#and it was a lot of fun!! (except for a certain death...)

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

john green quit tumblr because of the cock monologue

No, he didn’t.

This all happened a long time ago, and my memory is imperfect, but here’s my memory: The cock monologue certainly hurt my feelings! But when people are trying to force someone out of a virtual space, they sometimes resort to behavior that is similar to bullying except it’s not completely identical to bullying because the person they’re making fun of has a lot of power. (As someone who got bullied a lot in school, the feeling was similar in 2014 but it wasn’t identical--because I was aware of the fact that I was okay, that what was in danger was certain aspects of my identity/self-value that I treasured but not my entire personhood itself.)

Anyway, it hurt my feelings, and still hurts my feelings when I see it shared (it feels to me like a joke about my sexuality, although I understand other people don’t see it that way; but yeah, you don’t know much about my sexuality and I don’t really want you to but it feels like a joke about that to me, which just bums me out). 

But all of that stuff is a side effect of my job and having been successful at it, and I like my job. It is a great job. All jobs have aspects that suck. My job has fewer such aspects than other jobs I’ve had.

So yeah, I did not quit tumblr because of the cock monologue. (I also did not ask tumblr to make reblogs un-editable.) .

I quit tumblr because a few people started to make extremely specific threats. One might, for instance, send me an ask that featured a google streetview screenshot of my home alongside a plan for breaking into it.

I was super scared of these people (or possible person pretending to be a few people?) because they seemed to have a lot of knowledge about me and my family. We lived in a normal middle-class neighborhood in Indianapolis and I felt very exposed and nervous all the time in my real life, and eventually the freaked-out feeling just got too big and that’s why I quit tumblr.

(Edited to add: I am aware that prominent people sometimes use death threats against them to portray themselves as victims and protect themselves against justified criticism for their bigotry or abusive behavior or whatever. I don’t want to do that; it’s important to note that I have a lot of resources and power and so was able to, for instance, move to decrease the threat, which a lot of people can’t do. But I also feel like not talking about the experience honestly has not really helped me or anyone.)

I SHOULD’VE quit tumblr much earlier--I needed to realize that people weren’t comfortable with me in their virtual spaces and that to them I came across as cringey or even creepy, but at the time, I wasn’t nearly self-aware enough to leave for any of those reasons, and plus there was a lot of pressure from movie studios etc to stay on the social Internet so I could continue to promote my books and the stuff around them. So I didn’t quit when I should’ve, and as a result had and caused quite a few negative experiences for people. I’m sorry about the role I had in causing those negative experiences. I should’ve had a better understanding of not just how I experienced myself but also how other people might experience me. That’s something i’ve worked on over the years but still come up short on sometimes.

At any rate, I might delete this later because it makes me feel a bit like all my nerves are exposed to the air but I did just want to clarify that the, like, Tumblr Legend of this whole thing is at minimum a bit over simplified. 

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

doctor who but i've never watched it

and so it begins again. the people asked for it. the people got it. i will ensure the people regret it.

i have never watched this show, or seen an edit, but i am a thorough researcher and i feel that i've got the essence of it.

this is what i have gathered. academicians worldwide take note.

Firstly, so I don't anger anyone, I accept and acknowledge that the tardis is blue and not yellow. My misinformation was from a Drarry fanfiction, and I had hitherto regarded Drarry fanfiction as the absolute truth.

There are doctors, and there are at least fifteen of them. At least two of them are David Tennant, which I can respect.

I'm not sure why the doctors are doctors, because I can find no trace of any medical procedure except for one doctor who licks things, which he learned from the previous doctor. If this is sufficient reason, I apologise for doubting their credentials.

On the other hand, if they are doctors thanks to a postdoctoral degree, this is also fine, though I have never seen anyone study anything. There is however a doctor, and there were people upset about her, but the fandom pointed out she set the tardis on fire, which is apparently a very doctor thing to do. Setting things on fire is absolutely something any research scholar would love, so again, apologies for doubting their credentials.

At least one doctor is gay. It is probably one of the David doctors, which checks out. He says someone, I think a dentist, is hot. I envy the maybe-dentist.

A t least one doctor is trans. I was unable to find them. But they exist. Oh yes, the fandom assures me they exist.

David Tennant as well as Ncuti Gatwa were fanboys, first of the show, and second of David Tennant, and thus they got into acting. Just a fun tidbit from me, since I am now the authority on this fandom.

There are time machines with which the doctors have sex by piloting them, which is questionable because the time machines are only partially sentient. I am not sure if the time machines are the tardis. But the tardis is blue, and not yellow, of that I am certain.

There was a stage play. Or maybe that was a metaphor for the production budget of the early seasons. I am not sure, but toddler David Tennant watched it. I assume no one took a 3 year old to a stage play, so through scientific deduction, it must have been a metaphor.

At some point, Death is an agony aunt and they have to spill secrets to it, or drown in a lake of human skulls. Who is this they? It's so obvious that the fandom sees no need to explain it, and neither do I. I do know it though. Of that you may remain certain.

A David doctor has a niece and she likes being his niece.

A David doctor has a best friend named Donna. He kisses her head. She supports his fruitiness. It is wholesome. It killed him when he lost her.

Slight tangent, but younger David doctor looks like Andrew Garfield. Current David in photos does give Ben Barnes energy. Any Wolfstar shippers, I believe you've found the Wolfstar kid. It is David Tennant.

A lot of people are David Tennant. A reliable Pinterest post on Doctor Who, clearly well researched, gave me the statistic that 15% of Doctor Who is David Tennant. From the amount of David Tennant that I ran across in my research, I don't understand it but I don't doubt it, either.

Speaking of Andrew Garfield, he in involved in this somehow. I am not sure how, but you cannot escape Andrew Garfield. He is even a part of fandoms he never acted in.

There is an individual named Catherine, I think she is the actress, but she could be a character. She seems to have much less knowledge about Doctor Who lore than I do. David Tennant finds it funny. Maybe he would find me funny, too.

The doctors installed some things in the tardis, from a wheelchair ramp to a jukebox. I don't know why a jukebox was needed. If I'm honest I don't know what a jukebox is. I don't know what the tardis is. But it is blue, and not yellow.

There is a French catchphrase.

Something happens in Wales. I don't know what it is, but something always seems to be happening in Wales in these fandoms, so I don't doubt it.

There is an old Doctor Who in a wheelchair, and he is happy to see a David doctor.

They go around in space, and do things. Who is this they? You and I both know the answer, so we needn't talk about it.

The show intro is "doo wee doo".

There is an alien who is not a mouse, the alien is The Meep, and uses the definite article as pronouns. David doctor is supportive of this, which is very good.

I found baby Yoda in the show, but apparently they call it a 'goblin' there, and someone doesn't like it.

There is a lot to do with time. There is a time hole, and things happen, and people die and are resurrected. There is danger, but it is fun.

They have CGI, and it is not good, which is the best thing about it. Who is they? Please stop asking me. It is rather obvious and something I definitely know.

Someone's boyfriend dies and the boyfriend is then resurrected but then gets lost with his boyfriend but then is reincarnated as a girl who would still call herself the someone's boyfriend but then she is replaced by the boyfriend but he's different now. I apologise for any errors that have crept it, but the tardis is blue and not yellow.

Someone named Martha is a doctor, and someone is very proud of her for it.

The eleventh and twelfth doctors like bow ties.

David Tennant wants to be ginger. David Tennant always gets what he wants. Who can refuse David Tennant? David Tennant is then ginger.

A David doctor gets a happy ending.

Someone yelled at Neil Gaiman about this. It was a mistake. He said that since it had already been done, he wouldn't want to give David's character a happy ending in S3, that would be a trifle unoriginal.

A lesson to be learned, Good Omens fandom, just a bit of advice from your son, do not yell at Neil Gaiman, it does not go well. Rumour has it he murdered the people who complained about him always wearing black. Of course, there is the fact that he doesn't exist, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him.

The doctors manifest in the previous doctor's clothes, which is apparently so last season. The tardis also manifests. I don't know where, or how. But it is blue, and not yellow.

I know, there was a lot of lore, so many of you thought I wouldn't be able to gather it all. But look how much research I did! I've got it better than maybe-actress-maybe-character Catherine, I'm sure :"]

Anyway, all the major plot points are covered above, so anyone who hasn't watched Doctor Who, feel free to refer to this and impress your Whovian friends with your knowledge! [not to be judgemental, but what a dreadfully Dr Seuss name, I rather like it]

[keksalot404]

Uh oh! Some BOZO decided to play UNDERTALE and UNDERTALE YELLOW at the same time (Both games FUN value was 66) and now the timeline is F*CKED (By about one year; It wasn't that long till Frisk came along)

This is the Guide to UNDERTALE ROM LEAK, mostly a frame of reference for me and you regarding this AU born from a doodle and a dream. Those who just want to see the art with no context, feel free to click the top pic and swipe down or something.

A Tale of 2.5 Souls

Seems like whatever the reason Frisk went to the mountain, they ended up tailing Clover, where the game begins. Control between the 2 fallen children is split, meaning that both Frisk and Clover are free to express their quirks and personalities more.

Adding to that, NarraChara is also here, being visible to Frisk, Clover, AND the player due to more determination in the area. Frisk still has higher DT than Clover, so they're in charge of LOADing and SAVEing as well as playing leader.

Prepare For Trouble, Make It Double!

Now obviously the timeline can't really be UT or UTY if all major events need to be dealt with. The universe's solution? Now every Major Character (and perhaps minor ones) are paired up with their cross game counterparts. While encounters for each monster can be seperate, eventually they will cross paths with eachother and the fallen humans.

With each section of the Underground now longer with even paired area newly connected (More on how that works later), it'd feel like even 2 player characters can't make it easy. Fortunately for a certain route, you may get some help...

Kanako

To fill a void for a Certain Short Scientist, seems fate pulled a few strings, and brought a new friend back from near-death! If you don't kill any monsters during RUINS, Kanako will sense your pure hearts and join the party, acting as the Ralsei to this Diet Fun Gang.

With healing and shield magic, she'll make your journey a lot more manageble, at the cost of not being able to kill any monsters all the way until Asgore (She will still allow you to spare monsters by lowering health but if she senses a chance to kill she will block the attack and scold you for it.)

Being a much more attentive protector than the Skeleton, she'll accompany Frisk and Clover through the emotional highs and lows of their journey, and perhaps maybe...

You'll find out the true reason she's helping you.

Stronger Monsters

For the characters of the 2 timelines being destined to meet, it is also true that destiny will point into blocking your path. For the Major Battles at least, you'll have to fight both of them at the end of each paired areas. An example being meeting North Star in Wild East only for Starlo's betrayal being calling Undyne to hunt you during Waterfall.

Expect combo attacks, fused soul modes, and complex strategies when facing the duel bosses. Some might even compromise Kanako from assisting. No fight has the same solution as the UT and UTY fights (except maybe Papyrus and Martlet), so be prepared and stay determined!

So have fun while you can, won't you? It's not likely you will get these games together again. You wouldn't waste this once-in-a-while experience just to do something you'll regret.

You wouldn't waste it just to see what happens...

...right?...

...

[lowkeychenle]

the hardest part [ZCL] (M)

Description: You, Chenle, and Jay have been best friends since before you could even remember. After moving away to pursue your dreams, you don't talk to them as often as you should. One day, you get a call notifying you of Jay's passing. When you go back to your hometown, you find everything is different except for one person--Chenle.

Genre: (Hurt/Comfort) Smut/Fluff/Angst (please see content warnings)

Content Warnings: death of a close friend, survivor's guilt, lots of what-if scenarios, navigating life without someone you've always had around, mental break downs, panic attacks (not vividly described AS panic attacks), two people coming together to heal from grief, explicit sexual content (unprotected sex, oral sex, mentions of sex, etc. although it's not super crazy so do with that what you will)

Word Count: 16,965

Taglist: @amyjipark @sofix-hc7 @dinosaurtoothbrushwithninjasauce

Permanent Taglist: @sunnybutcloudy @neozon3nha @waffleuvs

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!reader (featuring OC by the name of Jay)

A/N: thank you for 900 followers! :)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

When you got the call, your life fell apart before your eyes. You didn’t believe it. Not at first, anyway, considering things like this don’t happen to people you know. They happen to people you’ve never met.

Tragedies strike everyone. Not only are you not exempt, but nothing will ever shake you more, you’re certain.

Learning of your childhood best friend’s death is not something you expect to hear at your age. It’s always sudden, tragically, unfortunately. As if any death is anything but those words.

Everything leading up to the funeral—from the phone call to the week it took you to get on the plane—felt like a fever dream. One you’d wake up from and everything would be normal again.

You’re too young. He’s too young.

Was.

He was too young.

Your throat tightens as you close your eyes, resting your head against the steering wheel of your rental car. The funeral awaits you inside, where you’ll say the goodbye he’ll never actually hear.

The entire week, you’d been looking through old pictures and videos, crying at the sound of his voice when you realized how long it’d been since you truly heard him.

You obviously had yet to accept what happened. You’re half-sure that the second you walk in, everyone will be in there as if they’ve all played an elaborate prank on you. How cruel of them to set all of that up in a funeral home. Was he in there right now, waiting for you to walk in with tears in your eyes so he could make fun of you?

You’d cry harder, punch his shoulder, yell at him for playing such a cruel joke on you.

But it’s not a joke.

You haven’t received a text in over a month—well past your monthly check-in time. That thought alone makes you want to scream. Monthly check-ins? You moved away from your friends years ago for college and a ghost of a dream. Now, the only ghost left is his, and you have no idea how to explain your absence.

You thought you had more time.

Maybe that everybody gets older—but that’s not true. He won’t.

A cold chill runs down your spine. You look up at the sky, wanting to curse it for the beautiful blue color when the shade inside your heart is so fucking painful. Gathering yourself and wiping away the stray tear, you brush your dress off and get out of your car. The lot is packed, considering how popular Jay is.

Was.

It’s not real for you yet. Even as you walk in through the doors, the miserable click of your heels on the concrete doing little to soothe the emotions running deep in your veins. The first thing you see when you walk in is a collage of pictures of him—and the one that catches your eye immediately is one of the biggest ones, portraying you, Jay, and Chenle from a few summers back. The three of you are beaming at each other, smiles too wide to not be painful.

A lump forms in your throat. You hadn’t even thought about Chenle. Not really. The three of you had been best friends growing up. Your parents all knew each other, and so you’d been grandfathered into two friendships. In your defense, nothing had been on your mind except for Jay. Not his family, not yours, not Chenle.

Jaw quivering, you trace your fingers over the two men in the picture. God, Chenle must be a fucking wreck right now. Your first goal was to find him.

It’s not like you weren’t friends with them anymore. You were busy, they were busy, and you had a friendship with both of them that made it easy to remain the same when together even if you spent months and months apart. You hadn’t seen either of them in person in over a year.

The doors are open, and you clench your fists together. You freeze just before the doorway. The second you walk in, all of this becomes real. Jay is dead, and you’ve failed to keep up with him and everyone else from your hometown. You’ve become someone else, and in the process, you forgot your roots.

You’ll never remember them again. Not when they’ve been cut at the source.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice sounds behind you, and you whirl around.

The tears you’d been holding back fall before you can stop them. You slap a hand over your mouth, and in the blink of an eye, Chenle’s closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping his arms around you.

“God, it’s been so fucking long,” he murmurs, tightening his grip.

You can’t talk yet. Guilt sets in regardless, because you hadn’t so much as messaged him when you heard about all of this. His palm rests on the back of your head, and he doesn’t say anything else. The two of you stand there, and you allow him to comfort you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you groan and wipe at your eyes. “This is all just…are you…how are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” he admits. “Better now that you’re here, honestly. I went outside to take a break from everything and I saw you walk in. You have no idea how good it is to have you back here.”

“I can’t believe I’ve been gone for so long.” You glance up at the ceiling.

“Life happens,” Chenle says softly. He puts his hand on the small of your back. “If you’re ready, I’ll go in with you.”

“Thank you.” You take a deep breath.

Chenle has never been an emotional man. Even since you were children, you rarely even saw him tear up. Hopes of all of this being a prank dissipates quickly when you see the water gathered in his eyes as the two of you walk in.

The air inside is undeniably stuffy, bone-chilling, even. Silence is amplified by how you hear your own heart pounding in your ears. The carpeted floor creaks beneath your feet, and as soon as people recognize you, eyes are on you and Chenle. Nobody says anything.

The casket is on a stage of sorts. The left side is open, and you can’t see inside it from where you’re standing, but your feet freeze to the ground directly below you before you realize what’s happening. A flash of worry crosses over Chenle’s features as he steps in front of you to cover the view.

“Just breathe,” he whispers, hands on your shoulders. “It’s hard. I know. Trust me, do I fucking know, but it’s not about us and our feelings right now. It’s about Jay. You’ll get through this for Jay.”

“He’s in there.” You gulp. “It’s all real, and he’s…”

Your friend nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s real.”

Your throat constricts again, and you glance around. His family—his parents and younger brother—are in the front of the room, sitting down together. Much to your surprise, they’re not all sobbing, but the redness to his mother’s cheeks tells you she may have just shed too many tears to keep going.

“This is the last time you’ll ever see him,” Chenle says quietly. “You don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to, but I think you’ll regret it if you don’t. They put him in that stupid band shirt he never wanted to throw away.”

Your heart pangs, and warmth and fondness takes over. “Well, good thing he never did, huh?”

“Exactly.” Chenle chuckles. “I’ll go with you.”

Once you nod, he resumes his spot next to you and guides you up to your best friend to say goodbye. You don’t stay there long. After you see him, you’re sure you’ve been changed forever. It’s odd how serene and peaceful he looks. How nothing about him has really changed when everything about you and your life now has.

You speak briefly with his family, who are all thankful you came across the country for this—as if you’d ever miss it. You just wish you’d had that need to go home when death wasn’t involved. Yours, Jay’s, and Chenle’s parents stay at the funeral after you and Chenle leave. The two of you mutually agreed Jay would punch you both if he knew you were held up because of him.

You go to a cafe together, and despite you having zero appetite, Chenle insists you get something to eat. Grasping your warm coffee cup in both hands, you stare down at the steam while your friend is up at the counter waiting for everything else. You look out the window, watching the cars zoom past.

“It’s a little weird having you back here,” Chenle mentions as he sits down across from you.

“Well.” You sip your coffee. “It wasn’t exactly in the plan.”

“How long are you here for?”

“I took extended leave,” you tell him. “I’ll be here for a few months.”

He purses his lips and nods. “This town isn’t so great without you, you know. Jay and I used to talk about it all the time.”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitches and you stare at the steam from your cup. “I’ve been so…far away this whole time, and now it’s too late to fix it all.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to fix,” he interjects, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re out there making a life for yourself. We’ve never been anything but fucking proud of you, dude. You had the courage to get out. Neither of us ever could’ve attempted that.”

“Did he even get the chance?” You let out a pained laugh and set your coffee on the table.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. He loved you, okay? Our friendship has always been easy. You don’t need to talk to people or see them every day to stay friends.” Chenle reaches across the table and grabs your hand.

Your shoulders slump. “God, you’re going through this at the same time I am and I’m just…making it about me. What’s going on with you?”

“Everyone grieves differently.” He pauses to think. “I’m…as okay as I can be, you know? But to be completely honest, I’m not sure how I am. Or what I’m gonna do. There’s not much I can do.”

“I still can’t believe it. He’s just…gone. How the hell do we keep going? It’ll never be the same.”

“You’re right,” Chenle agrees. “It’ll suck. It already does. But we’ll get through this together. I’m here for you.”

You squeeze his hand and give him a small smile. “And I’m here for you, of course. I’m gonna be better about staying in touch and visiting.”

“Where are you staying?” he asks.

“Well, my parents turned my room into a home gym, so I got a hotel for now.” You chuckle. “They really thought I was never coming back.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His eyes widen. “You’re gonna stay in a hotel for a few months? Just come stay with me.”

“I didn’t want to impose on anyone.”

He presses his lips into a thin line. “C’mon, you’re not imposing and you know it. Plus, you haven’t seen the new house yet, so you may as well.”

“That’s right.” You gasp and shoot straight up. “You fucking bought a house.”

He grins. “Yeah, I did. And there’s plenty of space for you there. Plus, it’ll be better for both of us if we’re not alone right now.”

“You’re gonna make me play board games.”

“Obviously.” He scrunches up his nose. “You would have to even if you were staying in the hotel.”

Familiarity finally sets in, and the awkward air between you and Chenle has officially evaporated completely. He’s still your best friend, and the weirdness was in your own head. The two of you spend a bit of time catching up at the cafe—at times, you even find yourself laughing.

You missed your hometown. The friends you had when you were growing up. What a shame you’re missing one of the most pivotal people in your entire life. Your younger years were shaped and reformed by your friendship with Jay and Chenle.

When some girl bullied you in middle school, the boys were the first people to come to your defense. They’d walk you to and from class, and Chenle even called that girl out. In high school, when you got your first boyfriend, Jay and Chenle grilled him thoroughly. They were your family, and you were theirs.

One of the only times you’d seen Chenle cry was when he and Jay dropped you off at the airport when you were leaving for college. You hugged both of them so tightly, and you promised to visit often. They said they’d come see you, and that you’d never go too long without them.

Naive promises turn into friendships where you love each other, but you rarely see or hear from the other. Every time you did see them, it truly felt like no time had passed.

You and Chenle get into your car, and he directs you to his house. He tells you a little about it on the way—it’s not too big, two bedrooms, one bathroom, but the kitchen is really nice. He likes to cook, so, of course, that was a deciding factor when he was looking.

Your bags are still in the back, so he helps you grab them. He slings your backpack over his shoulder and grabs the larger of your two bags. Everything about your hometown feels foreign to you as you follow him inside. He flicks the lights on, and the first thing you notice is that same picture of you, Jay, and Chenle that you’d seen at the funeral home.

It’s framed in the center of the wall, and as soon as you see it, you exhale. Chenle stops mid-sentence, walking up to stand next to you.

“That’s my favorite picture of us.” He tilts his head. “He made fun of me for putting that up.”

