#It’s one of those things where I’m like “nobody really gets it the same way I do” so sometimes I fear I come across a bit odd

[skhardwarevers1]

"#Sorry for. Dumping about how much I’m in love with lights and stars it’s on brand for me (literally wrote about it)"

Never apologize for being passionate about something. :) 💚💚💚💚💚💖💖💙💙💙

eueueheghh thanskdkd

sometimes I get a little worried I’m obsessing a little too hard (esp when it comes to my beloved stars and lights) sooo thanks for the reassurance :D <33

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 || joel miller x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 || joel wasn't looking for a follower, or a protégé, or an employee— whatever you're supposed to be— when he saved some dumbass kid from a couple runners. but he ended up with you anyways, and you swore to always be faithful to him... in every way.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 || 9.2k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 || smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, very slight dacryphilia kinda?, a touch of degradation and dumbification in there, and virginity loss with some pain and one mention of blood), heavy age gap (not specified but the reader is absolutely an adult), insecure crybaby reader, unrequited love/pining, reader wants to fuck joel so bad it makes her look stupid (and we love that for her cause same), angst, tess getting kinda screwed over but only because it's absolutely necessary for the plot, emotionally repressed joel, mention of reader's parents being deceased (implied to be infected)

this fic does not contain spoilers for anything but minor details from episode one!

They were doing that thing again— where they talked in front of you, as if you weren’t there.

“So we make the run tonight,” Tess decided, standing while Joel sat on the worn-out sofa with his hands clasped and his elbows resting on his knees.  “We should be back by four, that’s when the FEDRA boys have their shift change, so we can avoid too much risk of getting caught.”

“What should I do?” you piped up.  They both looked at you with that oh yeah, she’s here glare and Tess sighed; she didn’t try very hard to hide her frustration with you, but at the same time, she was actually nice to you when she was in a good mood (which was rare).  Joel was less mean but also less nice— he stayed steady in his neutral-to-mildly-irritated state, and you figured if he wanted you to fuck off, he would’ve said so (probably in those exact words, too).

At the same time, they both instructed you flatly: “Keep watch.”

You sighed, shoulders sinking.  “Again?  Can’t I at least—?”

“You’re safer here,” Joel insisted.

“Yeah, and your gun is safer in the box under the bed, but it’s not gonna do shit to protect you if you never take it out,” you countered.

Tess scoffed.  “And what are you gonna do to protect us?”

“I wasn’t,” you admitted.  “You know I’m a great shot, but I wasn’t gonna try to shoot anybody.  I’m quieter than both of you.  I can get in and out better— and nobody’s looking for me.  Everybody knows you’re smuggling—”

“Not everybody,” Joel defended himself in a mumble.

“ — so if I do get caught, I can probably get out of a search,” you bargained.

“And what are you gonna do to get out of a search?” Tess smirked.  “Bat your eyelashes?”

That did sting, but you rolled your eyes and hoped you had effectively looked like it didn’t affect you at all.  “If implying that I’m pretty enough to get out of a search is supposed to be an insult, I can’t wait to hear one of your compliments, Tess,” you replied— but your voice was soft and almost shaky, not as confident as the comeback merited.  That summarized you pretty well: you had the will to be tough, but when it was time to really go for it, your body failed you and your hands got shaky and your eyes watered.  Almost anything could make you cry, Tess had already made fun of you for it; Joel just seemed to get really uncomfortable when you started crying, but you always did your best to hide it from him.  It just didn’t usually work.

Your whole face probably lit up when you caught Joel’s suppressed smile— did he think your joke was funny?  He hadn’t been smiling when Tess made fun of you, so it had to be what you said— or maybe he was thinking of something he would say if he cared enough to say it, some comment about how you could do more than that to get out of being searched.  He didn’t seem the type to make comments like that, but he was well aware what guards might let (or make) a girl do to avoid punishment.

“Whatever,” Tess decided, shaking her head, “you’re not coming with us, that’s the point.”

“Joel gets a say, too!” you blurted out.  “You can’t just pick for him that I’m not coming, he has to—”

“You’ll stay here,” he interrupted.  So much for getting Joel to let you go— you thought maybe he would side with you, for once.  Deflating, you nodded, and they stopped paying attention to you at the same time that you stopped paying attention to them.

Your mind wandered in times like this, when they were talking and it was clear that it didn’t concern you; Tess said once that you had an ‘overactive imagination’, but she hadn’t said it in a really mean way (like she said most things).  You didn’t want Joel to think that you were always daydreaming, but you couldn’t help it sometimes— you really just hoped that he didn’t know he was the subject of so many of your thoughts.

Truth was, he’d caught your eye long before he even knew you existed.  You’d seen him around, doing all those odd jobs he did to make ends meet, and thought he was… well, handsome, but not just that.  Mysterious.  Intimidating, though he didn’t exactly intimidate you— okay, he did, but not like he did everybody else.  He intimidated others because they were afraid he would hurt them; he intimidated you because you kind of wanted him to hurt you.  Not, you know, bad, just… maybe a hand around the neck or pinning you to a wall or something?

It wasn’t in spite of your inexperience that you had thoughts like that— it was because of it; you had been lonely for a long, long time, and maybe it was just fantasy, but you always wanted someone like Joel.  You wanted someone to take care of you, protect you.  You were just guessing that he was capable of that, but he proved it when you met for the first time.

It wasn’t exactly a meet-cute, or even just a pleasant way to meet; you were short on rations, because you’d given most of yours away to Mrs. Davis who was too old and weak now to earn any extra for herself, and someone offered to pay you ten if you snuck something they could sell out of the old mall in the QZ… well, that went about as poorly as anyone would’ve expected.

You asked Joel what he was doing there, after he’d saved you from the runners, but he refused to tell you.  Either way, it was the best luck you ever had that he showed up and fought them off.  For a moment, he’d held you close to him as he pulled you away from the Infected; you wished, later, that you hadn’t been too terrified to appreciate that.

Ever since, you’d sworn yourself to him— in more ways than one, but he only knew about the main one: you wanted to assist him however you could, figuring after he saved your life that you should dedicate it to his service.  Well, Joel had never been interested in your assistance, or anything else about you.  It was actually Tess' idea to let you stay: "if she wants to help, let her do it for free," she whispered to Joel, and he shrugged, and he did.  That was how it ended up like this: you were the squeaky, wobbly third wheel of Joel and Tess’ operation, more often than not doing the least important work if not filling your time with essentially goose-chase tasks they invented to keep you occupied.  Keep watch and listen to the radio were your biggest assignments; just wait here was another common one, when they were too lazy to call it one of the other two.

Tess left a little while later, and Joel laid down on the sofa.  You broke away from your thoughts and tried to make yourself useful— you got up to rinse the dishes, humming a random tune to yourself as you worked.  You were already back inside your head, wondering if you should tell Joel it was a song you’d heard on his radio and had stuck in your head ever since.  Probably not worth it; it usually didn’t go well when you tried to talk about things like that.  Joel and Tess talked about before a lot— well, it wasn't that often, because it wasn't very productive to talk about it.  But they talked about it occasionally and you never had anything to say.  Once, you tried to weigh in: they were reminiscing on concerts before the outbreak, bands and artists they remembered, and you chirped about how "I read about that in a book once!"

They both glared at you, and you didn't say anything else.  But you didn’t take it too personally, they just didn’t want to feel old— but you didn’t think either of them were old!  These days, old wasn’t a matter of years, it was really just about usefulness— like poor Mrs. Davis, she was old, she couldn’t do much for herself anymore— and they were both… actually, they were both significantly more useful than you.  That made you sad.  But at least Joel had helped you get better with guns— not that he ever let you carry one. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Joel broke the silence as you washed his favorite mug.

“I know,” you said back, voice light and chipper.  “You don’t have to.”

You felt his eyes linger on you for a moment after that, but he didn’t say anything else.

~

Though they had decided already that you weren’t joining them on the run, you ended up there— mostly by happenstance— when Joel and Tess met with the buyer who wanted half of what they managed to bring back.  Not many people in the QZ could afford that kind of contraband, so it made sense that it was one of the FEDRA soldier’s bankrolling this.  They were by no means rich, but they had a lot of pull and could provide all sorts of ration cards and promises to look the other way if future issues arose.  He couldn’t guarantee safe movement out and back in through the boundaries of the city, but he at least promised to look the other way in any future run-ins with the law.

“So that’s it: you’ll leave at eleven, you’re back by four, and you bring me my share the next day during my break?” the soldier confirmed.

“Yep,” Tess agreed.  “Quick and painless.  Hopefully.”

You didn’t expect the man’s eyes to land on you, but you didn’t particularly care for it.  "Is your little lap dog coming, too?" he smirked, glancing at Joel after he was finished raking his stare over you.

Your face got hot instantly, with shame and confusion.  "I— I'm not in his lap," you denied, "that's not— we don't—"

“No,” Joel interrupted firmly, “she’s not coming.”

There was an awkward silence, the place where he might’ve said and she’s not my lap dog, if he cared much about the accusation.  Tess seemed to be hanging onto that silence nearly as tightly as you were.

“Whatever,” the soldier finally brought everyone’s attention back to the conversation, “just meet me here tomorrow at half past one, and we’ll see what you’ve got.”

You were still thinking about that conversation that night— while you were keeping watch, like Joel had asked you to.  It was really boring; you spent most of the time on the couch, reading a book you’d bought off someone for a few rations.  After a while, your curiosity got the better of you, and you started snooping around Joel’s apartment.  There wasn’t much to look at… he didn’t own much, just a few shirts— actually, you thought those jeans he always wore might be his only pair…

Your search led you to his bed.  Even with no one here to see you do it, you were a little embarrassed to lean in and take a whiff of his pillow— but it was totally worth it.  It smelled just like him, that warm piney kind of scent he had; in times like this, not many people could afford to smell nice, but Joel could.  Not to say that he was the type to splurge on all the nicest stuff, you were pretty sure he didn’t even own cologne, but he owned shampoo and deodorant, so that put him in the 80th percentile for hygiene in the Boston QZ.

But it wasn’t just those products you smelled on his sheets— there was something quintessentially Joel to it all, something impossible to define but incredibly addictive.  It was instinctual, the way you got in his bed and curled up in those sheets, burying yourself in the comfort of him.  It was so easy to imagine how he might hold you, now that you were here— all you were missing was his strength, his weight, slow and steady breaths behind you as he drifted to sleep…

You woke up when you heard the door shut.  Startled into sitting up, you were hoping you’d have time to get out of his bed before he saw you— but he was already standing there, staring at you.  He was just a shape in the dark, so you couldn’t see his face, but you heard the exasperated sigh.

“I thought I told you to sleep on the couch,” he said.

“R-right, sorry,” you coughed, recalling last time this happened with a pained wince.

“Better yet, I thought I told you to keep watch!”

“You know you just say that,” you mumbled, “so you can keep me away from the real work.”

He didn’t say anything, probably because he knew you were right— but even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t, because Tess walked in a second later.  “Can’t believe he tried to stiff us,” she was saying as she walked in, half-laughing in frustration.  “Well, yeah I can,” she added a second later.

Her attitude changed when she saw you in the bed.  “I— I’ll go back to my—” you started, but you ended up just getting up and leaving in a hurry before you could really finish your thought.

Wiping a small tear from under your eye quickly, you walked out of Joel’s apartment and started for your own bunk across the city— even though it was more likely than not that somebody would hassle you for walking around during curfew.

Yes, if you had a little more self-respect, you would just stop hanging around those two and find some other work to do, but Joel had done something for you that you could never repay and never forget.  He didn’t have to love you the way you loved him— and you’d been sure for a while that he never would— but couldn’t he at least be a little nicer?  You wouldn’t feel right being anywhere but at his side, no matter how much he made it seem like he never wanted you there at all.

~

Honestly, you did consider not going back the next morning— but you figured they might actually need you for the next part.  Okay, not need, but they could at least use you for something: after smuggling anything in, you need a fence, someone to pawn this stuff off.  Joel and Tess did a decent job of keeping a low profile, but it was even easier to do so when they had someone like you moving contraband around Boston’s population.

So, after a few hours of sleep on that radically uncomfortable cot, you decided to head back to Joel’s place.  The sun was just above the horizon by this time, but only the people working early shifts for their rations were up now; you liked the city best when it was quiet like this, but then again, you liked almost everything better quiet.

Usually, Joel’s apartment was the same way.  But when you walked in, the energy was completely different than you were used to.  Where you’d normally find Tess counting up the score while Joel sipped on coffee (or liquor, depending most on the hour), instead you walked in on what was clearly a lover’s quarrel.

The thing was, this was not your typical argument— they were doing it Joel and Tess style, which is to say, as repressed as possible.  In fact, they weren’t even talking when you walked in, but just the way they were standing was indicative of the discomfort they were clearly trying not to acknowledge.

Tess was at the window, arms crossed, looking at the view; and you knew that was a bad sign, because there was no view to be had, the QZ was an eyesore and she complained about it all the time.  Joel was sitting at the table, facing the other way, his hand squeezing his own fist instead of the handle of his mug— it didn’t look injured, but his face still had a hint of pain on it.

“I’m sorry—” you mumbled, not sure what you were apologizing for yet, but Tess interrupted you.

“I’ll go,” she decided, walking over to the table.

“Okay,” Joel agreed, not looking at her.

Well, you were no relationship expert, and you didn’t even know what they were arguing about… but you knew that was pretty cold.  “So that’s all you’re gonna say to me?” Tess prompted him, her tone tight and her eyes red.

You kept your head low, as if that would hide the fact that you could clearly see and hear all this.  

“Yeah,” Joel decided, not as aloof as usual; it reminded you of how he usually spoke to you, that frustration, but it was definitely different.  More… exhausted.  “Yeah, it is.”

Tess put her weight predominantly on one leg, her hips shifting, as she let out a scoffing sort of breath.  For a moment, she looked at you; you looked back at her shyly from beneath your brows before looking away.  Why would she look at me right now?

Shaking her head, she left, mumbling to herself but you couldn’t make it out.  The door slammed behind her.  Joel sighed next.

“Everything okay?” you asked sheepishly, twisting your boot on the floor to watch the shapes it made in the thin layer of dust.

“Clearly,” he insisted, and the sarcasm was obvious though his voice was neutral.  You could tell he didn’t want you to prod more— anyone who knew Joel for two minutes would know that— but you still chewed your lip as you wondered what you should do.

Your attention turned to the stacks of contraband on the table; most of it was perfectly legal material to own, just not legal to acquire from outside the city’s perimeter.  “Looks like a good haul this time,” you noticed, hoping a change of subject would soothe him a little.  Maybe it did, but he didn’t show it.  He just kept squeezing his fist, and you gently sat down across from him at the table— and you started doing what you figured you should, going through what they’d brought back and starting to figure how much you could get for it.

For a while, he entertained that conversation, though with as short of responses as possible.  Not even a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, just hums and grunts that got the point across.  You could tell he was thinking, but you could also tell he didn’t want to be— that he’d rather forget about all that.  For once, he was struggling to do that.

It scared you to imagine doing something he so obviously didn’t want you to do, but you knew you couldn’t ignore it forever.  “What made her so upset?” you asked softly, finally.

He paused for so long that you thought he was just ignoring your question, but he did eventually say something.  “She told me something I wasn’t ready to hear,” he answered, “and… and I guess I said the wrong thing.”

“What did you say?”

“Actually, I didn’t say anything,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “But, I said nothing in the wrong way.”

"... Do you think she'll come back?" you pressed, and his sigh was answer enough.

You had to wonder if he'd make you a real partner in all this now.  Probably not, right?  He thought so little of you before, that wouldn't change just because Tess was out.

“I’m sorry,” you decided.

“It’s not your fault,” he promised.  “It was me.”

You didn’t press on that, already thankful and pleasantly surprised by how much he’d shared.  He stood up a moment later, leaving the table and moving to the kitchenette so he could make some coffee; oddly, that comforted you.  Like things were going to go forward now, like life could be normal again and he would still drink his coffee.

For a while, it was quiet— just how you liked it, and how you figured he liked it, too.  He was humming a song at one point but you didn’t think he realized he was doing it.

It was so quiet, in fact, that when you went to lay on the sofa later, you ended up accidentally dozing off.  You couldn’t say how long you were asleep— you were pretty underslept, but it didn’t feel like more than an hour— just that you were awoken to the sound of movement in the kitchen area.

Sitting up, you tilted your head when you saw Joel had begun packing up the contraband haul— well, half of it.  “What are you—?” you began to ask, but then you saw the time, and you remembered; but he answered you anyways.

“Our buyer’s on his break now,” Joel announced as he stuffed a pack of bandages into his bag.  “I said I would meet him to show him what we got.”

“I can go with you!” you announced.  “You know, if Tess isn’t—”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, “I can do it myself.”

“Joel, please,” you pressed, “I promise I’ll do whatever you need me to, I just wanna help—”

“I need you to stay here,” he frowned.

Some things never change, huh?  “Why don’t you just let me go?  Let me help you?” you whimpered, lip shaking as you started to cry.  You hated yourself for it, but you knew you couldn’t stop it.

There was a pause before he responded.  “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Joel explained, but you doubted that was the real reason he didn’t want you to come.  “It only takes one of us, you’re better off here.”

“Tess was gonna go!” you reminded him, getting more upset.  "I know I'm not…" you trailed off as you tried not to cry too much or too loudly.  "I can't do what she can— I'm not strong…"

He sighed as he knelt down in front of you, resting his hand on your knee.  You peeked out from behind your fingers, but looked down again.

"I'm not— I'm not smart, either," you whimpered.  "I don't know anything, about before, about now—"

"That's not true," he mumbled, but you weren't finished yet.

"Nobody knows why you even keep me around, I sure don't," you shrugged, dropping your hands defeatedly, hot tears running faster down your face and dripping onto your pants; his hand reached up and wiped your cheeks with a gentleness you never knew he had.  “M’not… I’m not tough, like you guys…”

"You know what you are, little girl?" he replied quietly.  "You're good.  You're sweet.  Me an' Tess, we need someone like you to keep us from bein' sad old assholes all the time…"

He sighed, and you thought was done talking, until he spoke again, softer.

"I need someone like you."

Your heart swelled, and light filled your chest, until you had just enough confidence to finally blurt out what you'd been holding in for months: "Joel, you should know that I always—"

"Shh," he soothed, nodding.  "I know."

Your face got hot instantly again, and your heart sank.  "I think everybody knows," you mumbled awkwardly, giving him a half-smile through the drying tears.  "But I thought— it's just that you never—"

“I couldn’t,” he insisted.  “You understand that?  I couldn’t, not with you—”

“Why not?” you snapped.  “Why can’t you?”

“If you don’t know why, you’re more hopeless than I thought,” he frowned.

