your eyes. It isn’t until you reach the bottom of the steps that you hear your father talking to someone in the kitchen. By the time you process the presence of someone else in your house Joel is staring right at you.

His eyes scan over your body at first, taking in your bare legs before quickly flitting up to your face. Your cheeks flush and you look down at your feet. The edge of your shirt is long enough that it brushes the top of your thighs, just beneath the hem of your shorts, giving the illusion that you aren’t wearing any pants at all.

Obviously Joel has seen much more of your body before, but never in person. Over text you had complete control over what you looked like. You sent him the best angles to accentuate the parts of your body you love, and hide the parts that make you self conscious. Now he is seeing you in your most vulnerable state— in your house, having just woken up, your hair a mess, your eyes puffy, in front of your clueless father— you feel an overwhelming urge to run and hide.

You seriously debated turning around and heading back up the steps until your father notes Joel’s silence and turns around to look at you as well.

“Well good morning.” He teases. Apparently he’s decided to pretend the events of last night didn’t happen. “Thought you were never going to get up. It’s nearly noon already. Are you still in your pajamas?”

You look up from the floor, your eyes flitting to Joel and then back to your father.

”Yeah, I was just coming down to get some coffee before getting ready for the day.” You say quietly.

“Alright,” Your father says. “Well sorry I forgot to tell you that Joel was coming over today. I nearly forgot myself.”

“It’s alright.” Joel has stopped looking at you at all, opting instead to stare at the beer in his hands.

He didn’t mention anything last night about having plans with your dad. Although it does seem somewhat weird to talk about him during your calls, even if last night had been relatively tame.

It’s sort of an unspoken rule that neither of you talk about your father. Joel seems to have a hard enough time reconciling with what the two of you are doing. It’s best to ignore the additional implications of doing those things with his best friend’s daughter.

Your dad turns back to Joel to finish his conversation, moving over a bit so you can walk between the two of them to start a pot of coffee. Every nerve in your body buzzes the closer you get to Joel. You take a deep breath, noting his scent in the air and run your fingers haphazardly through your hair as the pot begins to brew.

“What’s that on your cheek?” Your dad asks as you move your hair out of your face.

“What?” You reach up and feel the rectangular indent of your phone pressed into your cheek where you had fallen asleep on it last night. Despite the space between you, you’re certain you can feel Joel tense beside you. “Oh, I was talking to Sophie on the phone last night and I must have fallen asleep on it.”

Your father nods and doesn’t press you any further on the matter which seems to calm Joel a bit, though he still remains silent beside you.

“Well, Joel and I are going to be watching the NASCAR race if you want to join us.”

Normally watching NASCAR with your dad is the last thing you’d want to do, but if it means spending more time with Joel…

“Sounds good.” You say sweetly, shooting your father a smile before he leaves the room to get the TV set up.

Joel is still standing beside you in the kitchen. He sips his beer as he lingers there. Despite not looking in his direction you can feel his eyes moving back to the skin of your bare legs now that your father is gone.

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask with your eyes trained on the counter.

“At home. She wasn’t really interested in coming over to watch the race.” You nod in response before you feel Joel step closer to you.

His chest brushes against your shoulder which causes your heart to skip a beat. You don’t dare look at him, even when he delicately brings a hand up to press his fingers to the fading imprint on your cheek.

“You doing okay?” He asks quietly once the noise of the TV comes on. “After last night?”

You’re shocked he’s actually acknowledging last night in person, with your dad only feet away. You turn toward him, resting your back against the kitchen counter. There’s a softness to his eyes that twists your stomach into knots. He really is genuinely checking in on you.

“Yeah, much better today.” You say with a smile. “Thank you for staying up and talking to me. I’m sorry if I fell asleep on you.”

Joel shrugs and lowers his hand. He takes one step away, still remaining close to you but providing you enough space to pour yourself some coffee along with cream and sugar.

“It was actually really nice to talk to you for a bit.” A grin tugs at the edges of his lips. “Although you do snore.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.” He chuckles. “Not real loud, but you definitely do.”

Your eyes widen and you can feel face reddening. You cover your face with your hands. Maybe the floor will swallow you up so you never have to face Joel again.

“That’s mortifying.” You mumble through your hands.

“It was actually kind of sweet,” Joel says. You lower your hands again to see him better. “I almost didn’t want to hang up, but I started nodding off, myself.”

How long did he stay on the phone after you fell asleep? Was he just listening to you snore? Why would he do that? You want to ask him more questions, but your father calls out to Joel from the living room.

Joel looks in the direction of his friend briefly and then back at you. He doesn’t seem to want to leave the conversation any more than you do, but it would seem suspicious if he stayed.

“I should probably go get dressed.” You murmur. He nods.

You purposefully brush past him as you take your cup of coffee with you to the stairs. He quietly calls out your name just before you step up onto the first stair. You turn your head in his direction.

“Please put on some pants.” He practically groans in that deep voice that only comes out when he’s talking dirty to you. You never did get to the dirty part of your phone call last night.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You tease as you head up the stairs.

You take your time getting ready. You brush out your hair and put on makeup, the redness in your cheek finally starting to fade by the time you do. Despite Joel’s request for pants you opt to wear a short yellow sundress with tiny floral print instead, admiring the way it cascades over your boobs and butt. If you’re going to be stuck watching a NASCAR race you figure you might as well have some fun of your own.

Joel chokes on his beer when you appear in the living room. He quickly looks down and attempts to cover his coughing fit. Your father, sitting in his recliner, is so sucked into the race he doesn’t seem to notice your arrival or his friend’s reaction.

You pretend not to notice the way Joel stares at your thighs when the hem of your dress rides up even further as you sit down on the couch beside him, much closer than you need to given it’s just the two of you on the couch. You keep your eyes on the screen, attempting to keep your expression neutral as you shift a bit on the couch.

“Gonna get another beer, you want one?” He asks your father, tearing his eyes away from you.

“No I’m good,” your father responds and lifts the beer in his hand up a bit.

“I’ll take one!” You smile up at him. He nods, but looks away.

When he comes back from the kitchen he plops down on the couch beside you and reaches out a can. You make sure to place your fingers so that they’ll graze his as you grab it from him. For a split second you think you might be able to see a shiver run through his body before he yanks his hand away. His eyes stay on you.

You keep eye contact with him as you open the can and take a sip. After swallowing the cold beverage you run your tongue delicately along your top lip. Joel’s eyes immediately dart back to the screen.

You continue to sip your beer as you watch Joel throughout the race. You can tell he’s trying to keep it together. His body is unusually stiff Despite grabbing a new beer he barely drinks any of it. Still, his eyes continuously wander back to your bare thighs.

After a while you decide to mess with him some more. You can feel the effect his proximity has on you. You want him. Besides, you’re interested to see just how far you can push him.

You wait until Joel’s eyes wander back to your thighs again, and then you run your free hand up your thigh. You do so slowly, as though you were doing it absentmindedly, although it is very much intentional. When your hand reaches the hem of your dress you grab it between your fingers and move it a little further up your leg until Joel can see the very edge of your lacy red panties.

His gaze shoots back up to your face as you do so. You smile back at him innocently which he returns with a firm stare. You glance back at the TV when he pulls out his phone. Your own buzzes just a few seconds later.

Joel: What the hell do you think you’re doing?

You tug your bottom lip with your teeth as you respond.

You: Nothing, just enjoying the race ;)

Joel reads your text, glances back at you, then toes his response.

Joel: Knock it off.

You: And what will you do if I don’t?

He doesn’t text back. You feel him move closer to the arm of the couch in order to put more space between the two of you. Apparently he’s serious about trying to be on good behavior.

You try to watch the race, but you start to get bored again after another thirty minutes or so. Joel is doing a great job keeping his eyes on the screen after your last stunt, although his grip on the couch arm tells you it’s taking everything in him to do so.

Just one more little push. You move on the couch so you can grab the blanket folded across the back of it. Joel leans forward to let you pull it out without a second thought. You unfold it, dish it across your lap, and then reach over to throw it over Joel’s as well.

He watches you with a furrowed brow, clear that this is another ploy. With the blanket across your lap you become bolder with your actions. You start out with running your foot along his shin. Joel’s body starts tense beside you, but he doesn’t make any effort to stop you either.

You shift closer to him slightly and then move your hand to his knee, slowly moving it up his leg to his inner thigh. You see Joel gulp out of the corner of your eye and grin. You really do have an effect on him. You turn your head to watch him closely when you move your hand up again, your fingertips grazing the bulge in his jeans.

Joel quickly springs to his feet. The blanket that had been across your lap falls to the floor as he does so.

“Gonna use the bathroom,” Joel chokes out. Your father waves him off without looking. He’s only gone for a couple of seconds before he sends you another text.

Joel: Get up here, now.

Yes! You throw the blanket back on the couch cushions, not even bothering to give your father an excuse when you leave the room. When you reach the top of the stairs you’re immediately cornered into a wall by strong hands on your hips.

“I need you.” Joel groans. He pushes his hips against yours so you can feel how hard he is. You whimper and move your hips slightly to feel the friction. “Not here. Not in the hallway.”

“Fine,” You grin back at him then push him back so you can direct him down the hallway toward your bedroom. He grabs your wrist and stumbles behind you along the way.

“Gotta make this quick sweetheart, we don’t have much time before he comes lookin’ for us.” Joel mutters after you shut the door.

You grin back at him, slowly backing away while he stays standing by the door. You can’t help but note how out of place he looks in your childhood room among the pink walls littered with drawings you hung up in high school. Something about it turns you on even more.

He watches with dark eyes as you slide your panties down your legs slowly. You can already feel your juices dripping down your thighs in anticipation.

“Let him find us.” You respond. You step out of your underwear, dangling them on your finger for Joel who moves toward you quickly and snatches them away.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He growls.

His face is inches from yours. It would be so easy to close the distance between the two of you. So easy to press your lips to his. Joel reaches a hand up to your shoulder, delicately playing with the ends of your hair with his free hand. Your breath shudders.

The tension in the room is palpable, yet the gentle way he touches you now is so soft you could almost melt. You almost forget what you’re doing altogether, that this is nothing more than a lust filled haze. He won’t even get you off himself. He won’t even touch you where you’re most desperate to feel him, but somehow it doesn’t matter. Somehow the tender brush of his fingers and soft look in his eyes is more intimate than you’ve ever felt with a man before.

His eyes roam over every inch of you, exposed and not, as though he’s trying to commit it all to memory. The crease forms between his eyebrows again when his eyes land on your thighs. You watch his pupils darken at the sight of the mess between your legs.

Suddenly the hand on your shoulder shoves you backward. Your back lands on the mattress behind you. Joel crosses the room again, your soaked panties clutched tightly in his fist.

“Show me darlin’.” He says while he leans back against your dresser. “Show me how wet you got teasin’ me with your day in the room.”

You scoot back on the bed until your head rests against the pillows so you can still see him clearly. Then you shove your dress up your body, leaving it just under your breasts. You watch his reaction as you bend your knees and spread your legs. Joel groans softly.

“Like what you see?” You ask in feigned innocence. You bat your eyelashes at him playfully.

“Enough of that.” Joel growls. “We don’t have time. Touch yourself sweetheart.”

“I want to see you first.” You pout.

Joel’s free hand scrambles for his belt while he keeps his eyes on you, your expression as he pulls his hardening cock out of his jeans and boxers. You had felt the size of him against your body that night in the kitchen. You saw the pictures he had sent you over text. Those were nothing compared to seeing it with your own eyes in person.

Joel is big. The kind of big that makes you think twice about whether or not you can handle something like that, but it’s Joel. There’s nothing you want more right now than Joel’s cock. If he’d let you do it, you would get on your knees for him right here right now, but you know if you did he would stop it again.

You spread your legs more, determined to give him a show, and slowly bring your fingers to your folds. You run the tips of your fingers up your center softly.

Joel watches intently, breathing so hard you can see his chest rise and fall from across the room. The hand with your underwear tightens firm enough to turn his knuckles white. His other hand squeezes the base of his cock. He slowly starts to stroke himself when you begin to draw circles on your clit with your fingers.

Quiet sounds of your mingled moans fill the room. Both of you are panting, but careful not to make too much noise. Your father is still downstairs, only the sound of the TV covering exactly what his best friend and daughter are up to just above his head. Something about the danger of it makes the whole thing all the more exciting.

Your fingers move faster. You keep your eyes locked on Joel. Your body arches into your touch, and you find yourself thinking about his hands on you. What would it feel like if they were his fingers instead?

“Good girl,” Joel grunts. The slick sound of his hand moving up and down his massive dick spur you on. “Put a finger in now. I wanna see how she opens up for me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You continue circling your clit with your thumb while you move your other finger down to your entrance. It slides in with ease given how wet you are. The sheets beneath you are practically drenched already.

“How’s that feel, sweet girl?” Joel asks. “Feel good?”

It does. You feel so good, but it’s not enough. You’re not sure any of it will be enough. What you really need is Joel.

“More,” You whine. You know he won’t give you what you want, but you can’t stop yourself from pleading with him. “I need, I need more. Please.”

There’s a flicker of something in Joel’s eyes. Perhaps a recognition of what you’re really asking him for. Perhaps it’s his own lust fighting whatever logic he’s so clinging to in that head of his. Whatever it is, it’s gone as quickly as it came.

“Okay babygirl, okay.“ Joel says. He shoves your panties in his pocket before moving closer to the bed so he is now standing at the edge of it. “Give yourself some more. Put another in.”

You push another finger inside your aching walls. You speed the movement of your fingers up and watch as Joel does the same. He matches his pace with yours. A knot forms in your stomach. You feel your climax quickly rise, your body teetering on the edge already while you watch the beads of sweat form on Joel’s forehead.

“Fuck,” You pant. “I’m so- Fuck- I’m”

It would seem you’re incapable of even forming sentences right now, but Joel seems to understand what you mean.

“Go on baby.” You’re confused at first when the mattress dips beneath you, but then you feel his legs between yours. “Come for me. Lemme see.”

It’s the weight of his body on the mattress that sends you over the edge. His figure towers over you. He’s still fucking his hand. His eyes haven’t left your body, but his jeans rub against your knees as your legs instinctively attempt to close in the throes of your orgasm.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth when you finally feel your release. Joel leans over your body, places an arm beside your head to balance himself, and presses his hand against your mouth to silence you.

“That’s it sugar, fuck.” He whispers in your ear. He’s thrusting into his hand so hard you can feel the slippery tip of his cock nudge the bare skin of your stomach. “Fuck darlin’ you’re gonna make me…”

His hips stutter. His words are cut off by a groan. You move your hands away from your body, one grasping his hair and the other resting across his shoulders. As the first string of come spurts your stomach his mouth moves down to your collarbone. The pain of his teeth clenching down on your skin in an attempt to silence his moans only causes your pussy to clench again.

The arm supporting his upper body shakes beside your head until the last bit of his release paints your skin. He removes his teeth, gently pressing a kiss to your collarbone before rolling over to collapse on the bed beside you.

You take a couple of breaths and listen to him do the same. When you look down at the mess the two of you made you can’t help but smile. This was so much better than dirty texts and late night phone calls.

You reach your hand down your body again, but this time use your finger to collect his release from your stomach. You feel his head turn to watch you as you scoop up what you can. You make sure to make direct eye contact with him when you bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick up the remnants of him.

“Fucking filthy,” Joel says, with a hint of a grin playing on his lips. You smirk back at him.

“Want a taste?” You ask.

Your hand is already making its way back down your body, this time dipping between your legs. You collect your release then bring your fingers to his lips. You half expect him to turn away. You have already pushed your luck farther than you should have today.

You’re pleasantly surprised when instead of his hand pushing you away, you feel his lips close around your fingers. His tongue swirls around each digit until there’s nothing left on your fingers for him to taste, his eyes refusing to leave yours until he finally releases your fingers again.