“He’s always been so weird about mushy gushy friendship feelings.” You purse your lips. “Despite being the sappiest fucking guy I know.”

“He’d be so pissed at all of us for being sad.” Chenle chuckles. “He’d kill me if I let you stay in a hotel, too.”

“The last time I talked to him, he’d just broken up with that girl. What was her name?”

“I don’t even remember. She was weird, though. Like, he barely talked to you and she was all threatened I guess. You and Jay? You two would end up putting each other in headlocks.” He snorts and runs his fingers through his hair.

“We have put each other in headlocks,” you remind him, nudging his shoulder. “And I vaguely remember kicking his ass.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d consider that kicking his ass.”

“This…This feeling will go away eventually, right?” For some reason, you can’t lift your voice higher than a whisper as you force the words out.

“Which one? The gaping hole or the soul-crushing anxiety?” He throws his arm over your shoulders.

“Both.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so.” He sighs. “I’ve heard from many that you kinda just…learn how to live with it.”

“Even though he can’t.”

“Even though he can’t,” Chenle repeats. “Guess the hardest part of all of this is that he won’t grow up with us, huh?”

You inhale sharply and cover your mouth. “Damn it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’ve been a damn roller coaster this whole week. You don’t have to be scared to feel around me. You know that.”

“It feels so fucking selfish,” you breathe out. “I haven’t seen him in…months, so do I even really have the right to be this sad?”

“Are you kidding me?” Chenle scoffs.

“Would he even want me here right now?”

“Do you hear yourself?” Your friend gapes at you. “He never stopped talking about the next time you’d be in town. Neither of us have ever even had a negative thought about you, dude. You should know that. There was never a time where he didn’t want you here.”

“I guess I just thought we’d have more time,” you say.

“The world waits for no one.”

When nightfall comes, you and Chenle go to your separate rooms. He bids you goodnight, and you close your door. You sit on the edge of the bed and take in the room around you. Everything has changed immensely since the last time you were in your hometown. Your best friend bought a house, and you’d barely even thought or heard about it. Pride in him surges through you, but for a moment, you think it may be misplaced.

You don’t deserve to be proud of someone you’ve failed to talk to as often as you should have. Losing Jay has torn your world apart, and you still don’t truly believe it. You change into your tank top and shorts, and then grab your toothbrush and toothpaste from your bag.

You’re on your way to the bathroom when you find Chenle in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and bringing a glass of water up to his lips. He gives you a tired nod.

“You’re still up?”

“Sleep on a day like this?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll probably have some crazy ass dream or something.”

You forget your adventure to his bathroom and approach the kitchen island. Without a word between the two of you, he goes into the cupboard to get you a cup as well. He fills it with water and slides it across the countertop.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods once and crosses his arms over his chest. “How’s life going, though? Current events aside.”

“Life is a constant revolving door of work,” you tell him. “Working my way up the corporate ladder and all that bullshit they spew.”

“You look good. As long as you’re getting all the things you wanted, I’m good, too.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

“Kind of debating if it was worth it at this point.” You sigh. “I’m proud of you, by the way. Buying a house on your own is a big deal.”

“Family business money.”

“You work. You earned it.”

“I guess that’s true. Thanks.” He pauses. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I’d be okay if you weren’t.”

“Like I’d ever leave you to deal with something like this alone.” You tap your fingers against the granite, admiring the swirls of color deep in the design.

“Regardless, I needed you.” Chenle gulps, glancing at his feet. “I still do. Now more than ever with Jay gone.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” you ask.

He wets his lips and takes the bottom one between his teeth. “It’s not that I thought that, necessarily, but I did wonder if you were. I didn’t hear from you, so I kind of just hoped.”

Guilt takes another stab at your heart. “Chenle, I—”

“Don’t apologize again,” he replies sternly. “Life is life. There’s no way any of us could’ve predicted this, okay? Sometimes, shit happens. Not being around a lot isn’t the end of the world.”

“It was for Jay.”

“You were not the end of the world. You didn’t kill him, for fuck’s sake. There’s nothing any of us could’ve done. And reminiscing on it like this and placing unplaceable blame on ourselves is going to make things harder.” He sets his cup in the sink.

“I know. I know that, but for some reason, my head keeps—”

“Let’s watch a movie,” he offers. “Maybe it’ll distract you a little bit.”

You agree, and go into the bathroom to brush your teeth before you follow him into his room. It’s so innately Chenle in there, you immediately feel relaxed. Some things never change, and you’re glad he’s one of those things.

“Sorry, I don’t have a TV in the living room,” he says as he pulls his covers back.

“Just roll me off if I fall asleep,” you reply, climbing onto the untouched side.

Eventually, he’s next to you, and you rest your head on his chest while he finds something to watch. He selects some random comedy movie and then shuffles to put his arm around you.

His scent is familiar, too. The world calms around you when you’re with Chenle. One out of two of your safe places has left the Earth, but luckily for you, Chenle is more than ready to play both roles.

The movie does, indeed, successfully distract you from the impending doom of everything outside. You’re able to forget, even if it’s just for a couple hours, and sink into the familiarity of your best friend.

His chest rumbles when he laughs at the screen, and the feeling has you drifting faster than you’d care to admit.

Until finally, your eyes flutter shut and stay that way, and just like that, you have the best night of sleep you’ve had all week.

You wake in the morning to sunlight on your face and Chenle wiggling away from you. The brightness burns your eyes, and you curse under your breath. Chenle bites back a laugh.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks. “I was about to go make some coffee for us.”

You shake your head and turn onto your back. “No, the sun violated me. Sorry for falling asleep in here. I thought I’d be able to catch myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves you off. “You still like your coffee the same way?”

You nod. “Thanks, Lele.”

“Of course.” He pats the door frame and heads to the kitchen. The creaks in the floorboards from his steps get further and further, and you cover your face with your hands to block out the sun.

You smell the coffee as it brews, a sigh escaping your lips. His bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve slept on in a while, and you can’t seem to force yourself to get up. You and Chenle had spent the night together many times before, pretty much throughout your entire lives. Jay, too, of course, considering how inseparable the three of you had been growing up.

“Alright, lazy ass,” Chenle calls out. “Coffee’s ready. Time to face the world.”

“Asshole,” you shout back.

“That’s what they call me.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. Swinging the covers off of you, you follow him into the kitchen.

“The fuck is your mattress made of?” you ask as you take the cup he hands you. “Clouds?”

“It’s pretty nice, isn’t it?” He sips his coffee and cringes from the heat.

“The steam is like, a dead giveaway that it’s too hot to drink, you know.”

“I take back what I said, go back to sleep.” He grins. “Getting a decent night’s sleep has brought your sass back.”

“You know you love my sass,” you bite back.

He holds his hand up in mock surrender. “Whatever.”

“What’s the plan for today?” you ask, holding your cup close so it warms you up.

“No clue,” he says. “My parents gave me a few weeks off to, I don’t know, adjust or whatever. Even though I could probably use the distraction.”

“Comedy movie didn’t do it for you?”

He gives you a pointed look. “A two hour movie can only do so much.”

“We should do something for him,” you suggest, tilting your head as you try to think. “Like, to honor him.”

“What could we do?”

“Sky’s the limit.” You shrug. “I feel like I should.”

“If you do, it needs to be actually for him. Not to compensate for guilt. Guilt you shouldn’t even be feeling, by the way.” His eyes on you suddenly becomes too much. You avert your gaze. He’s always been able to read you like a book.

“It’s really weird,” you say. “Right now, I don’t feel…anything. But I really thought I’d be in a constant state of sad. That makes me feel guilty, too.”

“I get that. It’s the way things work, though. At the end of the day, we’re still alive. We shouldn’t stop just because he did.” Chenle looks past you to the picture on the wall.

You follow suit, letting the events from yesterday flood back to you.

“Lele.” You wait for him to look at you. “Thank you. For everything. And for not letting me blame myself. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be alone and sad and, quite honestly, wondering where I—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You glare at him.

He smiles. “You get it.”

You and Chenle spend some time with your parents. They’re quick to update you on everything everyone in the town has been doing, and you and Chenle exchange ‘when-will-this-be-over’ glances frequently. 

Chenle offers to help your dad cook, leaving you and your mother in the living room. She brings out an old photo album, and the two of you take a trip down memory lane. After flipping through a few pages, she gasps and points at a picture of you and Chenle next to each other at a bonfire. You’re holding the graham crackers, awaiting the marshmallow he’s toasting over the flames.

“You guys were so young.” She lets out a long sigh.

“Mom, that was like, six years ago.” You laugh. “We weren’t that young.”

She trails down the page, and the next one is almost the same, but Jay’s arms are around you and Chenle, and he beams straight into the camera. You smile at the sight, remembering how you swatted at his wrist the second after the photo was taken.

“You know, we all thought you and Jay would get married one day,” she says absent-mindedly.

“What?” you ask incredulously. “Seriously? Come on, you know we were never like that.”

“You kids don’t see it from the outside. I’ve never seen you act so comfortable with anyone. Chenle, too, obviously. I can’t explain it. It was different with you and Jay.”

“I promise you, he’s only ever been my best friend. Not even a smidge of another thought. Don’t speak ill of the dead like that—”

“(Y/N),” your mother scolds you, smacking your arm.

“No need to beat around the bush.” You shrug and close the album.

“Hey, do you—” Chenle’s cut off by your mother.

“If you actually visited as much as you said you would, maybe things would’ve happened for the two of you.”

She doesn’t mean it the way you take it, at least you don’t think she does, but it’s a stray bullet to the heart anyway. Your jaw drops, and it only takes one glance from Chenle for him to understand. He reaches into his pocket and hands you his keys.

“Go get in the car.”

“Chenle, it’s not—”

“Go. I’ll be out in a second.”

Your insides twist and turn, and despite the way your throat closes in on itself, you nod and practically bolt out of the house. The first tear drops as you climb into the passenger seat. You close your eyes and drop your head into your hands. How did life turn out this way?

It’s true that you and Jay had never had any sort of feelings for each other, but the insinuation that he should’ve been more confuses you more than anything. If he should’ve been, you lost that chance before you even knew it existed. But it doesn’t matter, does it?

You never had feelings for him. Never. But for some reason, it suddenly feels like you have to.

Now, a different type of guilt sinks in.

You’re shaking by the time Chenle gets in the car, but he doesn’t say anything before he drives away. Stress boils off of him, and you’re almost scared to glance over at him. Luckily, the ride to his house is short thanks to your small hometown, and as soon as you’re out of the car and inside, he lets out a loud sigh.

You intend to quietly and quickly head into your own room, where you’ll cry until you fall asleep or you need more water before you can shed a single additional tear.

“Don’t even think about it,” Chenle says, grabbing onto your wrist. “Talk to me.”

You stumble into his chest and hold onto his T-shirt like your life depends on it. He cradles the back of your head and sighs, thumb stroking your scalp.

“Don’t let them get to you,” he whispers. “They don’t understand.”

“What if she was right?” you choke out.

He leans away from you to look at your face. “Did you? Ever have feelings for him?”

“No, but what if—”

“There’s no use thinking about things like that.” Chenle’s brows furrow as he scans over your face.

“And now I’ll never know if he ever thought like that, and it’s my fault—it’s not what I wanted, because you know I’d rather fist fight him than anything else, but God, what if he—”

“(Y/N).” His palms reach up to cup your cheeks, making you look straight at him as he guides you to breathe. “I can very confidently say that Jay didn't have any sort of romantic feelings for you at any point, okay? Just take a deep breath.”

“I look like an idiot, don’t I?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, you don’t. You look like someone who really cares for someone they just lost. These feelings are normal, dude.”

“I don’t think you were ever worried about Jay potentially having feelings for you,” you mumble.

“He was very much into women, so definitely never a worry on my part.” Chenle snorts and pulls you back into a hug. “She shouldn’t have said something like that to you. You’re probably hungry, too. I’ll order us some pizza.”

“Let me pay for it,” you say, reaching into your purse for your card.

“Next time.” He nudges you before walking into the kitchen.

You sigh and follow him, quickly wiping the wetness from your cheeks. He’s typing away on his phone screen, resting his elbows on the counter. He runs his fingers through his hair and sends a quick smile your way.

Without Jay around, things with Chenle felt off at first. Everything changed for all of the people you knew in the blink of an eye, and now, you’re left with one of two of your best friends while the other is galavanting up in the sky.

Things would never be the same for you, but you still have Chenle. And at the end of the day, he’s one of the only people in the entire world that have ever understood you. You don’t even need to say a word for him to get a read on you.

“Pizza’s ordered.” He drops his phone onto the granite. “I need a drink. Do you want something? I only have beer and liquor.”

“Beer’s fine,” you tell him. “I shouldn’t drink too much anyway.”

You’re halfway through the can when the pizza arrives. Chenle grabs you a piece, and you pause for a moment. This whole time, he’s been doing things for you—and it’s not just now either. It’s been like this for your entire life. Until the time you moved across the country on your own, you’d barely ever even opened a door for yourself.

You down the rest of your drink, and Chenle blinks at you rapidly.

“Are you good?” He chuckles.

“Just thinking of how good I had it here.” You shrug. “When I lived here, and I got to hang out with you and Jay all the time. I never felt lonely or sad or anything like that. Always happy with you guys.”

His face softens. “I miss those days.”

“Me too.” Right when you open your mouth to continue, Chenle stops you.

“Don’t.” He points at you. “We were the ones who told you to go in the first place.”

The two of you eat in a peaceful silence, where you steal a couple glances at your long time friend. Had you come home any other time before this, Jay would be here, too, and he’d most likely be making fun of you and Chenle right now. It’s like things have gone back to day one, and neither of you are sure how to interact with each other. The atmosphere, the air, the storyline has all massively shifted. You’re unsure of what to do.

“I’m gonna watch another movie,” Chenle says absentmindedly as he finishes sending a message on his phone. “You in?”

“Oh, not this time.” You shake your head. “I’m exhausted. Last thing you need is me hogging your bed again all night.”

He laughs. “Door’s open if you change your mind. Night.”

“Goodnight,” you tell him, watching as he retreats into his room.

The click signifies he’s out of sight, out of mind. You let out a long sigh and clean up your plate before heading into your own room. It’s not as homey as Chenle’s, and the mattress isn’t as cloudy either, but you’ll make do. With a deep breath, you rest back on your pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Part of you wants to be with Chenle, but the other side of you knows you need to learn how to be okay on your own, too. If Jay’s death has taught you anything, it’s that not everyone you rely on will be around forever. Maybe if you’d relied on him less—

God damn it. You run your hands down your face, opting to scroll through your phone. Halfway through a random video, you receive a text from Chenle.

It’s a simple message of ‘found this and figured you’d want to see.’ It’s a picture of you and Jay, where you look like you’re ready to punch him in the face, and he’s beaming widely as if he’s the funniest person alive.

The photo makes you smile. Your memories of him will stand through the test of time, but that doesn’t mean you’re not going to feel it. One thing’s for certain—his loss will always be felt. You’ll just try and make the most of the time you have left, because it’s very clearly fleeting.

You feel decent enough that you start to drift to sleep, but it’s your dreams that send you through a whirlwind. Images of your earlier years flash through your mind, and you relive some experiences you’d forgotten about. When Jay found out his first girlfriend cheated on him, or when he and Chenle got into their first ever argument and made you be the mediator. Happy memories suddenly came to an end when your dream showed him in his casket, surrounded by the people who love him—the people you abandoned to follow your dream.

You jolt awake, tears burning at your eyes despite refusing to fall. When you look at the clock, hours have passed, and it’s well into the middle of the night. You pat your cheeks to ground yourself to the real world, and overwhelming worry hits you.

What if you lose Chenle in the same way? What if all this time that was wasted is truly…gone, and you’ll never be able to make it up?

You never got to say goodbye to Jay. The days will continue to get colder, but he’ll always be cemented on a bright summer day in the middle of June. Winters without him will be like a frozen hell, and the summers will never be quite as sweet. Your heart pounds in your chest where your guilt resides, and there’s only one solution you know that’ll work.

You throw your blanket off your body and slide out of bed. The floors of Chenle’s house creak beneath your feet as you walk the short distance from your room to his. You contemplate knocking first, but you’re pretty sure he’s asleep anyway.

When you push the door open, the noise catches his attention. He turns over, eyebrows furrowed as he catches you in the frame.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hey,” you mutter, clasping your hands together. “Sorry, I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Nah.” He sits up. “Not doing too great at that these days.”

“Oh. Well, um, do you wanna watch that movie?”

Chenle smiles gently at you and pats the other side of his bed. “For sure.”

You end up next to him, resting your head on him like you did last time. He wraps his arm around you and gently taps his fingers against your shoulder. Eventually, you completely relax and stare forward at the screen. Despite the movie playing, you already feel your tiredness pulling at you again.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. “It’s just…late. You weren’t asleep?”

“I…” You pause and turn to look at him. “You want me to be honest?”

“Always.”

“I’m so…scared. I’m not really sure of what, but I have this ball of worry in me. It like, physically hurts.” You roll your eyes and tighten your grip on him.

“I get it,” he murmurs. “Seriously. When things like this happen, it’s normal to feel that way. And it doesn’t make you selfish.”

A lump forms in your throat. “I—Chenle, I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures you, pulling you closer to hug you. “I promise you, you’ll always have me.”

“But we never know, do we?” Your voice shakes. “All of it could be over in the blink of an eye—”

He cups your cheeks. “Just relax, okay? I’m right here. I’ve thought the same things about you, you know. To the point where I’m scared to let you out of my sight. But living in fear is worse than not living at all.”

“What do we do without…” You groan as the first tear falls, but before you reach up to wipe it away, Chenle beats you to it.

“We do exactly what he’d want us to do. Keep going and make life whatever we want it to be. He’d be so pissed if he knew we were sad right now.”

“God, he would.” You let out a short laugh. “He’s glaring at us, isn’t he?”

“Oh, for sure. For this and for having a fucking sleepover without him.” Chenle’s smile widens.

“He loved sleepovers.”

“He was insufferable about them,” he interjects.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says, and despite the obvious part of all of it being out of his control, something settles in you.

Your brows furrow as you gulp, studying him to figure out what about this feels…shifted. Things don’t feel like they have every single time you’ve come home in the past, but that may be because of the obvious. There was always three of you. How do you recover from that and become two?

“You don’t have to feel weird about staying in here,” Chenle tells you. “I sleep better when I’m not alone, anyway.”

“It’s not just being alone…I think I sleep better because it’s you.” You curl further into him, and he squeezes you gently.

“Me too.” He runs his fingers through your hair.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What did you say earlier? To my mom.”

“Oh, not much.” He shrugs. “Just that it was shitty to say something like that to you after everything that’s happened recently. And that you already feel bad enough, and she doesn’t need to make it worse when it’s not your fault to begin with.”

“Not much, huh?” You chuckle.

“It wasn’t enough,” he replies. “I could’ve ranted for hours about how that whole thing was bullshit. But I figured you’d be hungry, so I took you home instead.”

Home.

His home. Not yours. But you’ve never quite felt like you belonged anywhere as much as you do right now. You slide your legs to tangle them with his, and he intertwines his fingers with yours. Without explanation, your heart skips a beat. The warmth of his palm against yours has your mind in overdrive, but you don’t acknowledge it.

“Try and get some sleep,” he whispers.

You nod, terrified of shattering whatever shroud of calm is over you. Instead of a verbal response, you just close your eyes and try to ignore whatever that nagging feeling is snapping at the back of your brain.

Chenle lets out a short sigh, and it doesn’t take long for his breathing to even out. You listen to the steady thumping of his heart, the rhythm guiding you closer to falling asleep. It doesn’t matter what happens. He’s alive. The sound you’re hearing is proof of that, so at that moment you make a vow to yourself. To him.

You’ll never let distance separate you two again. You’ll never let him go the same way you did with Jay.

You’re going to be better.

And that promise, resounding in your soul, is enough to make the night around you fade to black.

A week and a half passes, and you’ve yet to spend an entire night on your own. You try, but every single time, either your or Chenle cave. Sometimes, he’d crawl into your bed without a word, pull you close to him, and breathe you in before falling asleep in silence.

He very quickly becomes your comfort. The only person you want to be around or talk to in the wake of a monumental loss. You try not to let Jay consume your thoughts, but every time you allow your mind to wander, he’s waiting for you at every corner.

The only time you’re truly at ease is with Chenle, and you’ve started getting used to being around him all the time. Today in particular, the two of you decided to have an impromptu picnic in the backyard, the sunset turning the sky oranges and pinks. Both of you lie flat on a blanket he spread out, staring up at the clouds as they scour across the sky.

An empty wine bottle is on the grass not even a foot away from you, and another one is half empty in between you and Chenle. You’ve had just enough to bring a calm, steady feeling over you, and you’re able to forget the world for a moment.

Your best friend lets out a sigh, shuffling a bit closer to you.

“What’s up?” you ask him, turning your head to look at him.

You’re lost in the way the sunset illuminates his face, how overwhelming Chenle he is while equally being reminiscent of an angel.

“You think he’s up there?” he whispers.

Your gaze returns to the sky. “I’d like to think so.”

“He better be. We both know he wouldn’t last a day in Hell.” He chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve been thinking like that recently. About where we go after…”

“You know I’ve always had a sixth sense about him.” You nudge his arm. “Wherever he is, he’s happy. I can feel it.”

“God, I hope so.” Chenle inhales sharply. “I just wish…I don’t know. That there was something I could’ve done to prevent all of this.”

“Don’t. You’re the one who told me the what-ifs are pointless. There’s nothing we can do to change that he’s gone, but we keep him alive in our memories. That’s what he’d want.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he admits as he clasps his hands together over his stomach.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He wets his lips. “Jay’s gone. You’ll go back to work eventually. It’ll just be me here, and I—am I behind? Should I be doing something with my fucking life?”

“Chenle—”

“You’ve got these amazing opportunities out there for you, (Y/N). Jay doesn’t get the chance to try, and I’m gonna waste my fucking life away in this God damned town.” He gulps and lets out a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this right now. And I hope you know this isn’t your fault—”

“Zhong Chenle, would you look at me?” you snap, waiting for him to turn his head.