“I know— I know I’m… a lot younger than you…” you mumbled, almost not wanting to say it in case he actually hadn’t noticed that.  “I know you think I’m not very mature and stuff… but that shouldn’t matter when you really love someone—”

“Woah, hey,” he coughed, “love?  Sweetheart, you’ve got a crush—”

“No!  Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snapped, surprising both of you with your sudden ability to stand up to him.  “You can tell me what to do but not what to feel.”

“Okay,” he softened up, “fine.  That’s fair.  But it’ll pass—”

"I've never loved anybody before," you whimpered, "and I'm never gonna love anybody like I love you.  I know that!  I know you think I'm just a stupid kid who doesn't understand love, but I know that I really love you!  Okay?  So just… just stop talking!  Doesn’t need to take this long for you to reject me, geez…”

There was a pregnant pause, you were too caught up in your own frustration to really notice it: the way he looked to the side, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment.  You weren’t expecting him to say anything after that, so it nearly startled you when he spoke.  “It was last night, after you left,” he explained.  “I— I thought about telling you to come back, figured you’d be safer on the couch than walking back across the city at that time…”

Wrapping your arms around your chest, you smiled a little imagining that, but you knew you couldn’t have taken him up on that offer: it would’ve killed you, trying to sleep on that sofa while Joel and Tess shared the bed.

“She told me not to,” Joel continued.  “That’s… that’s how it started, I guess…”

“That girl’s so obsessed with you,” Tess laughed lightly, toying with Joel’s lapel.  “It’s cute, really.  I mean, it’s sad— but it’s cute.”

“Hm,” Joel said first, not really listening— it took him a second to properly react.  “Why is it sad?” he asked when her words processed completely.

“‘Cause she thinks she might actually have a chance,” Tess explained.

That was it, what he did wrong; he sees it now, in retrospect, but at the time he figured saying nothing was his safest bet.  Apparently, he didn’t have to say anything.

“Shit,” Tess said suddenly, moving instantly from shock to anger.  “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?” Joel spat.

“You know fucking what,” she returned sharply.  “That look— you looked away.”

“Okay?  So?” Joel tried to defend himself, but he knew that she knew now— believe it or not, he really wasn’t much of a liar.  Especially with her.

“She’s a goddamn fetus, Joel,” Tess reminded him.  “She hasn’t seen a hundredth of the shit we’ve seen, she hasn’t lost anyone—”

“Lost her parents,” Joel corrected.

“Well, we all lose our parents,” Tess rolled her eyes, “that’s part of life.”

Not the way she lost them, Joel wanted to add, but he was going back to his original plan of saying nothing.

“She’s not like us,” Tess insisted.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Joel decided.

That was the point of no return; because Tess had never thought of you as competition, she barely even thought of you at all, but if innocence was something he wanted… then the competition was already over before it even started.  The silence was heavy, more sad than angry, and Joel knew he really fucked up because he’d never really seen Tess speechless before.  Is it bad that he didn’t regret it, though?  Maybe he could’ve handled things better, but telling her the truth couldn’t be wrong.  It’s not like he’d been hiding it, really— he never even acknowledged it himself, not often.

“I can’t believe you,” she shook her head, and shame twisted in his gut.  “Part of me always— not always, I guess, but part of me wondered.  Sometimes the way you looked at her…”

As she trailed off, Joel looked down, too afraid for her to look in his eyes now.

“You’d do anything to keep her safe,” she said instead of finishing that last thought.  “I told myself you didn’t look at me like that because you knew I could protect myself.”

“I do,” he promised.

“So what do you want?” she asked point-blank.  “Something you can protect, or something you don’t have to?”

“And what did you say?” you asked hurriedly.

“I told her what I wanted,” was all he replied, and your heart skipped.  “And that’s… that’s why she left.”

Joel nodded slightly, looking away.  But you reached out and touched his face, turning it back towards you.  Impulsively, you leaned forward and kissed him; it took all the courage you had, and a hand on his shoulder for balance, but you felt him kiss you back after a moment.  It was gentle, for how sudden it was, and you sighed as his hand moved higher up your leg.  

You were still crying, because of course you were, but he didn’t mind as much as you’d worried: he only wiped your tears away, holding onto your face, standing up and pulling you with him.

“I love you,” you whispered as he embraced you, wanting to say it a thousand times now that it wasn’t the worst-kept secret in Boston.  “I love you, Joel—”

“I know,” he promised, whispering back into the kiss which got deeper with each passing moment.  “I know, darlin’.”

That was enough for you— that was plenty: the way he kissed you, and held you, calling you darlin’ in that rough-yet-gentle voice… you were weak already, melting into his touch, ready to give him anything.

In fact, he had to put a hand on your shoulder and gently push you away to get you to calm down, and your face heated up as you realized how eager you’d been.  “Don’t need to get so worked up, m’gonna take care of you now, okay?”

“You always take care of me,” you noticed.

“A different way,” he explained.

Just the way those brown eyes darkened, just the way he said that made your thighs clench against each other.  “Y-you’ll miss the meeting with the buyer,” you realized.

“Fuck,” Joel grumbled, and you smiled a bit.  “Waited this long and now I’ve gotta fuckin’ leave you again.”

Your hand rested on his chest, the soft flannel of his shirt transmitting some of the warmth of his body, and you looked up with him with wide, wet eyes.

“I know you hate waitin’ here, but… I always liked it,” he admitted, his voice softer yet deeper.  “I always liked knowing you were here, waiting for me…”

Your heart swelled.  “Y-yeah— I didn’t mind waiting for you so much,” you admitted in return, “just didn’t want you to think that’s all I was good for.”

He kissed your temple, making your chest flood with warmth.  “I know,” he promised.  “You’ll be here when I get back, won’tcha?  Can’t disappear on me now.”

“I won’t, I’ll be here,” you assured, turning your face to peck his cheek in return.  It seemed to surprise him, like he hadn’t had tenderness of that sort in a long time.

~

Funny how you’d waited for him all night before, but that half hour felt longer than all of them combined.  You were quite sure you knew what he meant before— about how he would take care of you in a different way— and it put you on edge all afternoon.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you, about his hands pulling you closer.  Or his eyes: if he’d ever looked at you like that before, you hadn’t noticed (which was probably what he intended).  

For how much time you spent wondering what you would do, what you would say, when he returned, you ended up not doing much of either: he was on you the moment he stepped in the door, though that was sort of what you’d been betting on when you decided to strip down to just your underwear and wait for him like that.  Not that you minded the idea of him, you know, tearing your clothes off like one of those romance novels— you just didn’t like the idea of having to wait any longer than you already had and this shirt had way too many buttons.

He did take a moment to stare you down when he came back, to appreciate your nakedness, and despite imagining showing yourself to him many times before, you felt a little self-conscious with his eyes just piercing through you like that: you didn’t cover yourself, ignoring a slight instinct to do so, but you did wrap your arms over your stomach and cross your legs as you sat on his bed.

Waiting for him to say something— or, possibly, waiting for yourself to find some courage to speak— you were a little taken aback when he grabbed you and kissed you.  And you realized, as his lips moved with yours even harder, deeper, needier than before, that there was nothing else to say.

He climbed on top of you on that bed, laid you down on it gently, as his weight pressed you down into the mattress.  You could've sworn you heard him growl when he rocked his hips against yours, a firm bulge in his jeans pressing right up to where heat had gathered between your legs.

Fingers weaving in his hair, you hummed as you did all you could to keep him close, as if he might just disappear if you didn’t hold him near to you.  But he didn’t seem like much of a flight risk, considering his tight grip on you— so tight it could leave marks, which you hoped it would.  You needed more than just memories of this.

“Tell me this is what you want,” he demanded, his voice breathless yet somehow not weak at all.  “Need to know you want this.”

“Fuck, Joel, f’course,” you promised— wasn’t it obvious?  It probably was.  But you could understand if he was still fighting back some guilt; you just wanted to do everything you could to help him forget about that.  “So bad,” you continued, “for so long…”

“Since I saved you?” he assumed, his teeth grazing your lip like a threat to bite down harder— a threat that made you throb from the inside out.

“Before,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly.  

“Didn’t even know me before,” he noticed, raising an eyebrow.

“Saw you around sometimes—” god, am I blushing as hard as it feels like I am? — “thought maybe you could… you know…”

Protect me.  Hold me.  Take care of me.  And fuck me like the world is ending even though it already did.

He smirked at you proudly, leaning in to kiss your neck this time, following some invisible trail that made you even more sensitive to the touch of his lips; after he kissed right under your ear, he whispered to you.

“Then just go ahead and take what you want, darlin’.”

After a shiver ran over you, so strong you thought it might never end, your hands shot down between you so you could get to work on his belt and fly; you felt his smile against your skin, then his teeth a moment later, as his hand rubbed the curve of your waist gently.

Both of you gasped when your fingers wrapped gently around his cock, for different reasons.  The skin was so smooth, it was hard to believe something this soft and silky was part of Joel— and it was hot, or maybe your fingers were just cold, but you hoped that didn't bother him.

He was already starting to move his hips just a bit, rocking into your touch, and you hummed when he suddenly grabbed your hand to force it to press firmer against himself.  "You thought about touchin' me like this before?" he asked in a voice that was breathy and low— you loved hearing the pleasure in his voice.

"Y-yeah," you admitted shyly; when he let your hand go, your touch wandered, your hands sliding up under the bottom of his shirt so you could feel the skin there— the firm muscle, the thin scars, the graying hairs that formed a trail down his stomach…

Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them down above your head, and you let out a joyful whine.  "Keep those there," he ordered, and you nodded as you watched him intently.

His hands traced down your body, making shivers run all over your skin; how could a man with so much strength touch you so delicately?

He purred as his fingers ran down to your panties, toying with the edge of the fabric before carefully pulling them down your legs.  You tried not to wiggle too much, but your hips were desperate for some friction, for some attention from him— they didn't have to wait long, though.  He groaned at the sight as he parted your legs, grabbing himself to rub his fat head through your folds.  "Fuck," he mumbled, your channel clenching on nothing as you saw how far apart his tip forced your swollen lips, "so wet for me already, bet I'll slide right in…"

Your back arched with a moan just imagining that, and he pushed your stomach down flat with his free hand so you wouldn't angle too far away from him, laying his body atop yours.  Though you tried to stay still, you couldn’t stop shaking as he lined himself up; it felt surreal, it felt hyperreal— his skin against yours was unlike anything you could’ve imagined.

You’d sort of wondered if he’d say something before he put it in, maybe a quick you ready? or even here it comes which would’ve been stupid but an appreciated warning nonetheless.  Instead, he just looked at your face carefully, and pushed inside.  It was sudden, sharp; your whole body tensed up and you sucked in a breath before biting your lip.

He only made it halfway in, struggling against how tight you were.  You were doing everything you could not to give away your pain, but he must've seen it in your expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.  "I'm hurting you…"

"No— Joel, please don't stop—"

You wrapped your legs around his hips to try to keep him inside, but he pulled out most of the way and looked down— and you winced when he saw the blood.  "Baby, you… are you— is this your—?  Fuck, why didn't you say something?"

"You wouldn't have done it with me if you knew it was my first time," you explained with a whimper.

"No, baby— I just would've taken my time with you, s'all," he sighed, "would've helped you— sweetie, it didn't need to hurt like that…"

Clutching tighter at his shirt, you pulled him down into a needy kiss. "Hurt me more, Joel," you pleaded into it with a breathy whisper, "do whatever you want to me.  I'm yours— that's all I want, just to be yours."

He kissed you back, slow but passionate; but, much to your dismay, he pulled out and sat up.

"No, Joel, I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm sorry— I didn't mean to lie, I'm so sorry, I promise I can be good!  M'gonna be really good for you!"

But he just shook his head, and you bit your quivering lip as tears ran down your temples.  He smiled, just a little.  "Such a crybaby," he scolded you softly.  "What am I gonna do with you, little girl?  You can't even keep yourself together."

He leaned down again, but he slid his knees down on the bed so he could position his face between your legs.  He kissed your inner thigh first, and you jumped because it tickled.

Then he held your hips, running his thumbs over your skin soothingly, and you tried not to squirm too much as he looked up at you with those dark eyes— much darker than before.  “You want me to taste you?” he asked, like it was your idea or something.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled sheepishly, and he actually laughed for a moment.  

“Yeah?” he repeated.  “Could you be a little more specific?”

Oh— he wants me to beg.  “Um— please?  Taste me, Joel…”

He smiled, but not like a haha funny smile or an oh that’s nice smile— a really dirty kind of smile, even though his teeth were actually in better condition than most out here.  “Okay, baby,” he agreed.

He was subtle about it at first, just giving gentle kisses all around; you felt… exposed, even more than you had with his face between your legs before.

“Is that alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than the last time you heard it.

“Y-yeah,” you choked, clearing your throat.  “Don’t… don’t stop, please…”

When he got back to it, he was much more aggressive— long, slow licks between your lips, sloppy kisses with his eyes shut tight; and you whined as you held on tighter to the sheets.  You didn’t realize how hard you were shaking until his grip on your thighs was bruisingly tight.  And as he held you down, he just dug in deeper: every time you thought he’d stop escalating the intensity of it all, he just did it more— he just did everything more— until you couldn’t control your moans and gasps anymore.

His tongue was the fucking devil; he slid it inside you and your eyes rolled back.  He sucked greedily on your clit until your hips bucked uncontrollably, moaning against your skin just enough that you could hear it over your own shameless cries.

"Joel, fuck, how are you—?  Oh god—"

"Mm?" he encouraged you to finish your thought without breaking away from you.

"How does that feel so good?" you sobbed.  "Oh my god— please don't stop, never stop, oh fuck!"

All he was doing was flicking his tongue over your bud, such a small interaction with a tiny little organ, and your whole body was shaking.  Reaching down and grabbing his hair, you didn't mean to tug on it so hard but you also didn't expect him to moan deeply when you did.  

His mouth moved a little higher, focusing on the bud you were sure had never been this swollen or this sensitive.  Doing so freed your opening, and one of his thick fingers prodded at it.  "Please," you panted, wanting any part of him to be inside you again.

He pushed it in, the roughness of his skin creating the perfect friction on your delicate walls.  You were waiting to feel his knuckle against you, but instead he only put it in maybe halfway, not very far at all.  It didn’t make much sense to you, until he started to rub one place just inside and a gasp instantly inflated your chest.

“Oh—” you choked, and he was licking harder on your clit at the same time that he added a second finger; you’d never felt anything like it before.  “Joel!” you squealed, hating how girlish it sounded but helpless to the control he had over your body with just two fingers and his tongue.

His rhythm wasn’t all that fast but it was relentless, the exact tempo you needed for that pleasure to build and build, toes curling and vision getting all spotty— you tried to look down at him sometimes, but your head wanted so badly to tilt back and let everything go black.

“I— oh, fuck— I’m gonna— fuck, Joel!” you sobbed, grabbing on tighter to his hair; you took one glimpse at it, and when you saw the scattered silver hairs peeking out from between your fingers, it just made you even more overwhelmed.

He hummed and looked up at you, encouraging you— his fingers pumped faster and faster suddenly, and when it hit, you felt like your whole body was going numb.  It started where he was touching you, but then a moment later it was in your head, then it was just running all over and you were too weak to do anything but give into it.

Suddenly it became too much, and the hand that had been holding him down by his hair was suddenly pushing him away; you blinked away the spots in your vision to catch a glimpse of him with that beard soaked in you, but his fingers hadn’t stopped yet.  “Oh… ohhh my god…” you whined, breathing harder than you could ever remember breathing before, your head getting all dizzy and cloudy as he smirked up at you and continued fucking you with his hand.

Your hole was pulsing, flexing over and over, waves of slick leaking out until you could feel the puddle spreading under you.  Your cheeks burned with humiliation, even though he kept praising you as his fingers milked everything from your swollen spot.  "Good girl, good girl," he said over and over, "fuck, good job, soak the sheets, baby— soak my fingers, keep going…"

"Joel," you sobbed, desperate for some relief from the overwhelming sensation.  He didn't really stop, just slowed down a lot, but he kept twisting his fingers and rubbing that one place until your quivering body collapsed completely onto his mattress.  And then he went on for just a little bit longer after that.

Then he stopped.  When you thought you might fucking pass out.

He climbed up your body and brought his two soaked fingers to your slack lips.  

"You want a taste, too, baby?" he purred.

You dutifully opened your mouth and did your best to clean his fingers off, sucking and licking as he hummed a bit; his eyes got a little darker as he felt your tongue run all over his rough fingers.

"What do you think?" he prompted when he pulled his fingers away, and you swallowed as you made a little face.

"I dunno if I like it," you admitted nervously.  "Kinda sour."

"Really?  I think your pussy's fuckin' delicious."

Your face flushed, but you didn't say anything else because he was reaching down to hold his cock again— and your heart started racing.

"Ready to do this the right way?" he prompted, and you nodded eagerly.  "S'gonna feel so much better, now you're all ready for me.  Ready for something this big inside ya— but it might still sting at first, okay?  Just hold onto me tight."

That you did, tighter than you thought you could— apparently you were stronger than you realized, especially considering that orgasm nearly took you out a minute ago.  But you had to hold on that tight as he began to push that fat head inside you, stretching you so wide before he'd even gotten the ridge of it past your opening.  It didn't sting like before, or at least not as much, but it was still completely overwhelming.  You forgot to breathe until he was halfway in: you gasped out his name, reminding yourself he was inside you and above you and everywhere, everything.

"See how much— fuck— how much easier it is now?" he grunted, sliding into you slowly until his hips met yours.  "See how you're takin' all'a me?  God damn, still tight as hell, though."

You were delirious already, he hadn't even moved yet.  You didn't think it could get much better than his mouth on you, than coming because of him, but this?  This perfect stretch, this addictive friction, knowing he was completely inside you and that he liked how you felt?  This was ecstasy, bliss.  And he hadn't even fucking moved yet.

"Gonna have a hard time being gentle with you now," he admitted with a growl beside your ear.  "You've got one of those perfect little pussies that just needs to be fucked hard— suckin' me in, just beggin' for it rough and fast."

"Joel," you whined, "fuck me however you want, please… I can take it, I swear, I want you so bad…"

Still, when he moved, it was slow and patient.  Too goddamn slow.

"Fuck," you sobbed, back arching up off the bed as he carefully savored every detail of you.  "Fuck, Joel, I can't— I can't believe you're— I can't believe it's you.  I wanted you so much I couldn't fucking breathe."

He smiled at you, and leaned in to kiss your neck; you let out what could only be described as a joyful whimper.  “Wanted you too,” he finally admitted.  “Tried not to, you’re so young… jus’ couldn’t help it after a while.”