Your hand trails back, but not far. The tips of your fingers brush the soft skin of his bottom lip. You feel him lean into the touch. You glide your fingers down his lips, across his chin and jaw. You rest your hand at the base of his neck and lean closer until his breath and yours are one in the same. Part of you is convinced he will pull away, but he remains steady beside you even when your lips are close enough to feel his brush against them at the slightest movement. You’re just about to kiss him when the sound of your father yelling at the TV jolts both of you back to where you are.

Immediately Joel is on his feet again. You watch the muscles in his back go rigid again. He stays turned away from you while he tucks himself back in his jeans.

“Joel,” you start. You lean up on your elbows, struggling for words.

“I gotta go sweetheart,” Joel says. He turns to face you again, but you can already see that wall forming between you again.

You can’t help but feel that tug of sadness return, a sadness rooted in the vulnerability of being alone after what just happened. Even in person he’s pulling away. Why does that sting?

He reaches forward, one knee leaning into the end of the mattress so he can reach your face. The tips of his fingers tuck a piece of hair gingerly behind your ear. Then they move down to hold your jaw, holding you there so you’re forced to look into his warm brown eyes.

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” You nod. He gives your jaw a soft squeeze before heading back downstairs to join your father.

@munsonsquinn @ashleyfilm @izzy698 @akah565 @pascal-mynightlyobsession

[whumpercars]

Imagine if whumpers had tumblr and made shitposts. that’d be so stupid, luckily that’s just made up. totally don’t look under the cut for a fake dashboard post exactly like that

💿 grabhimbythewires Follow

guys my robot whumpee stopped reacting to pain :( has this happened to anyone else? what should I do?

❤️‍🩹 crowbars-and-chainsaws Follow

take this w/ a grain of salt, (because I never owned a robot whumpee before) but my mutual said that happened to them when their whumpee’s battery got old! if you get them repaired, they should be back to normal :)

( 129 notes )

#good luck with that! #really sucks when robots break down #by that i mean when the break not in the way you want them to #;)

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

Seriously can’t believe theirs living weapon discourse on my dashboard in the year of our lord 2025. thought we left that behind last year.

🩻 hurtwithextracomfort Follow

okay but having an ‘emotionless, ghost in the shell’ type weapon literally takes all the fun out of training them. where’s the defiance? where’s the shock when they realize they physically can’t disobey? where’s the screaming and crying in pain?

also, *there’s lol

🗡️ weaponsofthelivingkind Follow

some trainers can’t deal with a defiant whumpee. not everyone has the spoons for that. if you’re ableist, just say that, don’t bring weapons into this.

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

this post was not an invitation to debate about this omfg

🗡️ weaponsofthelivingkind Follow

no one was talking to you but go off i guess

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

THIS IS MY POST????

🩻 hurtwithextracomfort Follow

not anymore. me and weaponsofthelivingkind have joint custody of this post now. @.weaponsofthelivingkind i’m taking this post to the zoo tomorrow

🗡️ weaponsofthelivingkind Follow

ok babe thank you ❤️

🍋 whump-tothemoon-andback Follow

WHAT THE FUCK???

( 10,054 notes )

Based on your likes!

🐈‍⬛ blackcat-whumps Follow

these are my three whumpees. and yes, they smoke weed.

( 12 notes )

#whump shitpost

🌌 freezingcold-skin Follow

Can’t believe I have to say this, but DO NOT let your whumpees go on whumpblr. I don’t care if they’re supervised, it’s not safe online. Some random caretaker could message them and try to ‘rescue’ them (🙄)

💉 whumperflies-whumperpillars Follow

Actually, my whumpee is very responsible online, and never messages anyone but me and a select few of my mutuals! He’d never want to be rescued, he loves me very much ❤️

🩸hurtmehurtmehurtme Follow

It’s true! I would never want anyone to save me, the idea of ‘being rescued’ is so bizarre to me! I mean, who wouldn’t want to be tortured by my whumper ❤️

( 418 notes )

#ok guys my whumper never reads the tags #so just to be clear #i fucking hate that guy #caretakers please interact #caretakers dm me #anti whumper

🔮 wickedwhumpofthewest Follow

@ all magical whumpers:

give your whumper poison damage, its so funny to watch. rn they’re hiding in the corner going

“ow. ouch. oof. ow. fuck! ow. ouch.”

( 82 notes )

🪓 whump-me-please Follow

whumper? i hardly know h—

*i am brutally stabbed by my whumper*

#whumpees things #whumper-run whumpee account #whump joke

[seriouslycalamitous]

I’m rereading Change with the Tides. again (I love this AU so much) and just got reminded of something I was wondering about before. How did the crew react to Grian being responsible for the storm protection? And discovering how they got protected too.

Grian takes a while to trust anyone other than Scar with the full extent and truth of who he is, since, you know, took him weeks of nightly visits to decide even that one guy was kinda okay. It’s a bit easier since they all seem fine with Lizzie and Scar, but still, shapeshifters are sought after by hunters, so he has to be careful!

Eventually though, he does open that door. Lizzie knows instantly about the protection rune - knew from the second Grian revealed himself to not be a normal parrot - but Jimmy and Joel are amazed. They ask him to show them how to do stuff like that, and they have absolutely no talent for anything magical so it becomes a month-long endeavor of Grian trying to teach magic to a bunch of idiots.

[socialitesleuth]

Penelope knew that he was lying, though she decided not to point it out. His little fib was obvious to her but it would have been easily missed by an untrained eye, of which Penelope, expert deceiver in her own right, was not.

She knew the signs of someone using the word fine — the word in itself being a staple within the Tracy household vocabulary — whilst meaning something entirely different.

She also knew Gordon and the normal way he responded to things. Penelope knew that the so-called failure of the mission would be eating away at him. He wasn’t the sort of person who took that kind of situation lying down; his heart was far too big for him to push aside something so devastating as though it was nothing.

“It all sounds very methodical.” She surmised. It wasn’t the right time to push for a more honest answer in regard to the rescue going wrong. If there was a reason Gordon’s walls had gone up, for him to act so blasé about the subject, Penelope wasn’t going to find out there.

But, after a quiet moment of deliberation, she added, “Emotions can’t always be sealed away into neat little boxes. They tend not to fit into ‘perfectly laid out processes’. And that’s okay. Of course we don’t have to talk about it now. In fact, it’s probably better that we don’t.” It was better for them to try to get through the rest of the evening without causing a spectacle in the middle of the ballroom. “But if you do eventually want to talk about it, you know that I am always here to lend an ear. As I’m sure are you brothers.”

There were many things Penelope would have done differently if she knew what the effects would end up being.

Her initial thoughts had led her to believe that his reluctance of wanting to speak about the rescue was down to him not wanting to open up about something so traumatic in the middle of the dance-floor. That was understandable, of course, and Penelope herself had already openly said he didn’t have to.

But there as something else that had begun to gnaw away at her.

Doubt was an ugly creature that festered and tainted one’s vision. When it came out against a loved one, it was worse.

If Penelope knew the damage that the word ‘brothers’ was currently doing to Gordon, for example — that it was being interpreted in a way that made Gordon doubt her intentions, her feelings, herself — then she would have stopped using that word and would have found the courage make her true intentions and her true feelings clearer.

Yes, she loved the Tracy boys. Who wouldn’t? She loved their tenacity, their compassion, their perseverance in the face of all their adversities. She adored their determination, their ethics, and she was proud to call them all her friends.

But her love for the Tracy currently holding her in his arms, swaying with her to the gentle jazz, was something so much harder for her to explain. It extended beyond tick-boxes and beyond reason. It was larger and more vibrant and absolutely terrifying to try and comprehend.

It hurt when she thought about him too much.

It hurt when she didn’t think about him enough.

The more time she spent in his company, the more difficult it was when she had to leave again.

To anyone on the outside the answer as to why this was the case was probably obvious.

But to Penelope, who was still running away from what she truly felt for whatever reason — fear of rejection or, worse, The Outsiders — it wasn’t so simple an answer to find.

Penelope’s life had always been overshadowed by this concept of The Outsider. Whether they were risk-taking paparazzi, power-hungry tabloid journalists, or just overly curious members of high society who needed their latest fill of gossip, there was always someone who tried to pick apart her life in the name of ‘entertainment’.

She had had her fair share of relationships in the past, though far fewer than the reported number of some media outlets, and each one had sunk tragically. The Outsiders were never to blame for the failings of those relationships, of course, but they were certainly to blame when they’d been blown up out of proportion to be turned into the media frenzy they’d become.

‘Lady Penelope and her new beau call it quits after “exhausting row” during their romantic Mediterranean getaway!’

In all her life Penelope had never once had an argument whilst holidaying in the Med. The weather was far too splendid to allow for something as petty as a “row” get in the way of a good vacation!

‘Thirteen months in the Slammer — now she’s finally set him free!’

That particular headline had always left a sour taste in her mouth. The fact that the reporter (if one could even call a tabloid columnist such a term) had the audacity to imply she’d kept that particular partner under lock and key was beyond offensive and incredibly damaging to her reputation. Thankfully the libel case had been short-lived and justice had been swiftly served.

‘Rumours swirl after Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward seen heartbroken and sullen at London Fashion Week — is latest flame to blame?’

… She hadn’t even got into the a relationship at the time the press had printed that headline and it had been the reason the relationship never came to fruition. The story had been completely fabricated and yet she was bombarded with sympathetic peers at her next event.

All that to say, Penelope knew the tightrope was thin when it came to her private life and she didn’t want to drag Gordon into a whirlwind of tabloid news or gossip circle scandals when he was already fending off his own vultures back home.

Perhaps that was why she continued to lie to herself. It was definitely the reason why not admitting the truth was easier for her; if she could convince herself that it was for everyone’s best interests that she didn’t pursue what her heart wanted then it was easier to ignore, as soppy as it sounded, the pangs of love.

And still, despite all those reasons, Penelope couldn’t stop poking the bear.

Gordon’s behaviour didn’t sit well with her, or rather her own reactions to it didn’t. Something had caused him to tense up. Beneath his tailored jacket she had felt his muscles seize and tighten. It was momentary but easy to catch. Penelope already knew he was lying.

“Why did you decide to come tonight? And I want the honest answer.”

The question was out of her mouth before she’d had the chance to ask herself if she even wanted the answer. She didn’t let on to that, making it sound for all the world that she’d intended on asking such a direct question.

“Are you truly here because Scott told you to come on behalf of the company?”

:COMMS BEGIN:

Lady P,

Sorry for the early morning comms, hope this doesn’t wake you too early - I make it just after 5 your time.

We’re just finishing up a mission in the Persian Gulf - a luxury hotel collapsed overnight, on an island just offshore Doha. Only built two years ago, whole place is pretty new and shiny.

Been a rough night, Pen - fifteen we were too late to help, including two kids. Just families on vacation...

Anyway, victims are saying they felt tremors, it certainly looks like a quake from the debris now the sun is up and J is absolutely confident it came from beneath the sea bed (absolutely being a rather irritated direct quote, so I’m not asking again).

But… this isn’t a quake hot zone. It doesn’t make any sense, and there haven’t been any aftershocks either while we’ve been working. Five can’t get a good read because of the debris and mineral interference underground. The whole place is on top of the enormous old oil fields, and it sends the scanners haywire.

The company that owns the hotel has set my squid sense off though. Name’s Fulcra, I’ve sent you the profile on them. Ran by a guy named Randall Price. He’s a venture capitalist from Houston originally, but the company’s HQ is a London address. That’s as far as I’ve managed to get.

They own a couple of the small artificial islands around here that are being used as tourist hotspots. Think luxury waterfront villas on stilts kinda stuff, the hotel that’s collapsed was the biggest. Nice place, high end, lots of good dive spots.

This area’s all under a World Heritage protected marine environment permit for a biosphere reserve. They’ve spent decades trying to replenish the mangroves and coastal vegetation after what the oil fields and production did to the waters here, the aquatic populations are only just starting to rise comfortably. I didn’t understand how they even got permission for this sort of work but…

They’ve got a giant platform further out in the Gulf that’s supposedly ‘cleaning the sea’ and helping to replenish the sea bed. Seems to be some sort of agreement that they can build these resorts, in exchange for what appears to be green work. I tried to get a proper look at the platform in Four, out of interest, but they’ve got laser nets up. I got an autoturret my way for trying to go any further in the exosuit…

I’d like to think they’re just really protecting that biosphere, but I don’t get a nice eco-friend impression.

My gut says I’m getting Hydrexler vibes, and you were right about that oily CEO last time. I’m not sure I want to be right, but I do want to know what’s going on here… and I thought you might too, as our resident top agent with a passion for all things Earth-saving.

So, I thought I’d hand it over to you, and let you do what you do best - cosying up to the billionaires and getting them to spill the tea.

Lemme know if you know or find anything on them. We’re going to be here another couple of hours, finishing up stabilising the debris field and having another run through, and then heading back. S managed to get the Price guy on comms briefly, but he wasn’t much for talking. Maybe you’ll have more luck.

G 🦑

:COMMS END:

FIRST DATE?

The flickering light and the soft buzz from her compact device caught her off-guard. Penelope, who had positioned herself in an armchair beside her tall windows after giving up on sleep half an hour earlier, sat herself up a little straighter. The blanket which she’d wrapped around herself was pulled tighter to her frame as her eyes read the message.

The hour might have been earlier and, on any other day, Penelope might very well have still been sleeping, but today was different. She rubbed her tired eyes as they scanned Gordon’s words. At first, she’d hoped it had been something akin to a social call. She rather enjoyed those, especially when they came from Gordon, but the more she read, the more Penelope realised it was anything but that.

Her interest peaked as she reached Gordon’s conspiracy.

Her mouth grew dry when she reached Gordon’s information.

The blanket was thrown off her body and Penelope stood. With her comms device still in hand, her eyes still darting from left to right as she continued her reading, she crossed her bedroom and gently tugged on the bell. 

Minutes passed before a very sleepy Parker knocked on her bedroom door. Penelope, having only just finished Gordon’s message, opened it.

“Terribly sorry to wake you, Parker, but it seems we have a situation. I need you to cancel my schedule for today and then get me all we have on the company known as Fulcra. CEO is a man named Randall Price.”

“But, m’lady, that’s—”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, thank you, Parker. See if you can arrange a meeting of some kind, if that’s at all possible.”

Parker nodded, still more asleep than he was awake, before he trundled off down the hallway to make good of his ladyship’s requests.

Penelope returned to chair by the window and curled herself back up. The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon as she typed out her reply.

COMMS BEGIN

@squidsinashirt, Thank you for your concern — I shall look into this and get back to you when I

Penelope ceased her typing and sighed. She knew it wasn’t fair to lie to him, not after her sent her looking. A moment or two passed before Penelope deleted her previous sentence and began to re-type it. 

COMMS BEGIN

Gordon,

This company?

I shall look into this as you requested but, I must warn you, you may not like what I find. Randall Price is… let us say a man I am already familiar with, or rather his business is. What I can tell you is that, for the most part, Fulcra is celebrated as a rather clean company, but that doesn’t always mean much — you were right to mention Hydrexler. The Persian Gulf was supposed to remain a protected marine environment, at least that was how I understood it. I’ll ask some of my World Heritage connections what they know too, see if I can get a bigger picture for you.

Give me a couple of days. I’ll try and, what was it you said? Cosy up to the billionaire? Get him to spill the tea? Parker is going to try and get me an appointment but, if that fails, I do have an alternative plan.

Do try and get some rest once you’ve finished up. The mission in Doha sounds like it’s been a terribly distressing situation for all involved. You know I am always here if you need to talk about it. Any of it.

I’ll be in touch once I hear something.

Stay safe, 

Penny x

COMMS END

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

Once upon a time, names held weight. Penelope had thought that Scott’s name had simply been too tied up with International Rescue for Randall Price to give him the time of day… until she too was ushered away once the more difficult questions were asked. From her other sources, Penelope had heard only rave reviews of the company. Yet something felt… off.