Chenle furrows his eyebrows, and as his eyes meet yours, you see the desperate worry behind them. The fear of a meaningless life after the loss of a friend who could never do better now that he’s gone, and the knowledge that his other friend got out while she could.

You know him like the back of your hand. He doesn’t want this life. Truth be told, he never did. He wanted to make something of himself, much like you were doing now, and he never got the chance. No moves were made.

You want to tell him there’s still time, but you know better than to go there at this point. With a soft smile, you reach over and cup his cheek, allowing your thumb to run over his cheekbone.

“It’s not your fault. There was nothing either of us could do to stop this, okay? And do you know how pissed Jay would be hearing you talk about yourself like this? Chenle, you’re the best person I’ve ever known. If there’s anyone in this world who can take it by storm, it’s you.” You pause and take a deep breath. “Jay…dying doesn’t mean you have to lay here and die, too.”

“I needed you,” he says. “When he died, I needed you, and you were here. And you always know what to say or what to do. Helping you took the thoughts away from me, because as long as you needed me, I was distracted from feeling fucking helpless about everything.”

“I needed you, too,” you tell him.

His frown deepens, but his gaze softens. Your heart seems to skip a beat, and you still haven’t moved your hand from his face. The stare you’re locked in with him has energy thrumming through your veins, and the atmosphere around you shifts. A slight purple hue from the sky flutters against his skin.

“I still do,” he murmurs.

You nod. “Me, too. I’m not going anywhere, Lele.”

As his eyes travel down to your mouth, you quickly find yourself doing the same. Your imagination runs wild, wondering what his lips would feel like against yours. Everything that happens next is so quick, you almost don’t believe it’s true.

Both of you seem to lean forward at the same time, and his mouth brushes yours. His hand ends up on your hip, and yours moves up to his hair. The soft strands have your breath hitching, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. You’re kissing him. You’ve never considered anything like this with Chenle before, but nothing in your life has ever felt so right.

His lips work so perfectly against yours, you forget about absolutely everything except for him. Fingers gripping onto the fabric of your shirt, he shifts closer to you to close the rest of the distance. You attempt to follow his lead, but you’re interrupted by the wine bottle between you falls right onto your lap, the deep red liquid making you gasp as it soaks into your pants.

“Shit,” you curse, jolting away from Chenle.

He quickly grabs some of the paper towel he brought outside and attempts to soak up the alcohol soaked into your clothing. His hand presses against your thigh, and with a gasp, you realize what truly happened.

You just kissed Chenle. You would’ve continued kissing him, too, if the stupid bottle hadn’t been in the way. But now you’ve got his fingers digging into your leg, the warmth zinging through your veins like lightning as you swat his hands away.

“(Y/N), I—”

“Don’t.” You shake your head. “Everything’s fine.”

You quickly stand and make your way into his house to change. And to avoid what will come of this situation. Once you’re in your room, you close the door and lock it behind you, sinking down until you’re sitting on the floor.

You don’t care about your pants. Every aspect of your life has been upheaved this week. You don’t need things to change with Chenle, too. Ever since you were little, you, Jay, and Chenle had always been open and honest with each other—probably too much, in hindsight, but you trusted them both with your life. As far as you were aware, none of you had ever even come close to romantic feelings for each other.

When Chenle said he needs you, is that what he meant? Does he need you or does he need someone?

Your calm buzz from the wine has disappeared, and now panic sets in. You already lost one best friend, and you refuse to lose another. It doesn’t matter how much you wanted to kiss him. Or how much you enjoyed it. Or how badly you want to go out there and ask him what the hell he was thinking.

You flinch at the knocking.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” His voice is strained, like he’s having just as hard of a time as you are.

When you don’t answer, you hear a shuddering breath escape him.

“(Y/N), please,” he pleads. “I’m so sorry. Seriously, I have no idea what came over me, and I just—I need you, okay? I can’t be alone right now.”

You sniffle and stand up, cracking the door open so you can see him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Please don’t hate me.”

“You idiot, I could never hate you,” you reassure him, pulling him into a hug.

He sighs in relief, the tension in his body deflating as he holds you as tightly as he can. And before you know it, he’s shuddering in your grasp, his body wracked with sobs. Your heart shatters, and you cradle the back of his head. He practically collapses into you, and it has both of you on the floor.

You’ve never seen him like this before. Worry has your stomach twisting and turning, and all you can do is run your fingers through his hair and make sure he knows you’re here. That you’ll never go anywhere without him again.

“I’m so sorry.” Barely coherent, he tightens his grip on you.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, rocking him back and forth as you fight your own tears. “Everything’s okay. I promise, Lele, I’ve got you.”

After a while of you rocking him back and forth, he stops crying. Your shirt is soaked, but you couldn’t care less. You know he needed this, to finally let go of every pent up emotion trapped in his heart, and you want to make sure his thoughts won’t build up like that again.

He falls asleep against you, his grip not loosening. Eventually, you doze off too.

When you wake up, you quickly realize you’re now laying in your bed. The room is pitch black, and it takes you a moment to adjust. Chenle’s nowhere to be found, even when you pat the bed next to you to see if he’d taken his normal spot.

You toss the blanket off your lap. Before leaving the room, you change your wine-stained pants to shorts, and swap your shirt out for a T-shirt. As you walk into the kitchen, you’re surprised to find the light on. Chenle sits at the table, a glass filled with bronze liquid in front of him. With his palms covering his face, he sighs.

“Lele,” you mutter, voice hoarse from sleep.

His tired eyes meet yours, and he quickly averts his gaze and takes a sip of his drink. You shuffle closer and sit directly across from him, clasping your fingers together.

“You’re still up?” you ask.

He nods once.

“Can you talk to me please? This is scaring me.”

He gulps. “I’m so sorry. For earlier. All of it. I have no idea what got into me, and then just—I should’ve left you alone after, too, and I didn’t, and I feel like a fucking ass—”

“Clearly, you’ve had some pent up emotions going on. It’s okay to be confused about them, and I’d never be mad at you for needing me. You’re my best friend. One kiss is not going to ruin us or something. If this is the first time you’ve cried for real since Jay died, you needed that, too.”

“I’m…I don’t know. Embarrassed?”

“Oh, come on.” You scoff. “You’ve done way more embarrassing things in your life that I’ve witnessed.”

“It’s different now.” He frowns.

“Different? How?”

“Everything is different. Jay’s gone, we’ve both changed as people, our families barely even talk anymore. And you know they’ve been best friends for as long as we’ve been alive. If they can drift apart, does that mean we will, too?” he rants, tugging his fingers through his hair.

“Is that what last night was about?”

“I can’t lose you, okay? I panicked last night after I kissed you, ‘cause it felt like I’d ruined everything. And you like, ran away from me, and I—shit, I don’t know. Everything inside me just…froze. All I could think about was that if you left me, too, I’d be completely alone.” He downs the last of his drink, cringing as the liquid rolls down his throat.

“I would never leave you. No matter what.” You reach across the table and grab his hand. “Whatever that meant for you, whether it was an impulsive decision or if you truly wanted it, you can be honest with me. We’re going through a big change right now, you know. Things are going to be confusing and the only way we’ll ever get through it is if we talk about those confusing things.”

He stares where you’re touching him, jaw tightening as his chest rises. “It wasn’t the first time I wanted to.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry if that’s weird—”

“Don’t. Just keep talking.”

“I don’t know what’s going on with me, honestly. I just…it feels like you’re the only person who understands me. The only one who ever will understand me.” His voice shakes as he speaks, and his grip tightens. “Ever since you’ve been back, things have…changed for me, I guess.”

Your heart pounds, apparently hammering against your throat and making it hard to breathe. You refuse to allow any reaction to come out until he’s done, because that’ll counteract everything you’re trying to do here.

“And I don’t know how they’ve changed, to be fair. It’s different. That’s all I know. We’re closer than we’ve ever been, and um…” He closes his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he gains the courage to continue.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “Keep talking. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I think I…like you.” Chenle’s shoulders slump as the words escape him. “But this is so…so much right after everything with Jay, and I don’t know if I really do, or if it’s because—”

“I get it, Lele.” You send a small smile his way. “It’s not weird, and I completely understand what you’re talking about. At the end of the day, we’ll always be best friends. So if this is something you want to explore, the worst case scenario is we end up right back to being friends, right?”

His widened eyes dart back to yours, shock evident on his face. “What?”

“There’s only one way to figure out if it’s real or if it’s a product of circumstances.” You shrug. “And honestly, I’ve been…the same, I think. I kissed you out there, too. But we don’t have to make this weird. We can let things naturally progress if they do, and until then, we’ll just be us. Okay?”

“How long?” he asks quietly. “When did you start…”

“The night we came back here after everything my mom said,” you tell him. “I needed you, and you refused to leave my side.”

“It was that day for me, too. I saw the look on your face when she said all those things to you. The thought of you and Jay like that got me thinking, I guess.” He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for not making this weird.”

“It doesn’t have to be. We’re both adults and we’ve known each other our whole lives. There’s nothing wrong with…exploring something as long as we’ll be okay after if it doesn’t work out.” You release his hand and grab the cup in front of him.

When you stand to put it in the sink, he leans back in his chair and watches you. You’re surprised by yourself, truly, because you expected some sort of awkwardness to start between the two of you after your conversation, but everything feels the same.

You make eye contact with him over your shoulder, and he gives you a small smile. When you make it back over to him, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“You need to get some rest,” you tell him.

“Come with me?” He places his hand over yours.

“Sure.”

He stands, and when he faces you again, the distance between the two of you is minuscule. You’ve known the man in front of you for your whole life. You’ve spent all that time with him, never quite feeling the way you do now.

Maybe it’s because of Jay’s passing, and the two of you are desperately grasping onto something familiar. There’s a pretty decent chance of that, but also…maybe this is how things were always meant to be.

You’re not entirely sure what to expect at this moment, but he pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tightly. You relax in his grasp, returning his gesture with ease. When he lets you go, he grabs your hand and leads you to his bedroom, and just like most nights before this one, the two of you quickly fall asleep wrapped up in each other.

A few days pass with no changes. You woke up first this morning, so you head into his kitchen to start the coffee. Leaning the small of your back on the counter, you close your eyes and inhale the scent of the dark, brewing liquid. Chenle’s shirt hangs off your shoulder, and it’s almost long enough to cover your shorts.

There’s a short knock on the front door, and with a frown, you move to answer it. When you open it, you’re surprised to find a woman behind it. She seems familiar, but you can’t place it.

“(Y/N)?” She frowns, eyeing you. “What are you doing here?”

You chuckle. “Sorry, do we know each other?”

“Oh, you probably don’t know me. Chenle and I dated not too long ago, and he used to tell me about you all the time. I heard about Jay and wanted to stop by and make sure he was okay.”

“Oh, he’s—” You pause, wondering what you should even say to this girl. “He’s sleeping right now. If you come back later, I’m sure he’ll be…um, accepting of conversation.”

Recognition comes back to you as soon as she explains who she is. They broke up over six months ago, and while Chenle didn’t really tell you why, he said he broke up with her. You hear footsteps behind you, and relief floods when you feel Chenle’s presence behind you.

“Did you need something?” he asks her.

“I, um, I heard about Jay. I know how close you guys were, so I wanted to see how you were doing. How are you doing? It’s probably good that (Y/N)’s back, right?” she rambles, clasping her hands together behind her back.

“Thanks for stopping by, but I’m alright. Having (Y/N) back is great, and you should probably get going.” Chenle’s tone stays steady, and you’re shocked to find him so stern with her.

“Chenle, I—”

“I don’t know what your goal was in showing up here, but you shouldn’t have. (Y/N), close the door please.”

You shoot a nervous glance over your shoulder, and then an awkward smile to the girl on the other side, and then do as he says. After, you turn to face him with a raised eyebrow.

“Not even worth the conversation,” he says, shaking his head. “Is that coffee I smell?”

You nod.  “Yep, I figured you’ve made me enough coffee, so it’s probably my turn.”

You rest the small of your back against the counter, and he approaches you, placing his hands on either side of you as he leans closer to you. Your heart races, lodged in your throat as you await his next move.

“You know, your eyes dilate when you look at me,” he teases you.

“Shut up.” You gently push at his chest and laugh. “It’s only because you piss me off.”

“Not according to science.” He gives you a smug grin.

“I cannot believe you’re flirting with me right now,” you tell him, scoffing. “I haven’t even had any coffee yet. I can’t keep up.”

It’s been days since the kiss. So much time has passed, and he hasn’t even so much as tried to kiss you again. The way his gaze flicks down and his smile fades has every logical thought escaping your brain.

“Relax,” he whispers. “It’ll never feel normal if you don’t.”

You let the tension release from your shoulders, and you nod. His hand slides beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his palm directly on your hip. Your face heats up at the gesture, unsure of how to reciprocate or let him know you like it.

“I think we should really talk about all of that, though.” You clear your throat.

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “We’ll talk about it soon. Not at this very second.”

He lifts his other hand to the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your skin as he leans forward. You meet him in the middle and grip onto his shoulders. The kiss is short, and as he pulls away, his eyes flutter open.

“Again,” you say.

He kisses you again, and this time, he moves a little closer to you to make sure his chest is against yours. His fingers weave into your hair, and you let out a short moan. Embarrassment floods through you as you pull away from him and drop your head against his chest.

“Did you just—”

“Don’t you dare.” You shake your head.

“Maybe we should put everything out on the table,” he continues. “Like what…um, what we’re okay with during our…this, and what things are off-limits.”

“I would think that things shouldn’t be off-limits if we’re trying to see if this is real. If we’re…compatible.” Your cheeks burn as the words leave your mouth. “Why are we being like this? We’ve never been awkward talking about sex.”

His eyes widen and his face turns bright red. “Probably because we’ve never talked about sex together. Like me and you.”

“That’s really weird to think about.”

“Sure is.”

“Should we…move on? I think the coffee’s done.” You push his arm away so you can slide away from him. Clearing your throat, you grab two coffee cups from the cupboard.

Chenle leans his back against the counter where you’d just been, with his arms crossed over his chest. You make both coffees and mix them together before turning around to hand him his. He takes it with a smile and a quick thank you, and then you sip your own.

“So,” you start. “Tell me what happened with that girl.”

He sighs. “You really wanna know?”

“Of course, I do. It’s a little weird that I don’t know already.”

“She was weirdly obsessed with you and Jay. Like, constantly was bringing you up despite never having met you, and just…it was weird. Kinda gave me the vibes that she’d just be jealous all the time when you did come around.” He pauses, pursing his lips as he thinks further. “That, and she tried to fuck Jay.”

You choke on your coffee. “Hello? She did what?”

“Yep. Jay came to me immediately, obviously, and I broke up with her right after.” He shrugs. “We weren’t together for that long.”

“It was weird because she did act like she knew me.” You set your cup down on the counter and approach him again. Wrapping your arms around him, you place your head on his chest. He squeezes you closer to him.

“Jay and I talked about you all the time,” he reminds you. “C’mon, you’re our favorite person. Of course, everyone in our lives would know you.”

“You two have always loved to talk, that’s for sure.” You grin up at him, and he feigns annoyance and pokes your side.

It becomes an unspoken rule between the two of you that you’ll start trying to let things happen as naturally as possible. Living in a small town makes it nearly impossible to keep gossip from spreading, so any time you go out together, you make it look as friendly as possible. Regardless, people were going to talk anyway.

You and Chenle are halfway through a bottle of wine at dinner when both your mom and his mom show up. Chenle shares a panicked look with you, but you scoot over to let your mom sit down.

“What are you two doing here?” you ask.

“Yu Baeyoung said she saw you here.” Your mom nudges your arm.

You chuckle. “Yes, I’ve been around for almost a month and a half now.”

“No, silly, she means here. With Chenle,” his mom interjects.

Chenle’s face scrunches up. “Let’s not do this right now.”

“Do what?” Your mom’s brow raises.

“You guys have done this to us our entire lives.” You scratch the top of your head. “Can’t two friends enjoy dinner without meddling?”

“This is a nice place for a couple of friends to hang out.” His mom gestures to the wine. “Drink choice doesn’t seem friendly either.”

“Would you prefer us slamming shots of tequila?” Chenle presses his lips together in a thin line, but he’s incredibly stiff.

You decided not to tell your families about any of this for this exact reason—they’d get way too far ahead of themselves, and the last thing you need is for this not to work out and both sides asking hundreds of questions.

“Baeyoung said she’s seen you guys around together a lot, actually—”

“Mom, please.” Chenle lets out a long sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “If we had something to tell you, we’d let you know. And if you did think we were here for…I don’t know, whatever, why would you butt in instead of letting us continue?”

You grab your wine glass and finish off what’s left in it.

“We’re just curious.” Your mom pouts and crosses her arms over her chest. “I think you’d be good for each other—”

“For the love of God, you were saying you wanted me with Jay for years just last week. Can I have friends ever? I really think you should go.” You don’t know what part of that sinks under your skin and picks at your soul, but you’re already on a tightrope with your mother.

“Oh, don’t be like that.” She waves you off.

“All due respect, but we’re trying to be normal after our best friend died, okay?” Chenle scoffs and taps his fingers on the table. “The three of us used to go out like this all the time. We’re learning to live without Jay, and it sucks, so if you could not assume things this fast, that’d be great.”

Guilt sinks into your heart, and you drop your head into your hands. You wish you knew what Jay would think of all of this. If he’d call you both crazy for trying to be together when you’ve lost him, a pivotal piece of this friendship circle.

“Chenle, that’s a bit much, don’t you think?” his mom asks.

“It’s not. It’s really not. And not only was he our best friend, but he was the first…passing we’ve experienced. So, we need space if you guys are going to keep assuming things that don’t even matter to you. Even if we were dating, we’re grown adults and we’d tell you when we’re ready.”

You gape at Chenle. He slumps back against the booth and sighs. Your mother shifts next to you, and Chenle’s mom’s smile fades quickly. You’ve done well thus far in distracting yourself from Jay. The days don’t get easier, but they seem shorter, at least. Having Chenle by your side helps. He was right when he said it would never get better, only that you’d learn to adjust to it. Instead of a sharp, stabbing pain every time you think of him, the knife gets a little duller every day. That, or your heart steels in resolve a little bit more.

“He’s right.” You nod. “We’re not teenagers anymore, guys. You don’t need to know everything about us, or gang up on us at dinner. We’re adults trying to navigate life, and you need to give us the room to do that.”

“I never thought of it that way. This was all lighthearted fun, dear. We thought it might help to keep you guys distracted from everything, but we’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want us to do.” Chenle’s mom puts her hand on his shoulder.

Your mom murmurs an agreement, and then after a confirmation from you and Chenle, they get up and leave the two of you to your dinner. You empty the wine bottle between the two glasses and raise your eyebrow at him.

“I like when you stand up for us like that,” you say, leaning back against your seat.

A smile forms on his face as he rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe they just date crashed us. Maybe we’ll be able to go out without the town out to get us one day.”

“Doubtful. But hopefully, we’ll eventually know what this is.” You sip your wine. “Then, it won’t matter what everyone knows.”

His gaze softens and trails over you. “And we’ll be fine either way.”

“That we will.” You raise your glass and smile as he clinks his against yours.

When you get back to Chenle’s house, he guides you inside with a hand on the small of your back. He helps you take your jacket off, and the warm of his touch down your arms sends goosebumps along your skin.

At this point, you’re pretty sure it’s real for you. That your feelings aren’t a product of losing a friend and clinging onto normalcy, but the start of something beautiful you could have with Chenle.

You take a step toward your room, and he grabs your wrist to pull you back to him. He asks, “Where are you going?”

“To change, you loser.” You chuckle. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Can’t you just wear something of mine?” He wraps his arms around you. “I like when you wear my stuff.”

“Just say you wanna watch me take my clothes off, you freak,” you tease him.

His eyes widen, and he takes a step back while his cheeks redden. “I wouldn’t just ask you to do that, but if you wanted to—”

“Oh, my God.” You laugh abruptly. “You wanna see me naked.”

“Well, I mean, not if you don’t want me to.” He clears his throat, glancing up at the ceiling.

“You’ve seen most of me already,” you remind him.

“Context matters, you know,” he interjects. “Like, yeah, I’ve seen you in bikinis and stuff, but it’s not like we were gonna do anything about it back then. Am I even making sense? Sure, I’ve seen you pretty close to naked, but it wasn’t because of me? Please don’t let me say anything else.”

“Your awkwardness is slightly endearing.” You snort.

He pouts. “Ass.”

You take a step closer to him, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and press your lips against his. He reciprocates immediately, the gentle movement making your brain malfunction. When you pull away, he’s smiling at you.

“You kissed me.”

“Yes, I did,” you confirm. “We’ve kissed quite a bit the last few days.”

“We have, haven’t we?”

You chuckle and grab his wrist to pull him to his room. He follows you without hesitation and closes the door behind you both before he heads to his dresser. He pulls out a shirt for you and one for himself. You turn away from him and switch the top you’re wearing with his T-shirt. The fabric stops right below your ass, and you reach beneath it to unbutton your pants and push them down your legs. Once they’re off, you turn to get into his bed.

You find him in the exact same spot. His lips are slightly parted as his gaze travels down your body. Your entire life you’d been able to admit to yourself that you found Chenle attractive, because you had eyes. Of course, he was. But for him to not only be attracted to you, too, and also be vocal about it has your mind in shambles.

He watches you closely as you climb into his bed and pull the covers over yourself. You avoid looking at him as he changes, and within moments, he’s shuffling closer to you. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to your cheek, to your temple, to your jawline. Nerves spring in your stomach, but you turn your head to see him.

“Is there something you want?” you ask him.

“This is probably the worst time to say this,” he whispers. “But this is real for me. I know it. These feelings keep getting stronger and I—I wasn’t going to even say anything yet, but I had to tell you in case…”

You suddenly feel embarrassment rise to your cheeks. Chenle’s your best friend, but you did just get into his bed wearing his shirt and an admittedly skimpy pair of panties. You turn to face him.

“Before anything serious happened, I wanted to be sure.” He gulps. “Because that’s obviously…a big deal for us both, you know? And regardless of what we said, I think it’d be hard to go back to the way we were if we had sex and weren’t good for each other.”