"Faster," you whined, "please, fuck, please please—"

"You are so goddamn spoiled, you know that?" Joel grunted— but then he did it, he fucked you even faster than you'd imagined.  His thrusts were still deep and long, but they came at you quicker than you could process and you nearly screamed.  

You were even more sensitive after he’d made you come the first time; it was just overwhelming, the feeling of him, and you felt like your mind had left your body— like your mind had left you entirely.

“Y’feel fuckin’ perfect, darlin’,” he praised lowly, kissing your neck with all the gentleness and patience his thrusts lacked.  “So good for me.”

Maybe it was pathetic, but being good for him felt fucking amazing— not just physically, obviously.  It felt like having a purpose; you’d never really felt that before.

You lost track of time; honestly, you lost track of everything.  Everything that wasn’t this had fallen away, and it was just you holding on for dear life as Joel wrecked you all over again with every motion.  "Hear that?  How wet you are for me?" he groaned, and yes, there was a squishy-wet sound that filled the room with each thrust.  You tried to answer him, say something witty about how he made you that wet so many times, but only moans came when you opened your mouth.  "I asked you a question," he reminded you.  "Can you fuckin' hear it?"

Whimpering, you could only bite your lip and nod.

"Oh," he smiled, "I see— you get stupid with cock in you, huh?  Get fucked right and that silly brain just turns off?"

You nodded again— wasn’t much else for you to do.

"Just gonna be a dumb whore for me now?" he asked.  "Just kidding, I know you already were."

“Fuck— Joel—” you choked.

"No no, it's okay— it's good,” he soothed you, kissing a tear from your temple that you hadn’t even realized was there.  “You don't need to think.  I don't need you to think.  You can just be my fucktoy, okay?  You can just be my slut.  Say it."

"I-I'm your slut, Joel…"

He hummed appreciatively; your moan caught in your throat, and you tried to hide your face in his shoulder— you couldn’t believe he was still dressed, for all you knew he still had his boots on, and meanwhile you were stripped of everything.  Not just your clothes: you were stripped of all pretense (didn’t need it) and dignity (didn’t want it).  You’d thought of yourself as his for quite some time now, but now that he’d really made you his, it was more than you could’ve imagined.

When you came with him inside you, it wasn’t like how it was before— definitely similar, obviously the same thing at the core of it, but very different.  Before it was so… sudden, like a firework going off and then glittering into darkness (at least, that was how you understood fireworks to be, you’d only ever had them explained to you).  This was more like a deep pressure that just built and built and built, and then at some point you’d crossed that threshold and you were there but it didn’t go away, it just stayed at the peak while he kept moving inside you.

He grunted as your walls beared down on him, watching the tears of ecstasy stream down your face.  “Tryin’ to milk my cock, huh?” he accused with a snarl to his tone.  “S’that what you want?”

You weren’t really paying attention, you couldn’t while he was fucking you like that.  Digging your fingers into his shoulders through the flannel shirt, you just whimpered and nodded.

“S’workin’, baby,” he smiled, “little pussy’s got me so tight— is it a little too much, honey?  You’re cryin’...”

“I— I always cry,” you sniffled.

“M’not gonna make you take too much more,” he promised, “doin’ so good honey— gonna let you rest soon—”

“No, d-don’t stop,” you begged, and he laughed a little.

“I’m close,” he explained, and even though that should’ve been obvious, it made you feel better.  “Normally takes me a little longer, but… never had a pussy like this.”

That was probably just flattery, but you were happy to believe it.  Happy enough to just lay back and let that pleasure wash over you, but of course, he expected more of you than that.

"Tell me where I can come," he ordered.  

"Fuck, Joel— anywhere you want, anywhere," you pleaded, struggling to keep your train of thought but desperate to appease him as best you could.

"Inside you?" he pressed.

"Yeah, fuck, anywhere," you insisted.

"I bet that's what you want— you want it inside.  You want this cunt full and dripping."

“Fuck— yeah,” you agreed, “s’what I want— please, please—”

“Shh, don’t need to beg,” he assured sweetly, kissing your neck again— burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, until his panting breaths echoed on your skin.  “Don’t need to beg, darlin’, gonna fill you nice and deep—”

“Please,” you said again, ignoring his assurances.

“Just like you need it—”

“Please, Joel— love you so much,” you sobbed, your thighs starting to go a little numb where his jeans were rubbing against them and your clit getting sore from the way he stayed deep inside and grinded himself against you.

“I know,” he promised again, “jus’ say it one more time.”

“I love you, Joel,” you cried, and it was over somewhat suddenly: he stayed still, and you could feel his grip on you tighten, and you heard that sound that was like a groan and a sigh at the same time.  You’d hoped you’d be able to really feel it inside you, the warmth of his come, but everything was so hot that it was all the same— what you did feel was full, even more than you had just from his cock in you, and it was enough to make you clutch at his shoulders again despite having almost no energy left in you.

Though he stayed inside for a little while after, he did eventually have to pull out; you were too exhausted to even think about trying to close your legs when he stared down at you— at his come leaking slowly from your hole.

You knew there would need to be a conversation soon about what this all meant— what should happen now with the business, with your relationship, even just what should happen tomorrow morning since you’d both given in to instinct rather than take the safer route and have Joel pull out…

But that would have to wait; you still couldn’t think straight, you couldn’t think about anything but him in fact.

Thankfully, Joel was just fine with the silence.  He just held you, let you wander between sleep and wakefulness, and wiped that last stray tear away from your face.

“I’m sorry I keep crying,” you offered quietly, breaking a long silence.

“I don’t mind,” he promised.

[tboybuck]

got the idea in my head of the party clocking the steddie tension and bullying eddie about it so this happened | 1.7k | rating: g or t, depending on how you feel about swearing

“I’m gonna need you two to either quit that or get your shit together and make out already.”

Eddie drags his eyes away from the door at the top of the basement stairs that Steve’s just closed on his way out to pick up Max and El, back to the task at hand, the table in front of him, his lost little sheep taking their places around the table in the Wheelers’ basement. It's Erica that spoke up, her eyebrow raised in a condescending kind of way that Eddie’s not sure if she learned from her mother or from Steve.

“Hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth,” he chastises, a little belatedly, a lot unnecessarily, and very obviously a deflection from the meat and potatoes of what she said.

It’s not just little Sinclair watching Eddie anymore; they’re all peering expectantly at him like they’re waiting for an explanation. Well, they’re not gonna get it. This little dance that he and Steve are doing - if it’s even a dance at all - is nobody’s business but their own. 

It’s been months now and it’s driving Eddie out of his goddamned mind but it’s not like he’s going to talk to the fucking kids about it. Jeff and Grant have been pretty receptive about the whole thing and Eddie’s talked both their ears off to the point of annoyance. Gareth won’t even give him the time of day anymore when Eddie starts in on talking about Steve.

It’s just that he and Steve have had this little back and forth going for a few months now, where they’ll flirt and Eddie will just start to think that maybe’s he’s got a shot and then Steve will back away. And then they’ll go a few days without talking and they’ll be back at it with a vengeance, picking on each other and making suggestive comments and very intentionally checking one another out.

But then Eddie’ll see Steve laying that same charm onto every girl that walks into the video store and snap back to himself. The mixed signals make him want to scream a little bit. One minute he’s psyching himself up to ask Steve to come back to his after work, maybe watch a stupid movie and make out on the couch, but then he reminds himself that he’s fucking delusional and Steve is just like that. He’s a flirt, and the way he flirts with Eddie doesn’t mean anything.

But the kids are still watching him, still waiting for an explanation about the way he and Steve were just gazing at each other as Steve climbed the stairs to leave, and so Eddie sighs.

“It’s nothing, okay?”

“Right,” says Henderson with a roll of his eyes and a shrug of his shoulders. “Which is why you two can’t stop making those lovesick faces at each other and flirting with each other, and why neither of you can ever shut up about each other.”

“Steve talks about me?”

“Jesus Christ,” Mike mutters. He’s tipping his chair back, balancing it on two legs. It’d be so easy for Eddie to just… tap it with his foot, send little Wheeler to the floor.

“Anyway!” Eddie says again, clapping his hands together. “It doesn’t matter! It’s nothing! Stevie’s just… like that. Y’know? With everybody. Let’s get to work, we’ve got a campaign to get through, no reason for us to be wasting time talking about Steve Harrington. Right?”

“Wait,” Will cuts in. His smile is a little mischievous, a little mean, and suddenly Eddie doesn’t remember why he likes the littlest Byers as much as he does. “You think Steve acts the way he does with you, with everybody?”

“Yeah. We’re friends. He’s… flirtatious. It’s not a thing, y’know? It’s just. A thing.”

“So you really think he willingly stuffs four teenagers in his car every Friday night to drop us off here, and then goes back out to pick up two more teenagers to bring them out here because…? Friends?” Lucas is looking at Eddie like he thinks he might be ready to grow another head.

Okay. Fuck. So they’re actually talking about this. Eddie and a bunch of snotty little kids are about to talk about his fucking crush on their babysitter. Jesus Christ.

“Listen. We are not discussing this.”

Will ignores him. “If you like him, ask him out.”

“And ruin a perfectly good friendship, baby Byers? I think I’ll pass. Besides, him and Nance…”

“Are long over,” Will insists, leaning forward and putting his arms on the table. “She’s still going out with my brother.”

“Like I said,” Erica cuts in again, “I need you two to suck face already or cut it out. We might be kids but we aren’t blind.”

“Please, he doesn’t even like me like that.”

“Are you kidding?” Dustin again. It’s like a game of round robin, each kid around the table lobbing questions and insistences at him in turn. “How can you say that, Eddie? The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you. He spends his Fridays here, in his ex-girlfriend's basement, to spend time with you. Don’t you see the way he watches you?”

“He just… I tell a good story.”

Mike lets loose a scoff and a sigh that could very well shake the foundations of the house around them. “I don’t even like Steve, but yeah. He treats you different. Special.”

“I already told you - he flirts with everybody. He’s a flirt! That doesn’t mean that it means something.”

“Who else does he call baby?” Lucas asks him, deadpan.

“He has pet names for everybody.”

“No he doesn’t. Who else is he going around touching all the time?”

“Robin, who he does have a pet name for. He calls her Bird.”

“Because you started calling her Bird. He picked that up from you,” Dustin argues. “And yes, he talks about you. He asks about you when he hasn’t seen you in a few days. He mentions stuff you said. He had an Ozzy tape playing in his car today and when I asked about it, y’know what he said?”

“‘Eddie gave it to me,’” Will supplies with a smile. “And he was smiling when he said it. That weird smile he gets sometimes. You know the one.”

“The Eddie smile.”

Eddie’s mouth is dry. His head is swimming a little bit. His heart races. There’s blood pounding in his ears as he thinks about Steve listening to The Ultimate Sin in his car even when Eddie’s not around to tell him about the production of the album or explain the intricacies of the instrumentals. He listens to it because he enjoys the music Eddie’s shown him. He talks about Eddie to the kids, asks about him.

Eddie exists to Steve outside of the weekly campaigns at the Wheelers’.

Doesn’t mean Steve likes Eddie the way Eddie likes him, though. Eddie can’t let himself dwell too much on the possibilities of what that could mean. He’s been crushing for months now. It’s almost winter in Hawkins, and Steve’s started coming around to campaigns more and more often the closer to the holidays it gets; Eddie figured it’s because Nancy will be coming home for Christmas soon - she was just here for Thanksgiving and Steve spent most of that Friday upstairs with her instead of in the basement with Eddie and the kids. So Eddie just kind of figured they were reconciling… 

He’d moped about it after he went home, certain that he’d never have a chance with Steve in spite of his very big, very obvious crush on him.

The thing is, Eddie’s never been all that subtle in his affections. He’s a tactile guy as it is, but with Steve it’s like he can’t keep his hands to himself at all. He finds himself reaching out whenever they’re together, a moon orbiting a planet, and Steve is all too willing to be the gravitational pull that draws Eddie close.

But that doesn’t mean he likes Eddie.

Which is what he says to the kids. They’re still looking at him, waiting for his response.

“You are so blind, God,” Mike groans, covering his face. “We can all see the way he feels about you, and you’re so gaga for him it’s a fucking miracle he hasn’t asked you out himself. Jesus, we are all so sick of this shit.”

“Language, Wheeler.”

“Stop deflecting, Munson. If you don’t say something when he gets back here, I’m gonna tell him for you. We’re all fucking tired of this!”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, of all people!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you don’t know then I’m not gonna tell you. Dumbass teenagers.”

There’s a flurry of footfalls above them, and then the basement door opens to reveal El and Max coming slowly down the stairs with Steve following close behind.

“Tense down here,” Steve smiles. “What’d we just walk in on?”

Panic rises in Eddie as Mike pins him with an evil smile and starts to open his mouth to spill the beans.

“Good news first or bad news first?” Eddie blurts out, holding out a hand towards Mike to shut him up.

“Uh oh,” Steve says. He pauses on the bottom step as the girls hover near the table. Steve’s eyebrows draw together, a little confused and a little concerned, and Eddie’s overcome with the urge to reach out and touch him. “Bad news first, always.”

“We were arguing about you.”

“And the good news?”

“Good news for you, either way. You have the option to prove them all wrong or severely gross them out.”

That crease between Steve’s eyebrows deepens. “What are you talking about?”

Well. Here goes nothing.

“The kids are all convinced you’re into me the same way I’m into you but I told ‘em that’s ridiculous. So you can tell ‘em they’re all idiots or you can come over here and kiss me, make ‘em all wanna wash their eyes out with bleach.”

Steve’s smile is slow to spread, but spread it does. It starts as a twitch in the corner of his mouth and his face softens. That twitch goes a little lopsided, one side of his mouth tipping up into an uncertain smile before it bleeds over onto the rest of his mouth, and he’s grinning. 

The Eddie smile.

It takes him no time at all to cross from the stairs to where Eddie sits at the head of the table and he drags Eddie up out of his seat.

“Guess we better get some bleach ready, then, baby,” Steve says.

And then he kisses him.

because you both asked to be tagged literally anytime i write something: @steves-strapcollection and @patchworkgargoyle - here, i wrote something

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heyyy

So I really liked the Damian Wayne x reader platonic friend thingy your wrote. I really feel like there should be more of those.

Anyways, k cam where to respect something similar. Can u maybe write hc on what it'd be like to be friends w him? Like bantering n stuff and maybe u can focus a bit on how Bruce feels abt it? Oh and bonus points if the reader is awkward.

Toodles!

Being friends with Damian isn’t easy in the slightest, mainly because he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him in the first place. So the fact that you managed to accomplish that was a major achievement already.

However that didn’t mean anything afterwards was made any easier for you just because you managed to make the impossible become possible. No. Why? Damian is one hell of a dry conversationalist if Titus or animals in general weren’t involved.

He’s basically an extroverts worst nightmare given a human form. For no matter how hard you tried to bait him into giving more then a one word answer out of him, it always ends with Damian not taking the bait and allowing a air of awkward silence to befall you both while everyone else was having a better time then you.

You: hey Damian.

Him: hello l/n.

You: how have you been?

Him: in peak condition, why?

You: it’s because I don’t see you that much outside of school, it’s almost as if your allergic to social interaction.

Him: Tt. why should I go out of my way to do such a thing? I have you as an acquaintance don’t I?

You: I mean yeah I guess-

Him: then I have no need to expand my friend group, for they’ll only disappoint me. Now is that all?

You: I mean there’s not much else to talk about at this point.

Him: good.

*cue to the pair of you sitting in utter, awkward silence*

When Damian says one friend is all he needs, he genuinely means it. One is enough for him. He doesn’t need anymore because he knows that he doesn’t have the time for them. Plus he might not say it out loud but he does appreciate your friendship, even if your both awkward individuals within most social situations, but he is happy that someone finally gave him a chance to be a friend.

So even if you were to ever ask why you were friends it’ll probably go something a bit like this;

You: why are you friends with me?

Him: you aren’t an idiot, plus you’re the only one who isn’t insufferable.

You: is that meant to be taken as a compliment or…

Him: take it as you see fit.

You: okay…

Damian as a friend would be protective i’d like to think? I mean you are literally the first friend he’s made so naturally he’s going to feel something when he sees you being friends with anyone else that wasn’t him.

Was it insecurity that you not day might not want to be his friend anymore? Possibly.

Will he ever admit to it though? No. This is Damian we’re talking about, of course he won’t.

Also being friends with Damian would best summed up as being two people who shouldn’t work but ultimately do either way, kind of like an ‘against all their differences they’re the best of friends’ type of duo because nobody and I mean nobody saw a friendship between you two ever happening. Ever.

Not even the great Bruce Wayne.

Speaking about him. If you ever got to visit the Wayne Manor and meet his father aka THE Bruce Wayne. Take it as a sign as you’ve made it as Damian’s best friend.

Would you shit yourself upon meeting quite possibly the most powerful man in Gotham? Yes and your sweating buckets on top of that, all the while Damian would be stood next to you completely unfazed as he introduced you to his father as his best mate.

Damian: father.

Bruce: Damian.

Damian: *points to you* this is my best friend and I expect that they get treated with respect during their visit here.

You: hi- hello it’s an honour to meet you M-Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: tell me how you’ve come to befriend my son?

You: we were in the same art class and I noticed that he had no one to sit next to, and so I offered for him to sit with me, keep in mind I’m not that well liked and practically had a whole table to myself, and I’d like to think our friendship started with that small act of kindness Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: and had Damian been kind to you?

You: in his own unique way sir but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bruce: *smiled* you’re a good kid l/n and you can go ahead and drop the formalities and call me Bruce instead. I shall go and tell Alfred to add another plate at the dinner table tonight.

Bruce, upon hearing that Damian had made a friend, wanted to meet you within immediate effect and see whether or not his son made for a good judge of character and he wasn’t disappointed.

Given the fact that you were awkward aside, you were defiantly what Damian needed for a friend, and Bruce was happy to see his son finally get to be normal for once as he watched from the window as Damian practically dragged you out to the spacious backyard with an excitable Titus on your heels as the Great Dane tried to get up and personal with you.

Alfred: they are certainly a pair, aren’t they master Bruce.

Bruce: an odd pair they may seem but they even out the other perfectly. Besides when was the last time Damian looked genuinely happy?

Alfred; can’t say that I recall sir.

Bruce: neither can I. At first I was sceptical but I’m glad being wrong. I can only hope that a friendship like theirs will stand the test of time because there will be times that will test their limits with one another. But if they’re as good a pair as I think they are then they’ll be perfectly fine.