It was just after dinner when Penelope began her second message to Gordon.

COMMS BEGIN

It's too clean. Not sure what’s going on but I definitely sense something. Plan B is in operation. Randall Price might not have wanted to speak to me today, but he did invite me to his Charity Ball this weekend — I’ll see if I can find out more then.

I’m hoping you returned home safe and sound and that you managed to have a good rest. I suppose it’s my turn to apologise if this message wakes you. 

Penny x

COMMS END

[oleander-cup]

impossible - where she finds out she isn't impossible to love. // wc: 20k // pairing: kita x fem reader // content: panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, fighting, throwing things, atsumu is an asshole ex, healing, executive dysfunction, slow burn, self-worth issues, past toxic relationship, some lines can read as suggestive

She didn’t think she would end up here, on a sunny day holding a box with the words ‘his’ drawn on in a dying marker. Her hand tentatively reaches up and raps against the door with quick but loud knocks. Her teeth pull her lip between them and bite gently as they roll the flesh around. She can feel her heartbeat the closer the footsteps behind the door get to where she is. How did it get like this? When was she scared to visit this house? 

One that used to be her home. The door is the same, same peeling paint around the doorknob and the hinges. Same tilted window with the stickers on it to make it appear like stained glass on the inside. The door opens and a quick breath of air comes into her lungs, “oh, are we doing that today?” is all he says as he leans against the doorframe. 

“Yes,” the words escape her mouth and for some reason her eyes begin to sting. “Yes, we are doing this today, I don’t want to see these things anymore.” She hears the scoff before her eyes register the look on his face. Hurt. He doesn’t get to feel hurt. Not when this was all because of him anyway. 

“Didn’t realize my stuff was clouding up your apartment anyway. It is small though so I guess you needed space.” The jab doesn’t go unmissed. Yes, it’s a small apartment but it’s more than enough for herself and a guest. Not everyone has the salary of a pro-athlete and can afford their own home before the age of 22.  

“I did. I’m moving and didn’t want to take it with me.” She doesn’t miss the way his eyebrows furrow slightly and his body leans back as if jolted by electricity; within a moment all is back to his normal expression. 

“Moving?” He can’t seem to help himself once he starts, he knows he should bite his tongue to make sure he doesn’t regret anything more. “Too expensive to live in the city?” He prods with a laugh knowing it will hurt, but part of him wants it to. Wants it to hurt the way that he is.

“I don’t need reminders of you.” Her voice holds anger as she gets louder than before. The box gets shoved towards him. “Here-” her voice breaks slightly and she wants to hide herself away but tries to keep her brave face.

“What’s so bad about remembering me?” He scoffs and pushes the box back towards her as he takes a step away.

“Everything,” she sighs and sets the box down. “Look I’ll just leave-”

“No. You don’t get to just leave again.” There’s an anger in his voice that sounds more serious than before.

“I’m tired, Atsumu. I want to go home, I want to finish packing and I want to go to my new home.” She remarks as the energy is zapped from her voice.

“Please. Just so I can gather your things if you’re really going to leave.” He steps aside and despite herself and every voice in her head telling her how bad of an idea this is, she steps over the threshold and into the house that once felt like home. She sits on the couch riddled with lint and the throw pillow she remembers gifting him for Christmas their first year together. “Do you want a water or anything?” He sets his box down on the kitchen island. Her eyes lock onto the small divot in the wall from their last fight.

“No, I’m okay.” He walks away and being in the house is too much. Her memories assault her, good and bad. Her hands find solace in playing with the strings on the throw pillow. 

“You got me a pillow?” There’s an obvious hint of confusion in his voice as he looks at the brown pillow.

“I got us a pillow. Since I’m over here a lot more and your couch is…lackluster in the pillow department.” A laugh tumbles from her lips and then her head gets hit softly with a pillow. “Oh it is so on.” She rushes to get up from the couch but arms wrap around her and pull her back to his lap. 

“Where are you going sweetcheeks?” He smiles as his head nuzzles into her neck and he leaves a kiss there. 

“Well, you obviously declared a pillow fight.”

“Did I? I don’t remember doing such a thing.” He hits her on the head again with the pillow and she turns her face to look at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You just did it again!” 

Not everything about the relationship was awful. It’s just hard to look onto the past without getting sad. A barely there smile is on her face as Atsumu comes back. The box in hand. It’s messy and looks thrown together last minute, it feels like the pinnacle of their relationship. She can see that the clothes in the box were haphazardly thrown into it and the book is getting all bent from its position. The box doesn’t have a label and isn’t big enough to hold everything as the top remains open. “You’re crying.”

Since when did you care when I cry? The words almost slip past her lips but she composes herself. Her hand goes up to where she can feel the tear rolling over the hills of her face. Her eyes sting and her throat begins to close up, she clears it and stands up wiping imaginary dust from her pants. She wants to tell him vile things. Wants to yell at him again. But she knows that won’t do any good, so she takes the box from his arms and thanks him for his time before she makes her way toward the door. 

“Will you tell me why you were crying?” He almost pleads with her. “I don’t want you to leave my house crying again-” she almost complies, can feel words bubbling beneath the surface. “Don’t want the paparazzi to see and get the wrong message.” And there it is. What makes Atsumu, well, Atsumu. He will always push away feelings with poorly timed jokes and attitude. 

“If only– nope. I’m better than that.” She shuts her eyes and her face scrunches up as she takes a deep breath to attempt to calm herself down. “It’s always the same with you isn’t it. Too insecure to let everyone know that you can feel things.”

“Better than spewing my feelings everywhere like a bad sickness.” The walls feel as though they’re closing in on her. She can feel the hate in them and realizes why this house no longer felt like home. It’s too filled with hate, filled with words that never passed his lips in her company. Words only the wallpaper heard and held on to.

“You keep talking to the walls, Atsumu. I hope they keep better company than you.”

“Wait- that’s not what I–” He lifts his hand and for a brief moment she can feel herself flinch. Can feel her bones move and shrink in on themselves to make her smaller, to hide her away. “Gods, I wasn’t going to hit you. I’ve never hit you, why would I start now.”

“Your words have stung sharper than any hits I’ve taken,” her filter has disappeared. She can’t hold back the words anymore now that she doesn’t have the energy to keep them hidden in her mind. “You can’t do this Atsumu, you can’t say things you decide you don’t mean when you realize they hurt people and then apologize and act like everything is perfectly fine. Hell, you don’t even properly apologize Atsumu, you brush the problem off with gifts and hope I forget about it.”

“I tried my best, I tried my best for you. It’s not my fault I wasn’t good enough,” he shakes his head and furrows his brows. 

“It wasn’t that you weren’t good enough. Are you listening to the words I’m saying Atsumu?”

“I hate when you treat me like a child,” he mumbles under his breath but makes sure she can hear it.

“Well then don’t act like one.” She can feel the anger growing as her voice teeters on the edge of a shout.

“Maybe I wouldn’t act like a child if you didn’t treat me like one,” it’s a weak argument and he knows it as soon as it passes his lips but his mind is blinded with rage. He’s focused on proving himself right, everyone else be damned. 

“This is why we didn’t work out. You’re too hot headed and I’m too–”

“Our relationship didn’t work out because you asked too much of me without giving me anything in return Y/N.” 

“That’s not true and you know it.” She points her finger at him and they grow closer to each other. 

“Oh really.” He takes another step forward and crosses his arms as he looks down at her. 

“Tell me when this happened Atsumu,” she challenges and doesn’t back down as she steps closer to him. They are now pressed against each other; the thing keeping them apart is the box of her belongings; the room feels much smaller than it had moments prior.

“You were constantly nagging at me to talk to you but whenever you felt hurt you refused to talk to me. You went to your little friends to tell them what was happening instead of talking to me about it. Always wanting to feel like you’re right even when you’re not and instead of admitting it you gaslight people into thinking you were right.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have had to go to my friends to tell them what was wrong if you listened when I told you what was wrong.” She spits the words out like venom.

“Maybe I would have listened if you weren’t always going on about random nonsense. No one cares. No one cares about you or your feelings. You’ve always been impossible. I don’t know how I ever fell in love with you.”

“I’m not sure you did, Atsumu.” The statement brings a somberness that the words moments before didn’t hold. 

“No, you…” he sucks in air through his teeth. “You don’t get to tell me how I felt Y/N. You don’t get to come to my home and insult me. I loved you. I loved you so much I felt like I was burning inside, you were burning me. You with your fake promises and words, you were the one who pulled away from me. I could feel it in every sigh you took, in every step we walked when the distance was too far for my hand to brush against yours. I loved you.”

“I can tell you my perceptions of your feelings. I can tell you how it felt to not be loved by you. Burning you? That’s rich. Considering everything you touch seems to turn to cinder and ash. You are the fire Atsumu, you can keep people warm but you destroy them. I left because of you. You–”

“I loved you. I lov–”

“Stop this game. Stop it Atsumu, I can’t do this today.” Her eyes begin to sting again and her throat feels much tighter than before. The moths in her stomach fly around and she feels like she could throw up. 

“You’re the one who came here,” he mentions bitterly.

“I might be the one who came here but you left long before I did.”

“I was here. In what was going to be our home, I was here waiting for you.” She picks her head up as the hot tears roll over her cheeks and she can feel the salty taste in her mouth as she opens it.

“Waiting for me? Waiting for me?” She repeats the words twice before a wet laugh comes out of her and she throws her head back. “Atsumu, you have never waited for anyone in your life.”

“I waited for you. I slept in the same bed as you for months tossing and turning as the space between us grew bigger and before I knew it you were gone.”

“And how did that happen?” 

“Because you pulled away.”

“Because you pushed me away. I only left because I was pushed. I always loved you more than you loved me. You were too keen to hurt people and say it was love.” He’s silent now, can feel his words die on his tongue. The rage is still boiling under the surface, not hidden but not as active as it was before. He feels like he was doused with water, he feels like he should be drowning. Like he is drowning. The anger doesn’t fizzle out merely makes bubbles under the water. 

“I did love you.” It’s the same words he’s repeated over and over again tonight. 

“As I remember, that's not what you said when I left.” He can hardly remember what he said when she had packed up her things and left his home. He remembers that one moment she was here and the next she was gone. 

“I loved you,” he stays with his conviction. “You were the one who left for no good reason.”

“That’s not how I remember it.” 

There wasn’t a good reason for the fight, not a big one at least. An inciting incident, Atsumu had forgotten a date. “Are you almost…” her smile falls and the words fall from her mouth as she witnesses him sit in his chair with a soda in hand and a game on the TV. The answer to her question was no. He was not almost ready. 

He turns his head and looks at her outfit before he hears a whistle on the TV and his attention is promptly brought back to it. “You look nice, going somewhere?”

“Apparently not.” 

“What do you– oh come on ref. That was a terrible call! It was inside the lines and you know it.” He scoffs and takes a sip of his soda before remembering that he was talking to her. “What do you mean ‘not anymore’?” 

“You don’t remember?” She taps her jacket in her hand and draws her lips into a thin line. 

“Remember what?” She moves to stand in front of the TV and asks the question again.

“You don’t remember our plans today?” He rolls his eyes and shuts the TV off as she blocks his view. 

“We didn’t have plans today.”

“Look at your calendar,” she says almost defeated.

“Oh come on, you know I don’t check that stupid thing.”

“You were the one who put it there. Said you didn’t want to forget because you had a busy week.” He reaches over to the table to grab his phone and scrolls to the calendar app. He sighs when he looks at what the appointment was. A date. He had planned a date. And it was already fifteen minutes past the time he was supposed to get ready. He hadn’t heard his reminder go off to tell him to get ready.

He didn’t remember it going off. She had heard it go off though, she had heard it ring from the bedroom as she was doing her makeup. Her hopes were crushed when she heard the TV continue to play and he didn’t come into the room and kiss her, smudging her lipstick on his face in the process. 

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“This isn’t how I want to be loved Atsumu.” That gets him to stand up, he makes his way over to her. Anger evident in every step he takes, he puts his hand on her shoulder in an attempt of a calm motion but she swipes it off. “Please, don’t touch me right now.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Am I or do you just not care about me anymore.”

“I care about you, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t feel like you care about me Atsumu, you’re never home,” she crosses her arms.

“I have to travel because of volleyball, you know this.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. You never listen to me.”

“Then what am I doing right now?”

“Yelling. You’re not listening to me and you never have. You never talk about your feelings, you make me feel so small and unloved.”

“Well it’s not my fault you’re impossible to love.” It’s the final straw, they both know it. His hands are clenched in his hair and there’s a nasty sneer on his face as he spits the words at her. 

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try,” her voice trembles over the words but it’s clear that she tries to cover it with a cough. Her head finally moves away from him, no longer able to look into his honeyed eyes. The ones she loved so dearly, what drew her to him in the first place. He felt so warm, instead he burned too hot and now all she feels is cold.

“Y/N, that’s not what I–”

“Just stop while you’re ahead, Atsumu.” He feels frozen in place as he watches tears pour from her eyes as she heads towards the bedroom. He’s not sure what he should do, if he should stop her or help her or, or, or, he feels stuck. In a loop of ‘or’ a multiple choice quiz without a correct answer. When he blinks again she has a bag packed and is leaving the room.

“Don’t leave,” he pleads and reaches out for her. She can’t bring herself to look at him. She knows if she takes one look at those eyes that her walls will crumble and she might be convinced to stay. 

“I’m tired of staying for someone who is never here.”

“I’m here, I’m here now. I’ll listen. I’ll give you anything you want, I’ll take you to that restaurant that you’ve been dying to go to.”

“You’re not here Atsumu, and there you go again…if you had listened to me in the first place maybe things wouldn’t have gotten as twisted as they did. You can’t just throw money at all of your problems and hope they go away, you can’t treat me like a scandal that’s going to show up in the news tomorrow.” She opens the door and doesn't give him a second thought when she closes it behind her. 

It’s like a weight is lifted off of her shoulders, a cold chill that is thawing. She can’t look back because it hurts too much. Can’t look back because he’s there and she needs to move forward.

“You still don’t listen, you’re just the same boy you were when I left four months ago.”

“You’re still the same coward that ran away instead of fixing our problems.”

“If I’m a coward I shiver to think what that makes you.” She picks up the box, unsure of when she dropped it in the first place and opens the door. “For the next girl that you decide you need, try listening to her instead of hoping everything is fine because you bought her something.” In an all too familiar way she closes the door and lets her back rest against it for a moment. She has no reason to come back to this house, it feels more empty than it does cold. She’ll think of the throw pillow and the crooked window and of the man inside that she once loved. She’ll remember the good times along with the bad, but she won’t be coming back here again. 

She puts the box in her car along with her other ones and with one last look at the house as she pulls out she leaves. A breath escapes her as the house grows smaller the farther away she gets from it. It’s her last day in the city, she won’t have to think of it ever again. She’ll have her head in the clouds where he won’t be able to reach her anymore, where every uneven window doesn’t remind her of him and where she doesn’t have to see his face in every magazine, billboard, and fruit stand. She can be free of him.

She doesn’t turn the navigation on until she passes the town limit. She knows all of the curves and roads of the city. Remembers the corner street where she kissed him for the first time. 

Standing on the corner of the street she waited for the light to turn to red so she could walk. Only a few blocks and she could get home to him. Over her headphones she couldn’t hear the calls of her name, when arms wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her headphone out she jumped before the voice reached her. “Hi sweetcheeks,” she relaxes into the arms and turns to face him.

“And what are you doing here? Don’t you have practice?” She can’t hide the palpable excitement in her voice.

“Not today, I thought I would spend the day with you.” She doesn’t fully believe the sentence but hums. “Don’t believe me?” 

“No, you’re a serial liar.” 