“You ramble when you’re nervous,” you say.

“I do.” He chuckles.

“It’s real for me, too,” you whisper. Despite it being the complete truth, a lump forms in your throat. You’re not sure where it came from, but you fight it the best you can.

Relief relaxes his facial features, and then he leans forward slowly until his lips brush yours. His eyes threaten to close, but he waits for you to make a decision. You’re not entirely sure what comes over you, but all you know is that you’ve never needed someone on the level you need Chenle.

You complete the kiss, weaving your fingers through his hair as you shift closer to him. Immediately, it’s like everything around you catches on fire, and it’s much too hot to stay as you are. You gasp into his mouth when his hand trails beneath your shirt, his touch leaving those same flames all over your skin. He grabs your ass and squeezes, a shiver rolling down his spine when he swallows your moan.

“You had to know what you were doing with these,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers just beneath the hem of your panties.

His words sink in, but nothing about this feels awkward to you. You’d be embarrassed if he knew how wet you were from his simple touches. All of that is background noise—all you care about is getting closer to him.

“Why isn’t this weird?” you whisper as you slide your hands beneath his shirt to get him to take it off. “We used to cringe at the thought of—”

“Would you kiss me, damn it?” He pulls you back to him, but instead of the urgency you expect, he kisses you gently, his lips slowly moving on yours. You roll, tugging him to take him with you.

Then he’s on top of you, slotted perfectly between your legs with your shirt riding up to expose more and more of your skin. His eyes scan over you, and he moves his hand up your side until you’re lifting yourself up to remove the fabric. A slight pause befalls both of you.

“What is it?” you ask him.

“I just…can’t believe I’ve never realized this before,” he whispers, eyebrows pinching. “How well we work together.”

You smile. “We’re pretty fucking great.”

“This probably sounds cheesy as hell,” he begins and scoffs at himself. “But you’re the most beautiful person I know.”

“Oh, come on.” Your cheeks heat up.

“No, I’m serious. I’ve always known that. You’re fucking radiant on the outside and warm and kind and loving on the inside. Nothing has ever or will ever be able to take that away from you, and I…” he trails off, swollen lips parting as he searches for what he wants to say next. “Don’t ever leave me. Please.”

You reach up to cup his cheeks. “Lele, I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and me now, okay?”

“I’ll be here as long as you want me,” he murmurs as he lowers himself down. “No matter what.”

Chenle kisses you again, softer this time as if this energy between the two of you is fragile. You slide your hand into his hair and allow yourself to melt. Spreading your legs a little further to accommodate him, you pull at the hem of his shirt. He moves away from you only to take it off, and then he presses kisses on your jaw, down your neck. You’re gasping for air by the time he makes it to the swells of your breasts. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along the edge of your bra, allowing his teeth to graze you.

You let your head rest back against his pillows and sigh as he travels further, stopping once he reaches your navel. Your fingers clench the sheets as you prepare yourself for whatever he’s going to do next.

“This is okay?” he hums against your skin.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly. “Perfect.”

Being in the dark with only the shine of the stars to illuminate the room has this feeling much more intimate than you thought possible. You’d never imagined yourself in this position—literally—with Chenle, but now that you’re here, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

He tongues along the hem of your panties, and you have to stifle your gasp. The chill of the air contrasts with the wetness left on your skin, and goosebumps travel up your body. His fingers loop through the waistband, and without any words from him, you lift your hips up to help him remove them.

Chenle’s lips find your inner thigh, and you can’t hold back the noise that leaves you. It’s been a while since you’ve craved someone’s touch, and you never want his to leave your body. He already feels so different than everyone else. He’s still your best friend, but now he’s so much more, too. You trust him inexplicably, and this moment will change the trajectory of your lives forever.

You feel his breath against your core, and you drop your head back. He shifts and brings his hand up to hold your body down to the mattress, his thumb sliding between your legs to gently nudge your clit.

“Relax,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.”

He seems nervous himself, but after another shuffle, his fingers slide along your entrance. Your back arches as he pushes them inside. His breath shudders as he feels your walls fluttering around him.

“You’re…perfect, (Y/N),” he says, entranced as he slowly thrusts his hand. “So perfect.”

You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you adjust to the feeling. When he kisses your clit, you grasp harder onto the sheets. Knowing the man pleasuring you is the one person in the world that knows you the most, that knows who you are within your very soul, has you immersed in every movement he makes. Nobody has ever made you feel this way before.

Sounds of your arousal follow his fingers, and he finally wraps his lips around your clit. You let out a loud moan, your back arching at the overwhelming sensations. He sucks on your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue back and forth in a matching pace with his hand. You squirm below him, and your legs begin to shake at the sensation.

He moves just a little faster, his other hand flat on your stomach to keep you from moving too much. You fear any sounds louder than whispered pleasure might shatter this moment between you and Chenle, but as he brings you closer to the edge, you struggle to hold back.

He curls his fingers to find your spot, and your body jerks. When he repeats the action, he moans, the vibrations against your clit sending you to euphoria. You gasp and your eyes roll back. He aids you through your high, carefully bringing you down before pulling away from your core. You practically slump on the mattress, but you lift yourself up to look at him. He sits up on his knees to get a better look at you, and you watch his every move as he lifts his fingers up to his mouth and sucks your arousal from them. 

You gulp at the sight of him like this, his length straining against his boxers as his darkened eyes travel over your body. His tongue swipes along his lips one last time, and then he’s climbing over you again. You welcome his kiss despite the taste of yourself.

“I need you,” you tell him, pushing at the band of his boxers. “Can’t wait anymore.”

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “You can tell me if you change your mind.”

You shake your head. “Please, Lele.”

He inhales sharply, and then he’s assisting you in pushing the last barrier of clothing off. “Do we need a condom? I have some.”

“I—” Your face heats up. “I’m on birth control, and I haven’t slept with anyone in…um, a long time, so I’m clean.”

“I got tested recently,” he replies. “I’m clean, too. But this is up to you. Whatever you want is cool with me.”

“Waste of time. I want you now.” You pull him in to kiss him, and he sighs against your mouth.

He reaches down and strokes himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. His eyes travel along your body, almost as if he’s verifying you’re real. Slowly, he pushes inside, watching your expression carefully to ensure you’re alright.

Your heart thuds in your chest as he continues to move forward, burying himself deep inside you until he’s flush against you. He gives you a bit to adjust, leaning in to kiss down your neck. His hand snakes beneath your body to unclasp your bra, and you arch to assist him in taking it off.

“‘M good,” you reassure him. “You can move.”

“Just need a second like this,” he returns, dropping his head on your shoulder. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

His words send shivers up your spine, and you put your arms around his shoulders. He kisses you again, and pulls out slowly to push back in. The sensation of him rubbing against your inner walls has you gasping. His pace is slow but you’ve never felt so heavenly in your life. As his tongue parts your lips, you wrap your legs around his waist.

When you call out his name, he curses under his breath. Every time he thrusts in, you lift your hips to meet him, despite how you begin to shake from the intensity of all of it. His chest brushes yours with each movement, and his teeth sink into your bottom lip to pull at it.

Never in your life has anything ever felt like this. As if Chenle was the last piece of the 1,000 piece puzzle you deemed life, and you finally found it after all these years. His soft moans have your toes curling, and despite the knot tying in your stomach, you don’t want this to end.

As if he knows every last thought in your mind, he reaches between you and rubs circles on your clit. You shudder in his grasp and dig your nails into his shoulders. He moves faster, and once his tip slides into your spot, you crumble around him. You throw your head back, a moan tumbling from your lips as you fall apart.

Moments after you, his hips falter as he approaches his high. You kiss him hard, and he groans into your mouth, pushing as far into you as he can to finish. The sensation has you gasping all over again, but you hold onto him for dear life.

He thrusts a couple more times to bring you both back to reality, and as he slows to a stop, he peppers kisses on your face. Neither of you move yet. You bask in the feeling of him inside you, and his hand rubs up and down your thigh.

He carefully removes your legs from around his waist, and then he sighs as he pulls out of you slowly. “Let me grab a towel. Hold on.” With a quick kiss to your forehead, he stands up and slips his boxers back on before walking out of the room.

An inherent sense of peace overwhelms you, and once he comes back, he cleans up the mess between your legs before climbing in bed next to you. He cradles the back of your head to his chest, and he hums quietly.

“Try to get some sleep,” he whispers.

With him close and his heart beating beneath your ear, you don’t even have to try.

The birds chirping outside the window wake you up. You’re still tangled up with Chenle, blanket snug around both of you with you curled into his chest. Shifting closer, you think about going back to sleep until he’s ready to get up, too.

“Morning,” he mutters, voice hoarse from sleep.

You shake your head. “More sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He squeezes you and lets out a sigh of content.

Peaceful silence takes the two of you over, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of how far you both have come. You’re on top of the world—your feelings for Chenle are real, and you’ve discovered something you never thought would be possible.

His fingers trace up and down your spine, a deep hum escaping him. “This is real.”

“Mhm,” you reply. “We’re naked right now.”

“And you’re so fucking soft.” He sighs. “Is there any reason we need to get up today?”

“Wouldn’t matter if there was. Not moving.” You kiss the base of his neck.

“Sounds good to me.”

Despite the prospect of being wrapped up in each other all day, eventually, both of you get hungry. He takes you to one of the local diners for breakfast, and you study him closely while he sips his coffee and looks through the menu.

You expected some aspect of your relationship with him to be awkward at this point, but nothing has changed between you. Well, with the exception that every time you see his fingers, heat rises to your cheeks. Besides that, you’re perfectly normal.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks without removing his eyes from the menu.

“Who, me?”

He finally glances up, a smile playing on his lips. “Yes, (Y/N), you.”

“Well.” You clear your throat. “I’m just…thinking.”

“I put that together.” He tips his cup to his lips again.

“What do we do from here?” you blurt out, immediately dropping your head into your palm.

He chuckles and clasps his hands together over the table. “I was waiting for you to bring it up. But if we both know it’s real, and we’ve…gone as far as we have, um, I was hoping we’d be together.”

“That doesn’t scare you?” you ask.

“Does it scare you?” he counters.

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

“Full transparency, then. That’s what I want. I want us to be together and, as insufferable as they are, I want our families to know, too. And I want it to be us against the world, (Y/N). We can do whatever we want.”

“I guess that also brings us to what happens next month.” You look down at your lap. “When I’m supposed to go back to work.”

He gulps but waits for you to continue.

“What if…What if I didn’t go back?” you start. “Think about it. We could stay here.”

“You want to come live here?”

“I…I guess I just—” You pause in an attempt to gather your thoughts. “After everything with Jay, it made me realize how long I’ve really been gone. And being back here…I missed it a little. You and my family and the town itself. I don’t want to miss any part of anyone else’s life. I really did Jay a disservice by not coming around as often as I should’ve.”

“You’d give up all of that work you did for me?” He frowns.

“It’s not just for you, but yes. I don’t fully enjoy what I do. It’s all work and it takes up all my time. Why do that when I could do something around here and get to spend actual free time with you?”

He reaches across the table and grasps your hand. “There’s always room for you with me, but I want you to be sure about something like that. You’ve worked so hard, and if you’re changing your mind because of us, I don’t want to come between you and your dreams.”

“I’ve been thinking about it before we started this,” you tell him. “From the second I heard about Jay. I certainly don’t want you out here by yourself.”

“Don’t think we could swing long distance?” He cracks a smile.

“Ridiculous.” You scoff and take a drink of your coffee. “We have some time. Let’s think about it later, alright?”

“Agreed.”

After breakfast, Chenle leads you out of the restaurant with your fingers intertwined. You try not to blush at the simple gesture, but you can’t help it. He leads you to the passenger side of his car, and you lean back against the metal. The distance between you two is almost non-existent, and his hand rests on your waist.

“You’re sure you don’t care if people know?” he asks.

“Positive.” You grin.

He cups your cheek, smiling back at you as he strokes your skin with his thumb. After, he leans in and kisses you. Oxygen is stolen from your lungs, but you relish in the feeling of him. The sun feels warmer, the day a little brighter, and your heart a little fuller.

You never expected this to be the answer—for you to find a different kind of solace in your best friend, but you’re here anyway.

He winks at you once he pulls away, earning him a slap on the chest. After you roll your eyes, he opens the door for you and guides you into the car.

By the time you make it back to his house, he leads you inside. You’re barely a few feet within the door when both of your phones start buzzing. He takes his out of his pocket, shows you it’s his mother calling, laughs, and tosses it on the couch. You follow his lead, and then he grabs your hand and pulls you towards his room.

“If you thought you were going to make it out of here for long, you were mistaken.” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. “I have plans for us today. Our schedule’s booked actually, and it mostly involves us in my bed.”

“Luckily for you, that’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

“Oh, good. Hopefully, they don’t decide to come here. Probably not the show they thought they’d be signing up for.” He ponders the thought for a moment.

“Shame on them for not respecting our privacy,” you mutter, grasping onto the back of his neck. “Maybe it’ll teach them to back off a little.”

“You’re so right,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you.

Tugging you closer, he whirls you around to walk you back toward his bed, where you’re more than ready to spend the next few hours.

Later that night, you and Chenle are ready for bed, with you curled into his chest. He runs his fingers through your hair, humming quietly. You don’t recognize the melody, but he relaxes you all the same.

“Do you think this ever would’ve happened if Jay were still here?” you ask him as you trace shapes on his shoulder.

He purses his lips in thought. “I’d like to think so.”

“Me, too,” you admit. “This feels…like things were always supposed to be this way.”

“I can’t imagine it any other way now.” He takes a deep breath. “I needed this. You. And I can’t believe there was a time where we weren’t like this.”

You move so you’re resting on top of him, chests pressed together. He clasps his hands together over the small of your back.

“He’d be happy for us, right?” You scan over his face, tracing over his cheekbones with your finger.

“Of course,” Chenle says without hesitation. “I think he’d be asking a bunch of questions right now. Like how we knew, what we were gonna do about all of this, if he’s going to be the man of honor or the best man.”

“God, he so would.” You laugh.

“And he’d be insufferable about it, too.”

“He’d be the man of honor, by the way. I was his favorite.”

Chenle’s smile grows. “I love you.”

Your heart stops in your chest, and your lips part as you stare at him in shock. Although, you should’ve expected it. You fell for him, too, but hearing it verbalized is a whole new story you’ve never considered before.

Hell, the two of you frequently told each other those three words, but you know now they hold much more importance than they ever have.

“You…”

“Yeah, I do.” He nods.

“Like…romantically?”

“You’re such a loser,” he teases you. “Yes, romantically. Don’t make me take it back now.”

“I’ll be sad if you take it back, ass.” You narrow your eyes at him. “And I love you, too, if that wasn’t clear.”

He squeezes you tightly, chuckling when the air rushes from your lungs. While you never quite expected things to work out this way, you wouldn’t change what’s become of your relationship with Chenle. He was—and is—your best friend, and for some reason, all you can do is look forward to the future, where he’ll be more. Best friend always, but also the one you love.

The last couple weeks before you’re supposed to return to work are hectic to say the least. It feels as if you and Chenle are rushing to figure things out—where the two of you will stand when you leave and what you’ll do in the meantime.

So, in an attempt to get your minds distracted, you opt to go have a couple drinks with Jay. Of course, you had to stop and get his favorite beer—the same one you’d always hated and that Chenle’s not too fond of, but for Jay, you would endure it.

He brings a blanket. When you find Jay’s headstone, he spreads out the fabric and waits for you to sit before he joins you. You grasp onto his hand, and his knee bumps yours, but that’s the only physical contact you have with him.

Chenle opens up three cans—one for him, one for you, and one for Jay.

This isn’t the first time you’ve done this together, but it very well be the last. You don’t want to leave him. Not really. But he refused to let you give up what you’d worked hard for. You escaped the town, and he didn’t want you to even think about coming back when you’ve got so much left to do in your new city.

Chenle sips the drink, cringing at the taste. “Can’t believe he liked this shit.”

“He had peculiar tastes, that’s for sure.” You chuckle and refrain from touching your own. “You think he can really hear us when we’re talking to him like this?”

“Stranger things have happened,” he replies.

“That’s the truth,” you tease him and nudge his shoulder. “Maybe we should break the news to Jay.”

He takes the third can and dumps some over the grass. You both watch as it absorbs, and once Chenle’s satisfied, he purses his lips.

“You’ve missed a lot, dude.” He lets out a long sigh. “Almost three months without you feels unreal.”

You squeeze his hand and send a soft smile his way.

He continues, “But I seriously think you’d be pissed at us if we admitted we were still sad, so…(Y/N) and I are…together. Like, we’re dating. And to be honest, we’re both not too sure where it came from, but we keep each other sane after all this stuff.”

You loop your arm through his and rest your head on his shoulder. Fighting back tears, you realize how much you’d missed as well. There were stories you had yet to hear. Some you’d never get the chance to.

“I’d like to think you’d be happy for us.” You chuckle and take another drink. “You and this God awful beer.”

“I can almost hear him defending it right now.” Chenle sends a dazzling grin your way, and you watch him fondly. You never imagined coming back home would lead to all of this.

You and Chenle talk to Jay for a while. The sun shines pleasantly against your skin, warmth seeping into your bones. Chenle tells the story of you two falling for each other, how it was gradual and unexpected. Things had simply shifted, and everything became much more than you’d ever imagined.

When the sun begins to set, you wrap up your time with Jay. All three cans are empty. You grab them while Chenle folds the blanket, and then you head back to his car. His arm is firmly around your waist, and you fight the urge to melt into him.

As soon as you’re inside his house, he drops the blanket and takes the objects from your hands. Next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in one of the tightest hugs Chenle’s ever given you. You reciprocate the best you can, threading your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You okay?” you ask him.

“Yeah. Just wanna hold you for a sec.”

You hum in agreement, allowing yourself to melt into his grip. He kisses the top of your head, and when he pulls away to look at you, a fond gleam appears in his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says.

“Uh oh,” you interject, fighting your grin as he purses his lips in faux annoyance.

“What if I went with you?”

You recoil. “What?”

“I’ve wanted to get away from this place. You made it out. Let’s go together.” He looks at you earnestly as he awaits your response. “I love you, (Y/N). Being apart from you isn’t exactly what I want at this point.”

“You want…to move with me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Chenle nods. “Think of the life we could build together. A real one that’s not influenced by the crazy ass people in this town.”

You flounder for words to say. This is the last thing you expected from him, but maybe you should’ve thought of this yourself. Chenle had run into a hard time because he’d wanted out for so long. You could help him.

“I don’t want you to give up everything you’ve worked for. Living here isn’t in the cards for you right now, and I understand that. But we both have an opportunity here. You keep doing what you set out to do, but this time, we don’t have to be apart.” He fiddles with the seam of your shirt, almost nervously avoiding your gaze.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, come with me.”

He grins so widely, you’re almost worried it hurts. Cupping your cheeks, he kisses you hard, and you almost stumble backwards.

This was the beginning of a new journey for both of you. Neither of you were sure what to do without Jay around, and you wouldn’t feel right leaving Chenle all by himself. If he wanted to come with you, you’d be more than happy to have him.

You’ll get him out of this town he’s come to resent, and he’ll be by your side for every success and failure.

There’s something special about falling for your best friend—about loving someone who you’d already loved and known so thoroughly, it’s mostly as if nothing changed at all. Maybe this part of your relationship with him was always there, and you’d both been too blind to see it.

All you know is, after a clear shift in energy, things between you and Chenle became real.

You wonder about Jay. If he sees the two of you, if he’s proud of you. At the end of the day, you could spiral until your brain gives out, but if there’s one thing you could expect from Jay, it’s that he’ll never stop checking in on you and Chenle. Your group is incomplete without him, but you’ll learn to live in a different manner.

With Chenle by your side, there’s not a damn thing in the world that could bring you down.

[nocturnesmoon]

-Archaic Blood Masterlist-

Thinking about TF141 and vampire reader, it's probably been done before but i can't get it out of my head. All the potential it has both fluff, angst and plot. Because listen listen listen

What if

You are a vampire contracted by the military, except the vampire part is a very well-kept secret. You're old, your life spans all the way back to when they burned witches at the stake. You were an ordinary person back then, careful and with your own beliefs and superstitions like anyone. The rumors and sightings of witches, vampires, and werewolves was things you didn't concern yourself with. At least until you sighted it yourself, and you got pulled in.

Taking slight dnd logic, at least in the sense that the vampire that turned you ended up in control over you. You were trapped there along with quite a few other vampire spawn, all subjected to the same type of abuse and torture over decades. You got used to it, the drive to get away was beaten out of you as you blindly obeyed your master.

You had lost hope of rescue or even just the sweet relief of actual death, until the castle got raided by military. You fought against them by command of the vampire lord, but in a moment of clarity you ripped yourself free from the clawing grip it had on your mind. You pushed against your master, and killed them in their already injured state, granting you the freedom you had wanted for so long.

You still had your immortal strife, but now a free vampire spawn, you finally had a sense of will again, you had hope again. You didn't know why the military decided to spare you, they had butchered your brothers and sisters along with your creator, but someone took interest in you.

And free from one prison you went right into another.

It quickly became clear to you that their goal was to make you something short of a super soldier. Your vampirism gave you a heightened set of abilities, and with a few drawbacks they could utilize you well during missions. Despite your attempts of escape, your newly granted freedom was put on a new leash. You were given a handler, someone to train you into obedience as if you hadn't spent decades being under the control of a single person.

It didn't matter how much you protested; they were insistent that you owed them for "saving" you. So reluctantly you leaned into it, you found that you actually had a lot of fun on these types of missions they would send you on. You did various things; a lot of your time was spent on hunting other monsters like yourself. Both werewolves, vampires, witches, and other mythical creatures since you were much better at sniffing them out.

You proved yourself time and time again, and eventually you became rather trusted. Eventually you would outgrow your handler, unlike them you weren't burdened with aging mortality. So, every few decades, an accident or event would stage your death, and you'd come back under a new name and skillset.

Every single persona you carried got known around the military for different things, though they all had the monster hunting specialty in common. The only people knowing the truth being yourself and a select amount of your higher ups that handled you.