Alfred: couldn’t have put it better myself sir *smiles alongside Bruce as they watched you and Damian act on your own within the others presence while in comfortable silence as Titus fell asleep at both of your feet.*

Yeah you’ll both be alright. You’ve got each other after all and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

[misskingshit]

𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 summary: Being a Na'vi, you completely forbade yourself from feeling any kind of affection for the strange creature, but Jake won't give up. Note: It’s me again, it’s been a long time, i’m sorry i didn’t post anything (I don't really know why I apologize, probably nobody cares and nobody is reading this) but i’m here! Am I sick of finding a living being (not human, almost animal) that is blue and non-existent incredibly attractive? yes, but I don't care, he is HOT. xoxo

"Why are you following me Jake?" you asked without stopping on your way to the forest. Your thick accent was impossible to ignore, English was still not your forte.

"Me? I don't do anything, just learning" he answers, playing dumb.

"Following me like a lost pet?" You turned to face him, even so, a smile was plastered on your face.

"Where did you learn that phrase? It's used where I come from… not here" he looks at you strangely. It was true, not a saying the Na'vi used.

"I got to meet your...human friend, Norm, he's a bit weird but he knows a lot about these lands, it's interesting" you said, the fact that these strange beings are finally interested in learning about you and that they take the time to study everything about your home made you feel good and you were excited to hear everything.

"Do you spend time with him now?" Jake asked looking at the ground, brushing past you as he started walking again.

"He gets very close to me and says he likes me, I don't see the problem" you raised your shoulders a little, now you are the one who follows Jake.

"Yes, he likes you too much" you hear a small whisper.

"What?" questions.

A sigh on his part makes you very alert to the situation, not understanding what was happening "where I come from there is something called codes" he says "I think he is forgetting, maybe I should help him remember" Jake squeezes shortly his jaw, although you couldn't see it since he kept walking, turning his back on you.

"Codes? what kind of codes?" poor naive you were.

"He shouldn't get too close to you, much less tell you how much he likes you."

"Why shouldn't he?"

"Because I already like you, are the rules" he replies.

"Those are stupid rules, I don't get it, I like you too like I also like Norm or Dr. Grace, that doesn't mean I can't get close to them..." you stop when you see the abrupt way in which Jake stops his step and turns to talk to you.

"You don't understand, you don't understand the way I like you, it's… different" he says seriously.

"Why are you angry?" you ask, now you are a little more serious.

"It's called being jealous! I'm jealous! You don't understand" he raised his voice a little.

"I don't get it! I'm not of your race and I never will be! You and I are not the same!" You try to escape but he quickly stops you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let me explain" he holds you "I like you, the way my heart races when you're around, like when I'm in my real body counting every second to come back and find you again, the way The one where you make this place feel like home to me," he confesses.

"like... like tsaheylu? That's what you say...".

Jake laughs slightly and caresses your cheek with one hand "yes, that's what I mean, the bond" your eyes widen "and I can't stand that the weirdo scientist approaches you because I want you for myself, I couldn't bear to lose you" he meets your foreheads.

The seconds in silence that seemed like centuries to him were killing him little by little, fear was eating him up inside.

"Jake...no, we can't..." he interrupted, again.

"Why?".

"Too many things, our path is not connected, you are temporary here" you start "sooner or later you will have to return to your real body...".

"That is not true, our way is our way, we decide it, the rest is solved later".

His hearts beat a thousand, it was something mutual, they both loved each other, but more than anything you were aware of all the obstacles that stood in their way, but Jake was willing to fight until his last breath to make their paths become one. only.

"Just, let me show you that it can be done" he leans closer to you.

You don't even doubt it, you already know you want it, but the fear is still there.

"I want the bond with you Jake."

———

This is not what i had in my mind, im sorry, this sucks.

I promise next one it’s gonna be better.

(English is not my native lenguage so im sorry for any mistake)

[maybankswhore]

high infidelity — xavier thorpe.

pairings: xavier thorpe x reader , tyler galpin x reader.

summary: your relationship with tyler got rocky when he started distancing himself from you. xavier just happened to be at the right place , at the right time.

do you really wanna know where i was april 29th? do i really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

You remembered that night vividly. You were wearing your favorite sundress because Tyler loved when you wore it. Your makeup had been done to perfection and you were bouncing off the walls , excited to finally spend time with Tyler. He had just been so busy lately , always leaving before it got dark , kissing the top of your head and darting away as soon as he got the chance.

You were never one to be insecure or worried about what Tyler was doing. You trusted him. You did.

Until he didn’t show at all. Your makeup was ruined by how much you cried , barely making out the letters on your phone. Tyler sending five messages in a row with some lame excuse , promising he’d make it up to you and how much he loved you.

You got up from the diner he was supposed to meet you at — the one your parents had dropped you off at expecting your boyfriend to bring you home.

You sat outside in tears somewhere that was towards the side. You cried not only because he cancelled , but because you felt as though the relationship wasn’t as strong as it used to be. He wasn’t as interested in you anymore. He never complimented you or made time for you. The two of you had been together for a year and for 5 of those months , he was acting as though you were just another customer — another friend.

“You okay?”

Your eyes glanced up and saw Xavier Thorpe. His hair pulled back in a bun showing off the features of his face well. His hands were shoved in his school jacket as he looked at you with curiosity , minimal concern , but curiosity. He knew you , how couldn’t he? You had always knew how to get the boy’s attention — even with normie Tyler Galpin on your arm.

Swallowing thickly , you wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.” He commented , gesturing towards your tattered appearance.

Tearing your eyes away from him , you shrugged. “’M okay. Really.”

Silence hovered over the two of you for a minute. You didn’t bother looking back at him , assuming he’d walk away by the lack of conversation.

Your eyes shot up when he cleared his throat. “Want to come in with me? Was gonna take it to go but I think I found a reason to stay.”

you know there are many different ways to kill someone you love. the slowest way is never loving them enough.

Your relationship with Tyler was deteriorating. Fast. He spent most of his time with Wednesday and yours with Xavier. You noticed how fast he seemed to like her — how often you’d catch him looking at her when she wasn’t looking. Clear admiration and affection was on his face for her , though everytime you brought her up he’d shrug it off , lean it for a kiss and promised he loved you and nobody else.

You just didn’t feel it.

“You should just break up with him.” Xavier sighed as he rubbed your back comfortingly.

The two of you had discovered that you both had the same things in common. He loved to paint , and you loved museums. He liked action movies , and you liked popcorn. Everything the two of you were , just fit in together. You liked to talk , and Xavier loved to listen. Always.

The pit in your stomach grew darker. “I don’t know.” You mumbled and shook your head. “Maybe I just need to try harder or–or maybe if I dye my hair he’ll notice it and think I’m pretty again. . . like her.”

Xavier frowned. His hand grabbed at your face gently , turning you to look at him. “You are pretty. You always were. You don’t need to look like Wednesday , Y/N/N.” His eyes searched yours and you weren’t sure what it was. Your hand had absentmindedly found itself cupping the fingers he had around your face , your skin inviting the warmth of him to surround you gently. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.” Xavier said confidently.

Your cheeks turned red at the compliment. Sparks erupting around you as you looked at him with big eyes. “You’re just saying that you—”

“I mean it.” Xavier cut you off.

He shook his head with a sigh as he looked at you. Face fallen with little warm tears trailing along down your cheeks. He tutted , pinching your chin with his fingers while the other hand wiped them away quickly. “Pretty girls shouldn’t be crying.” Xavier said , barely above a whisper— but you heard him.

His words caused your heart to swell. And you didn’t know if it was his big , green eyes looking at you as though you really were that beautiful or the way your face felt like it had been set on fire the moment he had touched you. Though whatever it was , clouded your judgement , and before you could stop to think about the consequences , your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth pressed itself firmly against his.

The moment you kissed him , it was all over.

do you really wanna know where i was april 29th? do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life.

“I think we need to break up.” You rushed out , glancing around the shop to see if anyone was listening. He was on break — barely realized you were there before you began pulling him out the door and towards the alley.

Your hands were shoved in your coat pockets as yoy avoided his lingering gaze. You didn’t want to look. You didn’t want to see any hurt or betrayal— you had already done enough and your heart wasn’t his anymore. It was sad , but it was reality , and you had to face the music.

“W-What? I thought. . . I mean I know it’s been weird lately but I—”

You scoffed. “You thought what , Tyler? Skipping dates. Flirting with Wednesday in front of me— I was just supposed to accept that? Act like everything was fine? Well it wasn’t! It wasn’t fine.” You didn’t mean to get so angry. But he knew this was coming. He had to have known.

“I wasn’t flirting with Wednesday.” Tyler laughed dryly. “I could say the same about you and that freak Thorpe.”

The mention of Xavier brought a crimson color bright on your cheeks. With a quickening heart beat , you simply shook your head. “You don’t get to turn this around on me Tyler.”

Tyler didn’t say anything. He just looked at you and knew. He knew.

“You. . . you’re breaking up with me for him?” He said it like a question , his voice trailing off at the end. His mind tried wrapping around where everything went wrong— how it happened. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Sure , he knew he hadn’t been the best. But he was doing it for them— for his mom. He was doing something good and you didn’t even know about it. “What? Did you fuck him?”

“Tyler!” You gasped at his accusation. The aggression in his tone made your eyebrows furrow. “You have no right to turn this around on me! Not after I tried so hard for months. Months!”

“You aren’t saying no.” Tyler scoffed.

“I kissed him.” You admitted , swallowing thickly. Tyler’s eyes dropped , his words seemingly meaningless , were actually true.

“You were. . .” Tyler put his hands on his hips as he looked away , blinking away tears. “You were with him last night then? When I tried calling you.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you love him?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

You paused and gave him a sad smile. You felt guilty for what you had done. It was wrong and you should’ve been thinking more clearly. But you couldn’t erase it. You couldn’t take it back.

All you had was forward now , and you felt like this was how it was supposed to be.

“He brought me back to life.”

[pinksturniolo]

If I Can’t Have You, No One Can - Part One

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: Matt can’t seem to stand the fact that he can’t have you to himself. He knows it’s wrong to want you. After all, you’ve been dating his best friend for the past few months. But he never claimed to be a good guy. And he’s more than willing to show you just what you’ve been missing.

Content warnings (not in every chapter): smut, oral, fingering, raw sex, cheating, unhealthy relationship, obsession, spanking, use of alcohol

word count: 3,887

written in first person pov

Spring 2023

I never liked L.A. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice city. Besides the cost of living being outrageously expensive, the weather was almost always nice and there were a lot of fun things to do. It’s the people that are insufferable. The increasingly large number of influencers and rude celebrities make me want to move away to a small town where nobody knows me, somewhere with a lot of nature and miles of land between you and your neighbor.

I grew up in Pasadena, moving closer to the city after my parents divorced and my mom switched me to a different high school. After I graduated, I got a job in merchandising downtown working for a clothing brand. It was always my dream to work in fashion and I was lucky to be in a spot I wanted.

Working in the fashion industry and living in L.A., I was bound to end up in the circle of today’s social media stars and to be quite honest, there were only a handful of people I actually liked. One of my coworkers, Jackson, became my best friend and he was very outgoing, always dragging me along to influencer parties and events. He had a lot of connections which were good for work but as far as I was concerned, I tried my best not to get involved with anyone on a personal level.

But life has a funny way of throwing you for a loop. Jackson introduced me to Mark who was also in the same line of work we were in. We instantly clicked, the conversation flowing easily. He was attractive, funny and nice. It didn’t take long before we became exclusive and our friends were over the moon, saying how good of a couple we made.

A few months had passed, and I was content. But there was something missing. He was a good boyfriend and treated me well, but I just didn’t feel… passion. I didn’t feel those fireworks. That heart racing, mind bending, butterfly inducing feelings that were portrayed in every romance movie or book you’ve seen or read.

The only person who ever made me feel like that was Matthew Sturniolo.

Matt and his brothers Chris and Nick happened to be really good friends with Mark, and I was introduced to them once me and him started dating. I found them charming, hilarious and some of the nicest influencers I had met so far. Me, Jackson, and Nick became inseparable, hanging out almost every weekend.

Mine and Matt’s friendship started out innocent. He was a little shy at first, but it didn’t take long for him to open up around me and we found that we had many things in common.

Maybe more than I have with Mark.

The more time I spent around him, the more I liked him. And it was rarely ever one on one interactions. Most of the time, we all hung out in a group setting but I found myself looking to him when something was funny or observing his reaction when we were watching a movie, and hanging on to every word he said when he joined in on conversations.

As much as I tried to deny the fact that I had developed a huge crush, I couldn’t help that my mind was constantly filled with thoughts of him.

Thoughts of his smile, his laugh, his eyes. The way he looked in the mirror when he fixed his hair, the way his pinky lifted from the cup whenever he took a sip of his drink. I found myself wandering how well his lips would fit against mine. How his hands would feel on my body, the sound of his voice panting in my ear if he was on top of me-

It was sinful. I felt horrible and disgusting and I’m sure there was a special place in hell reserved for me.

So, I tried to back off as much as I could. Whenever Mark went to the triplet’s house to hang out like we did almost every week, I made some excuse that I didn’t feel good, or I just wanted some alone time. He was a little concerned at first but then stopped questioning it after a while which I was thankful for.

Matt and Nick constantly blew up my phone, asking why I suddenly stopped coming over and I kept my responses as dry as possible. Even Chris called me a couple times, but I ignored it. I felt bad but I knew it was for the best.

 I wanted to respect Mark because even though it pained me to finally admit to myself that I wasn’t in love with him, I did care for him, and I didn’t want to break up. We had only been dating for a few months so obviously we weren’t that serious yet to consider moving in together or even discuss marriage but that didn’t mean that he deserved for his girlfriend to lust over his best friend.

And then one night, when they were all at Top Golf, Jackson called me. I knew I would never hear the end of it if I ignored his call, so reluctantly, I picked up.

“Y/N! Get your bum ass over here, I’m sick of you avoiding us. You’ve had enough alone time. You need to come back to reality.” He scolded.

“Jackson, I’m not avoiding anyone.”

“You sure about that? Cause I could argue there is a certain someone-“

“Jackson.”

“Y/N. I’m serious. I miss you, everyone misses you.”

“I miss you guys too…”

“Okay, so why can’t you come out?”

“It’s… complicated.” I sighed in frustration, unsure how much longer I could keep dodging the situation without explaining it properly. I had a feeling Jackson knew why. He was my best friend, and best friends always knew.

“Complicated how?” He pressed.

There were a few seconds of silence as I tried to find the right words to say, but I just couldn’t come up with anymore good excuses and I knew I was fucked.

“Well, I’m not hearing any good explanation, so if you’re not at the triplet’s house by the time we get there, I’m literally coming over there and dragging you out of the house myself.”

Click.

Yeah, I was fucked.

I walked up the driveway to the entrance of the house, my heart racing and legs feeling like Jello. I really needed to get my shit together. I hadn’t seen Matt in a while, and I found myself extremely nervous as I entered the front door. I walked up the stairs, seeing everyone at the kitchen table. Everyone except Mark and Matt.

I smiled, setting my purse and keys on the table and greeted everyone.

“Mark said he had to finish up some work at the office. Something about a deadline that was coming up soon.” Jackson said, noticing the curious expression on my face.

“Okay…” I replied. That was weird, he’s usually good at communicating with me and I had assumed he had come back with everyone after Top Golf.

Jackson just shrugged, taking another bite of his chicken finger. Once I saw the familiar styrofoam box with red lettering, my jaw dropped and I put a hand over my heart, acting like I was just utterly betrayed.

“Wow, you guys got Cane’s without me?” I asked.

Chris rolled his eyes while Nick gave me a dirty look. “Excuse me, you haven’t been here in fucking 6 months.” He spoke.

“Don’t be dramatic, Nick. It’s been 3 weeks.” I replied.

“I’ll save you my last piece of toast if you promise to stay and watch a movie tonight?” Nick said, giving me puppy dog eyes.

My heart dropped and I gave him a soft smile. “Maybe.” I replied.

“Don’t get your hopes up, it took some threatening just to get her over here.” Jackson added, glaring at me.

“Whatever, you’ll only be breaking Matt’s heart if you don’t stay.” Chris said, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Did it really matter to Matt that much whether I was here or not?

Chris started to speak but then Nick stomped on his foot which caused him to hunch over in pain. “What the fuck dude?” Chris said, rubbing his hurt foot.  I raised an eyebrow and looked over at Jackson. What the hell is wrong with them?

He simply shrugged again, a small smirk on his face and went back to eating. His nonchalant attitude was starting to bother me. I was definitely having a talk with him later.

“What he means is… Matt misses you. He said you’ve been ignoring his calls. And don’t get me started on that. You have a lot of making up to do.” Nick said, referring to the fact I’ve been ignoring everyone’s calls.

“I know, I’m sorry… Where is Matt anyways?” I asked, looking around.

“He’s in his room if you wanna go talk to him.” Nick replies, and I get nervous again, butterflies starting to form in my stomach.

I nod and walk away, towards Matt’s room.

I had only been in his room a few times and it was usually with Nick or Jackson, never just me and him. It wasn’t even a big deal but for some reason, the thought of being alone in his room with him scared me.

I knocked on his door softly, waiting for his response. After a few moments of silence, I knocked again, calling his name quietly. “Matt?”

He still didn’t answer. I was about to give up when I heard him respond, “Come in.”

I slowly cracked the door and could see it was dark in his room, the only light coming from the TV. I walked in and saw that he was in his bed, submerged under his comforter, only his head peeking out. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were barely open.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” I said and started to move back towards the door.

“No no, its okay. I needed to get up anyway.” He rasped, sleep still thick in his voice.

He sat up slightly, moving the blanket down and I tried not to stare because he didn’t have a shirt on, and I was getting a full view of the tattoos on his arm. Even though he had just woken up, he still looked so handsome.

 He pats the spot on the bed next to him, inviting me to sit down. My heart is still beating faster than usual as I sit on the edge of his bed, making sure there was more than enough space between us.

“All that golfing got you tired?” I ask teasingly, smiling at him. He laughs, a sound that I hadn’t realized I had missed so much.

“To be honest, I’ve been tired all the time lately.” He responds, running a hand through his hair.

“Me too.” I say, looking down to my lap. This small talk was killing me.

“Is that why you’ve been declining my calls? You sleeping too much?” He gets straight to the point, and I can feel his eyes on me.

I laugh nervously, unsure how to tell him the real reason I’ve been avoiding him.

“I’ve just been really busy with work. You know how that goes.” I say, hoping he won’t question me further.

He hums and nods his head, as I finally make eye contact with him. “I don’t really believe you… But that’s fine. I just hope it’s not because I’ve done something wrong.”

“No, of course not. It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong…” I reply, stopping before I say anything I regret. You’re just consuming my every thought and desire.

“So, it is something I’m doing then?” he asks, wanting me to clarify.