“You wound me,” he puts his hand on his chest and makes a faux hurt expression. 

“Oh shut up,” the light turns red and allows for pedestrians to cross and she takes a step forward. He holds her hand to stop her from stepping forward more. “Atsumu, wha—“ 

“One second.” He leans down and places a swift kiss on her lips before he pulls her along. “Move your legs, let’s go home.” 

She remembers the magazines the next day had it plastered all over the front cover. Her lips quirk up slightly at the thought as she remembers his reaction. She covers her mouth as a small laugh escapes her lips. He had sounded so worried. So worried about her safety from the girls who took it too far, he had worried himself sick. 

All of the streets are filled with memories. They’re practically the foundation of the roads, paving the sidewalks, the bricks and glass of the buildings. He’s in everything this city has touched. Her shoulders finally fall from the tensed position they had found themselves in when her car passes the sign that says where the town limit is. 

She eagerly looks around at the scenery as she drives further into the countryside. Nothing reminds her of him. Everything is fresh and new. The air feels different. Feels lighter, freer. No more billboards with his face on them, or tilted windows, or felt ridden couches. She rolls down the window and lets the air hit her face. The wind stings as it hits her face, much colder out than it should be for her to roll down the window. But she feels as though she can breathe for the first time in four months. Hell, maybe the first time in the past year. The stinging reminds her that she’s still alive.

It takes her an hour to get to the location. It’s nothing too crazy, a simple townhouse. None of the windows are tilted or hold glass stickers to make it look like stained glass. The door is freshly painted, the paint holding firm against the hinges and doorknob. She turns the key into the lock and a bright smile creeps onto her face at the click it makes. She can’t help the sound of delight that escapes her mouth as she pushes the door open, it opens easily and doesn’t catch on the floor. 

“Home sweet home. My home.” She spins in a circle with a laugh coming from her mouth. After a few rotations she feels her head pound and stops before going to the car to gather the boxes. Anything that reminded her of him too much was thrown out. The only box that stays in the car is the only non-labeled box. 

The cupboards are new. Everything is new. The walls don’t hold anger or fear. Her pillows don’t hold tears of many nights of crying herself to sleep, the kitchen island doesn’t have a divot from a thrown plate. Her couch isn’t covered in lint, her throw pillows have designs and her posters are hanging around everywhere. She feels like a kid again. She doesn’t feel the weight of anxiety over the other shoe dropping. Doesn’t think about what could go wrong. For the first time in a long time, her brain is quiet. She focuses on unpacking and breaking down boxes and she does so with a wide smile on her face. 

— —- —- — —- —

The beeping of her alarm stirs her from her peaceful slumber, she turns over and picks the device up with a groan. Her eyes open and she remembers that she’s in her house and not her little apartment. She stops the alarm and rolls over onto her back. “It wasn’t a dream. This is really mine.” There’s a content smile on her face as she stares at the ceiling, her feet kick and she sits up. 

There’s an ache in her back and she recoils a little bit and puts her hands where it hurts to stretch. “Same back pain though.” She shakes her head and moves from the bed over to her closet before realizing that most of her interview clothes are still packed up. She doesn’t need to dress too fancy, it’s a position as a farm hand. They must really need help if she was considered for an interview. 

“It will be good for you, maybe it will help with your anger issues.” She tucks her button up into her slacks and after packing her lunch walks out the door. It’s not a long car ride only five minutes down the road. There’s a quaint house sitting at the top of the hill, it's painted blue with a white roof and shutters. The path is gravel and she’s a little worried about a rock flying up and hitting her windshield. 

As she gets closer she can see a man standing outside. He has a set of overalls on, they have splotches of dirt and mud caked around the hems of the legs. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up past his elbows and his arms are crossed over his chest. His face holds a calm, neutral expression. She steps out of the car and he gives her a small nod, she gives him a smile in return as she draws closer to him. 

“Are you Kita?” He nods and holds out his hand after taking his dirty work glove off. She reaches her own hand out, she notices that there are many calluses on his hands and that they’re rough from work.

“You must be L/N Y/N.” She nods with a smile and clasps her hands in front of her. “Will you tell me what position you’re here for, just so we’re both on the same page.”

“The ad said farm hand, I’m not entirely sure what that all entails but I’m eager to help.” 

“Okay, why don’t we find some gloves and overalls for you.”

“Did I get the job…?” She furrows her brows and tilts her head a little to the side.

“This is your interview.” She doesn’t know whether she enjoys how blunt and point blank he is or if it will be a nuisance. She supposes for this it was a good thing. He turns and starts walking a little past the blue house where a rickety looking shed lies. The wood on the sides are chipped and the door is ragged at the bottom. He opens the shed and hands her a pair of gloves. “These should fit,” he says as he hands over a pair of overalls. She nods and quickly puts them on over her other clothes. 

“So, what are—“

“We’ll st— sorry. Please, ask questions.” Kita quickly apologizes for cutting her off and motions for her to go on.

“Oh, thank you.” She clears her throat and takes a moment to think. “What exactly are the responsibilities of this position?” 

“It depends on the day. Nothing I wouldn’t do myself, so don’t be worried about having to do a job just because I don’t want to do it.” 

“Okay, well, where are we starting today?” 

“We need to check if the strawberries are done, then we wash and package them after we pick them. Some of the batches will be turned into jam. Have you ever made jam before?” He leads her towards the strawberry patch. “The only real way to tell is the taste.”

Just as she’s beginning to look around for what looks like a ripe strawberry he’s pointing one out and plucking it. “This one looks ready, see if it tastes ready.” He holds the berry out and when she turns her head her brows furrow and she gives him a look of confusion. “For you to taste.” Oh. It feels like her body shuts down, Kita pushes the berry against her lips, it tinges the skin a light shade of red and makes the surface shiny. Hesitantly she opens her mouth and takes a small bite. He tosses the rest of the berry into his own mouth with a hum. “Does it seem ripe to you?” 

Her skin feels too warm and her brain feels like it should have some sort of thought in it but the words get caught on the way out. She opens her mouth and closes it a few times, when he looks at her with confusion she just nods her head. “Yeah, yeah–” she clears her throat– “seems ripe to me.” 

“This row should be good to start picking then, sorry it’s a bit of a walk back to the house.” 

“It’s fine, it’s…nice out here.”

“Better than the hustle and bustle of the city?” The two of them fall into quiet conversation as they fill their baskets. She’s surprised as to how…comfortable it is– talking with him. The silence doesn’t cause her skin to crawl, doesn’t make her want words to tumble out of her mouth to fill the gaps. The silence is peaceful, a gentle breeze pushing pinwheels to spin. The walk back to the house isn’t as bad as he had said it would be, they don’t rush or take too long. It’s a comfortable stride, two baskets in their hands and content smiles on their faces.

The sorting takes them an hour as she has to stop and check with Kita when she’s not entirely sure whether to put a berry in the jam pile or the boxed pile. “I’m assuming we’re washing them first?” He nods and hands her the bowl they designated for ‘jam berries’ and starts to leave the kitchen.

“I’m getting the canning jars, just wash them off and I’ll be back with the ingredients.” He points down a hall and once he gets an approving nod from her that she doesn’t need help leaves the kitchen. When he returns the strawberries are on the island counter and he has a bag of sugar and a bowl of lemons in one arm and four canning jars in the other. “What we’re gonna do is mash those strawberries up, you can use a wooden spoon just fine.” He motions his head behind her and places the ingredients and jars on the counter.

She opens a few drawers before she finds the spoon and hands it to Kita but he shakes his head and pushes it back towards her. “Wash our hands and then we can mash them, why don’t you mash them and I’ll find a saucepan that’s big enough.” He walks behind her to open the oven, after deliberating for a few moments he finally decides on one he deems fit and sets it on top of the stove. She washes her hands and then starts mashing the berries with a spoon. “I sell these every two weeks during strawberry season at the local farmer’s market we have.”

“There’s a farmer’s market?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice, it’s happening this Friday if you want to go. It’s Friday, Saturday, Sunday so I’ll be gathering strawberries and making jam a majority of the week. Sorry it isn’t too exciting.”

“I’ll take it, I got the job,” she jokes and bumps him with her hip. He rolls his eyes and begins measuring out the sugar. “I would love to go, do you have your booth open the whole weekend?”

“Only Saturdays,” he answers and pulls a knife off of the holder on the wall to cut the lemons. “I like to look at the other stalls on Friday and then Sunday is making up for the work I missed Friday and Saturday. Shouldn’t be that bad now that I have some help.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she stirs the mixture around in the bowl. “Are these mashed enough?”

“Yeah, good timing. I just finished measuring everything. All we do now is put all of these into the pot and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Then, we wait for it to boil and put it in jars after a quick test. You just take a small spoonful and put it on a frozen plate, if it starts to gel after a few minutes then it’s ready.”

“This isn’t so bad, I thought this would be a lot worse.”

“Harvesting isn’t the best, it’s definitely tedious but I have good company.”

 “It seems I have good company too.”

When they finish canning the row of strawberries and bagging the rest the sun is setting past the horizon. Kita walks her to her car, a hand hovering over the small of her back as he walks beside her. For a brief moment the hand touches her back when she stops walking. He turns his own head to see what she’s looking at, “the sun,” she says. “I’m not used to being able to see it set, don’t usually get off work early enough to see it.” 

“Do you live around here?” She nods and points down the road.

“Just about five minutes that way.”

“Go to your backyard tonight. Put out a blanket and have a snack, I’ll take it you’ve never seen the stars without light pollution.” She shakes her head, still lost in thought as the sun disappears and the sky slowly turns to a gradient of blue. “It’s surreal to see for the first time. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ll let you know, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, more canning and making products for the farmers market. We should be good on jam, well for the market, we can make more afterwards. So I just need to make some pies, put rice in bags, and then check to see if the peach trees are doing well.”

“That seems like a packed day.”

“It’s just routine, see you around six?”

“I thought farm work started earlier…”

“It does, I don’t need you here until six though. I should be gathering the rice or close to finished by the time you get here.”

“I can get here earlier you know.”

“It’s your first real day, sleep in a little bit. We’ll start regular hours next week.” She hums but gets in her car, he holds the door open for her and leans down. His hands resting on top for support as he bends down. “You moved from the city, it’ll take you a bit to get used to all this.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” He stands up and closes her car door, she doesn’t see him start back inside until she gets out of the driveway and back down the hill. In the short ride back to her own home she can’t get the white haired farmer out of her mind. How warm his hand has felt on her back— a level of comfort she has not felt in years. 

 She’s hit with the fact that she left everything behind when she clicks open the lock of her home. This is real, she forgot all about her friends, all of the people she loved. Her hands hesitate as she touches the cold doorknob. Should she care more…? Those people were once her whole life, the happiness she felt in the world. An argument could be had for him as well if that was the case, he was once her happiness. He had taken it and tied it around her like a noose, making her choke on the love she once cherished. 

All thoughts disappear when her foot goes over the threshold, like fanning away at bits of dust and watching them dissipate. She shouldn’t think like that, Atsumu was no longer a part of her life. Hadn’t been for almost a year, they may have only been broken up for four months ago but he had left the relationship far earlier. 

She needs to unpack her boxes, she can feel them collecting dust even as they haven’t sat for very long. Her heart beats faster as her feet won’t move from the doorway, like they’re glued to the wooden panels, she slides down the door and sits on the ground. Her lungs feel like they’re closing in and her throat grows scratchy as her eyes sting. There must be something wrong with her, she went from happy to thinking about her boxes. She can’t seriously be crying over boxes can she? “That’s pathetic, even for you.”

There’s a buzz from her phone at that moment that stirs her from her thoughts. She can see the preview, see that it’s from Kita but she can’t find the energy to respond. She focuses on the words he says, anything to make her forget about the boxes that sit in the hall. Anything to stop her train of thought from continuing down the path it was starting to. 

– You did well today, thank you for being such a big help with the jam and harvesting. For Friday – If you are still wanting to go with me – I will need your address so I can pick you up. I like to arrive around 12, I would like to pick you up around 11 as it takes a little longer to get to the market and find parking. See you tomorrow at 6, thank you again for helping. - Kita

The words soothe her in a way she can’t explain. She wipes the tears away from her eyes and takes a deep breath. The boxes can wait, it’s not a life or death situation that needs to be resolved right away. It’s a task that she can wait to do. She’s probably just hungry, she tries to reason with herself. That’s the only reason for her outburst, just hunger and anxiety about being so far from what was once her home. One of the first things her eyes go to when she opens her fridge is a pink-y red fruit. A pomegranate.

She reaches for the fruit, not one she usually eats, and sets out a towel on a cutting board as she pulls a knife from the rack and sets the fruit down on the towel. With a decisive cut she splits the fruit in half and watches as it leaks red, sticky juice onto the fabric of her towel. With another cut she hears the small cracks of protest from the fruit before it’s split into fourths on her cutting board. In some sick twisted way this is helping her feel better but causing new trains of thought to fester in her mind. People think pomegranates are beautiful and love them despite the mess they make. How their nails get stained with red after getting to the seeds inside, how the juice sticks to them and stains their lips a deeper hue. Despite the mess, pomegranates are loved. 

“You’re impossible to love,” she thinks of that moment again. It feels like it should be tattooed on her. She’s impossible to love. She asks for too much and gives too little. Is her mess one people can’t clean up?  She wants to stain somebody's lips with her love, wants it to be in their skin like it’s in hers. And maybe that’s the problem. Her love is messy, impossible, people don’t want love that stains them. That lingers on their lips and hands. She wants someone to love her despite the mess she makes and still think of her as beautiful. 

As she takes the fruit out of the shell she wonders if anyone will treat her this carefully, if they’ll peel back the layers of her defenses to see what’s inside. Get to the root of her, if they would peel away the seeds of doubt. Gently let their fingers trace her skin and stain her as much as she stains them. Pick out the parts of her that hurt, see the bruises of her character and kiss over them with love and understanding. Take care in taking apart the things that cause others to give up, to love her despite the bruises or imperfections of her outer shell. 

As she eats the fruit she welcomes how it stains her skin, how it colors her lips and mouth. She welcomes the mess it creates and enjoys it still with her being. Someone will love her and the mess she makes, will take care in cleaning up the cuts and wounds that have appeared on her heart. Will wash away the stains of pain that have colored her skin. She washes the cutting board, and is careful to get as much of the stain out of the wood as possible. The knife is much easier to clean, as it usually is. The tool to break things is much easier to clean than the stains of the act, the tool is a simple swipe clean and is back to normal. She knows the rag and cutting board will never be the same, no matter how much she scrubs and washes them. They will be forever stained with the juice of her snack. The peel winds up in her compost bin, and the bowl housing the rest of the seeds is covered and placed back in the fridge.

Her nails will be stained for the next few days, a rose color, and she’ll feel the remnants on her teeth for weeks. Her body will remember what her words will not. What her eyes and mind will forget as new information washes over them. As she slips into bed for the night she thinks of a blonde who broke her heart and of a farmer who despite not knowing her was as gentle with her as a piece of glass. He didn’t treat her as breakable but in the little acts he did for her in the one day they had, he showed more care than she had grown accustomed to. Had dodged past her thorns and held the stem to guide and prune. He had been kind, in a world where so very few people were anymore.

She followed his instructions and took a blanket outside, a time when she really should not have been awake, and laid down on the grass of her backyard and gazed at the stars. She had heard some people didn’t like how insignificant they felt looking at stars but they comforted her in ways she’s not sure she will ever be able to explain with words. The thought that there are other people out there going through what she is going through made her feel less…less angry. The anger had continued to fester under the surface from the days prior, she’s not sure how the stars managed to soothe her, get rid of the boiling deep in her soul and replace it with gentle waves. She should thank Kita, she has the thought as she drinks water from her cup and she lays back down to look at the stars. Maybe she was a star in someone else’s universe, or maybe she could become the star of her own universe. That didn’t sound half bad. Live for herself, not others.