Now you've found yourself settled in your life in the military, it isn't what you expected but you deal with it easily enough. Until the call comes that you're going to be working with a certain Taskforce 141, and the group you meet change everything.

You're paired up with them for an indefinite amount of time, the goal being hunting a cult of monsters that's been stirring up things and risking the public eye figuring out about the existence of monsters. Laswell contacted your handlers for your assistance and thereby sort of became your new temporary handler. In the start she was the only one that knew of your vampirism, and you tried to keep it that way, but it was hard when the others were quite observant of their new addition to the team.

You get along just fine with them, there's a distance between you all at first. A professional distance that doesn't allow you to get to know them all too well. It's a distance you try to keep up, try to maintain but quickly crumbles when you find you enjoy their company a lot more than normal.

Soap always finds a reason to talk to you, either inquiring you about what you're doing or info dumping about his latest find. You allow him to stay, listening to his ramblings with a gentle smile on your face, as you continue typing up your report.

Gaz likes to engage you in different activities, be it card games, video games, training together. It's often paired with Soap and creates quite the chaotic environment, but one that never fails to make you laugh like you've never done before. You even start to suspect that the two of them are teaming up on getting you to open up to them.

Price has his way with complimenting you, he observes your work and your determination with great interest. He notices how much hard work you put into the missions and even outside of missions. He appreciates having someone who's so dedicated, but he also knows you can't possibly be resting enough and finds himself pulling you away from your work to have rest together, however that might be.

Ghost isn't as quick to accept you as the others, he respects you from a work standpoint but other than that there's something about you that doesn't sit right with him. He chalks it up to you just being an unpredictability, an uneven equation to the stability he's used to with the other 141 members. He genuinely tries to get closer with you when he sees how much the rest enjoy your company, but that uneasy feeling is still something he can't shake.

Ghost is probably the first to start suspecting things, maybe even fully figure it out. Everyone probably starts to notice things every now and then, they're smart men, they're hunting a cult of monsters that includes vampires, they know of some of the behaviors.

It also gets harder and harder for you to mask your instincts, the more comfortable you get with them the more you forget to be careful. You start feeling too safe with them, forgetting the fact of who you are. They start noticing how you don't really eat, at least never with them. Every time they invite you to join them, you find some convenient excuse.

Another thing they start to notice is your adverse nature to light. Your room always have the blinds closed and lights off. You gravitate towards the shadows, you feel more welcome in them, and Ghost swears that one time he saw your eyes glow red in the darkness.

Every time you're out in the sunlight, you wear extensive gear or covering clothes. Full balaclava, sunglasses, gloves, almost none of your skin is ever shown to the rays of the sun. The one time Soap asked you about it, you gave the excuse that your skin is just very sensitive to the sun, that you get sunburns easily because of sensitive skin and just prefer the shade.

Your heightened sensitivity is something Price and Ghost notices quick. Your sharp movements, your overly quick thinking, your stamina, and strength don't line up with the humanely possible. Not to mention the way you stare at blood a little too intensely when you come across it.

Whenever Price asks Laswell about you, every bit of information he gets out of her is vague and doesn't always add up. Even when he gets his hands on your file, and goes over it with the team, despite how impressive your record is, there are things on it that doesn't make sense with how long you've supposedly been alive.

The breakpoint happens when Gaz finds your stash of blood packs. He didn't even mean to be nosy in your room, but he was looking for something of his that you had borrowed, and stumbled upon them. His eyes wide as he looks back at you, the things he's been thinking, and the small whispers he's shared with the rest about you, now all confirmed to be true.

You try to talk him down, but you know by the way he looks at you that you're starting to form as a threat in his mind. He tries to get away, maybe to get backup or find something specific to defend himself with, but you manage to tackle him down. Not exactly helping his griping fear. Only then do you manage to talk him down, assure him that you aren't a threat and that you won't hurt anyone.

He leaves it reluctantly, mumbling agreeance, but you're aware that he's not going to keep it secret. It's just about who moves faster now. You like the relationship you've built with the 141, you're even starting to get through to Ghost, and it wasn't something you were keen on losing. So, Laswell calls a meeting, it was time to let them know.

Everyone gathers, confused at the sudden emergency meeting, except for Gaz who is staring you down, his leg bouncing furiously against the ground. You do your best to not look threatening, to prepare yourself for possible worse reactions.

"They're a vampire spawn," Laswell tells them, ”And they've been helping the military control the remaining monsters in the world for a very long time now." she states as if it's most normal thing in the world to have a free vampire spawn on your team you're supposed to trust. Though their response surprise you.

"We know"

At first you think you weren't quick enough, that Gaz got to them before you did. But you quickly find out most of them have been suspicious for months, and eventually came to terms with it. Gaz's outburst just stemmed from shock and impulse thinking. They all have quite a few questions, ranging from trivial to stupid and some just plain curiosity.

You're most surprised to find that they don't want to view you any different than they already have, that they enjoy your company just as much as you've enjoyed theirs. They still want to work with you, they still want to be around you. It makes your unbeating heart flutter, and your nonexistent blood rush in excitement of the future possibilities.

They've accepted you into their own little pack, you don't know it yet, but they've already claimed you as theirs. If they could have it their way, and they will, you won't be working for any other taskforce again in a very long time, and you think that this might just be the most interesting decade yet, in your long, long life.

I really wanna write more about this, vampire tropes always have me frothing at the mouth-

Sorry for the word vomit but i had to get this out my head, i can't be the only thinking about this, the potential-

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law - Bad Manners edition

I got inspired by the reblog I got and I thought: damn, this would be fun to write, so let's go!

We all know our Surgeon of Death isn't exactly known for having good manners and is often called rude. So let's count his crimes against the etiquette, just for fun! And at the end of it I will leave you all a surprise.

List of Trafalgar Law's feats in rudeness (feel free to provide more evidence!)

Two middle fingers (one for Kid and one for Doflamingo, people he hates)

No greetings (hi, hello, bye, take care, good luck, welcome back, they're all nonexistent in his vocabulary)

Blatant and obnoxious lies (we will never forget the "this is my vacation house now")

Telling people to shut up (justice for Chopper!)

Never saying "please" and "thank you" (at least not on screen, with one notable exception)

Ordering people around (with exception of alliances)

Not introducing his crew properly

Using blatantly censorable speech (so far only Doflamingo deserved that)

Throwing empty threats of death

Calling certain people idiots

Other sins of uncertain nature:

using "ya" to adress people instead of usual "san", "kun" etc. (can be seen as rude, but at the same time just as quirky)

cheeky smirks

complaining (lots and lots of complaining), scolding and shouting

throwing bowl at the ground that one time (which I still think is his trauma response, he never throws anything besides that one time)

Things he could be doing but for some reason never does, despite people lowkey expecting him to:

being arrogant

speaking to people like they're stupid or patronizing over them

never apologizing (he actually always apologizes and takes responsibility for actions of other people he works with. He apologized to Sanji when his plan went astray and he endangered the crew in Dressrosa, he apologized to Kin for Luffy and Zoro doing the Okobore town shanenigans in Wano as well)

killing people (never happened on-screen. The closest to that was Vergo, but that was indirect and Law left him with a snail, so he could actually get help if he wanted to)

swearing (it is a shonen manga after all lol)

not listening or talking over someone (come on, he even let Luffy steal the bribe call he made to Doflamingo!)

refusing help when asked for it directly (doing support in battle also counts. he suggested leaving the kids behind in Punk Hazard, but it was a suggestion. In the end he still couldn't refuse)

butting into other crew's personal matters (he always asks Luffy first so he can communicate about staff to his own crew)

laughing at people (or laughing in general)

expecting to receive gratefulness (with the exception of Bellamy, but that's because the other blames him for saving his life. Other than that he never even waits long enough to hear a thanks)

We all know he wasn't always like this. He was a very polite child adressing his parents with "otousama" and "okaasama". The only time he said "please" on screen was when he asked Vergo to help Cora-san. I think you can imagine why that was the last time he ever said the word. Not only it was extremely difficult for him to utter that word after Flevance, his request was also met with the most bitter conclusion. I think he lost faith and trust in asking people for help (as well as lost faith in many, many things).

Being accused of "bad manners" and using "-san" honorific brings back bad memories for Law.

Now Law's reaction to Kid doesn't seem that out of place anymore. Is it enough to justify it? Probably not, but it's nice to know everything has a reason.

And now the promised surprise:

Despite everything, Law still remembers his proper table manners and takes off his hat at mealtime. You have all those bad-mannered boys here and Law, the good boy, remembering it's rude to eat with a hat on. Or maybe it's even a sign of trust and respect, two things he reserves for people who have actually earned it.

Take that! *throws the finger Phoenix Wright style*

My conclusion: Trafalgar Law's rudeness, not counting very colorful speech that one time and two middle fingers, and some empty threats, isn't really that outstanding in general. I think most of his bad manners are shared with Strawhats (for example, many of them don't use proper greetings, regularly shout at each other to shut up and call each other idiots). Actually, compared to most of the guys in Strawhats, Law comes off as not really that oustanding or even pretty decently mannered which is kinda funny lol.

[irishmammonagenda]

hiiii ! ^_^ I love your writing sm

I was listening to music just relax, and randomly I thought of MC with "You're loosing me" AND I HAD TO SHARE IT WITH SOMEONE. Especially from minute 3:00 to the end 😭😭😭😭 imagine a fic inspired in that song with a traumatized mc after their death 🥲

hiya!! i'm so glad 🫶🫶🫶🫶 tbh i dont really listen to taylor so i had to look up this one, but oml it kinda does fit MC sm???!!!

honestly tysm for the ask, i don't normally write seriousish fics so this was a fun change grma <3

ALSO IM SO SORRY THE TITLES SO CRINGE I COULDNT THINK OF A GOOD ONE

Surface Tension- Obey Me x Reader

Summary: MC died 😱 and reincarnated as a demon, only their death affected them more than they thought. Word Count: 2.8k+ Warnings: Mentions of Death, leans more into Lucifer x Reader, especially at the end. (i am so sorry abt that I had no idea where this fic was going myself tbh) Descriptions of drowning. Hurt/Comfort? I have no idea how to write trauma I am so sorry, (this isn't apart of my 'Death is a Debatable thing Au) dividers are a mixmatch of ones by @plum98 @isisjupiter and @cafekitsune bc im indecisive

The thing you missed most were your pact marks. Intricate designs etched into your skin, that shone the colours of the people you loved, a reminder you were someone. You had something. A security blanket of sorts. Now they were gone, clear glass sin, almost poreless, uncanny replaced the lines and marks and humans´ perfect imperfection that provided a canvas for the hues that you were sure had painted your heart.

It hurt.

You fiddle with your hands, trying to contain the urge to just...pop. The horns and the tail had been disorienting to get used to. You still preferred your 'human' form, the only issue was controlling it. It would come with time, or so everyone had told you.

They told you a lot of things would come with time. You weren't so hopeful.

"I....it's just-" you flick your gaze around the room, looking anywhere but the demon in there with you. "...the dying part..."

"The dyin' part..." Mammon sits by your side, ever your first man, his eyes gaze at you, so loving, so adoring, it hurts your heart. "I don't understand the dyin' MC....I couldn't never understand the dyin'...." He brings a hand to rest on yours hesitantly, his false bravado nowhere to be found.

"I know you don't Mams..." You meet his gaze, his eyes as blue as the sky on a summer's day, warmer than the sun, and softer than silk when he looks into yours.

"It doesn' mean I won't try te....understand...I mean." He clears is throat awkwardly. "There's nothin' I wouldn't do for ye...not now not ever."

Your heart feels heavy.

Rushing water beats against porcelain. Steam slowly rose in swirls as the bathtub filled up. You fold your towels and set them by the sink beside the clothes you had set out. Pulling the satin robe that was a gift from a certain Asmodeus, you placed it on one of the hooks on the door, before twisting the taps to a stop. You submerged yourself into the warm water, your tense muscles relaxing as you leaned backwards in the tub from where you were sitting, legs touching the bottom of the porcelain. 

It had been so long. 

So long since you were able to just relax like this. You loved the brothers and the others, but sometimes you needed the solitude of your own thoughts. That wasn’t to say Asmo’s self care nights weren’t relaxing. 

You sighed. 

The water enveloped you, you had leaned back enough to where your head had begun to submerge. All was well. The water was warm, your muscles slowly relaxed, along with the rest of your body. Your eyes slowly blinked closed. 

All was fine. Your relaxed muscles let your head fall back. All was well. Your ears were now submerged. All was fine. 

Except it wasn’t. A switch had flicked. Your eyes shot wide open. You could no longer feel the bottom of the porcelain bathtub, panic and dread tugged at your arteries, squeezing your jugular. You flailed and thrashed your limbs, your head dipped under for a millisecond. 

Clear water turned murky. 

Your arms burnt after another weak attempt, head breaking the stormy surface of the lough for a moment; only a moment. Hardly long enough to draw a breath. Your eyes stung. Your throat ached, desperation choked at your airways. 

You found yourself submerged again. The currents slammed into rocks. Your hair rose upwards, strands sticking to your face like some sort of seaweed, hindering your vision as the waves flung you against hard rock. Your hands clawed at the stone, too slippery to catch a grip. The stormy water slammed you against another rock. You broke the horrid surface of the water, gasping and spluttering. Your throat burned like sinners in the 7th circle of hell. You just barely gasped in a morsel of oxygen before being dragged under by the force of the waves. 

You were slammed mercilessly into another hard wall of stone, your attempts at clawing for a grip so desperate you drew blood at your fingertips. 

You had survived demons, witches, angels. You had survived hell. Yet earth would be the one to take you out, so it seemed. You couldn’t hold your breath any longer, your mouth opened. You inhaled desperately, lungs aching for air. Water filled them instead. 

You gasped and spluttered. The surface of the water too rough to do a dead man’s float without risking your life further. The waves smacked you against hard rock once more, eroding at your hopes for survival. 

This was it. 

You were going to die. You’re drowning. You’ve drowned. 

The last thing you felt before you succumbed to the wild waves was the dull glow of your pact marks. With the last of your strength, you let out a silent scream, submerged by the water. 

You screamed. Frenzied hands pull your sobbing form out of the clear water of the bath pulling your soaked, sobbing form to their chest. You gasp for air, lungs burning. 

“MC! Y-you’re fine! Don’t worry…you’re okay…you’re okay…!” An uncharacteristically frenzied Beel holds you to his chest, massive arms enveloping you, he cards a gentle hand through your hair as you sob and upheave, your chest tight and your breath running from you. “You’re okay MC….follow my breathing…”

Hardly hearing him, you comply either way. Matching the breaths of the sixth born, your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing begins to even. Eventually, you sit wrapped in the arms of the Avatar of Gluttony, breathing deeply and slowly, your heart rate slowed, your sobs quitened to the occasional sniffle, the tightness in your chest remains. 

You chuckle humourlessly. “I’m sorry Beel….got your clothes all wet.” 

Beel shakes his head seriously, eyes on yours. “It’s never a problem. Not if it’s you MC.” He stands up with you still in his arms. Carefully, the redhead sets you down on your two feet. Strong hands on either side of you, a stabliser. “C’mon…let’s get you dressed MC…can you stand?”

Slowly you nod.

That night you found yourself in the living room, Belphie asleep, head on your shoulder. Mammon splayed across your lap, Asmo’s arm around your waist, Beel was on the other side of his twin, but held your hand, rubbing soothing circles subconsciously into your palm. Levi sat on the ground, switch in hand, cheek leaning against your thigh.  Satan and Lucifer sat on the nearest armchairs though they sat facing opposite each other, Lucifer half reading official documents, half watching the show his brothers and little human demon were watching, Satan doing the exact same, except his reading material was a book. 

You weren't sure how or if they knew what had happened an hour prior, but you were sure they knew this would cheer you up in some capacity.

You squeezed Beel’s hand, the knot in your chest coming undone just enough you feel light.

The transition from Human to Demon was a hard one to get used to, one thing that hadn't changed however; were the balls hosted by Lord Diavolo. The only difference being that now you sported curved horns on the top of your head. You quickly found that Asmo liked to decorate them with little trinkets.

Which he had done today, as well as helping you pick out your outfit for the ball. You gave a twirl in one of his full length mirrors.

"Thanks Asmo I love it." You smile, messing with an ornament on your horn. Those are taking a while to get used to.

Asmodeus laughs gleefully, waving his hand. "It was nothing darling. I'd love to do it again! Oh...~ You look so gorgeous...." He says dreamily before he turns back to his makeup, carefully lining his lips in a dark pink.

You blush at the praise before leaving the room, not wanting to risk being (fashionably) late.

"MC!" Lord Diavolo greets cheerfully, pulling you in for a hug against his bare, tanned chest. The gold in his eyes and horns glow like fire in the light of the ballroom. "I'm so glad you could make it! You look stunning!" He laughs, strong arms wrapping tighter around you.

You smile, "I'm glad to be here, Dia."

"I'm glad..." He says softer now. If the both of your words were an innuendo, neither of you pointed it out.

Barbatos appears silently at the left hand side of the Demon Prince, shaking your hand, you give him a sweet smile.

You barely get to greet him before the Demon Butler swiftly makes his way across the ballroom, and out of the glazed, oak door that led to a short corridor and then led to the kitchens.

After more peasant conversation with Diavolo, another Demon Noble had arrived, the scarlet haired prince pouted at the thought of leaving you before waving and making his way towards one of Hell's Aristocrats.

You wave him goodbye, you scan the Ballroom, eyes locking with violet ones. The seventh born gives a small smirk, lazily making his way toward you.

Belphegor had seen your dreams. He had felt the water pool into your lungs, the air escaping your grasp, the harsh bruising of the rocks you were slammed into.

He saw every dream, tried to stop them from reaching you. Sometimes he failed, your mind wanted to return to that moment. To pick it apart, to relive what it didn't understand itself, to find an impossible answer.

Sometimes your mind, your wonderful, horribly beautiful mind; would be too adamant, would loop back to it.

He didn't protect you. Not when he first betrayed you, not when he crushed your bones in his grip.

He couldn't protect you. Not when you were flung from rock to rock, sharp edges digging into fragile skin. Not when water burnt through your throat like fire.

He couldn't protect you. Not when your dreams bypassed his control. Not when the thin threads of your trauma induced nightmares slipped through the cracks.

The Avatar of Sloth could only do so much, yet, it never felt like enough. He couldn't protect you.

"Hey Belph!" You grin, closing the distance between the two of you. "You seem distracted, whats up?"

Belphegor snaps out of it, lips upturning. "Oh nothing, I just thought of something for the Anti-Lucifer League....What about you, MC, enjoying yourself?"

"For the most part yeah! But I haven't seen Mammon anywhere...." You say thoughtfully before deadpanning. "He's going to be strung up upside down by tomorrow morning, isn't he?"

"Yep."

Hours passed, a sleeping Belphegor had been handed over to Beelzebub, who was currently carrying his twin home. You were tempted to ask to join, but decided against it.

You weren't made of glass, you had agency. You could handle a silly ball.

Standing in one of the corners, beverage in hand, you'd elected to just people watch for a while.

Levi sat semi-hidden by a curtain at the grand window, switch in hand, noise cancelling headphones in, no doubt reaching the end of his social battery.

Satan stood at the other side of the Grand Hall, talking with contacts and connections you couldn't recognise. Golden blond hair perfectly in place. Asmo must've fixed it up for him.

Speaking of Asmo, he was on the dance floor with various succubi, giggling, smiling, and just in general being a social butterfly.

Mammon however, was still no where to be seen. Probably looking for treasure. Classic Mams. You smile to yourself.

Lucifer stood, being entertained by admirorers of all shapes and sizes. You stiffened.

Sometimes you forgot the brothers were Hell's Most Eligible Bachelors. It was easy to forget, seeing as you lived with them, and they were all idiots.

You could feel Levi's worried eyes on you none the less. Your stomach twisted with his sin, orange as a yolk, what came first? the chicken or the egg? You didn’t know nor did you care. Why would Lucifer choose you anyway? A weak human demon who couldn’t even survive a…-

You gripped your drink tightly, knuckles lightening. You took a sip, but with your tense muscles, the liquid burnt its way down the wrong side of your throat.

You spluttered.

Even the droplet. Even the sip. It grew, multiplied even, filling your lungs like goop, you gasped for air. The ballroom flooded a murky green. Stumbling, you pushed through the oak door to the hallway, where it was quieter.

Your heart beat out of your chest, your breathing was laboured, leaning against the wall, you lost your boyancy, dripping down until you sat on the ground, knees to your chest.

You stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath, engaging your senses.

Three things you could hear;

Idle chatter from the ballroom, completely muffled by the heavy wooden door and stone walls. Your own laboured breathing, although it was catching up to you. The blood rushing in your ears, evaporating from a rapid raging river to a small sparkling stream.

Three things you could see;

The stone wall, dark liath limestone blocks and bricks melded together, midievil in their design, they reflected the light of the overheard torches in a subtle, orange glow. The glazed panes of a glass window, the moon shone bright tonight, as it always did in the Devildom. You liked to think it was watching over you. Maybe it was.

If you turnt your head to the left, an archway was visible, a simple one. It dug into the stone wall and ceiling, pushing against the internal structures, standing out whilst holding together.

You continued your listing, smell and taste were ruled out, on account of you not being able to taste, and there not being any real noticable smells.

Three things you could feel;

The fabric of the clothes Asmo chose for you streched on your skin, the seams digging into your thighs where you sat on the ground.

The stone floor, hard and cold, even with the layers you had on, you shivered ever so slightly.

And lastly, you could feel the phantom ache of pact marks long faded, your heart heart, though it had stopped beating out of your chest. You felt calmer, more in control, yet still;

You sniffled.

After all; you didn’t have the best track record for keeping your head above water.

That’s how Lucifer found you. The door hissing open and his signature boots clacking softly along the ground announced his presence.

“MC, my love, are you alright?” He raises an eyebrow, The Avatar if Pride putting his aside and hunkering down so that he was more or less eye level with you, concern pooled in his expression. He reached a gloved hand out and caressed your cheek.