My words seem to get stuck in my throat as I look at him, unsure how to even answer that. His eyes are burning into mine, making my heart race faster.

“No.” I simply reply, and he raises his brows at my dry response.

“Yes.” I blurt, and his face is now plastered with confusion and hint of amusement as I get flustered, pinching my nose and closing my eyes in frustration.

“Yes?” He asks.

“No- fuck, I meant-“ I start and Matt interrupts me, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Yes or no, Y/N?” He says, now enjoying the fact I was making a fool of myself.

“No, Matt. It has nothing to do with you, okay?” I say, getting up from his bed. Lies.

“Now can we go watch a movie before Nick starts throwing a fit?”

✿

A couple hours and three bags of popcorn later, we were all sat on the couch as the credits of Edward Scissorhands roll on the screen. I checked my phone and to my surprise, Mark still hasn’t texted or called. I’m sure he’ll just call me in the morning.

Jackson yawns and stretches his arms out in his seat next to me, announcing it’s time for him to go home. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” He says to me, and I nod as he gives his goodbyes to Matt and Nick. Chris passed out halfway through the movie until me and Nick started spraying whipped cream smiley faces on his forehead, annoying him enough to make him storm off to his room.

Once Jackson is gone, Nick scoots next to me and throws his arm on the back of the couch behind me, giving me a suggestive look.

“Sooo… are you gonna spill the tea? What’s up with you and Mark?” He asks, nudging my shoulder.

I furrow my brows in confusion as his question. “What do you mean?”

I can feel Matt staring at me from his spot across the other side of the couch.

“Well, Mark barely even mentioned you tonight and then he randomly left saying he had to finish up some stuff at work. And I’m guessing he didn’t even tell you because you keep checking your phone like you’re waiting for his call.” Nick says.

“Wow, you’re incredibly observant.” I respond and I hear Matt chuckle.

“I know. Also, that would explain why you’ve been MIA the past few weeks. Are you guys gonna break up or something?” He asks.

I shake my head. “No, it’s not that.”

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to elaborate.

“But something is going on with you two?” Nick questions.

I hesitate and look at Matt, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed, his legs spread slightly in his sweatpants. “Please stop beating around the bush, Y/N. We just want to make sure you’re okay.” He speaks.

I sigh, throwing my head back and tucking my hair behind my ears. “Okay. Look, we’re not breaking up. But I’ve just felt different recently… like… I don’t know, like I don’t feel the same way about him like when we first met. Maybe we rushed into things too quickly. He has been working a lot lately and I just feel… lonely.” Empty. Bored. Unsatisfied.

Nick hums in understanding, tilting his head. “See, that makes sense. You guys have zero chemistry. At least that’s what I’ve always thought. Right, Matt?” He says, looking to him.

“Zero.” He replies instantly. His eyes have not left me since we started this conversation, and it makes me want to melt into the couch.

Suddenly, Nick gets a face time call and jumps up. “Shit, I have to take this. But we’re not done with this conversation, okay?” He tells me and I smile at him as he walks off upstairs.

I look at Matt, who now stands up and walks over to me, sitting down and putting his arm on the back of the couch, the same spot Nick had it in just moments earlier.

The way they switched places so quickly had my head spinning and the closeness of him next to me made my heart skip a beat.

“You know, you can sleep here if you want. I’m sure Nick won’t mind if you stay in his room.” He said politely. I smile at him, shaking my head. “It’s okay. I prefer my bed much better, no offense.” I reply and he laughs. “I won’t tell Nick you said that.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring your calls Matt… I guess my head’s just been a mess.” I tell him, looking to my lap, playing with a loose string on the rip in my jeans.

“It’s cool. You can talk to me anytime you need to though, you know. About anything.” He says ducking his head to try and make eye contact again. I give in, looking at him and his soft expression tugs at my heart strings like I’m a lovesick puppet.

“Thank you.” I reply. “But I don’t know if you wanna get caught up in that. I’ve been a little… frustrated, to say the least.”

His arm flexes behind me, and I see his jaw clench, a curious look now in his eyes.

“Frustrated?” He says and I realize I might have implied something with that statement.

“Uh, I mean, stressed, you know? Like I have all these pent-up emotions.”

Shit. What the fuck was I saying?

Matt is silent, and the way he’s looking at me has my heart beating a million miles a minute, my palms feeling sweaty and my head spinning.

Finally, he says, “Like you need a release, right?” My eyes are still locked on his, floating in a never-ending pool of icy cold blue that makes me feel warm in the palpable tension now filling the room.

“Mhm.” I say, afraid to speak, because I might continue to say incredibly stupid things I’ll regret.

I feel his hand ghost over the back of my neck, which causes chills to run down my spine.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes travelling down my face, pausing at my lips. “I could help you with that too. If you asked.” He said quietly, almost whispering and looks me in the eyes again, a playful fire burning there and a sly smirk on his lips.

Before I can even process what he said, the next second, Nick comes bounding down the stairs from his room and Matt removes his arm from behind me, clearing his throat.

I jumped up, causing a weird look from Nick. “I-I need to go home. I forgot I have some things to do.” I blurt, going to grab my purse and keys from the table.

He looks back and forth from me to Matt, one eyebrow raised in confusion. “Okay… I guess I’ll see you later?” He asks and I give him a hug before walking to the front door past Matt, avoiding eye contact with him. “For sure. Later!” I say, trying to rush out the door as fast as I can.

Once I open the door and step out, I hear Matt run to catch up and I turn around while he shuts the door behind him.

“Y/N. Wait.” He says.

“Yes?” I ask, my breath coming out in short puffs.

The cool air of spring is blowing, leaves falling from the trees and flowers starting to bloom in the grass.

Matt looks at me in the same way he has all night and I notice he’s hesitating, his mouth opening but no words coming out.

“What?” I say, wondering what he could’ve possibly followed me out of his house for.

“Tell me you don’t feel what I feel.”

“What?” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

He moves closer to me, his body now a few inches from mine and I see his chest rise and fall quickly, his next words coming out breathlessly.

“Tell me you don’t feel something between us. I need to know the real reason why you’ve been ignoring me.”

My heart is pounding at his boldness, and I clutch to the keys in my hand so hard my skin stings with pain. I was not ready to have this conversation and all I could do is freeze as he waits for my response.

“Y/N, tell me you feel nothing. That I’m just a friend to you and nothing more.” He says softly now, reaching his hand out to brush his fingers against my jaw with the lightest touch.

I want to tell him that yes, you’re just a friend and nothing more. That I don’t have any feelings for you and I don’t think about you every moment I wake up and every moment before I go to sleep. That I feel nothing.

But I just can’t. I can’t say or do anything but stare back at him, my eyes surely saying the complete opposite of what I’m thinking.

He closes the gap between us, now grabbing both sides of my face in his hands, brushing his lips against mine. “Tell me you don’t want me.” He breaths, and my knees feel weak as I clutch onto his shirt. “Matt…” Is all I can manage and I’m not doing a very good job of convincing him that I don’t.

He groans at the needy sound in my voice, and I can’t take the tension anymore as I press my lips to his, kissing him. He instantly kisses me back, his grip tightening on my jaw and I’m not even sure how I’m still standing.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, our mouths moving in sync and it’s electric. His lips are so soft but firm in the way he leads, and when his tongue glides against mine, I moan lightly from the feeling. His hands now slip to my waist, mine still on his chest.

The kiss is becoming heated as we pant against each other, his fingertips digging into my hips and pulling me even closer to him. I feel his heart racing, the world slipping away like nothing else matters.

He kissed me like he couldn’t breathe, and I was his oxygen.

I wanted more and more, unsure that I will ever stop before a little voice in my head tells me that this is wrong, wrong, wrong. But it feels so fucking good.

No. This is bad.

“No-“ I say, suddenly pushing him away from me, catching my breath.

I shake my head, backing away from him now. “This is bad.”

His cheeks are tinted pink, lips swollen and red, his hair a mess.

“Y/N.” He says, taking a step towards me.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.” I responded, stepping further from him. “I have to go.” And I turn away, practically running to my car and slamming the door, taking off before I can change my mind.

As I drive home, the look on Matt’s face replays in my head, and I touch my lips, the feeling of his kiss still there.  

I’ve never felt this strongly before, and as I drive further and further from him, I feel an invisible string tugging on me, willing me to turn around.

It’s a dangerous game to play, whatever we’ve started.

a/n: matts pov and disgusting smut in part two 😁

feedback and thoughts appreciated 💕

taglist:

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo

[vampyrixdarling]

I LOVED YOUR ZOMBIE SONIC WRITING HSHDJF

Okay so Sonic with a reader that he caught feelings for, right ? But the thing was, they were a big bad meanie guy out for BLOOD. They liked Sonic too, but refused to change their villainous ways tehe

IM IN LOVE Q THIS IDEA

HCs or a one shot is fine >:)))

— 「𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧」

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MASTERLIST

╰┈➤ Sonic the Hedgehog x villain!reader

: ̗̀➛ synopsis; Sonic never could’ve predicted that he’d be falling for the same person who would actively endanger his home and his friends. But it happened. Mutual pining with slight rivalry mixed in with playful fighting, who’s to complain?

: ̗̀➛ Type; romantic headcanons

: ̗̀➛ warning(s); brief mentions of fighting (not detailed), swearing.

Likes/Reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

I’m like honestly SO embarrassed of the quality of this😭 please let this slide Orion I am BEGGING🙏🙏 my writing is normally SO MUCH BETTER I SWEAR

→ Sonic is someone who prides himself on being able to save his world from any threat that dares try to destroy it or hurt his friends or innocent people. He’s a hero, and he’s proud to call himself one. Sure, the praise and the fame that comes with it is cool and all, but all Sonic really cares about is saving all that he can, and taking down evil. He doesn’t need a reward for just doing what he loves. Hell, he’d even get to hangout with his friends just talking about the fight he had, and try some of Amy’s delicious deserts of course. Except if it was strawberry shortcake. He’d stay far away from that if he could.

→ You, on the other hand, were just another villain. You found a kind of sadistic joy in the misery of other people— a sick satisfaction from watching all those below you suffer a terrible fate at your hands. It’s always been this way for as long as you could remember, really. There wasn’t a moment you truly felt happy. No moment where you truly felt complete. And maybe, just maybe, causing pain and suffering to those undeserving made you feel just a little better about the dull, boring life you had. Something like the phrase, “if I can’t be happy, nobody can”, as much as you hated it.

→ But, nobody could deny the slight excitement you felt when the blue blur himself stood in your path, eyes locked on yours as he got ready to attack. A fight with him was never boring, that much was guaranteed. and perhaps you felt the same way, unfortunately you’d never get to finish your thought before he spin-dashed into you, sending you flying into the nearest wall.

“Ugh, come on, [Name]… haven’t we been over this once before?”

“Three times, actually. Learn to keep track.”

The hedgehog rolled his eyes as he sped towards you again. Meanwhile, with a cocky grin on your face, you shakily got up.

→ Sonic would feel extremely conflicted and confused. On one hand, you were everything he hated. Someone who felt joy in causing terror and harm upon those he cared for. But, on another hand, there was an undeniable chemistry between you guys. None of you would ever admit that, though.

→ He hated how felt this way about you. He shouldn’t feel anything like this for any of his enemies. But, there was also this one flaw about him. The fact that he’s willing to give second chances and hope for the best. He does see the good in you, no doubt about it. It’s just that you’re being so damn difficult, he wish you’d just give up.

→ But you weren’t oblivious to this. You saw how the hedgehog briefly hesitated before landing a punch to you. You saw how his eyes lit up once he realized you weren’t dead from that landing. And, a part of you felt pity for him. You realized how hard this was for him, to hurt someone he’s grown to love, and you really wished you wouldn’t care. But you did.

Because you loved him too.

→ None of you took the realization well. You both hated each other for feeling this way, and while you both tried to separate from each other, you just kept coming back. You both would swear it’s because you’re causing trouble and Sonic’s just trying to save everyone, but you both knew it was different. But one day, during a pretty heated fight..

“Why can’t you just let me do what’s best for you, [Name]?!”

“This isn’t what’s best! You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know that I love you!”

…

Oh.

Oh..

→ Once the awkwardness was out of the way, and you two were finally able to confront each other… you got it all out. You both had a talk about how you really felt. He expressed his concerns, and you voiced your clear distain towards leaving your villainous ways. Which, he understood. He hated how you refused to stop, but you just wouldn’t listen to him. So after negotiating, you agreed to slightly tone down your attacks. Which wasn’t much, but at least you weren’t killing anybody.

Bonus: He’d LOVE chasing after you and getting into so many playful fights with you while you’re attacking the town. It would be so fun and exciting for the both of you.

[riboism]

man who can’t be moved

》 pairing: j.yh x f!reader

》 genre: angst, smut, some fluff

》 content: college student!reader, college student! yunho, no strings attached, hookups, reader is kind of a player, some mentions of reader’s ex (it didn’t end well),  lots of denial, lots of emotions, big dick yunho, creampie, clit play, angry sex, am i missing anything?

》 wc: 6.4k

》 a/n: thank you to the person who requested this! this got me out of my writers block. I hope you like it :)

♫ playlist: flook- hector gachan, evergreen- omar apollo, frío- omar apollo, broken love- gemini, man who can’t be moved- the script

Yunho stood outside your apartment door, holding onto a box that contained your possessions. He could smell the rosy scent of the shampoo that you left in his shower. He had spent all morning collecting your belongings into this box, proud that he finally made an effort to be rid of you once and for all. But that rosy smell, that same scent that he’d wake up to after you spent the night was making him second guess himself. No, stop it, he said to himself. Just stick to the plan Yunho. 

The plan was simple. Yunho would go to your apartment after work and knock on your door, fully aware that you probably weren’t home. You were most likely at San’s or Yeosang’s place right now, getting shit-faced drunk and having sweaty sex on their beat-up couches, head too fuzzy in bliss to even spare a single thought about him. But he thought he would knock anyway, just as a courtesy. He’d wait for ten seconds, and when you don’t answer, he’d shrug in a “welp, I tried” kind of way before placing the box on your doorstep. He’ll take a deep breath while looking at your door that he knew all too well one last time and then head towards the stairwell exit, with his head held high, showing no intention of turning back.

Yunho was partly to blame for the way things ended, and he knew that. You made yourself very clear in the beginning. “Listen Yunho, you’re really sweet,” You said after he confessed to you all those months ago at the campus library where you two first met, “But I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t really do relationships. You get what I mean?”

He knew exactly what you meant. ‘Dating’ was an ancient term. Nobody ‘dated’ anymore. What replaced this archaic social practice were one-night stands, situation-ships, friends with benefits, hookups, etc. No one wanted a ‘serious’ relationship anymore because that meant having to give your mind, body, and soul to someone, and why bother with all that when you can just give them one of the three? 

Even though most of his peers shared the same sentiment as you when it came to relationships, Yunho didn’t agree with it at all. Maybe he was old-fashioned for wanting something more than a quick fuck. Looking back on it now, he regretted not taking the hint. It was evident that you wanted a guy you could fool around with when you were bored, someone who’s emotionally unavailable so you don’t have to worry about attachments and sudden ‘L’ bombs when you’re just trying to get your fix. But Yunho, who was so pathetically infatuated with you at the time, so much so that it blocked away all rational thinking, decided that he’ll be whatever kind of guy you wanted him to be if it meant that he could be with you. The foolish romantic was now part of a no strings attached relationship. 

He felt incredibly stupid for getting involved with you. What did he expect? That after all the mindless sex, you’d fall as hard for him as he did for you, and finally agree to be his girlfriend? He had so much to learn. No strings attached meant no strings attached. That meant less conversation and more action. Less getting to know each other and more getting to know about what was in between your legs. It meant no longing stares, although he was guilty of watching you sleep in his arms from time to time. It also meant being okay with the fact that he was not the only guy you were seeing. And that’s when the fights would ensue.

“Who was that guy?” Yunho demanded, making sure to use his quiet-yelling voice out of respect for the other patrons of the library. He was referring to the pale, blonde-haired guy from the dining hall earlier. He didn’t like how close he was standing next to you. He especially didn’t like it when he leaned in to whisper in your ear, or how you giggled when he placed his hands over your waist and how you rubbed your hands over his flexed muscles. You chewed on your gum, tracing your fingers over the etched golden text on the book spines on the historical fiction shelf. You almost didn’t hear him at first, too preoccupied with finding your next bedtime read. 

“Hmm? Oh, that guy? Just someone I’ve been seeing. Why, you jealous?” 

It was a joke. There was no such thing as ‘jealousy’ in a no strings attached relationship. You smiled up at him, expecting to see him roll his eyes from your playful jab, but instead, he looked away from you. Even with his side profile facing you, you could read the tinge of irritation on his face. You frowned.

“Oh come on Pookie,” You pouted, squeezing his cheeks and turning his head to face you. You chuckled after seeing his lips puckered up like a fish. “Don’t be like that. Come on, I can’t be the only girl you’re seeing, right?” 

He placed his hand on your wrist and pulled you off him. “Whatever.” He moped. He watched as your eyes widened in sudden realization. 

“No…” You gasped dramatically, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. “I’m the only one you’ve been seeing?” 

He stayed quiet, not understanding why you worded it that way. Was it really a bad thing that you were the only girl on his mind? 

“Oh god, you’re so cute!” You tittered. “I thought with a dick like yours, you’d be very popular. It’s a shame you’re not sharing it. I know a lot of girls who would love to take you out for a spin.” 

“Keep your voice down.” Yunho hissed, looking around to see if anyone heard your distasteful choice of words. Luckily, no one was around at your corner of the library. “And stop talking like that. I don’t like it when you talk about me like that.” 

“It was a compliment!” You defended yourself. Yunho refused to meet your eyes, busying himself with pulling out random books and reading the blurbs on the backside, although he was too upset to even acknowledge what he was reading. You sighed again, feeling a little bad for making him so upset. You’d often forget that Yunho was more sensitive than your other partners and that he needed extra kindness and assurance. You wrapped your arms around his big body and rested your cheek against his back. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you so much.” He stayed quiet, putting back the book and pulling out another. “Please don’t be mad.” You begged. 

“I’m not mad,” He murmured. “I just thought…I don’t know, I thought I was the only guy you were seeing.” 

“Does it bother you that you’re not?” You questioned, letting go of him. Yunho looked back at you, his chest tightening at your furrowed brows. He worried that he said the wrong thing again. He was new to the no strings attached community, and would often let his possessiveness and sensitivity peek through. 

“No,” He lied. “I just…Forget it.” 

You mulled over his response, trying hard to understand why he was so upset, to begin with. Your silence made Yunho nervous. Everything about you made him nervous. 

Then, your eyes sparked when you finally understood. “Ohh…I get it.” You nodded. 

His shoulders tensed up. “You do?” 