The remainder of the week was peaceful, no more nonsensical meltdowns, or thoughts that spun like a top out of control. She arrived half an hour earlier than Kita told her to each day; every day they ate breakfast together. She would see him about to walk out the door before hearing her car roll over the gravel of the driveway and watch as he stood in the doorway. Despite the shake of his head there was a barely concealed smile on his lips, and she would feel a matching one grow on her own face. “I told you to come at six,” was his reply every morning.

“If I came at six we wouldn’t be able to have breakfast like we are now.” She would say as she sat down in the wooden chairs of his dining room. She was beginning to grow accustomed to the way the home felt. It felt warm, comfortable. There wasn’t hate in the walls that made the house grow small, there was love and you could tell in everything inside the home. Pictures lined the muted brown walls of the living room when you entered the home. There was a brick fireplace right in the middle; spot free of leftover ash from cold winter nights. They would talk about everything and nothing while Kita made breakfast for them, insistent as he was that he did all the work. Somehow she would always help with the sides of the day like biscuits or hashbrowns. 

When Friday morning finally comes she sleeps in later than she has all week. She shoots up from her bed with a gasp when she realizes what time it is. As she is about to get out of the warm quilted comfort of her bed she remembers that they’re only going to the farmer’s market today. The day off every two weeks they both take. She sleeps for another two hours and stares at the ceiling for fifteen minutes before she tumbles out of her bed. Her leg gets stuck in the blankets and she falls to her knees on the hardwood flooring of her home. She rubs her knees as she rests her back against the frame of her bed before standing up with a pop as she stretches and picks out an outfit for the day. 

The hot heat of June causes her to choose a pair of shorts and a patterned t-shirt. The fabric is lightweight and comfortable. She opts to skip on makeup, she won’t be inside for the makeup to stop from melting off her face. She does however put on sunscreen, a protection from the harsh UV rays she’ll be in for at least a few hours. She’s grabbing her purse as Kita rings the doorbell. A smile appears on her face as she opens the door. Her eyes scan over him and her mouth drops open a bit at how nice he looks. Although the shirt is supposed to be loose it clings to his arms and chest before growing looser the further down it goes. His jeans look new and are cuffed so you can see the freshly cleaned boots he wears. The threading has faded with age, and dirt has found a permanent residence in the crevices of the footwear but it’s clear an effort was made to clean up if his brushed to the side hair has anything to say about it. 

She can’t help it as her hand reaches up and messes up the parting, roughing it up so it looks more closely to how it typically does. “You look nice today,” there’s a gentle lilt to her voice. It raises towards the end of the sentence and a gentle smile makes a home on her face. 

“You look nice too,” his cheeks are slightly reddened as he hovers his hand over the small of her back on the way to the car. A hand reaches around and opens her door for her and he feels his chest flutter at the smile that takes hold of her face. “It’s a little dusty, sorry I didn’t warn you earlier but considering what we do for work I didn’t think you would mind too much.” His hand rubs at the back of his neck.

“That’s fine, I kind of assumed it might be.” She gives him a thumbs up and he closes the door before walking around to the otherside of his truck. “What kind of CDs do you have in here?” She pops open the glove box and is greeted with various Garth Brooks, Johnny Cash, Dylan Gosset, Noah Kahan CDs, an extra pair of work gloves, and a singular copy of a Cigarettes After Sex album. “Hmm, not what I expected but I’m not disappointed at least,” she says as she lifts up the CD. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re not disappointed,” he chuckles and pulls out of her driveway and down the road towards the market. The ride to the market is filled with small talk. Mostly from Kita’s part, he feels like he wants to know everything about her. It’s a craving, to know her on a deeper level; one not so professional. When they get out of the car a layer of dust covers his boots and he curses mentally at the action. 

“Where to first?” He hates how cute he’s already finding her mannerisms, how she sways side to side when she asks the question. How her hold on her bag tightens slightly and she leans closer to him. His hand finds its normal spot hovering over the small of her back and the next words out of her mouth make him feel like he short circuits. “You can put your hand on my back, you know, I don’t mind.” Her own hand reaches back and moves his hand so it’s pressing against her. 

Her back grows warmer from the weight of his hand that’s now pressed against it, Kita takes an exhale and relaxes.  There wasn’t a need to be worried if she was okay, he was thinking too much into things. It was a simple friendly gesture, there to make sure she didn’t fall. “If we go in here,” he points towards the right of the outlet, “then we’ll be closer to the sweets.” He leans closer as he explains it to her, their faces almost touching. 

Her breath hitches lightly at the proximity before she clears her throat and shifts slightly. “Then we should start at the other end, that way if we get sweets that melt they’ll be in a better state when we get back.” She begins to turn her head but when her cheek brushes against his she jerks away slightly.

“I like the way you think,” she feels as the pressure from his firm hand on her back eases. As it presses just barely against her shirt instead of pressed flat against her back where she can feel the warmth of his hand. The warmth is barely a whisper now. A phantom warmth takes its place as goosebumps rise in a trail on her skin. “Let’s get to it while we still have daylight,” his hand touches her back for a second to urge her forward. Not in a demanding way, it rests against the fabric of her shirt and she almost wishes it was against her skin instead. 

She clears her throat again and steps forward, her teeth worry her lip as she tries not to think about his hand again. They walk side by side into the small marketplace, not one has said a word since they began moving. She’s not sure yet if it’s comfortable silence or the stuffy kind that contorts around you and forces its way into spaces between noise. That plugs your ears and makes you clear your throat more often than necessary, words getting caught before they can make their way out. 

“Do you want a drink?” The bubble pops. The small smile Kita offers her a light making its way through the fog of silence. 

“So forward,” she jokes and looks around at the stalls to see what he could be talking about. He shakes his head and no matter how faint the touch she feels his hand move down her back and his fingertips brush against her arm before linking gently with hers. She can’t help the shiver that races down her spine or the heat that fills her face. 

“Non-alcoholic beverages, they have good iced cider. We can go out on a different weekend for drinks.” He says it so calmly, like a usual occurrence for him. Maybe it is, all she can think about is the weight of his hand in hers and how nice it feels. How warm it is. She’s not sure how she’s able to stand it in the June heat, it crawls up her neck and makes her feel like her blood is boiling just beneath the surface. 

“Iced cider sounds so good right now,” she’s aware of her mess. How it spills around the edges, Kita seems to step around the areas that puddle and sink into the ground. As he gently moves with her to the shop she’s aware of words ringing in her ears but it feels like too much. They don’t quite reach her mind, don’t form sentences. Would he lift under her surface and dissect her mess? Would he place down a towel and not mind scrubbing the red from the fibers. 

Would the secrets leave her as easily as the seeds do when he takes care in unfolding her. In laying her down and making precise decisions on where to hold. Would he hold her gently? Cradle her against his chest, hold her like she’s precious, hold her like she’s lovable. Would he love— “—are you okay?” She feels a squeeze on her arm and feels the cool and rough texture of brick on her back. 

“What?” It’s only now does she realize her breathing is strained and her heart feels like it’s hammering in her chest. 

“Can I put my hand here?” He asks as he hovers a hand over her chest. When she nods she feels the steady pressure and he places one hand on his own chest. “Breathe with me.” She watches his chest rise and fall deeply a few times before following along with him. Slowly they slide to the ground and her head falls towards his shoulder. 

Neither say anything as people pass by, hoping they aren’t seen. Kita adjusts his body, covering her from the view of pedestrians taking a quick glance. She puts her hand over his own on her chest and her head slowly raises from his shoulder. There’s a frown tugging at his lips and despite his efforts to keep his face neutral she can see the concern swirling in his eyes. 

“I’m—“

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. It’s okay to feel things, we can sit here as long as you need to. It’s a nice shade from the sun,” he tries to move his hand away but she holds it tighter against her as her eyes squeeze shut. Read between the lines. Don’t make me say it. “I used to have pretty bad panic attacks when I was in high school.” Him? He seems so collected. 

He turns his hand over and holds hers again. The concrete of the market makes cracks as his shoes scrape against it and their sides lean against the brick. “Routine is what keeps me from falling off, from cracking. It’s not everything though, anxiety still happens. I have days where I feel off: days where no matter how hard I try I just can’t do anything, and the little voice in my brain tells me how dumb it is that I can’t do something I do all the time. You’re allowed to feel things, and don’t feel the need to explain yourself to me. I understand that we can’t always know why we feel a certain way.” 

“It’s my ex.” He nods but doesn’t push or ask for more information, just gently squeezes her hand. “He…he said some things that messed me up.” She watches as his brows furrow slightly before trying to return to a normal position. “Made…made me feel like a mess.” 

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something before licking his lips and closing his mouth again. Her head tilts as she tries to analyze his face, the hills and crevices, the smile lines by his mouth, the way his nose curves slightly to the left. “You’re not a mess, things can feel like one though. I know my words won’t solve your problems but…if you’d like I can help you with them.” 

“You don’t make me feel like a mess.” Her words feel worth it when she sees the dimple on his right cheek appear as a smile crosses his face. “You don’t have to help me, I can work through this on my own.” 

“But you don’t have to. I won’t push you, but it’s okay to ask for help.” He sees her twitch and start to slowly rise from the ground. He follows suit and when her hands loosen from his he lets go and allows his hands to drop to his sides. The pebbles scatter to the ground as they wipe off their pants. “We can leave if you would rather I drive you home.” It’s a way out, she doesn’t have to be here. Doesn’t have to dress fancy and pose pretty for cameras or important people. She can leave, they will leave when she wants to. 

“Let’s go get some of that cider you were talking about. I think I could use some of it.” She smiles at him and while the weight on her shoulders still forces her to bend down it’s a little lighter than it was moments ago. He accepted her mess and cleaned the red stains from the towel. He didn’t step around the mess or cause her to bleed more, he gently held her and allowed her to peel her own layers away. To open on her own.

 Her hand reaches over, he jolts slightly before offering his palm to her. Their hands link together, little care for the heat of the sun blazing down on them before the relief of cool air hits them inside one of the shops. There are very few words said for the rest of their time spent at the market, only small comments about the products up for sale; neither mention her panic attack from earlier and for that she is grateful. 

“This was nice, thank you Kita.” He nods as he helps her back into the truck and closes the door behind her. He hops in on his own side and starts the car. She opens the glovebox again and puts in a CD, she puts in the first one she grabs as she didn’t bother to look. It closes with a click and she turns back to face Kita.

“You can call me Shinsuke,” the last part is muffled as his hand covers his mouth. She can tell that he is clearly avoiding eye contact. “It’s only fair since I call you Y/N.” Her hand reaches over the console and taps his arm lightly, he glances at her for a moment before dropping his hand, she laces their fingers together again. 

“Okay, Shinsuke.” The name feels foreign on her lips but there’s an ever growing smile creeping onto her face at the sound of it. Shinsuke, she likes it. From the corner of her eye she can see his dimple appear on his cheek. Her chest grows warm and she turns her head to watch the rolling hills as they drive back to the farm. At some point her eyes must have closed because the next time that she opens them her head is rested against Kita’s chest and his arm is under her legs as he carries her to her door. “Hmmm?”

“Is your house key in your pocket?” She takes a few moments to process the words before nodding as she tries to get closer to him. He unlocks the door and carries her through with ease, she can hear him take a breath like he’s about to ask something but the words never come. She hears the small creaks of the floorboards as he passes over them, the clank of her keys falling into the ceramic bowl by the door. She hears the click of a door and the way the hinges squeak as it’s pushed open. Feels the comfort of her blankets and pillows as she’s tucked in. 

“Shinsuke,” she hears how his breath hitches at the sleepy call of his name. 

“Y/N,” the bed dips from the weight of him sitting on the very edge of it, his hand rests next to him and her eyes open slowly. She almost brings her hand out to hold his again but drowsiness takes hold of her and she struggles to keep her eyes open. She’s aware of the breathy chuckle that leaves Kita’s mouth and how he shifts closer to her. She could bask in this warmth the whole night. 

“Thank you for today,” her eyes flutter closed again and a soft breath escapes her lips as she feels a soft warmness on her forehead. She feels the warmth of Kita’s breath on her skin before a small chill takes its place as he sits back up. “I had a lot of fun.” She pulls the blankets closer to her to make up for the chill.

“Thank you for coming with me, I’ll take you anytime.” He rises from the bed and his boots clank lightly against the wooden panels of her bedroom floor. They pause briefly as he takes in a sharp inhale of breath. “And for the record…I don’t think you’re a mess. Good night Y/N,” the words don’t register until she hears the hum of a car and the rocks crunching under the tires as it pulls away and she’s left with the white noise of her room. 

The words are all she can think about for the rest of the week. All she can think about when they’re sticking jams and jellies onto shelves of their stall, when his hand brushes hers when getting cash from the drawer. I don’t think you’re a mess. That one sentence whispered like a prayer when she wasn’t even awake enough to respond. The words feel like they still hang in her room, dangling from her door like lights and casting a glow on her every time she enters. 

A light touch on her back brings her to the present, her head whipping to face Kita whose expression is laced with concern, his brows are furrowed and his teeth are worrying a spot on his lip. “Are you okay?” The words are whispered as he leans closer and she swears she can feel his breath dancing on her ear. She nods but refuses to open her mouth, the words will surely jumble the minute they are released from their confinement. She sticks to her practiced script, one she’s gotten used to over the weeks Kita has taken her to the farmer’s market and allowed her to work the counter on days he opens the shop. 

She’s not sure when the touches stopped hesitating and their gazes started lingering on each other. When whole sentences were paused in favor of tracing the structure of the other’s face. They never speak of it, how they grow closer to each other before snapping back to reality and acting like nothing ever happened. When the older women who visit to buy jams and breads ask if they’re a couple, wonder how long they’ve been together. She always shrugs it off with a laugh and tells them their total, how she’s not ready for a relationship. She sees Kita’s expression falter in these moments but can’t bring herself to think of why. She can’t imagine a world where someone like Kita loves her, where anyone loves her. 

When the September chill hits the air she’s grown used to Kita leaving her to attend the shop once a month, the responsibility reminds her of how far she’s come. Twice a month, he’ll haul bags of rice into the bed of his truck and she’ll watch him clamber inside of the vehicle and hear the crunching of the rocks as he drives away down the hill. Part of her thinks Kita doesn’t take her on these trips into the city because of words spilled over in states of panic. The only other day Kita makes deliveries he gives her the day off. An “appreciation for her hard work” as he called it.  A weird sense of protection to stop her from spilling over again. In a way she appreciates it, it’s been 8 months since her relationship with Atsumu ended, maybe it’s time to try and brave the city. See his face on billboards and magazines, maybe she can do it as long as Kita is there. 

She enjoys her time in her home all the same. It’s come a long way since she first moved in, there’s a new coat of paint on the walls of her home, and new light switch covers. Pictures hanging up from her time in high school, it’s weird to think about. How she never tried to get in contact with those people again, the ones that were so important to her once. Her favorite part however had been her crafts room. Where paintings littered the walls and paper was scattered on the floor, where bins of ribbon sat neatly stacked but messily put away. It was something she never had energy for before she moved, the quiet simplicities of having time on her hands. She almost wants to thank Atsumu for being such an asshole, if he had been perfect she never would have gotten the chance to live how she does now. She shakes her head as the thought passes, there’s no point in thinking of ‘what ifs’ it only hurts more.

When he returns she’s counting the drawer, she pauses when she hears the creak of the door as it opens. She looks up for a moment to give him a smile, he gives her a nod in return. He makes his way around the counter, flipping the wooden flap up and placing it gently on the table as he slides an envelope towards her. She finishes counting the cash from the drawer and places it into the envelope, she adds the total from the drawer below the total already written on the paper. “Hey Shinsuke?” he hums in response and turns to face her. He leans against the back counter and crosses his arms. “Can I go with you next time you go out for deliveries?” There’s silence for a few moments, like he’s carefully calculating his next words. 