You nod, croaking out an "I'm okay now..."

"Are you sure, my darling?" The first born looks into your tired eyes, before tilting his head, asking for permission. You grant it.

He pulls you in for a hug.

"What upset you, dove?" He asks softly, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I-...I just feel like I've...like I've lost you all...and myself I guess...It sounds stupid! I know...but I just...-"

Lucifer hushes you, "Nothing you could say could ever sound stupid. He pauses. "Unless you're with Mammon...or planning something with Satan and Belphie."

That squeezes a giggle out of you. He smiles, tilting his head, a strand of raven hair falling ever so out of place at the movement, crimson eyes stare into yours.

"But that's not all, is it, dear?"

You mumble something unintelligible, but count on Lucifer Morningstar to hear it. "Have I told you yet? That you look absolutely gorgeous tonight, MC?" He asks in all seriousness. You avert your gaze.

He grabs your chin softly, "I'm serious, Darling. You're the best person at this ball, the best thing that has ever happened to my brothers...to me. Sometimes I feel you truly don't realise that...seems I must take care to remind you more often, my love."

You try to speak, but the air swallows up your words, your mouth open and gaping like a fish.

Lucifer's lips quirk up, he pulls you closer to his chest. You lean into him, giving a weak smile, ear pressed against his breast, listening to his heartbeat.

You felt calm; content even,

T he hug wasn't a fix it all. It wasn't some magic wand that had been waved, you weren't suddenly better. You were still traumatised, that emptiness, though dull, still ached in your heart, along with the places on your body the bright beautiful symbols of your pacts had been sketched onto your skin.

The hug was comforting none-the-less. Lucifer was impossibly gentle. He would cradle the ashes until you built yourself back up again in his arms, phoenixes need time to adjust before they can spread their wings, after all.

It would be hard. It would be so so difficult, so taxing, to rise from the ashes once more, to thrive again, but you had an army of idiots that loved you, who would go to the ends of the earth just to see you smile. It wasn't okay yet, you weren't 'fixed', you wouldn't be for a long time but you had years upon years, decades upon decades, centuries upon centuries.

i physically cannot write anything overly angsty bc im a wee softie smh this took me ages i am so sorry abt that </3 also i had another ask that i started planning out halfway through writing this and the contrast in the tone i was going for is so funny🧍‍♂️

[iridescentdove]

What about a Platonic! BSD x Child! Reader is very smart, like almost Ranpo-level smart, but they don’t use their smarts and intellect for anything at all except for online video games, board games, etc., and they’re lazy and don’t go outside at all. Plus, the first time Reader and Dazai had a game of chess, Dazai literally lost two moves in, and Dazai was rethinking his entire life choices in that moment because how the fu-

(How Dazai and Reader’s game of chess went *REAL* link)

WHY DO I HEAR BOSS MUSIC?

platonic!bsd x child!smart!reader

A/N: I for an odd reason, love it when characters are humbled and seen inferior 😭 I love this request too! Here it is~

Everyone loves you.

I'm so jealous rn /j

Well as a kid it would be expected to be like that! Although, it was a little different as you were ... considered unique to other children around you. How so?

ULTRA DEDUCTION BABY.

No but for real. FUKUZAWA merely took you into the agency since you seemed to have had no parents by your side to take care of you. As such, he took on the responsibility himself. The agency takes care of you now! <3

Anyways, let's say you were basically rivalling RANPO in terms of deduction and overall smartness capabilities, as he now thinks you are a worthy opponent.

But even he himself lost to someone like DAZAI.

Yes. Of course it was true, the suicidal detective just seemed to be way too good. The so-called 'world's best detective' had lost to a man, in which who, flirts with women 24/7 and asks for double suicide everywhere he went.

But to say the day came when brunette's demise lurked around the corner ... because of a chess game.

The agency had nothing important going on in particular as the peace of Yokohama was maintained in the meantime. Simply put, you guys were on vacation. So what else to do other than some old family bonding?

There were lots of activities planned that day, and everyone had enjoyed it to the fullest. You did also find it fun, but ... of course, for someone your age – you were mature as fuck.

And so, you did what everyone wouldn't have the balls to do.

Challenge DAZAI OSAMU himself to a chess match.

So obviously, everyone got a bit nervous. Pretty sure you had no idea how smart the suicidal maniac was, nor did they ever believe you would last a good 'ol round even once. By some experience of a certain detective – there is absolutely no one better than DAZAI himself.

The chess game went on. You looked so cute and innocent! Maybe he should go easy on you?? After all, you're just a kid.

And yet ... he was downright horrified.

In a matter of four turns in, the death-craving young man was absolutely OBLITERATED by you. Upon the match ending, a pin drop silence was heard. Eyes widened in shock, whom even RANPO himself never imagined such. Everyone never spoke, not even coughed for a solid 5 minutes.

But it was true. You DID defeat him. FUKUZAWA had the face of a very proud parent – he really didn't think you'd emerge victory in this small innocent match.

The president promised to treat you out next time a successful mission was in tow. Of course, DAZAI couldn't believe he had lost to you! A little child!

It would definitely take a lot of time for him to wrap his head around that – but once he does, oh boy.

I think you a little crazy there uncle ahaha

He almost literally brags about your existence everyday to anyone. You can't tell me he hasn't literally shoved in and mocked in front of people's faces with that shit eating grin of his oh my fucking God 😭

Then again, no one is safe. An even better gifted than the two greatest treasures of the Armed Detective Agency.

FYODOR better be shaking in his fugly ass boots.

You're coming for him alright. (and so am I)

Honestly, the ADA cannot be anymore proud to have an ally like you by their side. Missions and war would cease to exist from how well you managed to help them. And even moreso, combined with RANPO himself.

World destruction who?? I only know (Y/N) (L/N) 😍

Your existence is known, everyone knows about what you've done and how respected you are despite your young age.

Who tf let the Port Mafia fuck ya'll up?? Oh nevermind they were destroyed because of ur amazing little ass. The Hunting Dogs tryna tear apart the ADA which was mistaken as terrorists? Umh chill anyways so you already had a plan– RANPO doesn't know what to do for once? You're already there to help. Decay of the Angels? Lives up to their name, they're decaying under your superior brain and intellect.

You're just found to be the lifeline of the agency. In return, everyone treats you very well (spoils you even), making sure you lived your days as a child to the best extreme possible.

And to be frank – no one dare underestimate you anymore.

[robloart]

Wade would bully Peter bc someone said he would and wrote it happening and bc y'all are so boring and annoying. Fanfiction isn't about what's canon or strictly in character thats why they're called transformative works. I think y'alls weird obsession with what's cannon while also trying to heavily police what and how ppl make fiction is honestly been the death of fandom and creativity.

There hasn't been a large scale cross over in fandom in years that either wasn't completely ironic or torn down by bullies that it fizzled out bc y'all don't know how to have fun. Even that recent debate over how sans would react to his brother death is further proof of y'all's lack of understanding of interpretation and fan works. Fanwork are supposed to exist in the reality of the fiction of the person who wrote it. NOT what IS the right interpretation bc there are NO right interpretation except for what is made canon which can be anything bc WE aren't the creators.

Who cares what happens in the comics. The comic themselves don't care what happens in other comic runs unless it's specifically meant to be a spin off/continuation.

Wade is SUPPOSED to be a morally ambiguous character. I know y'all have washed him of all the ambiguity bc ppl have told you that how ur supposed to approach fiction and y'all can not perceive a protag who might not be the best person who ur also NOT supposed to hate (god forbid a protag not have Jesus adjacent morality) but thats what he is. He'll do whatever anyone wrote him doing bc he's not real and also anything thats morally ambiguous or toxic bc that's one of his character traits and what was supposed to set him apparent from other heros he's not even a hero he's an antihero. I can not believe y'all are moralizing something as tame as bullying. Bullies making up with their victims happens in DISNEY movies now y'all tryna make that into some problematic take. OMG. And this is from someone who WAS bullied briefly until I learned how to fight and stand up for myself.

Thinking that someone who romanticizes something morally wrong couldn't have possibly been through that experience is the direct antithesis of fiction. It also makes no sense. Plenty of ppl write from experience but also sometimes turning it into a story in which they control how they interact with a bully does A LOT FOR REGAIN CONTROL OF THOSE NEGATIVE EXPERIENCES. STOP TRYING TO SUS OUT WHO HAS TRAUMA OR NOT. also STOP thinking that you are an authority of certain traumatic experiences you aren't every experiences are very VERY personal and the portrayal of those experiences should have NOTHING to do with yours bc there is NO way to encapsulate all lived experiences. And even if someone hasn't been bullied who cares again decenter yourself from a fictional scenario that should in now way be a representation of you bc u are not the center of the universe.

(THIS SECTION UNDERNEATH IS MY HEAD CANON U DONT HAVE TO TELL ME U DONT LIKE AGE GAPS IDC)

Secondly wade only wouldnt bully Peter TO ME bc I'm not a teenager in highschool like some of y'all and highschool fics don't interest me and wade to me shouldne even be in highschool and always be the much older one in the dynamic. They shouldnt even be near the same age for me. But whatever floats ur boat. You can do whatever you wan't but when y'all make these long posts telling OTHER ppl what they can and can't do OR how you think YOUR interpretation of the character is the most right your crossing a line frl.

Edit: I read both Deadpool and spiderman comics btw plus the very wonderful spiderman/Deadpool run. GASP I know someone who likes the source material but doesn't adhere strictly to it bc I actually have an imagination and like to have fun instead of kissing marvels feet and remaining in a narrow interpretation of a character. A rare breed I guess.

Edit edit: I also think alot of y'all have a very romcom take on spideypool. And thats definitely fine love my fair share of fluff. But I have a much more complicated take on them. Again I think an age gap compliments these complications. It adds to an imbalanced perspective of both of them towards each other. I'm also very uninterested in a spideypool that grow healthy together or peter "fixing" wade. I want them to overcomplicate their relationship but for it to also be a healthy balance of comedic and fun and hot monkey sex that keeps them interested in a less than perfect relationship. A sorta push and pull from both sides.

[here2bbtstrash]

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

[lover-of-mine]

Okay, I said I was gonna make a post about the way I believe Ryan is playing Eddie as in love with Buck because of the way he makes certain choices about Eddie regarding Buck that are similar to the ones he made about Eddie regarding Shannon, and this is it.

The whole thing started with the way Eddie looks away from things that make him experience intense feelings, but mostly when he doesn't like what he's feeling in a sense. He looks away from Shannon all of the time, when they're fighting, before she goes to the school, and in the firehouse, when she says she wants a divorce.

He's avoiding his parents eyes when they are trying to take Christopher, he looks away from Frank all the time.

He can't look Buck in the eye when Buck is trying to tell him that Chris got lost in the tsunami, he looks away from Ana because he knows he's hurting her (he does force himself to watch Shannon as she dies but I feel like that's a lot more about his loyalty/instinct to protect because that moment is fully about her because she's dying).

That's a consistent trait Ryan gave Eddie, he looks away, I think it even makes sense with the way Eddie runs away from stuff. And that makes moments when he's avoiding eye contact with Buck that much more interesting.

Because take 3a for example, buddie has quite a few emotional conversations, but during those, Eddie is mostly always staring Buck down or actively trying to force Buck to look at him (except when it comes to the fight club but the fight club is a lot more about shame in my opinion).

But when you look at the will reveal for instance, Eddie is consistently forcing himself to look back at Buck. His instinct seems to be to keep looking forward, and he needs to remember to look at Buck from time to time. (I'm not gonna put the whole scene here, but go rewatch and pay attention to where Eddie is looking)

And sure, the way Eddie simply refuses to look at anything relating to Buck's death can be seen as just "my best friend died" because any reasonable person would have an extreme reaction to watching their best friend die.

But, I don't see how that applies in the cemetery. Because Buck says "she sees me" and Eddie gives him that disbelief look and then just, stops looking. Honestly, there's no reason for that conversation not to involve them looking at each other, the point that's made that they are looking straight ahead is very interesting on its own but, like, when you add the fact that Eddie looks away from shit he doesn't want to feel/wants to run away from, that conversation has a whole other fun layer.

Even more with the way that Buck is lowkey looking like a kid tugging on your sleeve to get your attention and Eddie just refuses to look at him.

But my point really comes to the fact that these are all the same reaction.

And how do you explain the decision to make Eddie react the same way he does when Shannon is asking him to make a decision about them and then when she makes the decision herself by asking for a divorce when he thinks Buck has made a decision about them so he needs to back off?

That's his breakup face, plain and simple.

And it's not a reaction Eddie has to Shannon once, is something that is consistent with the way we see Eddie reacting to Shannon, and I personally think its a lot of the way it makes us never feel sure about the relationship, because Eddie is consistently presented to us when it comes to this as "I love her but I'm not sure about having her around". And these are his reactions to moments where Shannon makes him question where they stand. Moments where he's questioning if he actually understands where their relationship is.

You can't have Eddie question the nature of his relationship with Buck just because Buck has a crush and tell me that Eddie is experiencing purely platonic feelings.

And these are acting choices, and Ryan is very consistent about the way Eddie reacts to stuff, so the fact that he is wearing his "Shannon is making me feel thing" face says something.

I also said earlier today that Eddie is aware of his feelings because he stops saying emotional things while looking at Buck. Like, after the tsunami he is literally chasing Buck's gaze to force him to look at him, he doesn't look away from him at the grocery store or when they make up after the lawsuit or even after Buck fights with his parents, but starting with the will reveal, he looks away when saying things, and it makes me wonder if there's a level of that that is about making sure Buck can't read his reaction to what he's saying, because he doesn't want Buck to look too closely.

Anyway, that's all for today, as always, if you read this I love you <3

[wayfayrr]

Alright, I wonder how long an ask can be. U asked for it!😝

Also, if u were curious, since I’ve only played Botw and most but not all of totk, 98% of the time my yandere self-aware ideas will be of Wild/Tears.

How does Wild/Tears feel about the fairies? Like, is he embarrassed that reader has to watch that? Does he worry what they think? Or is he just like “eh, I can’t control their upgrade animations, sorry”. Then how does he feel when reader thinks it’s kinda cute/funny? I don’t want to traumatize the poor guy, but I must admit watching the level four animation is slightly funny bc I feel so bad for him. And in level three when he covers his face is cute.

What about when he just has to sit there for 10 hrs his time? Listen, I wanna upgrade the darn champion’s tunic but the stupid upgrades require 2 of each farmable dragon Zelda item. And I couldn’t find her for so long it was annoying. Ik she follows a certain path but even so u have to just keep following the path hoping u eventually run into her. So I just decided to farm an item, then sit there for 10 minutes r time until she’s farmable again. So how does Tears feel? Am I wasting his time? Is he bored? If he had an animation for it would he fall asleep? Would he glare at me for making him sit there for 10 hours? Plus, ima be honest. For those 10 minutes of me just waiting, I’ll usually scroll on my phone. I’m not gonna stare at the tv for 10 minutes, sorry lol. So is he mad that I’m not paying attention to him and stuff?

What about if I laugh at him? Alright, I don’t do it That much lol, just if I make an embarrassing mistake w him and he looks a little funny. Would he be embarrassed? Mad? ….?? I think he’s cuuute! It’s fiiine, right…?😭

Thinking about my one ask where I used him for science, totally not using bombs on him for any other reason! Anyway, so I have to admit, his overheating animation I like. I’m all for angst/whump w characters. Whenever I read AO3, 98% of the stories r angst/whump for Wild/Tears. Sicfic? Yes please! Nightmares? Yes please! Psychological torture? Sign me up! There was this one fic someone wrote about Wild being hit by a curse that trapped him in his memory next time he unlocked one, so he had to watch it over and over and over. The rest of the chain had to save him. Tho, if it makes u feel any better, I only like happy endings, no open ended ones, no sad ones, or character deaths. Nope. Fairy tale where they all lived happily ever after please and thank u lol. So anyway, I got sidetracked lol. My question was, would he be mad if I just put the game on the clothes menu when he’s overheating so he doesn’t lose any hearts over it, just watching him do it for a minute or two?

Sometimes I need to wear like one clothing item per outfit so I can use like 3 different abilities. For example, maybe bandana to climb faster, gloom shirt for an extra heartbreak, and snow pants bc it’s freezing? And sometimes I’ll complain that he looks ugly, well, not him, but the outfit, and say that I wish I could make him look cuter but I need these abilities atm. Does he hate the outfits like I do? Does he care more about function? Does he hate that I care so much?

How does he feel not being able to talk? Like literally every other character can talk except him. And he can’t do anything by himself. Everything he does is either a programmed animation or an action by my controller. I bet he has a lot he wants to say but can’t. Does he ever worry that if he were to get out and see me, what if he couldn’t talk to me??

🐰

yeah it's always a lot easier to think about the links you know better for stuff like this ngl, so I don't blame you for sticking to them. plus wild and tears are just fun too right? :3c

so starting from the top -

I think the fairies are a touchy subject for him, if you like the cutscenes then he can set his discomfort about being picked up and kissed somewhat - don't get me wrong he doesn't enjoy it but for your happiness he'll do it as many times as you make him (although, unless he finds a way to override the controls then it's not really like he has a choice in it) he'll make notes about how you like him acting in certain ways though - I mean if you like seeing him as a blushy mess covering his face in the game then you'll like it more when he's doing it in person right? Please don't make him recreate the level four one though.

To be honest, there's nothing that you could do to him that he could ever consider a waste of time. would he prefer you to be actively engaged? sure. Is he bothered if you're still there but just waiting for a bit for the dragon to recharge? Not really, yeah he'd prefer to be doing more, but at the same time it gives him a chance to observe and to get more of a grasp of how the game works while it's on and running compared to when he's robbed of his body and is left a being floating in a desolate void of numbers and machine code. He can relax and still have feeling and eyes on you and your eyes on him every now and then even though it's not as often as he'd like. as for the time? I think once he became aware he stopped running on hyrules time, so it's only ten minutes for him too. Ten minutes that granted feel longer than that cause of the scenery, but still only ten minutes. if it were a situation where he was still in a hyrule then he'd be further detached from anyone else. (my thoughts are if the game is left in standby on the switch then it's all still loaded and the links have free reign but if it's closed and you're playing another switch game then it tosses them into the abyss)

laughing at him for being cute is all good but please don't make fun of him ;-; he's only doing what you make him do after all!

I need to write more whump and hurt/comfort for tears actually, thanks for the reminder Well, he's not getting hurt by it -soooo he's kinda a bit deluded into thinking that it's another show of love for him. You simply love all the sounds that he's making <3 (and I don't blame you, his whimpers are actually just so adorable?????) You care so much that you're not letting him get hurt for your happiness!!!!

I think he takes it as a compliment that you care so much about how his outfits look, he wants to look his best for you too!!! If he could he'd find a way to stack the different bonuses so that you could treat him like a proper dress up doll without having to worry about the environment and how it impacts him :c he doesn't care what outfit he 'wears' cause it's not like he's actually wearing and interacting with it. it's glued to him like a second skin so whether you're keeping him shirtless or putting him in the thickest shirt possible there's no difference to him just don't mod him so that he's no longer himself please

The fact that there's a chance he wouldn't be able to communicate with you is something that he worries about alot, not even just not having a voice. He'd be fine with being mute if he can write or sign to you, hell he could probably delude himself into being fine that he couldn't do that if he could move freely and hold you. what scares him the most is the idea that he'd be like a puppet cut, that if he gets out that without the code acting as his strings he falls limp like a puppet cut loose. that's what's horrifying to him. anything else he could learn to live with, but that potential keeps him from making any rash movements where the cost could outweigh the benefits. I like to think that out of desperation, (this goes for sky in the fic too) they stole another characters voicebank from another game :) one that speaks your native tongue preferably, but at the very least one that shares a language you speak

[rodolfoparras]

Captain’s boy

Price doesn’t play favorites at least that’s what he says. However there’s no denying he’s got a soft spot for you and everyone knows it.

You are after all Captain’s boy.

18+ | MINORS DNI

Pairing: John Price x Trans Male Reader

Stand alone/ part of a series

Cw; oral sex, clothed oral sex, reference to afab anatomy (clit is referred to as clit and not dick/cock), words cock and dick are used for reader’s genitalia though ( instead of words like cunt etc) alluded exhibitionism, possessiveness, Dom!Price, Sub!Reader, power dynamics, (light) verbal degradation, praise, no after care, plot what plot/ porn with plot

The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

A/n: I’m forcing myself to post my drafts since ideas keep piling up. Also pls read the tags bc reading it without doing so might be confusing . This could be better but hey at least it’s something. I hope you enjoy!

Being captain of a squad entails a whole lot of things; one of the most important being that one couldn’t afford to play favorites. It’s bound to end badly. Matter of fact it might very well result in death. That’s why when Price became captain of the 141 he vowed to himself he wouldn’t play favorites.

Sure he might’ve taken Gaz under his wing but if the man were to mess up on a mission he’d be sent out on practice drills in the pouring rain if the Captain deamed it to be fit. And sure he might’ve known Ghost the longest out of all the guys in 141 but that didn’t mean he was any more lenient on him because of that. And despite Soap’s talent to worm his way into the toughest of hearts, Price ensured he’d never reach his soft spot.

But somehow you seem to be the exception. And everyone knows it. Their suspicions were first confirmed when you’d messed up during a mission. Everyone especially Gaz had expected you to be assigned to run laps for days on end but was surprised to see the captain putting a comforting hand on your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

That’s also the very first time you’d earn your title as Captain’s boy.

The second person to notice the captain’s lenience towards a certain soldier was Ghost.

You all had just come back from a successful mission and despite the promise of celebration, there was still the ever daunting task of writing a report for it but no one seemed willing to do it.

Everyone had been tasked with writing it, except for the captain of course. Ghost had tried to talk his way out of it but had quickly been shut down by the older man. What he didn’t know was that you had been exempt from writing it. Even with the mask on his face, there was no hiding the sheer amazement he felt as he watched you stroll out the room with the captain himself.

“Captain’s boy huh?” He whispered under his breath as he clicked his pen.

Soap had been the last man to find out about it.

He had heard whispers about it from the previous men but had only chosen to believe it once he had seen it for himself.