“Yes, and you have nothing to worry about. Out of everyone, you’re my favorite.” You stood on your tippy toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, satisfied that you solved the puzzle and were able to calm his nerves. 

Yunho gave you a shy smile. He didn’t want to smile, but he figured it was best to do so, so that you could believe that he was lashing out over the fear of being replaced, and not because he didn’t wish to share you with other guys. 

You continued on. “You worried me for a second. I thought you were one of those guys that don’t like it when a girl has a mind of her own.”

“No,” he chuckled nervously, “No, I don’t mind that at all.” 

“Good,” you chirped, going back to your search. “You wouldn’t believe some of the guys I’ve been with. They get so clingy, and it gets annoying after a while. I’m glad you’re not like that. Other guys…they don’t get it.  We’re young. It’s better we have fun while we can, or else we’ll live to regret it when we’re old and wrinkly and can’t get any.” 

Yunho hummed in agreement, although he didn’t agree with you at all. He thought about his grandparents. They lived in a small apartment just outside of the city. His parents would complain about how small their living space was, and offered to help them move into a more spacious apartment, but his grandparents always refused. “If we move into a bigger apartment, we won’t be able to see each other. This size is perfect,” His grandmother would say, “I turn around and he’s right behind me. It’s how it should be. Anything farther, and we’d miss each other too much.”

It always warmed his heart just how inseparable those two were, even in their old age. He wanted that for himself one day. How wonderful would it be to grow old with the person you love most? 

Later that night, while you were showering, he remained in your bed, thinking about what you said earlier. Was he really your favorite? Did you really like him more than the other guys you were seeing? Or was his dick just bigger than theirs? He tried not to think about that too much and focused on going to sleep.

-

And when it wasn’t him being upset with you, it was you getting annoyed with him. 

“Do you really have to go?” Yunho whined. He was sitting up on his bed, watching you as you shuffled around his room, bending down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing. 

“I already told San I’d meet up with him later.” You huffed as you shimmied into your jeans. Yunho didn’t like how quickly you were getting dressed. It was as if you were eager to get away from him. 

“San?” He scoffed. “You mean that bartender that kept eye fucking you right in front of me?” 

Yunho remembered San. A lot of the girls from your University frequented that bar on the corner of Main Street, hoping to get served by the handsome devil in all black. He’s seen a lot of the girls write their phone numbers on the twenty-dollar bills they tipped him with. It was ridiculous. Everything about him was ridiculous, from the cheap hair gel he used to slick back his hair, to his sleazy smile, along with his overly tight t-shirts and shiny black leather pants. But he didn’t mind him too much, not until that night when you two went in for a drink, and the so-called ‘handsome devil in all black’ ruthlessly flirted with you when he was clearly sitting right next to you with his hand on your thigh to mark that you were taken. Yunho didn’t know what angered him more. San’s shit-eating grin or the fact that you let him flirt with you in the first place. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that guy.” You really didn’t like it when he got emotional, and Yunho could sense your discomfort. He immediately regretted what he said and grabbed you by your arm before you could leave, pleading to you with his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you. But can’t you just stay a little longer? It’s already so late. I thought you could spend the night. We could rent a movie?” He offered. 

You picked up your jacket and purse, not even bothering to put them on before you left. “Look, I’ll call you okay?” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips and then went out the door before he could protest again. Yunho slumped back against the headboard, the sound of the door slamming behind you echoing in his head. How do you keep letting this happen, Yunho? She comes and goes, that’s what she does. She’s not here to hold hands and watch a fucking movie. She wants to fuck and then move on to the next guy. Seriously, do you have any respect for yourself?

And that’s how the cycle would begin. Yunho would get tired of you and your bullshit, tired of being discarded right after helping you cum, tired of driving himself mad over who you were seeing and what you were doing with him, just tired of being an option. It wasn’t him. He wanted you and your full devotion, and when he finally realized that there was no way you would give that to him, he’d call it off. 

The first few weeks of being free from you would go well. He’d be at peace like he got rid of a bad cold and could finally breathe again. But that small period of relief wouldn’t last very long. Truth was, Yunho wasn’t good at being alone. And soon, he’d miss your touch, your smell, and hearing your laugh. He’d miss the moments he spent with you in the library, like when you two would play footsies under the table during your late-night midterm study sessions, or the times you two would fight for the aux cord in his car, eager to show each other new songs you were obsessing over at the moment. He’d find himself listening to the songs you showed him, but they didn’t sound the same anymore. 

He’d miss hearing you talk about your day or your thoughts about rent control and the current economic crisis. And then he’d miss the nights he spent with you, how your body reacted to his fingertips, the way you’d press your eyes shut when he entered you, and the pretty sounds you let out when you were close to your peak. And then he’d think about that one night you showed up at his apartment, unannounced. You were upset, it was telling from your reddened lips and tear-stained cheeks. You wouldn’t say why you were upset, and after asking a couple of times, Yunho decided to just let leave you be. He then invited you in and let you lead the way to his bed. It started the way any other night started, with you two hungrily ripping each other’s clothing off, but before he could spread your legs, you suddenly pressed your hand to his chest and asked him to stop. “No, not like this…Can we-” You looked away from his piercing gaze, a rush of frustration and confusion coursing through your stomach until you finally spit the words out. “Can we just lay here?”

Yunho looked down at you with sincerity in his eyes, and he wanted to ask you one more time what was wrong. But seeing you so hurt, so tired, so in need of someone to just hold you while you cried, he decided to hold his tongue. He pulled you into his arms without question, letting you wet his chest with your spilled tears. And when he felt goosebumps prickle up on your skin, he covered both your naked bodies with a blanket and held you tighter. You finally fell asleep, your worries being absorbed by Yunho and his warm embrace, and Yunho couldn’t help but feel a little enraptured watching you sleep so peacefully in his arms. He’s had you in every way, in every position, seen every crevice of your beautiful body, but this. This is what he wanted most in the world. This is how he wanted you. And he hoped that by the next morning, that’s how you’d want him too. But when morning came, Yunho woke up alone, with nothing but the faint smell of roses on his pillowcase. When he asked you about it later that day on campus, you suddenly went cold and demanded he never bring it up again.

He thought about that night, your body, those Omar Apollo songs you showed him, the library study sessions, just every single moment that he’s ever spent with you, driving himself mad to the point where the desire for you would be overwhelming and too strong to ignore and he’d ultimately give in and crawl back into bed with you, allowing you to use him as you wanted, feeling again like a dog on your leash. It would feel good for a bit, until those same old feelings resurfaced and he’d call it off once again, repeating the never-ending cycle of your no strings attached relationship.

But this time, things were going to be different. He wasn’t going to continue this cycle. You weren’t good for him, and it was time he let go and move on. That’s why he packed all your stuff and came to drop them off. It was official. There was no going back from this. All he had to do now was stick to the plan. 

Yunho shifted the box to his side and used his free hand to knock on the door. He took a deep breath and counted in his head. 

One. 

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five-

The door swung open, interrupting his counting. You stood at the door frame in nothing but your bathrobe, your wet hair dripping puddles around your feet. Yunho was at a loss for words. This wasn’t part of the plan. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t prepare for this. He didn’t, sorry, couldn’t see you, because it would just make things harder. It was like flaunting a cigarette in front of someone who just quit smoking. He wasn’t strong enough to resist you. He was addicted to you and he worried that he would relapse again. 

“Oh, Yunho.” You acknowledged, crossing your arms over your chest. He held onto the box tighter, feeling himself twitch from the sound of you calling his name. You peered into the box, recognizing the articles of clothing and personal hygiene products. “Is that my stuff?” 

Yunho struggled at first, forgetting for a moment how to speak coherently. “Uh- yes, it is. I came to drop them off. Here.” He blubbered, pushing the box towards you. You took it from his hands, not expecting it to be so heavy. You didn’t realize you left so many things at his place. 

“Oh. Thanks.” 

A silence weighed in between you, both of you looking at each other awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. Right, Yunho thought to himself, there’s nothing left to say. You did your part, now walk right out. 

“Well, I should head back. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Yunho turned on his heel and made his way out of the long corridor. Part of him didn’t want to reach the end of the hall, but he pushed himself anyway, reminding himself over and over to not look back. As painful as it was, it needed to happen. It was for the best. 

“Wait,” You called after him. 

And just like that, Yunho immediately stopped in his tracks, not hesitating this time to turn around. It almost brought him some relief, like he had been holding his breath for too long, and now you finally gave him permission to exhale. “Yes?” He beamed.

You stepped out from the door frame and into the hall so you were right across from where Yunho stood. “Do you want to come in?”

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded, almost believing that he must have heard you wrong. 

“I mean, your stuff,” You clarified, “I still have some of your stuff in my apartment if you wanted to come in and grab them.” It was kind of pathetic, the way you tripped over your words, but you couldn’t bare saying goodbye just yet. No, you’re not catching feelings, you assured yourself. You just wanted him around you for a little bit longer. Maybe it was selfish of you to keep pulling on his leash like this, but for the moment, you didn’t care. 

“Oh, right. That would be great, actually.” 

-

Yunho knew he would hate himself for letting this happen. All that progress getting chucked out the window on account of his lack of self-control. But how could you blame him? With the way your damp strands curled around your flushed cheeks, the smell of your rosy shampoo that had been seared into his nostrils by now, and the fact that all he had to do was undue your robe to see your beautiful glistening body that was so ready for him to take. It was all so easy. You handed him the apple and all he had to do was take a bite. 

“Fuck, Yunho!” You cried out, grasping his bare back for dear life as he frantically thrust into you. He was angry, angry at himself that he let this happen again, and angry at you for making him so weak. He only put just the tip in, but you could’ve sworn you were seeing stars from the stretch alone. 

“Unbelievable,” He grunted. “Even after the hundred times we fucked, your little pussy still can’t take my cock?”

You’d never seen this side of Yunho. Usually, he was nice and gentle with you, always studying the arch of your brows to see if he was taking things too far or not. It was sweet at first, but sometimes you’d wish he’d just take you and fuck you like an animal. It seemed your wish was finally granted. “P-Please! All of it, I want all of it Yunho, please!” Was all you could muster out. 

He pulled out of you in an instant, and before you could whine, he forcibly flipped you over and pulled you back by your hips until your ass smacked into his pelvis. Yunho kept you down with his hand pressed against the space between your shoulder blades as he lined himself up with your aching center. 

Yunho rubbed himself against your slick folds, occasionally slapping his tip over your swollen clit, making your hips jolt with anticipation. “You want it all? ‘Guess those other guys don’t fill you up as much as you want, huh? Poor thing.” He continued dragging his cock over your folds, your soft whimpers only feeding into his ego. 

Just when he thought you had enough, he guided his cock into your hole, the stretch forcing you to tear up once again. You grasped at your bed sheets and pressed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the rest of him as your lips coated in salty tears. 

He pushed the rest of him into you with a struggle, his hips stagnant as he waited for you to adjust to his size. “Fuck!” You gasped, your voice cracking as he started up again. Each thrust was deep, calculated, and they didn’t fail to rip a moan out of you. 

His fingers, now coated with your essence, tweaked and twisted at your clit. It was all too much for you, really, the sheer length of him plowing into your walls, the brutal pace he set on account of his anger, along with the way he toyed at your clit. Yunho could sense you were close, having known your body long enough to know when you were about to be sent over the edge. He stopped teasing your bud and instead slipped his fingers past your lips and you readily let him in, swirling your tongue around his digits to clean yourself off him. He grinned to himself, pleased to see that you knew exactly what to do without any instruction. 

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out from you and cupped your jaw with his large hand, pulling you back until your head was against his chest, keeping your face there so you were forced to look up at him. He peered down at you with his full attention, completely engrossed by just how pretty and sinful you looked in this position. “Stay like that,” He breathed “‘wanna see you when you cum all over my cock.” 

He came first, your orgasm approaching soon after. You babbled incoherently as his cum flooded your walls, forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Yunho was completely enamored with you like this, your parted and swollen lips and your half-lidded eyelids almost making him shoot a second load into you. He disconnected from you and you fell forward onto the bed, catching your breath as you came down from your high. You felt dizzy and sweaty, and your head was so cloudy that you were unable to form a thought that wasn’t already so scrambled. As you relaxed, you felt Yunho’s breath over your hip right before he planted soft kisses on your lower back all the way up to your shoulder. His kisses were sweet and careful, almost like he was making up for being so rough with you. Soon enough, he retired from your shoulder and moved on to the side of your face, brushing his pillowy lips on your temple, to your wet eyes, to your cheek, until you craned your neck back and allowed him to meet your lips. 

It was almost foreign to you, to have someone care this deeply for you even after the act. None of your other partners behaved this way, and you were lucky if they even remembered to toss you a towel. But Yunho, he was different. He treated you as something more, and maybe it made you feel bad that you didn’t do the same for him. It was overwhelming, his soft kisses, his careful touches, the way he’d beg you to stay over, and the way he almost looked hurt when you say you can’t. Poor Yunho. He was in love with you, and you knew it. You hated yourself for toying with a man with good intentions. But what was the alternative? You couldn’t be his, and he couldn’t be yours. You made a promise to yourself years ago that you’d never be foolish enough to fall in love ever again. This had to stop, you should’ve stopped it months ago, but you were selfish. And lonely. The guilt you’ve been bottling up inside of you was too much to handle, and you knew you had to do something before you exploded.

Feeling disgusted with yourself, you pulled away from his lips. Yunho raised a brow at the sudden gesture. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his slightly concerned tone making your heart shatter into pieces. 

“You should get going. It’s late.” You got up, forcing Yunho to pull off of you. He watched you as you went over to your dresser to pull out a fresh pair of pajamas, completely dumbfounded by your sudden coldness. 

“Are you fucking serious?” He scoffed.

You shook your head, picking up his t-shirt that lay on the floor and tossing it over to him. His eyes flickered in anger and he threw his shirt back on the ground. “I don’t understand, why do you always do this!?” 

You stayed quiet, quickly covering yourself before turning around to face him, keeping your eyes low, feeling too ashamed to meet his. “I’m sorry, but I need you to go.” 

Yunho clenched his jaw. How could you be so cold? How could you invite him in, only to toss him out so abruptly? He thought about how you melted right into his embrace, how you kissed him back with the same amount of passion that he kissed you with. Was any of it real? Or was he too infatuated to notice that you were playing him, again? 

“Why? Is Yeosang coming over? Do you really think that guy cares about you?”

You balled your fists up at the mention of Yeosang. “Stop.” You warned.

“And San? He’d fuck anything with two legs and a heartbeat. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Yunho, that’s exactly what I want!” You snapped. A silence weighed in before Yunho’s lips curled up in an unexpected smile. 

“What?” You teethed. 

He shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t know what you want. That’s why you keep coming back to me.” 

“Me?” You pointed to yourself, a crooked smile now spread across your lips. “No, it’s you that keeps coming back to me.” You jeered. 

“And you let me! Why do you let me!? Time after time, you take me back without question, why?”

You crossed your arms and looked away from his direction. You felt hot, like the blood in your veins was boiling. You didn’t want to deal with this. You felt stupid for letting him in. Yunho always had questions, so many questions, and you couldn’t give him any answers. Fed up with your silence, Yunho got up and walked towards you, almost closing the gap between you two. You still didn’t look at him. 

“And that night. Why did you come to me? Why didn’t you go to your other boyfriends? You were so different. Why did you act like it never happened the next day?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your expression softened remembering that night. It was so cold and rainy that night, and Yunho felt so warm. He made you feel so loved, so cared for, and for once you felt like you deserved someone like him. But the morning sun gave you some clarity, and you were reminded once again of what happens when you fully give your heart to someone. Yunho didn’t see it now, but he’ll understand it one day. Love is a wasted emotion. It gives and gives, until one day it takes everything back from you, and more. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed. 

That wasn’t good enough for him. He took another step forward, the tips of your noses now just centimeters away from each other. “I’ll tell you why,” He said, his voice softer than earlier. “It’s because you like me. It’s because I’m the only one who really understands you, the only one who sees more to you than just your body. That’s why you keep taking me back. It’s why you came to me that night. You knew you could be vulnerable with me, and that I wouldn’t turn you away, because-” He paused for a moment to lick his lips. “Because I like you too, y/n.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you tried to ignore the sting so that you wouldn’t blink and force them to run down your cheeks. Your chest felt like it was engulfed in flames, making your breathing unsteady. You were too caught up in your emotions to realize that Yunho closed the gap and pressed his lips onto yours, his hands firmly placed at your waist. 

He always kissed you like he wasn’t going to see you for a while. Maybe it was a force of habit considering all the times Yunho had ended things between you two. Or maybe, as he said, he liked you, and he wanted you to know from his touch if his words didn’t suffice. It felt right kissing him, real. Not like all the other times with your boy toys, who only kissed you because that’s just what came naturally when you're both rolling around naked in bed. Yunho never only kissed you on the lips, but everywhere else as well, your eyes, cheeks, forehead, and just every feature of you that made his heart swell and anywhere he could put his lips on if you let him. 

It was so easy. All you had to do was wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, leave this no strings attached bullshit behind, and let him lead the way. But you were reminded, reminded of him again, the one who took your heart and snapped it into two, the one who lead you to keep people at a distance and hurt them before they hurt you. That’s what you needed to do now, you told yourself. You had to hurt him. It made your heart ache even thinking of hurting Yunho, but you would be doing him a favor, even if he didn’t realize it now. You were damaged goods, not fit for sale. He’d be better off.

You pushed your hands on his chest to get him off you. Yunho, looking at you with such hope and hurt in his eyes, holding onto your hands that you used to keep him at a distance. He didn’t say anything, instead waiting for you to explain. 

Your eyes were down at your feet, too afraid to look him in the eye and say your next words. “I’m sorry Yunho, but I just don’t feel the same.” 

Yunho didn’t speak for a while. You wanted to look up at him, but you knew that seeing his reaction would crush you. You told yourself not to look. It was easier this way. 

“You don’t mean that.” Yunho kept his voice steady, even though he could feel a slight lump forming in his throat. “I know you feel the same, y/n.” 

You shook your head and a few droplets of tears splashed onto the carpet and onto your toes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.” 

His hands let go of yours and he immediately brushed his fingers under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up. “You really don’t feel what I feel? Then why don’t you look at me and say it?” 

He gazed down at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his, getting impatient with you when they didn’t. “Look at me and say you don’t want me.”

Overwhelmed, you moved your head around and pushed him off of you, too consumed in your rage to realize that for once that night, you were finally meeting his eyes. 

“I don’t want you. I never cared for you. You were just a distraction. Whatever you think was going on, it’s not true. You don’t know me, you don’t know what’s going on in my head, so don’t act as you do! For the love of god Yunho, just get the fuck out!” 