“I don’t have a problem with it. Missing the city?” He smiles slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just the thing with my ex, I think I’m finally ready to go back to where it ended. The next step in healing,” the words feel freeing as she says them. She hasn’t talked about it with anyone except for the few brief moments where Kita had to calm her down.

“Did he mess you up that bad?” He pushes off the counter and rests a hand on her shoulder. 

“Compared to some horror stories I’ve seen it’s nothing, I’m probably just being dramatic.” She sighs and looks away, her shoulders slump and his hand falls off her shoulder. There’s a small frown on his face as he moves his hand to cradle her cheek, his thumb rubs gently against her cheek and he rests his forehead against hers.

“It’s not nothing if it hurts you. Sometimes what we perceive as the smallest things actually affect us the most. The smallest breeze sometimes knocks over the biggest tree.” That gets a small laugh out of her although her hand reaches up quickly to cover her mouth. “There’s that smile,” she makes a point of forcing a frown on her face. Whenever Kita is with her it feels like she’s safe, she grows warm and the walls she carefully built start to crumble. “How about we finally go get that drink?” His voice lilts up towards the end of his question, it’s amazing how a few short months away will completely change a person. He lifts his head from hers, hand still gently holding her face. 

“I think I would like that.” They silently help each other clean up the rest of the shop and Kita closes the door behind them. With a click the door locks and they make their way to his truck. “Should either of us be driving?”

“I said a drink, not drunk.” He lets out a small laugh and turns on the car. She’s grown familiar with the hills and valleys that make up the country side, finds comfort in their gentle rolls. She rolls her eyes and places her chin in the palm of her hand as her elbow rests on the window. She watches as the hills roll, the birds fly, and the sun begins to lower itself over the hills. The day is ending, it’s ending and she finds herself starting to feel okay about it because tomorrow the sun will rise again and the day will start anew. She will still be okay tomorrow. Soon she won’t have to say she’ll be okay, she’ll just be okay. It won’t be much of a challenge with Kita around, the comfort he brings her is already unmatched.

When they make it to the bar it’s not overly packed, there are a few patrons lining the counter and a few sitting at tables spread out across the room. The music is playing a little louder than it maybe should be but it’s not overly annoying. Kita’s hand rests against her back as he leads her to a table, the warmth of his hand is a comfort she’s grown used to over the months that she’s known him. If it weren’t for him she wouldn’t be as happy as she is now, a smile unknowingly creeps onto her face. Kita’s hand holds hers as she sits down in the booth and slides to sit in the middle of the cushioned seat. He chooses to sit across from her, arms folded on the table and fingers lightly tap tap tapping the smooth vinyl surface of the table. 

She reaches for a menu at the end of the table, near the condiments, and starts flipping open the pages. She lays it flat on the table as her eyes scan the words and prices. “Come here often?” It’s meant as a genuine question but sounds more like a bad pick-up line. She cringes lightly at herself when his eyes flicker over to her and a teasing smile appears on his face. 

“Why do you want to know? Hoping to see me more?” He lifts one arm from the table and rests his head in the palm of his hand as he turns his head to look away from her. Before she gets a chance to respond the waiter comes over to their table and takes his book from his apron. He clears his throat before asking about drinks. “I’ll have a whiskey sour.” Both of them turn their heads to Y/N as she lifts her head from looking at the menu. 

“Morgan and sprite please.” He nods his head and goes over to the bar to put their orders in. She turns her head back to Kita. “Whiskey huh?” 

“My drink of choice, this is gonna sound so funny.” He covers his face with his hands as a laugh escapes his lips. “My grandma was a big whiskey drinker so now I guess it rubbed off on me.” He peeks through his fingers at her and she can see the smile sneaking out from where his hands don’t quite meet in the middle. 

“That is funny, but sweet in a way?” Their waiter sets their drinks down and questions them about food. They order skewers, there’s a breath of silence as he walks away. Kita plucks the chery from his drink and she doesn’t think much of it, her gaze traveling down to his lips before jolting back up to his eyes. Not what she should be thinking about, this is just a friendly drink. A drink after work with friends, don’t think about how soft his lips look or how– “So, how was delivering today?” She can only hope he didn’t notice where she was looking, or at least not mention where she was looking out of politeness. 

He chews on the steam lightly as he comes up with an answer, “same old, same old. Nothing too exciting but it is nice to catch up with a few people.” She’s about to respond when she notices the stem disappears into his mouth and she’s thinking about it again. His lips look so soft, what would it be like to kiss them? She blinks herself out of her trance when she notices Kita looking at her. He sticks his tongue out a little bit and she sees the tied cherry stem sitting in the center. She blinks a few more times and turns her head to look out the window of their booth.

“What?” He asks calmly and plucks the stem from his mouth to set it gently on a napkin and take a sip of his drink. “Your drink will get warm if you don’t drink it anytime soon,” he teases as he sets his back down. She tentatively picks up her glass and takes a sip before also setting hers back on the napkin. There’s movement from one of his hands as his fingers run along the edges of the glass. She notices his own eyes shifting down, is he looking at her lips? She can’t do this, it’s too much. No, she’s worked hard for this. She takes a deep breath and tries not to think too hard about how he’s looking at her, like he wants to kiss her. She doesn’t have to think about it for too long as their food gets delivered. The plate is placed in the middle of the table and the two of them share the skewers. His tongue flicks out to lick over the expanse of his lips and she passes it off as being for the food. Their waiter sets the check down on the table and walks away with a nod. 

Quiet conversation passes between them as they eat their food and nurse their drinks. Slow drinks and even slower bites taken to draw their time out together even more. “So..wait,” she manages to squeeze between laughs. “He tried to play even though he was sick, and he hit his head with the ball trying to serve because he sneezed?” She covers her mouth with her hand as she laughs at the story Kita was telling her. 

“Yes, he was very irresponsible, still is if his brother has anything to say about it.” He splits the last skewer with her, it’s not as warm as it was a few moments ago. “I had to force him to go home, oh my. Atsumu was so upset about it. Whined the whole way to the locker room to change.” She can feel her stomach drop at the mention of his name. She really should be more over it than she is. Eight months over and she still recoils at the slightest mention of his name. He has managed to infiltrate even the place she thought of herself as the safest from his influence. Kita…knew him, knows him. What would he say if he knew that Atsumu was her ex, would she lose her newfound home? “Are you okay?” His voice is quiet as he reaches his hand across the table, a silent invitation. She can see his face fall when she shakes her head and refuses his hand. He leaves it there even after her refusal, just in case. 

“I..” She starts but hesitates. The words get stuck in her throat, they cling to the walls and hold on stubbornly. Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to force them to come out. She looks back down at his hand and she closes her eyes as she sets her hand in his. She feels a light squeeze on her hand and she wants to open her eyes to look at him. To memorize his face in case this all goes tumbling down, but she can’t bring herself to muster the strength of opening her eyes. With another squeeze of her hand she manages to open her eyes and lift her head to face Kita. “I don’t know how to explain it without pushing you away.”

“Pushing me away? What do you mean?” He sounds concerned but doesn’t look away from her, eyes scanning her face trying to uncover the secrets. For once, she doesn’t think she wants him to carefully peel back her walls and see what’s happening beyond the surface. She wants to stay blissfully ignorant of what he believes, of what he’ll think of her. 

“This sounds much more dramatic than I wanted it to be,” she sighs and brings hand up to her forehead as she shakes her head. “Are you still friends with…him?”

“Who?”

“Atsumu.” It’s the first time she’s said his name in months but it still burns like acid against her lips. Her mouth curls around the familiar name with disgust as her nose crinkles slightly. She hopes she never has to say Kita’s name in the same regard she says Atsumu’s, never has to have it laced with sadness and doubt. Unsure of herself and the world around her. 

“Yes, is that what this is about? Do you know him?” She can feel her throat tighten a little and she looks down at their hands, he’s not accusing her. His thumb is rubbing gentle circles on the back of her hand, this shouldn’t be as big a deal as she’s making it. So what if he’s friends with her ex? Her ex she broke up with 8 months ago, she should be over it. It shouldn’t– “Hey, Y/N? I don’t care one way or another if you know him or not, I care more about if you’re okay.” His voice is soft but genuine as he speaks, she feels another gentle squeeze of her hand as he continues to hold it. Hold her. Kita does what he has done for the past four months, keep her steady and not let her run away. 

“I do know him.” The start of an admission. She feels guilty, she shouldn’t feel guilty but the thought of him still makes her uneasy. “He was my ex,” she takes a deep breath. She can feel the pause from Kita but doesn’t feel him pull away, instead his hand grips hers tighter and she can hear the sharp intake of breath like he’s about to say something. “You don’t have to say anything, I know he’s your friend. It’s really not that big of a deal, I should really be over it by now. It’s been what, I don’t know eight months, I really should be over it. I mean, I am over it. I am.” 

“It’s okay to not be over it you know? You don’t have to convince anyone, most of all yourself, that you need to be over him. Just take things slowly.”

“But I should be over it. I don’t know why I’m still so caught up over it, I’m the one who left him.” She reaches for her now empty glass in the hopes that maybe it refilled itself between when she first got it and now. It hasn’t. 

“Just because you’re the one who left doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you as much as if he was the one who left.” His thumb is rubbing circles on her hand again. A poor attempt at soothing her because it just makes her think about how he knows Atsumu, he knows him and is friends with him. She might’ve just ruined their friendship. She’s ruining everything again. “You’re allowed to grieve things, even if you never had them. From what you’ve told me you haven’t had time to actually feel the end of the relationship. You immediately tried to fix everything and get as far away from it as you felt you could. Excuse me for being…brash, but we’ve been friends for a little bit and I want to see you finally feel good about yourself again.” 

“How do we do that?” 

“First, let’s get you home. We can go to my house if you want. I can make you a snack and you don’t have to worry about going anywhere.” 

“That actually…sounds kinda nice.” He lets go of her hand and she shivers from how cold her hand feels now. She gets up from the table and relaxes when she feels his hand on her back again. Kita is a relaxing presence she hadn’t expected herself to get used to as quickly as she has. There’s times when she’s in the comfort of her home but it feels slightly off when she walks around and doesn’t feel the pressure of a hand on her back or see tufts of white hair peeking around a corner. She likes the constant that is Kita, he does the same thing day in and day out. He has a set schedule, he doesn’t falter from the image of him that she has in her mind. He’s expected. He helps her into his truck again, the beverage he had having long worn off. 

The drive back to his home feels shorter than the drive to the bar, maybe it’s his hand holding hers or the gentle hum of the truck but she feels more relaxed than she did earlier. She’s grown familiar with the scenery when they get closer to the farm, the gentle hills and the roads becoming a bit harsher the further out they get from the city. “Wait here,” his voice rolls out above the hum of the engine before it’s turned off. Her hands play with the rough material of the seatbelt before she hears the click of the car door opening. His hands reach over and unbuckle her seatbelt and he holds out a hand to her, tentatively she takes it and accepts the help as she gets out of the truck. His arms wrap around her when her feet reach the ground, her arms hesitate for a moment before wrapping around him. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“For sharing even though you were scared,” she’s not sure why the statement makes tears well in her eyes but he must see them because he hugs her tighter. “I’m so sorry he made you feel like that, I’m glad you still feel comfortable with me.”

“I’m not sure you could make me feel uncomfortable, Shinsuke.” She can feel his shoulders relax and when she starts to pull away so does he. His hand finds her again as they walk inside. She looks around before sitting on his couch, his grey throw pillows fitting nicely with the warm grey of the couch. Her eyes follow him as he makes his way towards the kitchen, there’s a small island that separates the living room and the kitchen, she sees him open the fridge and the red fruit is familiar to her. She watches him grab a knife from the holder. Is he making her pomegranate?

She moves from the couch to sit at the island. Get a closer look at what’s going on, how his hands carefully hold the fruit, cradle it, and how his knife gently cuts the top off and peels it back carefully from the seeds inside. His hands don’t get covered in the juices, how each move is precise as he cuts down the sides and opens it up like a flower. Without a mess the seeds fall out of their casing and into a bowl, with a small smile he looks up at her before washing the seeds off in the sink and pushing the bowl over to her as he throws away the peel and washes his hands. 

“You didn’t make a mess.”

“The pomegranate was ripe. You only get a mess when you force it to open before it's ripe.” He says it so simply as he leans against the counter on the opposite side of her. “Do you like to paint?”

“I’ve only done it a few times.” He nods and she pushes the bowl back over to him, he packages them up and puts it back in the fridge. “Do you paint?”

“Not a lot, if I need to take my mind off something and I’ve already completed the farm work for the day then I will.”

“You can talk to me, I talk to you about my problems enough.”

“I’ll talk to you next time.” He walks around the island and over to her, he gently grabs her hand and they head back over to the couch.  His arm is wrapped around her shoulder and she moves so her head is on his chest. She’s not aware of falling asleep, unsure of if Kita also fell asleep until she feels the gentle breaths underneath her head. She knows it’s early in the morning, can feel the sun just grazing her arm. The prickle of the day hitting her eyes, there’s a blanket over them that wasn’t there before. Her arm reaches up and lightly grazes over Kita’s face, her fingertips barely tapping his skin. There’s a coldness to his face that she wasn’t prepared for as she brings her hand away, she wonders if her face is just as cold. Her hand touches her nose and she shakes her head when she feels the chill from being exposed to the air.

She’s not surprised to see his eyelashes flutter against his cheek a few minutes after she wakes up. She knows it’s later than he usually gets up, knows it’s partly her fault that he’s getting a late start to his day. “Good morning,” his voice is deep and it’s soft as it’s whispered out delicately from his lips. He closes his eyes again for a moment before they open halfway, his arm resting on the top half of the couch and his head is using his hand as a rest. “Did you sleep okay?” His other hand rubs up and down her arm gently, she can’t help but lean closer to him and the warmth he provides. 

“Better than I have in a while,” she says mid yawn and stretches. Her shirt lifts up slightly at the bottom and she notices his eyes flicker for just a moment before returning to lock with hers. She moves her head to rest against the couch, it strains her eyes a little to look at him in the light and figures he can’t be doing much better. “We should get up.”

“We should,” he agrees but doesn’t make a motion to move from the couch. He lifts his head and drops his hand to move a stray piece of hair from her face. “I never get up this late, I must have been out.” He gives her a small smile and she can see his eyes flicker down to her mouth for a moment before returning, she blames it on the movement of her smile drawing his eyes. 

“Must have,” her smile grows into a grin when he cups her cheek and his thumb makes small circles on the surface. The static whir of the ceiling fan fills the quiet moments, doesn’t let the silence really feel silent. She can hear his breath hitching when she leans close to him and swears she can feel his heart beat faster when she turns her head and presses a paper light kiss against his palm. The motions stop and but the world doesn’t feel like it’s come crashing down, she can feel the motions of his chest moving before she hears the laughter fly from his mouth. “What? What’s funny?” Despite herself, the feeling of doubt doesn’t come. She can only feel the warmth of the sun and the warmth of him.

“That tickled.” 

“You’re ticklish?” She smiles and sits up, he can see where it’s going and tries to block her attacks to no avail. He breaks out in a fit of giggles, his back ends up against the cushions of the couch and she straddles his hips and enjoys the laughter that ensues from her onslaught. 

“Please, mercy…” he says breathlessly and she smiles and stops her attack. His chest heaves up and down quickly as he tries to catch his breath, he puts his weight on his elbows to sit up and it’s only then that she realizes how close their faces are.  She can feel his breath on her skin as their smiles slowly drop from their faces. Their noses bump each other but she finds she doesn’t mind the sensation of his skin on hers. His hands rest lightly on her hips and she can almost feel his lips brushing against hers. “…sorry,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away from her and oh how she wishes he would have closed the distance instead of lengthening it. 