You all had been tasked with training new recruits. Everyone had gotten their own little station and Soap had been assigned to the shooting rage. It was fun at first: watching the new guys trying not to shoot their heads off but at some point he got bored of watching over them. So naturally he had wandered over to your station. It didn’t take long before he heard the captain’s voice sounding over your hushed conversation.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?”Price asked with his arms folded across his chest.

“Not at all” Soap said and flashed him a big grin as he turned on his heel only to be met with a glare from the older man. “Back to your post then Mactavish”

Soap had expected you to face the same treatment.

But as he scurried away and threw a second glance over his shoulder, he came to see the sternness on his captain’s face replaced with something much softer.

He had the mind to applaud you right there and then but had settled for chuckling in disbelief as the words “captain’s boy” left his lips.

Price and you chose to ignore the rumors since at the end of the day rumors were just rumors and no one seemed to mind that the captain seemed to favor a certain soldier.

However they’ll never know just how right they are about the captain and his boy.

You’re laying with your chest flush against the floor, ass up in the air and with a soldier’s body pressed against your own.

It would be rather inappropriate to be in such an intimate position with a soldier but this wasn’t just any other soldier. This was your captain and on many occasions have you found yourself in similar positions.

Your captain who you were supposed to be sparring with had quickly gotten bored and his hands had started to wander on their own.

You didn’t mind the change of plans, however you did mind the fact that his hands seemed to aimlessly wander your body, leaving you worked up and without nothing.

Just as you’re about to complain, finally fed up with the teasing he’d put you through, he roughly pulls down the fabric of your pants, exposing your underwear.

The cool air raises goose bumps all across your skin. But the sensation is quickly replaced with the heat from his palms as they find their way to your naked thighs, trialing up to the sides to finally end their journey at your hips.

You're waiting expectantly for Price to pull down your underwear, bucking your hips up to him every time he slips a finger under the waistband. But every time you think he’s about to pull them down, he allows the boxers to snap back in place and returns to his original spot on your hips, thumb mindlessly tracing circles on the skin.

“Ple-please” you pant, once again bucking your hips at him. However, Price chooses to ignore your plea. Instead he leans down, bodies now pressed flush against each other as he whispers into your ear “What? You want me to take these off for you?” faux sympathy dripping from every word he speaks as his fingers once again pull at the waistband of your underwear only to let it snap back in place again.

“Yes- yes, sir, please”

“Oh no my boy, we have to have some decency ” Price says, tone now akin to the one he uses for recruits when reprideming them but with something darker wrapped around the vowels.

You huff at his words, and feel his hot breath wash over your skin as he chuckles at your whining.

“What? Don’t tell me you want everyone to see you with your cock out. Is that what you want?” You squeeze your thighs, whimpers slipping past your lips as you think of what it would be like for someone to see you like this.

You feel his hands leave the waistband of your underwear to instead run down the side of your thighs.

“Want them to see how you get when you’re with me? “

It doesn’t take long for you to feel his body sliding further down your back, nose nuzzling along the length of your spine and words disappearing into the fabric of your shirts as he says his next words “Want them to see how hard you get for me?”

Price’s journey ends at your lower back where he presses a kiss on it as his hands go to cup your ass cheeks. From where he rests his head, you feel his hot breath hitting your skin and the wisps of beard hair prickling against your ass cheek and a whimper escapes your lips as you buck your hips up to him “Please, please, sir”

Price ignores your pleas as he continues to tease

“Want them to see just how wet you can get for me hm? “ he says as he harshly kneads the flesh in his hands “Answer me”

“Yes- yes sir. I want it please!” You cry out, hips subconsciously grinding in the air; desperate to be given some sort of relief.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you my boy?” he says with a dark chuckle “I know it’s a shame to keep you all to myself but what can I do? I’m not one to share”

It’s simple words meant to be said in the heat of the moment, words that really meant nothing, words meant to be forgotten once the act was over. But by this point you’re far too gone to think about your own words, head feeling too light and airy to really think about the implications of them

“You- you don’t have to share, sir” for some strange reason you felt the need to reassure him; reassure him that you were only his to have if that’s what he wanted , reassure him that he didn’t need to share if he didn’t want to.

Once the words leave your mouth you feel his touch leave you completely, cold air caressing the spot where his hands once had been.

Your words hang in the air for a moment, nothing but your own heavy breaths echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. For some reason you can’t help but feel like you said something you shouldn’t and it leaves you feeling rather embarrassed, eyes squeezing shut and hands clenching into fists. It really isn’t a confession by any means but it is something and that something had been enough to render him speechless.

His voice is low and breathy when he finally, finally speaks “What’s that boy?” You can’t see his face but you can hear his voice and by his tone it sounds like he purrs.

Goosebump raises across your skin, surprise and delight coursing through your body, the light and airy feeling you were earlier feeling, once again returns to your body.

You swallow hard before you respond “I said you don’t have to share sir”

You hear the sound of a sharp inhale before you feel his hand grab your face, roughly turning your head to face him.“Oh” his pupils are blown wide, desire swirling in his iris and he goes to lick his lips before he speaks “you're captain's boy now huh?” His voice is low and hoarse and when he says those words it sounds more like a statement rather than a question.

You whimper at his possessive tone, thighs once again pressing together at his words.

“Say it” he says, hand roughly jerking your chin “Say you’re captain’s boy”

“I’m captain's boy!” you cry out and as you say the words he groans and presses his cock up against your ass.

“Please sir I can’t take it anymore” you cry out, on the verge of sobbing out your words as you push yourself back on his cock.

He hushes you as whimpers escape your lips, hand releasing the grip on your chin to run down the length of your back in soothing motions.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? Let captain care for his boy”

You nod, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Lay your head down” You do as he says, feeling his hand on your upper back, gently guiding you into the right position.

“Spread your legs” You do as he says and he hums in approval as he helps you adjust your hips.”Just like that. Doing so good for me, yeah?” You nod in response, feeling yourself preen at his approval.

“Now look at yourself boy,”

You turn your head to the big mirror hanging to the side of the training room. From this angle you can perfectly see both him and you.

The reflection shows you sitting on your knees, chest flush against the floor, arms planted into the ground for support with your legs spread wide apart like he’d told you to do before. Price’s also sitting on his knees, broad frame hovering over yours and hands on your hips to keep you close.

Both of you look disheveled, covered in sweat and with similar expressions on your faces that told anyone who’d walked through the doors that the two of you weren’t sparring in this room, at least not anymore.

“Pretty sight isn’t it?” He says with pride in his voice as his gaze locks with yours through the mirror.

You go to respond but before you can do so you feel a sudden pressure on your cock. “O-oh” you groan out as you look down in the mirror only to see Price’s leg lodged in between your own and feel the top of his knee perfectly grounding itself against your dick.

The steady pressure sets your nerves on fire

and a moan escapes your lips as you grind against up him, trying to get more of the feeling.

“I asked you a question,” he hisses. However he must’ve noticed your gaze locked on his leg because he says “eyes up here boy”

You do as he says, once again seeing your wrecked reflection in the mirror. “Pretty sight yeah?” You whimper and nod in response as he increases his pressure on your cock.“That’s Captain’s boy” he says as his gaze burns into your own, threatening to scorch you whole “Now keep looking at yourself, yeah?”

Just as you wonder what he’s about to do, you feel a sudden wet sensation between your legs. You look at him through the mirror, wide eyed and surprised only to see him grinning deviously with spit dribbling down his lips.

“Did you just-“

But before you can say anything else, you feel eager fingers spreading your folds and his mouth on your cock, his tongue laying flat on your dick, slowly dragging it from the top all the way to the bottom of it. As if hit with electricity, your body jolts and you drop your head to the floor as your hips bucks to meet his tongue. “Oh-oh fuck,”

His free hand squeezes the globe of your ass in warning and you’re quickly reminded of what you were supposed to be doing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry” you blabber out in response before you force yourself to once again look at yourself in the mirror.

You look like an absolute mess, pupils blown wide, hair in disarray and chest rapidly rising and falling.

Your face quickly morphs into one of surprise, breath feeling like it’s been punched out of your lungs when Price licks at your cock with renewed vigor, tongue pressing deeper between folds like there’s no underwear separating his lips from your cock.

The pressure of his tongue forces the fabric

of your underwear to directly press against your sensitive clit. And every time he swipes his tongue across your dick, it sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

You spread your legs wider, muscles slightly aching from the awkward angle as you grind up against his mouth. “Please, please, please”

His mouth soon makes its way to your clit,

wet lips lightly nibbling on it before his tongue flickers experimental at it. “Oh-oh” once again your gaze drops from the mirror, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself to the pleasure. Luckily Price seems too busy with other things to notice anything.

One lick two licks and he’s full on latching onto your clit, lips eagerly suckling at the engorged numb through the soiled fabric. He alternates between suckling and swirling his tongue around your clit before going back to pay attention to your dick.

The squelching sound that echoes throughout the room sounds straight up obscene and every time you hear it you feel your body burning as you relentlessly buck up into him.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you cry out, feeling rather embarrassed at your eagerness.

“Nothing to apologize for, told you I was going to take care of you, let me do so” You could’ve cummed right then and there, all traces of embarrassment gone as you allowed yourself to fully lose yourself to the pleasure.

It all quickly becomes too much for you. If his tongue isn’t on your clit then it’s running along the length of your dick. For each and every stroke he goes in deeper with his tongue. And your engorged numb is becoming more and more sensitive to his touch.

At some point you try to get away from him, desperately clawing at the floor and hips bucking away from him but he doesn’t allow you to leave, firmly planting his free hand on your ass cheek to keep you close to him.

“Please- please I can’t “ you sputter out, shaking your head as you try to get away from him.

“This is what you wanted, right? why are you trying to leave now?” He taunts, ceasing all movements as he pulls his mouth away from your dick.

“No!” You cry out, mourning the loss of his touch as you turn to look at him, teary eyed and with pleas threatening to fall from your lips. He’s sitting back on his knees, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and sporting the biggest grin. But your eyes quickly zoom in on the shine that seems to coat his lips. Not only is it on his lips but it's also on his chin and beard. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s a mix of his spit and your arousal and his grin widens, seemingly knowing what you were thinking.

“What did you say before? No?”

He takes one hand and swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, wetting the pad with remainments of your arousal before swiping it over your clit, rubbing agonizingly slowly whilst putting steady pressure on it as he speaks “This is too much for your little cock to handle huh?” He says, faux sympathy dripping from his lips as he reaches over to pet your hair mockingly.

You shake your head, attempting to respond to him but you’re rendered speechless, only able to mewl in response as he continually circles your sensitive numb. “I thought you were captain’s boy. If my boy can’t handle a simple blowie, how is he supposed to handle my dick?” He says as he grabs ahold of your hair, roughly tugging at it.

“I can- I can handle it sir I can candle it

!” you cry out, feeling his fingers lightly pinch your clit.

“That’s what I thought, lay back down for me again yeah?”

You nod, blabbering something incoherent as you resume your original position, allowing him to once again spread your folds and put his mouth on your cock.

Despite your previous words, you find yourself unable to sit still as you feel yourself tethering closer to the edge of your release. Your toes are curling, fingers digging into the mat below, and hips relentlessly bucking up against his tongue. You feel your cock growing more sensitive for every lick, your hole fluttering around nothing and the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Close- so close, just please, please”

All of a sudden his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, once again putting just enough pressure to be properly felt through the fabric. And that’s all it takes for the knot in your stomach to unfold: eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth agape as you furiously grind your hips on his tongue before you finally slump onto the floor, legs and arms giving out from supporting your weight for so long.

You feel Price run his hand soothingly down the length of your back and hear him say the words “There we go. That’s it, that's captain's boy.”

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

star wars but I've never watched it

I'm flirting with death (the star wars fandom) and it's about to succumb. I mean, be seduced. I promise when I flirt the intended result is not succumbing (usually). Here, have this, I know you maggots have missed my summaries they're so comprehensive and well-researched. Two cups of black coffee down. LET'S GO, MAGGOTS.

It is not Star Trek, and if I mix them up, both fandoms will tear me limb from limb, but mainly Star Trek because they're less popular?

No, that was not intended to be inflammatory, it's just what I was warned when I first got kidnapped. Don't blame the student, blame the system.

LUKE, I AM YOUR FATHER.

Except that's actually a misquote, it's No, I am your father. Mad trivia game. Huge star wars fan, me (why do I sound like Crowley).

It's set in outer space.

Are daleks stormtroopers?

Yoda pulls sentences in half like Crowley pulls Aziraphale's legs apart while they're not talking, and then tries interesting positions.

Leia has space-buns and makes out with Luke.

Luke is Leia's brother.

Anakin, whom I thought was some sexy babygirl side character, is apparently Darth Vader.

I am certain some people still find him a sexy babygirl. I just hope if he has a sister, she doesn't.

Is incest hereditary? Besides the obvious, I mean.

Small and green, Yoda is.

Daleks or not, there are storm-troopers, and they wear white plastic but not in a kinky way. Mostly. I remember one video a maggot showed me of a dustbin and--anyway.

They have bad aim.

There is a Death Star, and there is also a Death Star in Star Trek, but this is the more obvious one.

It has machinery specially engineered so if you shoot at that one place, the entire spaceship explodes or shuts down, which is a convenient feature.

A baby Yoda, they made. To make merchandise in time, Disney failed. Money, they lost.

There's something called the Force which everyone irl uses to try and get their remote to fly to them while sitting on the couch watching TV. They squint and reach out their hand while doing this. It rarely works.

There are a lot of unnecessary sequels and prequels. People are not happy.

A lot of Star Wars has inspiration drawn from ancient Indian philosophy and Hindu mythology. Just fun trivia, since I'm such a huge Star Wars fan.

Chewbacca?

R2D2? Robot go beep beep.

Han Solo and Leia get together.

Who is Han Solo? The guy who witnessed Leia making out with her brother. Whatever gets you off, king.

Dead, Yoda might be. Not sure, I am.

Rogue 1?

Return of the... Empire? No, wait, Jedi.

Empire Strikes Back!

Jedi exist. Because uh, it was in the title. They'd better exist.

Luke's daddy cuts off his hand. Not in a sexual way. But you never know with this family.

End (Not. Disney is going to milk this cash cow till they run out of ideas because of underpaid writers, and then they'll do a remake, probably).

Welcome, you are. Comprehensive, all-inclusive, this summary is.

[vickyvicarious]

Good observation that Dracula's great grimness at informing Jonathan that they must part soon changing to his usual smoothness when Jonathan refuses to return to his room as dictated. Or gives Dracula the pleasure to go "before we part and before you become one of us let's play one more time, lets see you walk back into my arms from danger once more, for good this time". Maybe he even expected this small rebellion from Jonathan, knowing him. Especially after he dared scale his walls. It's more satisfying to "earn" Jonathan's submission. An unbreakable will bending to his is sweeter.

I think Dracula absolutely loves Jonathan's stubbornness... but only with the caveat that he is in control of the situation and can prey upon it. This response is extremely belated, but I kind of like answering it now because I think Dracula's treatment of Renfield so far, as opposed to Jonathan, is so revealing. He's ignoring Renfield completely. He has no interest in him at all. Because Renfield wants to be with Dracula. And Dracula doesn't care to spend his time with people who want to be around him; he's only interested in forcing his company upon those who don't want it. It's a huge part of the fun for him.

If someone like... Seward, for example, had been sent to Castle Dracula, he wouldn't have lasted anywhere near as long. Because I think he would be too enticed/interested in the vampires, and thus he'd bore Dracula a lot faster by being too willing or even eager to play along. Then again, someone who refused to play along at all would get boring very quickly too - if they don't submit and play his game he'll force them into submission with violence and that'll be the end of it. Jonathan managed to thread the needle perfectly with playing along on the surface while still constantly trying to resist behind the scenes. It was interesting and fun, a challenge that never made Dracula feel truly threatened. (Of course, he didn't realize the full extent of Jonathan's resistance/that he did have cause to be threatened...)

And he loved it! He was having so much fun! He got to genuinely enjoy Jonathan's company, but also enjoy how little Jonathan enjoyed his company and how he couldn't do anything about that. He got to keep pushing and pushing and pushing him and watch Jonathan almost break again and again but still just keep bending. To tempt him into disobeying and then punish him for it. To force him to rely on Dracula himself for protection and thus stick even closer the more endangered he gets. He gets to work for it, while at the same time never actually facing real risk other than losing his new toy (and Jonathan always settled down in the end, always let the game continue). ...And then he had to call it quits, because he had a schedule to keep. Yeah, I think he was genuinely kind of upset about that. And so when he got the idea for the wolves, he cheered way up again.

Because Dracula was able to offer Jonathan exactly what he claimed he wanted, but in such a way that they both knew he would never accept it. Instead, he forced Jonathan into a situation where he was forced to "choose" Dracula instead, one last time and more definitively than ever before. It was the perfect way to end their time together. Well, except one final victory - 'rewarding' Jonathan's choice by honoring it with one last night together, with delaying no longer and finally drinking from him.

Contrast all of that to Dracula's complete disinterest in Renfield, despite his avowed goal of conquering England and spreading vampirism here. You'd think a servant who willingly came to him would be helpful for that. But no, because Renfield came to him truly willingly, wanted to enter freely and of his own accord.

Dracula likes the kind of person who enters freely and of their own accord... because they're alone in the wilderness with wolves at their back. He likes those who stay because doing otherwise would be their certain death. He likes those who don't want this (who struggle and struggle, who have an unbreakable will) and yet are forced by him into accepting anyway.

An unbreakable will who bends at his command - that's how Dracula saw Jonathan, and he loved him for it. Right up until the point he decided he was finished, and acted to break him once and for all anyway.

[redahlia-writes]

only if for a night. | joel miller

Abstract: “It’s midnight,” you whispered, lips tingling with the aftermath of his hungry kisses. He looked down at his wrist, where a watch would be but the skin sat empty, and then turned his head slightly to look at your watch. His mouth was bruised as he licked his lips, a light furrow crossing his brow as if he could not believe the audacity of time to interrupt him. You leaned in - the distance was not really distance, his frame still caging you against the counter - and pressed a quick, almost ridiculously chaste kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Words: 5.7K

Content: f!reader; pre-outbreak + post-outbreak, show timeline but references to the game, a lot of kissing, suggestive language but nothing explicit, mentions of child death, mentions of death in general, reader has a broken leg, guilt, angst, a little bit of hurt/comfort, some fluff, joel gets Clingy

A/N: who’s surprised? not me. the original idea was longer but i ended up trying to compress everything in a single one-shot because i have no chill.

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

September 25, 2003.

Joel’s hand was warm against the small of your back, soothing and electrifying at the same time as he led you from the living room to the kitchen, one last glance over his shoulder in Sarah’s direction.

The girl had fallen asleep on the couch next to him, the movie’s volume getting lower and lower as the night went by, forgotten by all three of you in favor of each other. Sarah kept asking you questions about your job, about your life, poking fun at her father every now and then, and in return he would good-heartedly scold her for being too nosy, tethering the annoying, to which the girl would pout but immediately return her attention to you instead.

You were just glad she’d liked you. Things with Joel hadn’t been going on for long - you’d known about Sarah right away: she was his favorite subject of conversation, his whole face brightening when he mentioned his daughter, and you’d understood it was also his reason for certain boundaries of his - your house, not his; not staying the night; taking things slow.

And then he’d asked you over for dinner, and the girl had told you right away she’d already known of your existence because her father was so gone. Plus Tommy had ratted him out for the one time you’d brought Joel lunch at work - a casual thing, really: he’d mentioned forgetting to pack it for himself during a call and you were gonna pass that way anyways.

“Can’t believe how much that kid manages to humble me,” he muttered, turning his head to look at you. Laughing softly, you drew closer to wrap your arm around his middle, creating a temporary odd tangle of arms before he turned to face you. “You sure you can’t spend the night?” he asked then softly, hands coming up to cradle your face.

Joel’s hands were rough and calloused from his work, but warm and gentle as he touched you. He cupped your jaw, fingers spanning down your neck except for his thumbs, tenderly brushing at your cheeks as you leaned into him. It had been fleeting touches all night, both out of respect and nerves - a quick peck at the door, hands brushing when walking past the other as you got ready for dinner, knees bumping underneath the table, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch as the movie played and Sarah talked.

“Got an early morning,” you shook your head slowly, movements limited by his insistent touches as he leaned closer or pulled you to him. “I need to go to the hospital for a check-up.”

He groaned softly as you wrapped your arms fully around him - there was no space left between the two of you, his shirt wrinkling against your chest and uncovering a sliver of his skin while the buckle of his belt pressed into the lower part of your stomach. You craned your neck a little to kiss the noise away from his lips.

Joel sighed, chasing your mouth with his - he glanced once more towards the living room from above your shoulder before letting his eyes flutter shut. He dropped one hand to your side, thumbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it slightly, enough so he could slide his hand underneath and caress your bare skin.

Melting against him, you felt your lips part at the mere brush of his tongue across them, fingertips tracing mindless patterns against his back from above his shirt as he moved slowly, turning you both around and backing you further into the room, back and back and back until you were pressed against the kitchen counter, leaning slightly backwards under his weight as he crowded you. In the meantime, with the hand still cupping your jaw, he caressed your neck with his small and ring finger, right over your pulse point.

“Joel Miller,” you reprimanded in a breathless whisper after pulling back, his name slightly muffled by his mouth searching yours right away, making you lean back towards the counter, one elbow resting against the marble surface as you looked up. “Are you trying to get in my pants?”

He grinned, the hand underneath your shirt rising a little in a slow caress. “Is it working?” he wondered quietly, dipping his head again for another kiss. You turned your head, his lips landing on your jaw instead as you scoffed.

“Not with your teenage daughter in the other room, it isn’t,” you warned, another groan leaving him in protest as he trailed his lips down, jaw to neck to a small spot behind your ear he’d found one afternoon by mistake that had you close your eyes with a deep inhale, legs threatening to give out underneath you. “I really like her, Joel, and I really, really really want her to like me and this,” you tapped his back, moving up his spine, “is not the way.”