You panted after letting your frustrations out, the room now silent again. Nothing could have prepared you for the look on Yunho’s face right now. His sweet face was painted in constraint, his once cheery and sparkling brown eyes now glossy and downcast. You could feel your heart being ripped out of your chest, and for a moment you wanted to rush over to him and tell him you didn’t mean it, that you’ll do whatever he wants, be whatever he wants, as long as he stops making that face, but your legs stayed immobile and the words tangled up in your throat.

Yunho looked at you for a while, waiting to see if you would take those words back, but you never did. Swallowing the painful lump in his throat, he picked up his shirt from the floor and got dressed. You leaned back on your dresser, watching him as he put on his coat and slipped on his shoes. There was so much time to say something, anything, but neither of you uttered a word, and Yunho understood now that he said all that he needed to say, and that he couldn’t change your mind, even if he tried. 

He was now at your entry door, and you followed behind him, staying back a couple of feet as you prepared to watch him leave your life once and for all. As he held onto the knob, he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it, and went on with turning the knob, his tall frame disappearing behind the closing door. 

You wanted to crawl into a ball and cry right there on the floor, but you stayed strong. You’re not crying over a guy again, you promised yourself. Even if it hurts…It’s for the best.

-

Finals were almost over, and the Library was seeing a reduction in visitors. The staff was partly relieved, enjoying the empty space and not having to be bothered to tell students to be quiet, confiscate their Cheeto bags (even though there’s a bold NO EATING sign at almost every table), and wake up tired students from their naps to tell them the library was closing. But there was one visitor who came almost daily and sat at the same exact spot in the same exact section. The Historical Fiction section.

The librarians didn’t know what his deal was. He’d come in with absolutely nothing, no backpack, no laptop, no textbook. They even doubted he brought his phone. Sometimes, he’d take a book off the historical fiction shelf and crack it open, although, unbeknownst to the library staff, he wasn’t actually reading anything. He tried to, but then his head would get fuzzy and he’d get lost in thought, his eyes darting around every time he heard the Library door open or footsteps approach his section, only for it to be another student or a staff member, and when he’d sigh and look back down at his book, he’d forget where he left off and start from the beginning again.

They didn’t know he was waiting on a girl. If they did, they would probably feel bad for him, and maybe even find his efforts to be a little pathetic. But to Yunho, it didn’t matter to him what they thought. Being the tortured romantic that he was, he still had hope that you two would be together again. He wasn’t going to crawl back to you like all the other times. Instead, he was going to wait. He believed the day would come where you’d grow sick from your passing relationships and realize your true feelings for him. And when you realize that, you’ll come running to the Library where you two first met, and you would find him there, sitting at your table in your special little corner of the Library. He’d greet you with a friendly smile, and pull out a chair for you, and you two would just pick up where you left off as if nothing else ever happened. Maybe then he’d take you out on a real date, maybe to a fancy restaurant which neither of you could pronounce the name of, and afterward, you’d crash at his place and you’d lay in his arms just as you did that night, and he’d whisper corny jokes into your hair, both of you laughing softly until you finally fell asleep. Maybe, after a while of sleeping over, you’d take a liking to his idea of moving into a small and cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city, where there’s no one around to bother you except each other. Maybe. Who knows.

They didn’t know he was waiting on a girl. If they did, they would probably feel bad for him, and maybe even find his efforts to be a little pathetic. But to Yunho, it didn’t matter what they thought. Being the tortured romantic that he was, he still had hope that you two would be together again. He wasn’t going to crawl back to you like all the other times. Instead, he was going to wait. He believed the day would come where you’d grow sick from your passing relationships and realize your true feelings for him. And when you realize that, you’ll come running to the place where you two first met, and you would find him there, sitting at your table in your special little corner of the Library. He’d greet you with a friendly smile, and pull out a chair for you, and you two would just pick up where you left off as if nothing else ever happened. Maybe then he’d take you out on a real date, maybe to a fancy restaurant which neither of you could pronounce the name of, and afterward, you’d crash at his place and you’d lay in his arms just as you did that night, and he’d whisper corny jokes into your hair, both of you laughing softly until you finally fell asleep. Maybe, after a while of sleeping over, you’d take a liking to his idea of moving into a small and cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city, where there’s no one around to bother you except each other. Maybe. Who knows.

-

Finals were almost over, and the Library was seeing a reduction in visitors. The staff was partly relieved, enjoying the empty space and not having to be bothered to tell students to be quiet, confiscate their Cheeto bags (even though there’s a bold NO EATING sign at almost every table), and wake up tired students from their naps to tell them they were closing. But there was one visitor who came almost daily and sat at the same exact spot in the same exact section like clockwork. The Historical Fiction section. 

The librarians didn’t know what his deal was. He’d come in with absolutely nothing, no backpack, no laptop, and no textbook to indicate if he was taking a summer class at least. Sometimes, he’d take a book off the historical fiction shelf and crack it open, although, unbeknownst to the library staff, he wasn’t actually reading anything. He tried to, but then his head would get fuzzy and he’d get lost in thought, his eyes darting around every time he heard the Library door open or footsteps approach his section, only for it to be another student or a staff member, and when he’d sigh and look back down at his book, he’d forget where he left off and start from the beginning again. 

They didn’t know he was waiting on a girl. If they did, they would probably feel bad for him, and maybe even find his efforts to be a little pathetic. But to Yunho, it didn’t matter what they thought. Being the tortured romantic that he was, he still had hope that you two would be together again. He wasn’t going to crawl back to you like all the other times. Instead, he was going to wait. He believed the day would come where you’d grow sick from your passing relationships and realize your true feelings for him. And when you realize that, you’ll come running to the Library where you two first met, and you would find him there, sitting at your table in your special little corner of the Library. He’d greet you with a friendly smile, and pull out a chair for you, and you two would pick up where you left off as if nothing else ever happened. Maybe then he’d take you out on a real date, maybe to a fancy restaurant which neither of you could pronounce the name of, and afterward, you’d crash at his place and lay in his arms just as you did that night, and he’d whisper corny jokes into your hair, both of you laughing softly until you finally fell asleep. Maybe, after a while of sleeping over, you’d take a liking to his idea of moving into a small and cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city, where there’s no one around to bother you except each other. Maybe. Who knows. 

[girlreviews]

Review #146: Parallel Lines, Blondie

Man oh man oh man. I love Blondie so much. I found this record in the Windsor Oxfam. I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I remember what boyfriend was with me so that puts me between 15 and 18. Yeah, same guy. I actually don’t remember if he ended up getting his hands on this record or not. I think I still have it. Will rifle through my collection later to check.

Blondie was in the “being cool” wilderness for some absolutely crazy reason at that point, and nobody really gave a shit about them anymore. When I was 17 or 18 they were playing the Reading Hexagon which is honestly still just such an unbelievable insult I’m still annoyed about it. I’ll circle back to that.

Parallel Lines epitomizes the complete and total coolness and badassery of Debbie Harry. I have never wanted to be someone more than I wanted to be her. So much confidence. Such incredible cheekbones. Such commitment to art. No apologies. The voice of an angel one moment and snarling whimsical warnings, like, hey you, don’t fuck with me, the next. Always standing in front of all of those completely non-descript nobody dudes. Yeah they’re playing the music, but who cares, who are they? It’s all her. She is Blondie.

Can I pick a favorite? It opens with Hanging on the Telephone, in which she is really threatening to rip the phone clean off the wall. It might be that one. But we’ve also got the classic One Way Or Another, which needs no comment, and one of my actual favorites of all time, Heart of Glass which never fails to fuck me up, but like, it’s a god damn disco track? Like sure, yeah, let’s boogie away our heart break. And I did. And I have. And I will. And these are all SINGLES. We aren’t even discussing the actual album tracks yet. Just listen to it. Honorable mention goes to Sunday Girl, which I always really loved. It’s cute and it’s kind of sweet in a very teenage girl kind of way that worked for me since I was in fact, a teenage girl. Also, not on the official album release, but there was a version of that track where the latter half was sung entirely in French and I always really dug it.

Okay so circling back to the Hexagon. This is a weird story and I’m still not sure how I feel about it, to this day. As I said, Blondie were playing a show at the Hexagon. I was absolutely obsessed with them, and Debbie Harry. I was also 17 or 18 and spent every penny I had on going to shows, but those pennies were pretty limited. I worked as a waitress at the pub that was two doors down from my house. It was full of characters. One such character was a regular, he was in his late 40s, was very wealthy, didn’t drive, was single, and spent literally every bit of his spare time in that pub. Think on that. He paid a lot of attention to the various young women that worked there. Was he creepy? No not exactly. But did it make you uncomfortable? Yes it did. Because you never knew when he might make it weird. Everyone liked him well enough. One day out of the blue this guy presented me with five tickets to the Blondie show. I didn’t know what in the hell to say or whether to accept them. Or what it meant. Whether there were expectations attached to them. Whether it was okay to take them. I was uncomfortable. I was 17.

Here’s what happened. My Mom, who sort of knew him too, since he was always there, decided it was fine, because she wanted to go. But for it to be okay, she decided he also had to come. So we went, he came, and a few friends too. The thing is though, she never knew him like I did. I saw him every day. I saw him with the other girls that worked at the pub. I saw him drunk off his ass. I don’t know that I ever would have taken the tickets. Or if I did, I’m not sure I ever would have invited him. I feel a bit queasy about it to this day. I think in the end something really off-base happened one night between him and someone on staff and he got barred. That was usually the way it went with regulars who were there that often.

The other thing to note is that Blondie ended because Debbie Harry was with Chris Stein, who was literally dying of some rare autoimmune disease throughout their last tour. There were other factors at play, but essentially, they broke up because he was too sick and she stayed at his side and became his full-time carer. When he was well, he left her. They are, remarkably, still close friends to this day and still perform together. Just never forget that men are dogs, and that Blondie is and always will be Debbie Harry. I love her. To this day she looks better than I do in a mini skirt and I love that for her.

ETA: I checked and in fact, I do not still have Parallel Lines in my record collection, but I am quite confident it got lost when I moved back to the US. Also, I’m not 100% certain that show was at the Reading Hexagon. I just know it was a shitty venue not worthy of Blondie. This was 18 years ago. You get the idea.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-nine of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon disassembles his sand castle back into the original pattern without looking, Tim experiences multiple internal crisises, and someone passes by with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Tim, in self-defense, grabs a couple of the little crostini things on said tray and offers one to Kon, who looks pleased about it. 

“I dunno, does this count as a party?” Kon asks, glancing around with a little grin before popping his hors d'oeuvre into his mouth. Tim does the same, then remembers this means that now he knows what Kon’s mouth tastes like again. Dammit. 

Kon’s mouth currently tastes like ricotta and roasted grape, which isn’t even necessarily a taste that especially appeals to Tim, aside from the part where it’s how Kon’s mouth currently tastes. Why do people even roast grapes? Why is that even a thing? 

Why does Kon look so attractive in slightly smudged eyeliner he put on for him and clothes he bought him? Like–Kon always looks attractive, it’s an incredibly unfortunate curse on the world, reflexively checking out his ass in spandex literally did get Tim thrown off a roof once, but this attractive? This is several new layers of “attractive” and Kon is wearing all of them like a second skin. A very tight and fitted and well-tailored second skin, to be specific. One with cutouts and short-shorts involved. 

This metaphor may be getting away from him. 

“Technically I think so, though maybe not the usual kind,” Tim says. “I mean, it’s sort of a party, it’s just mostly an event. Maybe they want donations or something, I don’t know. Museums usually do.” 

He assumes that’s what the ticket money went to, or at least a fair chunk of it. They were pretty expensive tickets, considering, but since it’s an adults-only special event that isn't obviously themed in either a rogue-baiting or rogue-planned way he hadn't really questioned it. Getting overcharged by a probably-underfunded art museum isn't exactly enough to trot out his inner Bat or inner future supervillain for. 

Well, as long as nobody on staff annoys or insults Kon, anyway. Because in that case he will be financially destroying this place. Like, obviously. It's a little early to be planning his supervillain calling cards, but “you know what you did” is an increasingly tempting option. 

Anyway, that's just a contingency plan. Totally unnecessary as long as Kon has a good time. 

“What’s over there?” Kon asks, peering towards another station. Tim wonders why he’s asking, since he assumes he can feel it, though in retrospect “feeling” whatever it is doesn’t necessarily explain the purpose or point of whatever it is. 

“No idea,” Tim says. “Why, does it feel interesting?” 

“Um.” Kon . . . hesitates, then glances back to him, looking oddly–embarrassed, almost? Weird, Tim thinks, repressing a frown. “It’s, uh . . . kinda, I guess. I dunno. Wanna check it out?” 

“Sure,” Tim says, peering towards it. It looks like a series of boxes with holes in them all stacked on top of each other, though he can’t see what’s actually inside them–there’s curtains or something built into them. He’s not really sure what the whole setup’s supposed to be, honestly, but if Kon’s interested . . . 

They head over, and it turns out the whole setup is basically the same theory as those haunted houses where they make you stick your hand in a box full of peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti and tell you they’re eyeballs and brains, although Tim is hoping peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti won’t actually be involved. 

“So there’s literally zero surprises here for you, I’m guessing,” Tim says wryly. Kon looks sheepish. 

“We can go do something else,” he says. 

“I mean, I’ll be surprised,” Tim points out. “So up to you if you’re interested or not.” 

“Okay, point, I guess,” Kon says, laughing a little and rubbing his arm self-consciously. “I dunno.” 

“Tell me which one to try?” Tim suggests, smiling at him. Kon laughs again, ducking his head to hide a grin. That continues to not be as effective as he probably wants it to be, given their height difference, but Tim has no intention of pointing that out. He doesn’t want to make Kon more self-conscious, and also it’s fucking adorable. 

Bastard. 

“You sure about that?” Kon says, his grin turning sly as he glances back towards him. “You don’t know what’s in there, babe.” 

“I’m willing to live a little dangerously,” Tim replies with an easy shrug. Kon laughs again. 

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teases.

Tim quickly regrets letting Kon pick which boxes he should stick his hands in via trying said boxes, but also Kon just looks so fucking cute laughing at the different faces he makes for every one, so it’s hard to actually get annoyed about it. Also, Kon admittedly did warn him. 

Although he might’ve rather put up with the peeled grapes and cooked spaghetti, honestly.

Seriously. Those are some textures, ugh.

[icanseethefuture333]

Random ass question, but what do you think is the best way for a 4/10 girl to become at least a 7 out of 10? I’m aware that “beauty is subjective” but I’m literally below average, 4/10 is being lenient for me lol

How to have confidence in your physical appearance 🎀

First of all sweetie,

let's not rate ourselves on a scale about how pretty we are! It's really degrading and I feel like you deserve so much better than that. Living in a generation where filters are oversaturated, people using AI to edit their photos, and incels with porn addictions and have never felt the touch of a woman, will call the most beautiful girl "mid". It's so understandable why one's self esteem can feel low at times. You need to change the way you talk about yourself (especially me). Beauty always start from within - as redundant as that sounds. You can't feel pretty if you're not focusing on the reason why you feel this way. A pretty soul (and self concept!) makes a prettier face. Moving on, let's get into the actual tips of a glow up 💖

Let's address the elephant in the room 🐘: you're not ugly, just acting pitiful

Have you ever wondered why you have seen those people who are considered "unattractive" or "unconventionallly pretty" by others be in successful relationships or popular with their peers? It's because they have confidence. Have you ever been attracted to someone that may not necessarily fit the beauty standards or be considered a jaw dropping model, but you thought they were cute anyways because of their personality or charm? That's exactly what I mean. You can be a pretty face or have a nice body, but have terrible self esteem. Living in California my whole life I come across this everyday. There is plenty of beautiful people here, but there is also a lot of people with no sense of humor and no offense, but have no personalities. In other words, you can be attractive, but superficial and boring.

To feel beautiful or more like a "10" even on your worst day is mainly having a good self concept. You need to think with the mindset of "I am the baddest bitch even on my worse days and nobody can make me feel different about that, not even me." Our concept can be changed, reshaped, rebuilt, morphed, etc, into any way we want it to be. Our self concept and dominant thoughts are created by our previous past experiences and what people have told us what we are. For example, if you were bullied in your youth and somebody picked on you for your features. Why would you give a fuck about what a bully thinks??? A person who humiliated and traumatized someone at a weak point in their life does not matter. Their opinion, their actions, their thoughts - doesn't matter. You can change yourself anytime you want, we are animals, we are literally mean to be apart of this cycle called life and our habits, attitudes, opinions, etc, can change at any moment. We are meant to grow and adapt. You get to decide who you are, what you feel, and how you wish people to perceive you. Nobody else. So when you repeatedly say things to people like "I'm not beautiful", they're gonna get tired of it honestly and be like "Yk what damn bitch I guess you are ugly!" because it gets tiring to hear someone complain about the same thing even when they just reassured them (again, I'm guilty of this too). So when you depend on someone to make you feel good about yourself, that's just codependency. You are also giving them the power to manipulate you. Don't do that. Be free and be independent, love yourself. It's your self esteem and you cannot be dependent on anybody else to fill that void you have within yourself.

As Katt Williams said, "It's the esteem of your motherfucking self!"

Why it's not your fault you don't 'feel" pretty

Like I said above, you are most likely a product of your surroundings. Most people are not raised by their parents to have good self esteem or to teach them how to be confident or emotionally secure. There are many environmental factors to insecurity and that it is okay if you are never 100% feeling confident about yourself. People in the media construct this ego to seem "cool" and act conceited as a way to avoid being seen as weak to society. You can be confident and also have insecurities. Confidence is just about being secure with the essence of who you are and setting boundaries when necessary with other people when it comes to that. A confident person doesn't tolerate disrespect.

"Conceited" or confident?: how to avoid confusing the two

I think the most irritating thing to me that is normalized these days is narcissism and conceited people. People will literally act boastful and cocky then say "I'm just confident". Behaving like a narcissist or saying that you are one is not cute and never will be because it's literally a personality disorder, a mental health condition. Everytime I hear this it makes me want to roll my eyes so far back into my head. Try to avoid being this person with a "God complex" because there's a difference between a person who is being loud and fake with "confidence". A real confident person makes moves in silence and is genuine with themselves. If you have to brag or put another person down to feel like hot shit, then you're not a confident person, period.

Tips to enhance your beauty

As I said before anon you are already a 10 in my eyes, but I understand how it feels to not feel pretty at times and we all have our days when we are looking "rough". Here are some self care tips I do that helps me feel pretty and pampered physically ✨️

Get some beauty sleep! This is not just a saying. When your body has time to rest it gives you time to reset & have more energy for the next day. Getting plenty of sleep helps prevent dark circles & puffy eyes as well. If you struggle with falling asleep spray lavender pillow spray, drink tea, or play asmr/soothing sounds.