Would his lips taste like strawberries, like the chapstick he uses that she got for him as a birthday gift. Would they taste of honey; of a nectar so sweet she couldn’t even comprehend the taste. She moves to tuck a piece of hair that fell from behind her ear but Kita’s hand is already gently brushing the hair away from her face. She can feel goosebumps rise on her body and she wants to grab him by the neck and close the distance herself. She needs to know what his lips taste like, if they’re as soft as they look. If they’ll lock with hers like a puzzle piece. 

She shifts to move off of him but a soft grip of her waist stops her before she can get too far. “We should really work, we’ve spent a lot of time dilly dallying.” 

“Can we stay like this…just a little longer?” And she finds herself agreeing. He looks at her in a way that makes her believe she hung the stars in the sky just for him. Maybe, if she had more power the stars in the sky would be hung for him. 

“Okay.”

The honey slides its way slowly to the bottom of the jar. Only a few more. “So what do you typically do in the winter?”

“I take care of the garden in my greenhouse, sell some of the goods from it,” he smiles at her and puts his hand on her back to move past her; he reaches into the cabinet to grab a few more lids.

“No off season for you?”

“I like my routine.”

“It seems like you’ve been straying further and further from it since you met me,” she smiles at him and he can’t help but let out a small laugh and agree with her first. 

“Get back to pouring the honey, try not to spill anymore on your hand,” he teases and his eyes flicker to her hand before he moves past her again and she looks down. She sets down the container of honey and goes to the sink to wash it off, his soap smells of chamomile and lily, after a quick rinse she grabs a towel and cleans the outside of the jar. 

“It’s not my fault, you distracted me.” She rolls her eyes and kicks his foot lightly with her own. He turns his head to look at her and shakes his head. “What? Don’t you have honey to be pouring?” 

She finishes screwing on the last lid and places the neatly labeled jar with the others in a wooden crate. “It’s a little crazy to me that it’s almost the end of the year,” she quickly glances over at him as he lifts the crate. She can see his arms fighting against the long sleeves of his sweater, he turns to her as he picks it off the table. “I would never have seen myself here in a year. If you asked me last year well, she would’ve thought…” there’s a  moment of pause and they both know who she was going to bring up. “Thank you Kita,” she wipes her hands nervously on her apron; he had gotten her one of her own to have around the house. It’s a light grey and has a small embroidered flower pattern along the bottom, it hangs up next to his apron and she notices how domestic it all seems. 

“Shinsuke.”

“What?”

“You can call me Shinsuke.” 

“Oh, right,” she places a palm on her forehead and takes a deep breath. “Thank you Shinsuke.”

“You can talk about him,” she can hear the sink running as he speaks. “It might help you…I won’t push you of course though,” she hears the faucet squeak as she finally turns around. Her back hits the wall with a sigh and she shakes her head as she looks towards the ground.

“It wasn’t all bad, sometimes it was nice. I just…I didn’t feel loved after a while.” She sees his shoes come into her vision and she lifts her head. “I can’t speak for him, I know I wasn’t perfect either. I broke my fair share of plates,” she laughs quietly. “Our first kiss was nice.” He tilts his head and there’s a somber expression residing in his features. “He had gotten out of practice early, or skipped, something you know. He stopped me at a crosswalk and told me he wanted to kiss me…it was really sweet no matter how annoyed I acted. I wish the next day hadn’t ruined it.”

“What happened?”

“Oh you know how it is, the paparazzi got a photo of us kissing and it was all over the front cover. We didn’t go on many dates after that, to protect me from the really crazy fangirls is what he said at least.”

“The…so. The paparazzi just happened upon you two kissing on a random street corner,” he doesn’t say it like a question. 

“It is weird huh,” she doesn’t want to know where he’s going. “Please don’t tell me the truth. I don’t want the happy memories I do have to be…lost.” Kita nods and closes his lips in a tight laced smile. “It’s getting late,” she clears her throat and pushes herself off of the wall and towards the living room. He follows her to the door and watches as she steps over the threshold, she rubs her arms and he turns to the closet near the door. 

“I don’t want you to get cold,” he says simply as he hands her one of his corduroy jackets; the jacket's fur lining is soft to the touch and despite some darker patches on the elbows it looks in good condition. 

“Thank you Shinsuke.”

“It’s no problem.”

She returns to the familiar house she’s started calling her own home. When she opens the door she’s met with the sight of the curtains pulled back to let light in and easels with blank canvases rested on them. “What’s all this?” She smiles as she points towards the easels. 

“I thought we would take the day off. I didn’t like how things yesterday ended. So, I remembered telling you I like to paint when I’m upset about something…I thought maybe it would help you feel better too.” He finishes wiping off the brushes and puts them on a towel and places the towel on the coffee table in the living room.

“That’s…kinda cute actually.” She follows after him and sits down at one of the easels. “I don’t know where to start.” She picks up one of the brushes before twirling it between her fingers. She rolls it back and forth. She feels his warmth against her back and feels his hand wrapping around hers. He guides her hand to one of the colors spread out on the palette. 

“Just, paint whatever,” he says gently as he guides her hand to make smooth strokes over the canvas. When she starts to get more confident in her movements he gently starts removing his hand from hers. She turns her head to look at him and after a moment of eye contact decides she’ll finally talk.

“Will you keep helping?”

“Whatever you need.” His hand holds hers again but instead of guiding her strokes it’s like she’s guiding him. His other hand is resting gently on her shoulder and if she listens closely she wonders if she could hear his heartbeat…or is that her heartbeat thumping in her ears. When her hand stops moving she’s surprised at what she was able to create. It’s not something that outdoes the Mona Lisa by any means but it’s clear to see what it is. An ocean landscape with bits of coral, some of it bleached and some healthy. It makes her think of herself…maybe this was more healing than she had originally given Kita credit for. He smiles when he takes in the whole picture. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s rudimentary at best, and I had you to help me.”

“It’s not bad, you’re too harsh on yourself. I really like how you did the water, very…flowy? Is that a word?” They both let out a small laugh at that. They start to clean up the mess they (she) made. There’s a small stain of blue paint on the coffee table as it wouldn’t come off. Kita told her he didn’t mind and that it could do with some color. 

“I feel bad, you didn’t get to paint.”

“This wasn’t about me, this was about you. I told you I would try and help you feel better about yourself and the grieving process. I’m sorry it took me this long to get to it.” He puts the supplies back in his room down the hall. When he returns he motions for them to both sit on the sofa so she follows suit.

“In a weird way, it did make me feel better. I can’t explain it but it feels like I’m thinking clearer now?”

“I’m glad I was able to help, or I suppose. I’m happy the pain was able to help.”

“No, I think it was more you than the paint. I think you're helping me.”

“You need to be able to rely on yourself too.”

“I do, but it’s like you told me. Asking for help isn’t a bad thing. So, I asked for help and I actually feel better.” There’s silence for a second as both sit and think of the words they said.

“You listened to me?”

“Yeah? You were helping me, why would I not listen to you Shinsuke?”

“I don’t know…I’m just really glad I was able to help you.”

By the end of the day she’s pulling the corduroy jacket she took last time back over herself and heading for the door. She looks over her shoulder at him as she leaves and calls out to him.

“Shinsuke?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m over him. It’s the love I’m mourning, not the person.” Before he can answer she turns on her heel and towards her car. 

On his next delivery run she tags along, she’s gotten used to the soft leather of the seats of his truck. Of the middle seat being where the console would otherwise be. Little bits of hair fall from their spot behind her ear from the vents of the truck. Kita notices and looks over at her for a moment. “Is your hair bothering you?”

“A little?”

“Glove box.” She looks at him confused for a moment before popping open the compartment and finding a new pack of hair ties and bobby pins sitting neatly. “I…I noticed your hair falls from behind your ears a lot so I figured I should keep some in our car for convenience.”

“Thank you Shinsuke.” 

They pull up past familiar billboards, ads she hadn’t seen since her move. She finds they don’t sting quite like they used to when she was looking out the window of her apartment. She doesn’t miss the apartment; as hard as moving had been. The hand that’s held in her hand confirms that for her. The car rolls to a stop outside of a familiar establishment. Onigiri Miya, she thinks she’s okay with going in there now. She carries a sack of rice over her shoulder and Kita grabs the other two, the clipboard clamped between his hand and the sack of rice. He gives her a look and with a reassuring smile from her the two walk inside the building. It hadn’t changed much since the last time she had seen it, the floor still wooden and the booths still padded. There were a few pictures hanging around and a new award set up on one of the shelves. 

“Y/N,” the voice is familiar and the remembrance of the friendship she lost comes back to her. “What are you doing here?” She turns and Osamu takes the bag of rice from her despite her complaint. 

“I’m working,” she gives him a smile. He’s not sure the last time he saw a smile quite as bright on her face. “I moved out to the countryside, fate has it I found an old friend of yours.” 

“Osamu,” Kita nods and steps a little closer to Y/N. “How’s it going?”

“Good, you two can stay for a quick lunch or dinner if you want. The rush just got over so there are plenty of tables open.” 

“Thank you,” She holds her hands open but Osamu shakes his head and starts heading towards the back. Once the bags are put away and the papers are signed the three of them lean against the counters. Osamu on the expo counter and Y/N and Kita on the counter across from him. “Long time.”

“I thought for sure I would never see you again after my brother…well you know what he did better than I do obviously…” there’s a pause and Osamu looks around awkwardly before scratching the back of his neck. “You look nice. Happy.”

“I am.” And she finds that she’s not lying. She is happy, happy that her life seems to be normal again, happy she found Kita or did he find her? She finds that she’s happy that she found this job to begin with…she feels alive. Kita’s pinkie finger lightly taps hers and she can’t help the smile that appears on her face as she tries to bite it away. Osamu smiles a little as he notices their hands as their pinkies interlock with each other.

“I’m happy for you…stay for a snack at least.”

“If she’s okay with it.” Kita looks towards Y/N and she nods her head. Osamu leads them to an empty table and takes their order himself. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he says and slips away back to the kitchen. He shakes his head with a smile when he notices how in love the two look. It’s not a hard thing to see. They practically yell it out to everyone with the little touches and glances. He hears the squeak of the back door open and his head whips around to see a familiar mop of blonde hair. 

“Hey ‘Sa-” and he’s seen it. Atsumu should’ve gotten out later than this, that’s why he didn’t feel bad about asking them to stay. “Practice got out early.” he hates how small his brother’s voice sounds, despite the falling out and things he’s heard Atsumu is still his brother at the end of the day.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” His eyes are locked on Y/N as she talks excitedly to Kita about something. She radiates pure…joy. His line of sight is broken when Osamu notices and shifts to the side slightly. He swallows and tries to get it to leave his mind. “She never looked at me like that.” He clears his throat and turns around so his back is facing Osamu now. His hands rest on the cool metal of the table and there’s quiet chatter of the few patrons inside the shop talking with each other. 

Osamu sighs and shakes his hand through his hair. He puts the towel from over his shoulder into his apron and leads Atsumu further away from the expo counter. He slips the apron off and closes the door to his office. “She did ‘Tsumu.”

“Did what?”

“She did look at you like that…it was you who wasn’t looking.” Part of him knows Osamu is right but it doesn’t make the pain subside as his chest stings. Osamu opens his arms and he doesn’t hesitate to throw himself at his brother. Tears don’t fall from his eyes in a quick manner, the soothing circles on his back helping to keep him grounded. “I’m sorry ‘Tsumu.”

“It’s okay…” for the first time since she left. It hurts; hurts in a way he didn’t anticipate. More than words the two of them ever shared. “I’m okay.”

“You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I was the reason it ended in the first place ‘Samu.” Osamu finds he doesn’t have a reply, not one that will provide any real comfort at least. “Is it bad that I still might love her? In my own fucked up way.”

“You’re not fucked up,” Osamu pulls away to look his brother in the face. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself dumbass, you’re going to help me finish the orders for the day.” It’s a distraction and they both know it. Who would have thought that his heart would break this much after so long apart. He gives Atsumu an apron and they silently return to the counter to finish off the orders for the day. “You can still love her, just don’t…’Tsumu she’s not yours anymore.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” He shapes the rice slower than usual and can see Atsumu pause his chopping. “I know you mean well…it’s okay to still love someone even after they leave you. She’s happy now, sitting out there with Kita. ‘Tsumu, she’s happier than I've seen her in a long time.”

“She’s not mine,” he mumbles under his breath and closes his eyes again as he sets the knife down. The tears start to slowly fall from his eyes, they’re hot and wet as they roll down his cheeks. “I let her go,” his voice teeters on the edge of breaking. “Man, these onions are really getting to me.”

“It’s okay to move on.” Atsumu sniffles and steps away from the counter to get a paper towel. He dries his eyes and nose and returns with freshly washed hands and a new set of gloves. They prep in silence for the rest of the night; even long after Y/N and Kita leave.

Kita and Y/N take a detour and wind up at a park. She questions the decision until Kita puts both of their hands in his pocket. He helps her balance as she walks along the plastic railing of the playground. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here.” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them she sees the swings; they’re rusted and could do with new mats under them but they’re the same as she remembers. With a small laugh she pulls them over to the swingset.

“Slow down,” he chuckles quietly as she pulls them to the swings, they trip slightly over the mulch in their pursuit.

“Maybe, you should hurry up.” She turns her head to look at him over her shoulder and he swears his heart skips a beat. He’s slightly out of breath when they make it over and sit down. They swing softly so as to not go too high and not hear each other anymore. “I’m glad I came back here with you. I’m glad I met you. I don’t think I could have done all this without you.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he bumps her shoulder lightly. “I was just here to give you a job.”

It’s her turn to bump him. “Now who's selling themselves short? You did so much more than that.” She stops and turns to face him better and he mirrors her. “You make me feel safe.”

“You make me feel safe too,” they find themselves leaning closer to each other. “Your eyes are beautiful when they shine like this..” it’s a whisper almost lost to the wind and she can feel her breath hitch.

“Shine like what?” She tries to keep her composure but fails as her eyes flicker to his lips.

“Like the stars,” his hand moves from holding the cold chain to cupping her cheek. Despite the initial chill she doesn’t mind his cold hand holding her cheek. He closes the distance and she doesn’t have time to process it before he’s pulling away. “Oh my goodness, I’m so-”

“Kita Shinsuke. If you don’t shut up and let me finally kiss you we’re going to have problems,” she says breathlessly and puts a hand on the back of his neck and pulls his lips back to hers. When they connect again it’s more than she thought it would be. His lips are soft, and they do taste of strawberry and honey. They taste of comfort and warmth, and something so inexplicable to him that she couldn’t picture a better taste in the world. She feels the wind chill and follows after Kita as he pulls away. “Why did you pull away?”

“It’s snowing,” he whispers against her lips. 

“Is it?”

“Yes, there’s bits stuck in your hair.” His hand goes up and smooths over her hair, taking the snow with it. She smiles and tilts her head back as the powdery snow falls from the clouds and she hopes the superstition is true.

 “Do you think the superstition is true?” She asks, she could picture a lifetime with him. It’s one of the easiest things she thinks she’s ever had to imagine. He’s so wonderful that loving him feels easy and she hopes that feeling doesn’t go away. She doesn’t want there to ever be a day that she stops loving Kita Shinsuke. She wants to still love him when his face grows smile lines and crow's feet, when there are sunspots coating his cheeks and shoulders. She wants him for as long as he will have her and she can only hope it’s for as long as she wants to have him.

“I sure hope so. I would love to spend a lifetime with you.” Her grin grows and she pushes herself back towards him and presses their lips against each other again. She can feel him smile into the kiss and she tangles her hands in his hair before having to pull away to sneeze. “Bless you,” he smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Thank you.”