“She does like you,” he hummed, still nuzzling your neck. “She might even like you more than she does me,” you snorted, detangling your arms from him to wrap them around his shoulders, head tilted to the side - you exposed even more skin to him, and he pressed himself closer.

For a moment longer, you just let him have his way with you. It was easy to succumb to the bliss of his touch, of his lips tracing patterns on your skin back up towards your mouth, to linger in his kiss that went on and on and on until you swore your head was spinning and you were fifteen years younger, teenagers stealing kisses when nobody’s watching. And then you stole a glance towards your watch, wrist resting over his shoulder, and Joel exhaled as you broke the kiss again.

“It’s midnight,” you whispered, lips tingling with the aftermath of his hungry kisses. He looked down at his wrist, where a watch would be but the skin sat empty, and then turned his head slightly to look at your watch. His mouth was bruised as he licked his lips, a light furrow crossing his brow as if he could not believe the audacity of time to interrupt him. You leaned in - the distance was not really distance, his frame still caging you against the counter - and pressed a quick, almost ridiculously chaste kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“You kept me up this late on a Thursday night,” he turned to look at you again, both his hands now resting on your sides - one still underneath your shirt that rode up your back, leaving the cold marble to cool your skin down. “Wretched woman,” he accused with mock-sternness, and then looked over his shoulder, arms winding around your middle as he checked that Sarah was still asleep before pulling you up on the counter. “I think I deserve a birthday present for that. Don’t you, darlin’?”

The space was small, leaving you to wrap arms and legs around him as you did your best to not yelp at the sudden shift. Joel grinned, satisfied as you kept him caged between your thighs, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. With his chin tipped up to keep looking at you, in the faint light of the kitchen, you ran your hands gently through his curls, brushing them back from his lovely face.

“How about you let me go home instead,” he began protesting, hands gripping your thighs to pull you to him, as if by getting closer he could melt his very being with yours and keep you there - you shushed him gently, still raking your hands through his hair, down to the nape where the cut was a little ragged. “I’ll call you when I’m done, and we’ll discuss Saturday?”

“Saturday?” he repeated, a small pout crossing his lips. It was difficult to not lean in and kiss it right off of him - it was difficult to focus when he looked at you with those eager, big eyes.

“Yes,” you cupped his jaw, the same way he had with you, small finger curling underneath and scratching lightly at his stubble. “You spend your birthday with your daughter, and then I’m taking you on a date on Saturday. Deal?”

His lips turned in a quick, surprised smile, still looking at you as if the thought of letting go of you was the least appealing thing he could think of at the moment. But his hold on you eased little by little, until his hands were simply resting over your thighs, and when you unhooked your ankles from behind his back he did not protest.

Instead, he leaned in - one last time - and left a lingering kiss to your mouth before pulling back, leaving enough space so you could get off of the counter as he took your hands. A brief brush to your wrist, looking at you with his head slightly tilted before he sighed, almost resigned, and brought your hands to his mouth.

“Deal.”

20 years later, and then some.

There were many things you’d missed from before the outbreak. Traveling. Going out for dinner. Going to the movies. Showers. Baths. Music. The sea.

Painkillers. What you wouldn’t have done for a painkiller as you twisted again on the creaky bed - an actual bed, more than you had had for the past 20 years - attempting to find a position that did not make your leg scream.

The makeshift cast was heavy and uncomfortable, and all you wanted to do was reach inside and scratch until your skin was raw. But each movement sent jolts of pain up your spine, and it was back to missing painkillers.

It was unbearable, making you groan and wish, yet again, for some sleep.

“Hey, Captain Ahab,” a light knock on the door made you screw your eyes shut, head sinking deeper into the pillows. “How are you doin’?” “Screw you, Tommy, I still got both my legs,” albeit one didn’t work.

It had been a surprise, seeing Tommy again after 20 years. You weren’t sure how you’d recognised each other - covered in filth, having seen each other just once before the outbreak - but the name Miller had had every muscle in your body tense as he and Maria brought you within the community and she tended to you. For a week you’d inhabited their house, unable to stand up for longer than ten minutes, the woman forcing you to do so every now and again.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?” he scoffed in mock-offense, then stepped into the room. “I brought you something.”

“Is it Oxycodone? An aspirin? I’ll take anything if -” pulling your head up from the pillows you groaned softly as you spoke, shifting your weight on your elbows to try and sit up - and then froze as you looked towards the doorway. Tommy stood against the wall with a smirk on his face, and on the other side of the door was a girl, looking confused between the two of you and then behind her shoulder.

For the first couple of days, Tommy had kept aside, leaving Maria to help you - it had felt like a reason enough not to ask. Tommy was there in Jackson, and he wasn’t, so of course something had happened, something must have happened, because he wasn’t talking about him, nor had he asked anything, so of course Joel -

Joel.

Twenty years gone by and, grays aside, Joel Miller still looked the same as he stood in the doorway. Almost. Not quite. It was the same face, the same arched nose, the same lips, the same neck and shoulders, if dusted. But his eyes were all wrong - brows knitted, a stern, harsh look, wrinkles at the corners.

And he was staring at her, his lips parted, throat bobbing, hands shaking. Or maybe it was the whole world spinning for you, a distant ringing in your ears and tightening in your chest.

“Joel?” a whisper, incredulous and trembling. Was it the pain? Had it just been a week of hallucinations, and that was it? The final one, the cruel joke of seeing him again, and then it’d be over.

“You -” one word, his voice low and familiar that snuck its way into your chest, wrapping itself around your aching heart. His chin turned towards Tommy, as if he’d intended to look at him, but his eyes stayed on you. “It can’t be.”

Tears and pain blurred your sight as you tumbled out of bed, a protest coming from Tommy as you staggered forward, movements faster than they’d been all week - just a few steps before you felt your injured leg give out, but the ground never came.

A pair of arms wrapped around you to keep you upright, and there was a tightness in Joel’s hold that made you believe you would stop breathing as he squeezed and squeezed and squeezed and your ribs were hurting, too, but it did not matter because it was Joel, and you were clinging to him, fingers and hands brushing every part of him that was available to your touch just to make sure he was real.

“Oh my God,” a prayer, a thanking - you weren’t sure. You weren’t sure God was listening anyway, or that he’d care at all, so it didn’t matter as you buried your head into his neck and sobbed, and perhaps you were trembling against him. On the ground by the door was his backpack, the girl still looking between the two of you with her eyebrows slightly arched, mouth sealed shut.

He smelled awful, like sweat and smoke and that pang of blood that had seemed to permeate everything outside Jackson. But underneath there was Joel, the scent of his skin like a punch right to your stomach, achingly familiar and yet so distant in time. When you pushed your fingers against his back, his muscles shifted, real and surreal at the same time.

“It’s you,” you exhaled at last, and felt the ground vanish from under your good leg as he pulled you up just slightly, just enough to not risk you shifting your weight onto the injured leg. “It’s really you, tell me it’s you. You’re real, aren’t you?” his arms were wound tight around you as you pulled your head back to look at him, reaching for his face.

“Real as it gets, darlin’,” he sighed as you brushed his face, eyes fluttering shut for a moment at your fingers running across his cheeks and temples and up through his hair. “How are you here?”

Tommy was the last thing he still had from life before the outbreak - or so he had thought. When his brother had told him there was someone he might want to see, he hadn’t been able to picture this - you, in his arms again, touching his face and awfully real.

“She got jumped by a group of hunters on her way here, actually,” Tommy called, and the temporary bubble of isolation you’d created around yourselves popped, leaving you suddenly exposed. “Which is why she needs to stay in bed. Leg’s broken,” he added as a warning, nodding towards the bed with its pillows lingering on the edge.

“Tommy -” you protested, but Joel was already moving, carrying you back to the bed - you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, of Joel being there, of him holding you, of the way he plopped you down on the mattress and knelt between your legs, the uninjured one bending as if to cage him in. You looked away from his brother and back to Joel, hands coming down to brush at his cheeks over and over again, his beard tickling your palms as some of the filth came away under your insistent touch. “Christ, Joel, you -” you breathed out, the ache in your ribs making it all more real with each inhale, exhale. And then you glanced up all-too-quickly, a gasp trapped in your throat. “Where’s Sarah? Is she here?”

Silence was something you’d gotten used to - it was a necessity in the world you lived in. But after a week in Jackson, waking up with people talking and laughing below your window, and music and movies heard faintly from house to house, the sudden quiet felt unnatural and heavy. Tommy’s face dropped first, and he was quick to turn his gaze away, shuffling on his feet and away from the wall. Next to him, the girl frowned, looked over her shoulder and then back at Joel.

Joel - he had been looking at you all the while, and at the mention of his daughter’s name his gaze had just gone unfocused, the hands resting over your thighs clenching and unclenching as his shoulders shook a little. You felt your hands grow cold against his flushed face, the euphoria of seeing him dropping in your stomach and leaving space to dread, because 20 years could make anyone recognise that look that had taken over his darkened eyes.

“Kid, c’mon,” Tommy’s voice was distant, and at the corner of your vision you saw him moving, reaching to rest his hand on the girl’s shoulder - she flinched out of his touch but stepped back, her eyes still glued to the back of Joel’s head. “Ellie, leave them a moment, alright?”

A broken watch sat on Joel’s wrist, the glass shattered, hour hands frozen in time somewhere above the 3 and he kept fidgeting, his jaw shifting under your touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you whispered, the all too familiar sting of tears at the corner of your eyes making your eyelids drop. Joel grunted, his mouth sealed shut and nostrils flaring as you bowed your head. His fingers dug into your thigh as he pulled away, turning his head as he slipped out of your hands.

“I’m filthy,” he muttered, slowly sitting back on his heels, escaping your hold and touch altogether. When you looked up at him again, he did not look at you. Shifting at the edge of the bed, you reached for him - he was just out of arm reach, making you lean forward and strain your leg. “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Then don’t make me chase after ya,” you called back, resting one hand next to you for support while the other fell to the injured leg, his gaze following the movement as he kept his head bowed. “Look at me, Joel.”

He hesitated. Fingers drumming over his thighs as he clenched his jaw again, the shift barely perceptible - how could someone be so familiar yet look like a total stranger all of a sudden? Holding your breath, you waited, and waited, and when he shifted his chin up just barely you tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Could you get back here, please?” you murmured, tapping your fingers to the mattress at your side. When he didn’t move, you sighed, leaning forward again. “At the very least get off the floor.”

A moment longer, and then he stood, dusting his knees off as he shuffled on his feet, unsure of where to look - at you, your leg, the window behind you. Rocking side by side, he lingered on the spot until, with his head lowered again, he made his way to your side. The bed creaked when he sat down, mattress dipping slightly with his added weight, and silence fell again.

It stretched on, minutes of quiet interrupted only by the distant sounds from outside - when he didn’t protest your hands resting over his, you interlocked your fingers together, pulling it towards your lap, gaze lowered to the broken watch. His knuckles were bruised as you rubbed your thumb across them, and the shadow of dirt lingered around his nails as he squeezed your hand - once, twice, I’m sorry.

He’d never been one to apologize with words, not even before.

“You said you’d be at the hospital,” he murmured after a while, his eyes cast down again. It was odd, seeing the contrast of your almost too-clean hands against his. “That day - you weren’t home, were you?”

“No,” you shook your head, kneading your thumb into the palm of his hand. He sighed, turning his head ever so slightly to focus on the movement. “I was trying to get back home when they closed everything - city was losing it, communications were jammed. Ended up making that road-trip I told you about,” he scoffed, daring a gaze up towards your face.

“California?”

“Too far. Made it to Laredo though, and then my car died - there was a shelter in San Agustin. Held up a few years, but patrols at the border were insane, and the Rio Grande attracted the infected,” you shrugged as Joel slowly turned in your direction. “Then I heard about this place and I thought - why not? Might as well try,” he began returning your touches, thumb tracing the small scars and scabs that had formed across your knuckles, Joel’s hands were rough and calloused, but warm and gentle as he touched you. “Got to Houston, then New Orleans and then up North to here. Almost made it all in one piece,” you tapped your free hand to the cast, groaning softly. “Could’ve been worse.”

“On your own?” at last he looked up fully, and it was difficult to focus on the rest of the conversation when you met his gaze. It was difficult to realize he was no longer your Joel, that as much as the past years had changed you, they’d changed him even more.

Your Joel lingered there, far behind the cloud in his eyes, and the rigidity of his posture - you wondered if his shoulder still bothered him, or if, like many, he’d simply learned to live with the pain and didn’t pay it any mind anymore. He was still so far away.

“Small groups, never more than four, never more than a few months - but we covered each other’s back,” fidgeting, you squeezed his hand. “Last stretch was on my own, hence the leg. I believe I owe Tommy my life.”

“That’s rough - don’t let him hear that,” he attempted a smile, perhaps reassuring, but the corners of his mouth twitched - up and then down, a little frown almost vanishing underneath his beard. “I think I was hoping he would’ve told you already.”

“He didn’t even tell me you were alive. When I saw him here and not you I just assumed -” you hesitated, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth with a shuddering breath. You leaned in slowly, bringing his hand up towards your face, resting your cheek to his knuckles while looking up at him. “I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“She asked about you, that night,” he cleared his throat, carefully swiping his thumb over your cheekbone. “Almost made us drive back to get you,” he lowered his gaze to the bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, turning his hand so that he was cupping your jaw, your own hand falling to his wrist, right underneath the watch. “A soldier shot at us while we were trying to get away.”

“Christ -” “It’s been 20 years, it’s not -”

“Don’t do that,” you squeezed his wrist, cutting him off. “It’s me, sweetheart. Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” while he didn’t snap, and his touch was still gentle, Joel’s voice was firmer. Somewhat colder. Lips pressed together, you pulled your head up, breaking the skin-on-skin contact - his fingers curled at the absence, gaze flickering between the empty space and your eyes, shaking his head lightly. “I can’t,” he repeated, a little breathless.

“Joel,” a whisper, pleading. He was so close to you, yet he could still have been miles and cities away - it could’ve still been any day of the past 20 years spent in unawareness.

“Are you both decent?” a call from outside the door, down the corridor, Tommy’s steps louder than they needed to be.

“Joel, please,” you whispered again, clutching his hand as his jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he called right back, standing from the bed in spite of your hold on him only tightening. “I’ll be right out.”

“Joel,” he broke free from you easily, his palms tingling in his absence.

The last time you’d seen each other, you hadn’t known that could be it. He’d kissed you, smiled at you, walked you to the door and kissed you again, keeping you a little longer from getting into your car. He’d watched you go with a grin on his face and his cheeks flushed.

That bye had not felt final - his later now did, awfully final and definitive, pushing the air from your lungs when he turned his back on you. You’d gotten used to goodbyes, but seeing Joel go was dizzying and painful, and the tears returned unprompted as soon as he was gone.

It was late at night when the floorboards creaked - still used to being on edge at all times, you pulled your head up and reached for the nightstand, reaching for your sheathed knife.

“It’s me, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was a rough whisper, and in the faint moonlight you managed to make out his shape. “Just me.”

You lowered the weapon slowly, the noise seemingly echoing throughout the house before you turned on the light and squinted towards him. He stood in the doorway, hands half-way lifted, washed down and in new clothes that clearly belonged to his brother.

“What are you doing here?” you sat up to face him, weighing on your hands placed behind your back. He shuffled on the spot, lowering his hands and tugging at the sleeves of his shirt.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, first thing in the mornin’,” he murmured, gaze lowered to the knife rather than towards your face. “Gotta take Ellie someplace, but -”

You waited in silence, looking at him look anywhere but in your direction, his lips parting and closing, parting and closing, searching either for air or words, you weren’t sure - but you waited. Joel Miller needed time - the very thing you’d believed was not an option anymore, but that Jackson made seem possible. Though a part of you believed that, for Joel, you’d have waited three more apocalypses and then some.

“I didn't like the idea of leaving the way I was,” he said then - one step forward, lingered.

“Without saying goodbye?” you offered, head tilting slightly to the side. “Without even lookin’ at you.”

Your lips parted for a moment, taken aback - it was a snapshot of the old Joel, the one you used to know, a thread of light in the darkness of the past 20 years. Not smiling, but almost grinning, looking at you the way he used to. For a moment you’d believed nothing in this life could surprise you anymore, and Joel Miller had proven you wrong twice in a day.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he repeated, his voice lower as he took another step forward - his hands twitched at his sides. The watch was still there, still broken. “But I can’t sleep, because you’re right here, and it somehow feels like I’m dreaming.”

“I would’ve preferred if you dreamt about me with both my legs working,” you scoffed, leaning back - a half-sitting, half-lying down position. He chuckled, the sound devoid of proper humor, and reached the side of the bed. “Walk around, Miller. This hurts bad enough without you accidentally bumping into it,” you warned, gesturing towards your leg.

He kicked off his shoes at the foot of the bed as he went around, the last few steps quiet before he sat at your side, bed dipping under his weight. He hesitated a moment longer, watching at the corner of his eye as you settled back down against the pillows and opened your arms - suddenly it was homecoming.

Joel wrapped himself around you, head resting over your shoulder (it would grow numb through the night, but you didn’t mind it that much, or at all). One arm draped across your stomach and the other tucked underneath your back, he tucked you closer and sighed raggedly when you brushed the back of his neck, a soft, gentle caress up to his hair.

“I should’ve come looking for you. Sarah would’ve told me to,” he choked up on her name, squeezing your ribs a little, pressing himself almost harshly against your side. “Had I known you were still out there, then maybe -”

“You didn’t know, Joel,” you brushed your hand through his hair, and his head followed the movement as you looked down towards him. Up close, with the faint light on the nightstand, you could see his eyes - dilated pupils, wrinkles at the corners, dark shadows underneath. “We cannot afford to have regrets in the world we live in. It’s difficult enough to survive already.”

“But you did,” he murmured, shifting a little higher on the bed.

“Yes,” bringing your free hand to his face, you ran the tip of your fingers over his beard, the gentle scratch against your pads a reminder that it was real. He was. “So did you.”

“Not so sure about that,” he muttered, gaze flickering away.

You grabbed his face then, thumb and middle finger pushing into his cheeks to guide his head back until he was looking at you again. He blinked rapidly, slightly taken aback, a sharp exhale flaring his nostrils.

“You’re still alive,” each word was enunciated slowly, soft-voiced. Joel flinched, throat bobbing. “And it sucks that Sarah isn’t. It’s unfair, and stupid, and nothing will ever make the knowledge go away, or make it easier, I know,” he tried to shift back, a slight quiver in his mouth before he pressed his lips in a tight line, your arm around his shoulder keeping him in place. “Wouldn’t she have wanted you to survive, too? To live?”

Of course, the response came immediately to him, but there was a tightness in his throat and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth the last 20 years would catch up on him. So instead he just nodded, slowly, and the hold on his face eased - he buried himself into the crook of your neck, feeling the shift of your ribs as you inhaled slowly and wrapped both arms around him.

“Having survived is not a fault,” the hold on you tightened furthermore at the whisper against the top of his head. “Don’t blame yourself for it, sweetheart.”

The bed shook with his exhale - part sigh, part sob, gripping you so tightly it almost hurt. One of his hands dragged down your side, to where your shirt had crumpled up, and he pressed his fingers directly against your skin - he was still warm as you remembered.

“It shouldn’t surprise me that you managed to keep your humanity after all, should it?” when he spoke, his beard tickled your collarbones, a gentle shudder running down your spine.

You wanted to say that it was not the case, that it was difficult each day, that sometimes you felt more inhuman than the infected probably were, a wretched creature hanging on by a thread - but that would mean admitting how often you’d thought of him, of Sarah, to find your sanity again. How, each city you got to, you hoped to catch a glimpse of them. How you prayed that the Jackson community was real, and that they’d be there.

“I’ve missed you, darlin’,” Joel filled in the silence, his lips brushing your skin almost by accident. “How am I supposed to leave you again?”

You wondered briefly if he’d meant to say that out loud.

“You didn’t leave me, Joel,” running your hand through his hair again, you felt him shift closer, part of him now over you - could you stay like this forever? Could he mold himself around you and never let go of you? “And you’re not leaving me now.”

“I have to go,” he said softly, nosing at your jaw. A small smile crept up across your lips, unwilling and unaware, eyes fluttering shut at his gentle nuzzling. “I can’t leave Ellie now.”

“I know,” you nodded - pieces of information pieced together between Tommy and Maria as they came and went through your room, knowing the man at your side had grown to care for the girl but wouldn’t admit it just yet. “But you’ll come back to me. You do what you gotta do and then you’ll come back to me, Joel Miller - and I’ll be here waiting, because I still owe you a date,” he chuckled, leaving a quick peck to your neck that made you sigh. “Deal?”

Joel lifted his head, planting his elbow between the two of you on the bed for leverage, and looked down at you at last - the light from the nightstand was feeble, casting shadows across your face as he brought his free hand away from your side and up, tip of his fingers tracing a line up your throat and jaw until he was cradling your face. His thumb brushed across the apple of your cheek, tender and slow, while his small and ring finger curled at the side of your neck.

He could feel your pulse jumping underneath his touch, a mute question in his eyes.

A nod was all he needed before he was leaning in, shifting up higher on the bed until the tip of his nose bumped yours - once, twice, your warm breath caressing his mouth as you rested both hands on his shoulders and then up, up the curve of his neck. He closed the gap between your mouths in the next breath, his lips oddly gentle against yours, almost tentative.

One moment, two, and then your bodies recognized the other, and with a sigh Joel was kissing you as if no time had passed, pressing himself against you with need and desperation, and your lips parted for him as you locked him in your embrace where he would spend the night.

One kiss after the other until your lips felt numb and you almost laughed, ignoring the dread creeping up your spine because it was this one night, with no certainty of what came next. It was easy to pretend it’d be forever - to bask in the bliss of his touch, of his lips on yours, on your neck tracing patterns on your skin and back up towards your mouth, to linger in his kiss that went on and on and on until you swore your head was spinning and you were thirty-five years younger, teenagers stealing kisses when nobody’s watching.

When he pulled away, you could’ve sworn outside it sounded like morning, and you held onto him a little tighter, a little longer, drinking in his whispered reply.

“Deal.”