Skincare & hygiene, this is such a crucial step that everyone should practice in their daily lives. All of us have different skin textures and when we neglect our skin it causes a dry, oily, or bumpy surfaces. Now skin texture is totally normal but if you notice the days where you are not washing your face frequently enough, your skin either looks dull, dirty, or you experience more pimples / acne breakouts. Not to mention how dirty we feel when our body is projecting a certain odor. You don't need to have an extravagant routine, but at least try to have about 4 hygienic products (soap, deodorant, lotion, & body spray/prrfume) and 4 skincare products (facial cleanser (I recommend double cleansing!), serum, SPF/Sunscreen, & face lotion).

Mirror work, saying affirmations in the mirror has proven to be helpful for people's self esteem & feeling more confident with their physical appearance.

Change your wardrobe! Start dressing for your body type & how your ideal self would. It might feel uncomfortable at first but you will feel so much more beautiful! You could try finding videos on tiktok of people with your body type to help (for example, if you are plus sized, you could search your desired aesthetic & find people with the same shape as you).

Detox from social media 📱, learn when it is time to take a break from your phone & engage with the real world. Scrolling for hours on your phone can be really harmful especially if you're reading negative comments or watching videos that are self depreciating.

Follow people who uplift you, not tear you down. If you are following people who obviously are negative or affect your self esteem somehow, then you do not need to be supporting them.

Make appointments! Whether that is a doctor appointment or lash, nail, or hair appointments. Take care of your mind, health, and body. You could ask your doctor what vitamins you should take or also seek a counselor/therapist to find the root of your insecurities in a safe place. Also sometimes just getting my hair or nails done makes me feel more confident!

Learn to treat yourself. Buy yourself flowers or a gift you always wanted but never received. This could be anything, it doesn't necessarily mean to spend money. For example, cooking your favorite food, having a lazy day, etc. Remember that you deserve to be happy!

Lastly, beauty spells, glamour magick, and manifestation are popular methods for people who wish to enhance their physical appearance. I do all of these myself and I always feel so hot afterwards!

I hope you found these tips helpful beautiful ♡!

[yuikomorii]

Is it me or does Laito think Ayato and Yui are similar? I don’t mean it only in Ayato’s routes but in Laito’s ones it can be seen how he starts feeling disgusting when these two try to show that they care about him and so on. Sorry if I didn’t express myself correctly, I hope you got my point tho.

// That's right, given that Laito secretly envies purity, and both Ayato and Yui are the embodiment of it in his eyes, which triggers him.

Laito is a very complicated person… he has a hard time believing in genuine kindness, therefore he may find it repulsive.

There's a moment in Laito's LE route where Yui mentions that kindness was the reason of Ayato’s actions, but Laito was so close to genuinely vomit when he heard that.

Laito admits in the VERSUS CD that he envies how upright and pure Ayato is (first pic). While it’s true that he shouldn’t have overlooked Ayato’s trauma for centuries, I somewhat get why he had such a resentment against him. Of course, Ayato was not at fault for being that way, but I really doubt it's simple to accept that your brother is actually the person YOU wished to be.

Purity is seen as a perfect virtue, Ayato is even described by Rejet (second pic) as someone whose true face is represented by his pure heart. On the other hand, Laito is the polar opposite. He’s anything but pure and he hates that. He is aware that due to Cordelia corrupting his mindset, such a trait is unattainable.

As for Yui, even if all those bad things didn’t happen in the same timeline, it must still hurt suddenly being sent by your own father to a mansion full of vampires, who need to feed off you to survive. Yui's continued positivity and ability to see the good in everyone (even when not romancing them) in spite of these circumstances speaks volumes about how pure her heart is too.

In LE, Laito acknowledged that he projected his frustrations on both Ayato and Yui. Nevertheless, a part of him knew that the two of them would forgive him anyway because, well… that’s how Ayato and Yui are. They’re famous for forgiving and empathizing with those who have hurt them and nobody can change that.

I also really like the parallel they pulled in these scenes. It’s just so precious how both Ayato and Yui would accept Laito no matter what and that truly highlights their purity of heart.

Translations belong to: dialovers-translations on Tumblr

Laito's personal growth and realization that he matters and is not alone was one of the very few positive things of LE. I’m glad they decided to write about this aspect of Laito and Ayato’s relationship, as well as trying to make Yui understand Laito more and vice versa.

Unfortunately, they had to give him that questionable good ending, which essentially erased all the progress, BUT leaving that aside, the characters who are the most aware of each other’s true side are without a doubt Ayato and Laito.

[visceravalentines]

the driver

it turns out I am chewing on them every moment of every day. I'm sure this fic will permanently satisfy the hunger of course ✨🌷🙃

2.3k words. character study happy ending post-credits type beat where everyone lives and drives off into the sunset together. pre-slash but Randy is so down bad he doesn't know how to cope. nobody do the math on mileage or drive time I made it all up Minnesota isn't even real

They’re about 50 miles over the Missouri border when Benson asks him. 

“You think you could drive, man?” 

Randy looks at him sharply, not sure he heard him right. He must not have heard him right. 

Benson glances over and his eyes are bloodshot beyond belief, the skin beneath them dark and hollow. His crow’s feet have multiplied. “I gotta sleep, Randy, or we’re gonna end up in a ditch.” 

After a beat of careful consideration, Randy nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I could–I can drive.” 

The car lurches to the right as Benson pulls over immediately, puts it in park and slumps in his seat. His head falls back against the headrest and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck.” 

Randy watches him with an intent he can feel but can’t parse, hasn’t been able to parse all day and the night before and the day before that. He stopped being scared, really scared, a while ago. Fear still gnaws at the edges of him, jittery and mean like rats in the walls, but it’s not the same.

He’s no longer afraid Benson might kill him. He’s afraid he might decide he doesn’t need him anymore. And those are different things. 

Benson’s big hands drop into his lap. He stares blankly through the windshield at the half-set sun, exhausted.

Randy has the urge to touch him. To clap a hand on his shoulder, give it a little shake. He plays it out in his head. Yeah, man. I’ll drive for a while. Don’t worry about it. Get some rest.

His hands stay clasped between his thighs. 

“Don’t really know where we’re goin’, so I guess you can just pick a direction,” Benson says. “Anywhere but back that way.” He shoots Randy a pointed look, but the point is dull and bleary. 

Randy nods. “North. I got it.” You can trust me. I know that sounds like bullshit, but it’s not.

Benson pours out of the car like his bones are dissolving. He stretches mightily, arches his back and groans loudly, and Randy flinches and doesn’t know why. 

He gets out and the breeze hits his face, smells a little like home and a little bit different. He gazes down the highway, tracks it all the way to where it disappears beyond a sun-washed hill. He’s never been this far north before, never been out of Louisiana except for a family reunion in Florida one time. 

He wonders, for a second, if maybe they could see them all. All fifty states. Benson’s car might not make it that many miles. But it would be something. It would be cool. 

“You sure you’re good?” 

Randy turns, squints into the sun. Benson is lit from behind, face in shadow, but Randy can feel his eyes, the way they probe like fingers at his mouth, his neck. 

“I’m good.” 

Benson taps his fist against the roof of the car. “Super.” 

They trade sides, cross paths in front of the bumper. Randy slides into the seat and it’s still warm from Benson’s body. He feels like he's sitting in his shadow. He's been wearing his shirt for two days now, the smell of stale cigarette smoke working itself into his skin. It's like he's being assimilated, wrapped in a cocoon of brash words and an army green jacket. He presses his spine against the backrest and folds his arms around himself without thinking about it. 

Benson yanks open the door and snaps him out of it. He sits forward and feels under the seat for the lever to slide it up a few inches, touches something sticky, makes a face. Benson’s got longer legs than he does, even though they're about the same height. Benson is big in Randy's mind. Or maybe Randy is small. Does Benson think he's small?

Like he can read his mind, or thinks he can, Benson shoves his seat way back. “Jesus, Randy, you’re allowed to take up space,” he mutters as he pushes the backrest almost horizontal. 

No one’s ever told him that before. Does Benson know no one’s told him that before? 

“Don’t wreck my fucking car.” 

“I won’t.” 

“And don’t get pulled over.” 

“I won’t.” 

Benson nods once like a punctuation mark. “Good boy.” 

Randy exhales heavily. 

He buckles up, hesitates as he sets his hands on the wheel. Ten and two. He slides them together to meet at twelve, where Benson always grips the wheel with half a hand, pointing at things, eyes anywhere but the road, talking with his whole body. Then he slides them back to ten and two, at least for now. One thing at a time.

He signals before he pulls back onto the road even though there’s not another car in sight. He presses the gas gently, like he’s wiping a smudge off someone’s cheek. And just like that, they're back on their way.

Benson’s car is old as shit and runs like it’s doing him a favor. It takes Randy a minute to get used to it, the resistance of the pedals and the way the wheel is about as sensitive as the bottom of a work boot. He’s careful with it, not because it’s old or unreliable, but because it’s his. Because he’s trusting him with it. 

He’s the driver now. 

Benson moves in his periphery, fast and sudden like he does, and without meaning to Randy jerks, jerks the wheel. Benson gives him a look, reaching around for something in the backseat. “Sorry,” Randy mumbles. 

“Just be cool,” Benson says with his jacket in his hands. He balls it up to use as a pillow, shifts around, settles in and shuts his eyes. 

Be cool, Randy repeats to himself. Be cool, be cool. 

“Are you…going to buckle your seatbelt?” he asks. He’s been waiting to ask. Now seems like the last opportune moment. 

Benson opens his eyes and looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What are you, a fuckin’ cop?” 

Randy feels his face flush. He looks away. “Sorry. Do whatever you want.” 

“You know if you slam on the brakes and I’m layin’ down like this I’m goin’ through the windshield, seatbelt or no.” 

“Do whatever you want,” Randy says again. “I’m just…trying to be safe.” 

Benson grabs the seatbelt, yanks it across his chest, clicks it into place with attitude. “Happy?” 

Randy glances at him and away, almost smiles in spite of himself. Yeah. “Yeah.” For once, he thinks he might really mean it. 

Benson grumbles and closes his eyes. He fidgets for a while, bullies the jacket into a different shape, but soon he falls still and quiet. Randy figures he has nothing left in the tank after the events of the last thirty-six hours, nothing more to give to Randy or anybody else.

He drives like the backseat is full of fine china, nice and easy, until Benson starts to snore. It's a cute snore, kind of nasally and pitched higher than his voice. He slams the door on that thought the moment it arrives, shoos it away and casts a guilty look over at Benson.

He’s never seen him look so at peace. There's a tension missing from his face, a furrow between his brows that Randy only registers in its absence. He wonders if he has nightmares like Randy has nightmares. Probably. Probably worse. But there’s no sign of them now; he’s too wiped out. 

Now that he’s not waving a gun around and yelling, he resembles the old Benson. The guy who greeted him at the start of each shift with a casual wave and nothing to say. The man who moved like he was in a dream, seemed checked out completely until you caught his eye and realized he hadn't missed a second of what was going on around him. Not even the little things. Not even Randy.

As the miles wear on, he wonders which Benson is more real, the quiet one or the loud one. Maybe they’re two sides of the same coin. Maybe everyone has someone else inside of them, raw and bright, harder to swallow. Randy always figured he was the only one slumming around with that particular burden–the monster of his guilt, his anger, feelings too big to unbottle lest they rip him in half–but maybe he was wrong. He's been wrong a lot the last couple days. 

It doesn’t probably matter which is more real because he likes them both:  the Benson who once followed him out the back door under the guise of a smoke break to make sure he was okay after a particularly egregious run-in with Chris, and the Benson who beat the shit out of his own personal boogeyman in the parking lot of an elementary school until his hands bled. Randy understands both of them. Feels a connection to both of them. Knows he can count on both of them when it matters. 

Randy leans back and feels it then, feels it all, the world shrinking behind them, the past pinned to it like a poster on a corkboard, the dying sun to his left and the man on his right and Benson’s fingerprints worn into the leather of the steering wheel. And it's exhilarating, it's amazing. It's freedom and possibility. Hope, even.

And he desperately, deep in his bones, wants to be someone Benson can count on. When it matters or doesn't. He knows he isn’t a fighter or a talker, but he cares. He cares so fucking much sometimes he wants to bite through his own tongue. Maybe that could be worth something. For the first time, sitting in the driver's seat on the run from the law, he thinks maybe that might be enough. He might be enough. 

He has Benson to thank for that, too.

He hasn't felt like this since he was a kid. Maybe ever. Light. Free. The way the highway unfolds in front of him forever makes him feel like maybe he could fly. He kind of wishes it would rain and he can't say why. Only that he wants the air to smell like wet asphalt, like dirt. 

And he wants to thank Benson. He doesn’t think he can, like, he can’t just say it. Thanks for killing all those people. It really opened my eyes. Thanks for scaring me shitless, I needed that. No way. He’s gotta be cool. Find some other way.

He reads the names of towns he’s never heard of on the highway sign. They’ll have to stop somewhere eventually, right? Get a motel room or something. Benson deserves to sleep in a real bed. Randy would love to sleep in a real bed. Probably they’ve got to lay low a little while longer. Probably two states north isn’t far enough. 

Benson drives like a grandma. Randy hasn’t said anything, but he figures they could be at least to the border of Iowa by now if Benson wasn’t so hung up on driving three miles under the speed limit and calling it “flying under the radar,” even as cars peeled by them on all sides. 

But he’s the driver now. 

He realizes this is something he can do. A way to repay him, just a little bit. Randy didn’t get them into this mess, not exactly, but he can get them far, far away from it. Safety, serenity. A place where no one knows their faces. He can find that for Benson. He can take him there. He can make sure he wakes up somewhere better than the shithole behind them.

He eases his foot down on the gas, coaxes the needle on the speedometer up and over 80. The car huffs a protest, but it obeys. 

Good boy, he thinks, and he smiles. 

Benson stirs just after they leave Iowa. It’s still dark out, but the horizon is starting to bleed pink. He sits up slowly, stretches, nearly elbows Randy in the face. “Fuck,” he groans, “what time is it?” 

“Breakfast time, almost,” Randy says. “Just looking for somewhere to stop.” 

Benson blinks around the sleep in his eyes, peers through the window into the dark rushing by. “Where are we?” 

“Wisconsin. Or maybe Minnesota. I’m not…a hundred percent sure.” 

Benson furrows his brow. “Jesus Christ, Randy. You break the fuckin' sound barrier?”

“No,” Randy says calmly. “Everyone speeds on the interstate. You just keep an eye on it, it's fine.”

Benson gives him a long look and for a second, Randy thinks he might be mad. But then he breaks into a grin, chuckles, shakes his head and stretches again. His shirt rides up and in the dark of the dawn Randy can just make out the triangle of hair on his stomach. He bites his cheek. 

“Speed Demon Bradley. Who’d’ve thought.” Benson yanks the backrest up, sits back and looks out with fresh eyes on new scenery. “You got a destination in mind, captain?”

Randy does. Has for the last few hundred miles. “Yeah. I was thinking…maybe Lake Superior?”

“What's so superior about it?”

“I don't know, it's…really big. Like…huge. I just thought…it would probably be pretty. I’d–I’d like to see it.” With you. I'd like you to be there too.

He glances over and Benson is staring at him with an odd look on his face. 

“...what?” Randy says. 

Benson starts nodding, frowning thoughtfully, then reaches over and thumps Randy on the chest. “Then let's go see it.”

The impact echoes through his heart and lungs. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. Randy makin’ decisions.” Benson claps his hands once, loud. “I like it. You wanna go see some big fuckin’ lake? I'm all for it.”

Randy fights a grin and doesn't know why, so he stops, lets it come, feels the stretch of it across his face. “Cool.”

Randy looks over and thinks he’s beautiful. Bloody knuckles, bad attitude, and all. He lets that thought linger for one, two, three seconds before it blows out the window like a wayward receipt.

“Cool.”

Benson rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog. The air whipping into the car smells nothing like home. His hair blows back and he squints into the wind, the early sun kissing his cheeks pink. 

“I can take over,” Benson offers over his shoulder. “I’m guessin' you need a break.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Randy squeezes his hands on the wheel at ten and two. “I got it. I'm good.”

And he really means it.

[shiningshenanigans]

If I had a nickle…

For every time I shipped a guy and a girl…

Where the guy comes from a semi-privileged background and stable home life (albeit with a very dysfunctional family who is kinda mean to him)…

and the girl is a scavenger who has been fighting to survive her whole life because of a totalitarian regime…

and they’re forced into a situation where they have to work together and kinda start getting attached to each other…

and the guy is HOPELESSLY head-over-heals besotted and in love with the girl and, like, doesn’t even try to hide it… 

and the girl… kinda likes him back? But like it’s hard to tell? Because like I said, Girl has been fighting to survive her whole life, and is still very much in survival mode, and her fight-or-flight response is so through the roof right now it’s hard for her to feel that way about anyone at the moment…

also there’s kind of a rebellion/revolution going on against the totalitarian regime I mentioned earlier, and Girl is very focused on killing The Leader of said totalitarian regime, so romance is kinda the last thing on her mind…

but also their love is like this weird powerful force that’s fueling said rebellion, so she can’t really get away from it?

And she acts super cold and indifferent toward him but the second he’s in any kind of danger she immediately throws herself under the bus to save him…

(by the way they balance each other out really well, because Guy is not really much of a fighter, but he’s super charming and good at negotiating with people so he helps Girl grow in that area, cause she’s really bad at it)…

and they’re being mentored by a slightly cynical middle-aged man who “loves a good drink”…

(who totally has a crush on his cute-but-brainwashed-by-the-badguys female superior)…

oh yeah and remember The Leader of the totalitarian regime I mentioned earlier? He’s, like, weirdly invested in their love story and has been watching it unfold this whole time…

(and we don’t really know why he’s so obsessed with them, other then that they remind him of a situationship he was in ages ago, which ended really badly because he was paranoid, so now he’s living vicariously through them while at the same time scrambling to maintain the fragile power of his regime or something like that)…

and he keeps using his power to make them play weird games where he constantly tries to pit them against each other and get one of them to kill the other… 

(he actually does almost brainwash the guy into killing the girl at some point, but Guy wakes up and is like “Naw man, I’m in love with her, I will endure endless psychological torture before I do that.”)

and don’t forget, “This series is actually incredibly profound and thought-provoking and has some really deep things to say about freedom and government control and the value of human life, but for some reason nobody wants to talk about those things because all they care about is shipping drama (even though shipping should be a non-issue because the narrative makes it 100% clear who the cannon romance is)…”

…I’d have two nickels.

Say it with me kids…