“Let’s get you home before you catch a cold.” He helps her up and wraps his arm around her shoulder as they make their way back to his truck. When they arrive at his home he gives her a change of clothes and they sit on the couch watching movies before eventually going to his room and sleeping. His home was beginning to feel a bit more like it was their home, she had a spare key (a courtesy he had given her a few months after she started working for him). His closet space was overtaken by her clothes as her own closet began to dwindle, she knew he kept hair ties in the nightstand on the left side because that’s the side she always chose to sleep on. The layout of the house is as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She’s sure she could navigate it in the dark having been over so often. 

She’s happy there wasn’t a big moment of realization that she had fallen in love with Kita, it was less of a fall and more a gentle downhill stroll. One they took hand in hand every step of the way. The night she had first moved in it had rained and she remembers the day so clearly. It was one of those summer rain storms but on a cool night. She made Kita turn the porch lights on and grabbed his hand as she dragged him outside. He protested but there wasn’t anything to do to hide the pure joy on both of their faces. She taught him a simple box step and laughed whenever he would accidentally step on the toes of her shoes. His favorite part was spinning her, he got to see her laugh and smile as she spun around under the stream of water. Their clothes were well beyond soaked at this point and it was hard to convince her to go back inside. He almost didn’t want to.

She also remembers when they both got sick and had to take care of each other while doing their farmwork. That hadn’t been fun but waking up every morning seeing his face and ending every night safely held in his arms is fun. She doesn’t believe she will ever tire of the sight if she’s honest. Of how his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks before his eyes open. Or the dimple that appears when he smiles after she kisses his cheek. The quiet breaths have almost lulled her back to sleep a few times, Kita was so safe that it was hard to ever find a reason to leave his arms. Luckily for her he was never too far away. 

When the leaves change color they visit a shelter, she had noticed there were a few rodents on the farm (since she had moved into his home. Her little home no longer felt the same if he wasn’t with her). It had come up one day as they were looking over the finances. “We should get a farm cat.”

Kita takes a sip of his coffee before replying, “why?”

“I think we could use one.” 

“Whatever you want darling,” there’s a hint of a smile barely visible behind the rim of his mug as he takes another drink. It had taken them two more weeks to finally make the move, after one too many texts from Y/N with ads for adoptable cats near them he finally gave in. They make the drive out to a shelter and Kita pretends to be unfazed until Y/N puts a Siberian cat in his arms and she immediately starts purring. 

“Look! She likes you!” The cat twists and turns in his arms and makes biscuits in the air and he can’t help but fall in love. “Her name is Emi,” beautiful blessing. While he’s holding the purring cat in his arms he can’ help but think how fitting the name is, her coat is soft and a mixture of lighter and darker tones of brown. Her eyes are a shade of green that reminds him of emeralds. “Please Shin?”

“Alright.” It doesn’t take much convincing and if he’s being honest it was a yes as soon as the cat was put in his arms. She does well in the home and does even better at keeping the farm pest free. Kita can’t help himself when he goes to the pet store and sees a silk collar with a bow on it, he leaves the store with a bag of food (needed) and the brand new collar for Emi (...also needed). 

As the leaves turn into shades of oranges, yellows, and reds as they fall off the trees they find that Emi loves jumping into the leaves and then running back to you for you to rake them again. Although it could get a bit much if it had been a long day it does brighten their mood and they rake the leaves for her to jump in again. As the wind whistles quietly by them Kita and Y/N lay in their newly bought hammock. It sits in the place opposite their bench swing on the back porch. Kita likes laying in the hammock as he reads because he knows it means that a sleepy girlfriend– fiance comes wandering out and joins him by laying her head on his chest. A few minutes later the flap on the door hits against the wood and Emi jumps up to join them, finding her place in a spot between them and purrs loudly. 

“Shin, I love you…thank you.”

“I love you too darling, why are you thanking me?”

“Before you…before you I thought I was impossible to love,” she whispers and hears the soft thump as he closes his book and the shuffle of fabric as he turns to look at her. He leans his head down and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead and without moving too far responds.

“I don’t think anyone has ever actually tried. Loving you is easier than breathing.” She can’t help the flutter in her chest or the smile that always seems to grow on her face around him. “You’re perfect, and I love you. It’s impossible not to love you.”

“I think it’s pretty impossible not to love you too,” She tilts her head up and they share a gentle kiss. He opens his book again and moves it down so she’s able to read along with him.

“Let me know when you’re ready for me to turn the page,” he says gently as he lays his cheek against the top of her head. She realized that someone had finally seen through her mess. He had seen her fall apart and break more than once and he had stayed. He helped her as she opened up to him when she was ready, everything was on her time and if she hadn’t been ready to share anything nothing more was said on the topic until she brought it up. She found herself eating more pomegranate knowing him, there was never a mess and he would kiss her lips after she ate the seeds. She hoped it would stain his lips too, that there would be a reminder that they are stained together. That his nails would turn a pink hue from peeling back the skin to get to what’s inside. 

When the old ladies came into the shop she no longer dodged questions about their relationship and Kita was more than happy to step in and answer. She hit him on the shoulder when he got too sappy but the second he wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek to apologize she realizes she’s not actually mad. Someone let her open up and reveal the mess inside, he hadn’t said anything, had only grabbed a towel and helped her clean up whatever mess she felt like that day. He was forever stained with the color of her and she hoped he always would be. She finally understood why people thought pomegranates were beautiful. After all Kita Shinsuke was beautiful and she is worth the mess.

a/n: this is a repost from my old account but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway <3 want to be added to my taglist? you can find the form here

masterlist

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

He wonders if, had he had a taste of friendship with all those things before returning to his reality, if he would feel quieter, and lonelier, and more sad, now that he wasn’t friends with them.

The answer is probably yes.

Wilbur tries not to think about this very often; it just makes him hungry for all the things he’ll never have. An insatiable hunger.

Wilbur wonders if Phil ever feels like this.

~~~

Finally, Wilbur settles on something, because he taps the screen once before lowering his hands, keeping hold of the phone and letting a song play from it.

Guitar. That’s what starts this song off.

Tommy tilts his head. He’s never heard this before. It’s a new song to him.

But it’s… pretty. As far as the first bit goes, at least; all gentle guitar and soft singing, all that. It sounds like something Ghostbur would like.

And then the chorus comes around, and Tommy’s eyes widen a little bit as the lyrics hit his ears.

“Jesus, my heart, your home. Jesus.”

Tommy flicks his gaze to Wilbur, inquisitive.

Wilbur gazes back, even and calm.

The song continues playing, and after a few seconds, Tommy turns his attention back to it. He’s paying more attention to the lyrics now.

“I will sing for you, all my days. Always quick to give you praise. When I was in sin, you saved my soul. No greater love will I ever know.”

“Do you go to church?” Tommy asks, because he couldn’t keep the question inside his chest any longer.

“No,” Wilbur answers, quick but sure. “Not really, no. I don’t even believe in most of the things this song talks about.”

“Oh. Then…” Tommy furrows his brow. “Then why do you listen to it?”

The song turns loud, strong guitar strums and almost yell-y singing, and Wilbur turns thoughtful, tilting his head ever so slightly as he looks off into the distance.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

The song keeps playing.

~~~

“You tried to revive Wilbur,” Ghostbur said, hoping that the king would understand what so few seemed to. “You tried to kill me."

~~~

Wilbur hums, and with a quick prayer to whoever is listening, Niki starts to drive.

~~~

Ranboo’s heart drops. Oh no.

“Hey, hey, um… W-Wilbur? What… what uh, what’s wrong?” Ranboo hurriedly kneels down, as close to Wilbur as he dares.

~~~

(Another one for heart because I wanted to share :)

No. Everything is warm and hazy, drifting in and out of focus with each beat of his heart—a heart which, as far as Wilbur can tell, is slow, lazy, irregular. Irregular. A wobbling spotlight that shines in the wrong places, doesn’t follow the cues.

~~~

“Hello!”

Wilbur blinks, peering up from his phone to see Ghostbur walking into the kitchen, blinking the sleepiness from his eyes. “Hey. I got, um…” He gestures vaguely to the island. “McDonald’s.”

“McDonald’s,” Ghostbur repeats, sounding inquisitive and amazed at the same time.

Wilbur blinks.

Ghostbur comes to a stop in front of the island, looking around at the paper bags filled with breakfast food. He blinks hard, as if trying to will away any leftover wisps of unconsciousness. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had McDonald’s.”

~~~

“You can sleep after this,” Tommy assures, hovering in case the cup spills from Ghostbur’s hands. “Just- make sure you drink enough, y’know. I don’t want you getting diehydrated or anything.”

Ghostbur doesn’t smile at Tommy’s joke, and Tommy suddenly feels lonely. Which is weird, because Ghostbur is right here. He’s not lonely.

His heart just gave a proper pang though, didn’t it?

“You’re not ever yourself after doctor visits,” Tommy says softly, watching as Ghostbur sips at the straw with nearly-closed eyes.

~~~

(Couldn’t find one for gentleness so I went with gentle instead!)

He hopes that his voice sounds gentle. He wonders if it’s possible to bend his voice in such a way that sounds gentle.

~~~

When they get inside, the song isn’t finished, so they stay in the living room and Ghostbur sways the both of them back and forth, back and forth, all the way until they finish na-na-na-na-ing. It doesn’t matter that they can’t see very well, with all the lights off; they know they’re both here. They can hear each other. Tommy can feel the soft wool of Ghostbur’s sweater sleeves.

They finish the last lyric, and for a few seconds, the whole house is quiet.

Ghostbur leans forward, pressing a kiss onto Tommy’s head. Tommy blinks as he pulls back.

Ghostbur smiles. “I think of you whenever I hear that song."

Tommy doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

As they both lay in bed, facing each other, Tommy moves a little closer than usual. Ghostbur keeps his eyes closed, but he rubs his thumb along Tommy’s arm until they both fall asleep, and that makes Tommy feel better.

When Tommy wakes up, the first thing he does is check to make sure Ghostbur’s still here. He is.

Ghostbur’s thumb is still resting against Tommy’s arm.

Tommy moves a little bit closer, and he falls back asleep.

~~~

“You could’ve been trying to pull a prank on me, or a joke.”

Wilbur’s heart twinges, just a bit. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Ghostbur says nothing.

“I’ll help you, alright?” Wilbur takes a step closer, water sloshing up his legs. “I’ll make sure nothing… bad happens, or anything.”

Ghostbur finally looks up, meeting Wilbur’s eyes. He looks skeptical.

Wilbur raises his brows. “Promise. Y’know, we’ll be like… we’ll be like brothers, right? This is the sort of thing brothers do!”

Ghostbur tilts his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

“Look, I don’t wanna stay out here all day, man. Just try it. Look, you suck in a breath and hold it, so your body stays buoyant. See?” Wilbur breathes in to demonstrate, but Ghostbur wrinkles his nose.

“I know how to hold my breath.”

“Then do it, man! Come on!” Wilbur gestures at the water, grinning. “I’ll make sure you don’t sink. I’ll grab you if things go south, alright?”

Ghostbur looks at the water again, nodding after a few moments. “Okay.”

“It’s just fl-“ Wilbur cuts himself off, eyes widening with surprise as Ghostbur lowers himself down and takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

And Ghostbur freaking floats. He lays there in the water with his eyes shut and his freaking shirt on and he floats. He barely even moves, actually; just floats there, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

For a minute, he stays like that, and for a minute, Wilbur stares, not quite sure how to react to this.

I didn’t know he was going to do it that quickly.

After a minute, Ghostbur blinks his eyes open, quickly widening them as he tries to right himself.

“You’re fine,” Wilbur assures, stepping forward and letting Ghostbur cling to his arm and get pulled up. “See? Right here, just like I said.”

Ghostbur says absolutely nothing, squeezing Wilbur’s arm with both hands and breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead in a dark mess.

Wilbur realizes that his own hair probably looks the same.

“You did it, man.” Wilbur laughs, because there’s really nothing else to do. “You floated! Y’know? And I didn’t even have to do anything! Man, are you sure you don’t know how to swim? I’m being serious. Because that was fantastic, right there.”

Ghostbur stares at his hands, wrapped around Wilbur’s arm, and then he slowly brings his gaze upward, until they meet his brother’s. His eyes are wide. “That water is cold!”

Wilbur laughs again, louder. His feet nearly trip over themselves, but he manages to stay upright and not fall into the river. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“And… I floated.”

Wilbur smiles. “I suppose you did.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur glances at the water again, eyes dancing. He looks back to his hands, holding onto Wilbur, and blinks. He pulls his hands away. “I think I hurt you.”

Wilbur looks down, noticing how his skin is white where Ghostbur had held onto it. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“That might bruise.”

“It won’t.”

“I was just a little nervous.”

“I know. But you floated anyway.” Wilbur raises his brows. “Yeah?”

Ghostbur looses a breath through his mouth, nodding. “Yeah. I did, I did.”

Then he brightens. “Oh. I really did, didn’t I?”

“Heck yeah, man.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur slowly runs his fingers through the river, creating small waves. He smiles—a flickering sort of thing. “I did. I did.”

Wilbur grins. His arm probably will bruise—Ghostbur has a hard grip, man—but he can’t bring himself to care. He doesn’t care.

There’s birds chirping everywhere.

~~~

He glances at the window, watching orange light bleed through the closed blinds. Is it too early? He planned to do it tonight, after the sun set and the world grew cold.

But there’s nothing else to do.

Wilbur huffs a laugh that sounds more like a sickness. Might as well. The timing won’t change anything; it’s inevitable either way.

He grunts as he rises to his feet, wandering towards his dresser. The slivers of sunlight that worm their way between the blinds cast lines on the wall. Wilbur blocks them with his shadow.

~~~

“But,” Tommy continues, dipping a fry into some ketchup. “This makes it better.”

“What does?”

“Food. Five Guys. Even you.” He holds up the ketchup-dipped fry, waving it about with a glint in his eye. “I love salt!”

Wilbur huffs a smile, gazing at the table.

~~~

(Another one for love just because)

Ghostbur smiles, huffing quietly to himself. Tommy is very funny. He does such strange things. Ghostbur loves him more than he loves anything else.

~~~

(Annnnd another one)

Niki shakes her head. “My bakery is gone.”

“Wh… gone?”

“I burned it.”

He stops walking, and some of the leaves go quiet.

Niki walks ahead of him. After a second or two, she hears leaves again.

“Oh. Okay!” He comes up alongside her, and he’s taller than her, because he’s always been taller than her. “That seems like a strange thing to do to something you love. Why did you burn it?”

[yourlocaloser]

Something about Viktor and Jayce waking up and cuddling in bed idk. I was sleep deprived and finished this at 6am in the morning after being up all night. So that’s why the lighting doesn’t make the most sense.

[ewwww-what]

friendship so strong it grants you a sixth level spell slot. I have words to say.

[lazorbeanz]

I love chao races sonamy your honor

[shima-draws]

Kodaka finally did it he finally got me to fall head over heels in love with an absolutely unhinged insane character. Didn’t get me with Nagito didn’t get me with Kokichi but he sure fucking got me with Eito!!

There he is!! My pretty little princess who has every single mental illness!! I’m obsessed with him!!!

[tindove]

God I’ll be more eloquent tomorrow i swear.

Or when finals are done anyway. So I can rewatch and make a few meta posts, mostly, because I really wanna have thoughts but my brain is to tired right now.

But I just wanna say how much I fucking loved dead boy detectives. Like that was such a genuinely good time. I was delighted—even through the sadder bits—it was just so fucking fun. That’s the main thing I keep getting hung up on, it was just such a joy to watch.

Highly recommend it, seriously, normally don’t binge but I just watched all of it with the best company so that always makes it even better.

I just really really really loved it and I know what I’m going to be recommending people nonstop for the next while so I can share that adoration lol.

[hopecomesbacktolife]

thinking of rereading the entirety of HoME again. for my health

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

very very self indulgent doodle of my blorbinos, the marshmallow gang 🤍

in the wise words of me from the past: