#and this has been sitting in my drafts for like six fucking months

[joelsgreys]

flutter

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

[milkovichs]

IAN GALLAGHER

you know, he thinks being bipolar means he’s doomed to be a piece of shit like our mother. maybe it’s true. maybe it’s not.

[jewelleria]

I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be. 

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate. 

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified. 

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map. 

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle. 

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more. 

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop. 

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments. 

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on. 

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not. 

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways. 

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine. 

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war. 

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this: 

I am a Jew. 

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love. 

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners. 

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee! 

Then they sent me this: 

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die. 

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind. 

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake. 

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired. 

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people? 

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews. 

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like. 

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for. 

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war. 

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why. 

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be. 

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

[starry-bi-sky]

Hello Starry! I just had a thought about your Danyal al Ghul AU, and didn't have anyone else to share it with, so here we go:

If in this universe Bruce is Jewish, and Danny knows this(probably from a google search), he may wear a Star of David necklace to have a piece of his father with him at all times, since he knows he will never get to meet him. Or maybe the necklace sits in a box under a floorboard, because he can't stand the constant reminder of the father he'll never get to have. Maybe he observes Sam and her family celebrate Jewish holidays, or he learns how to by himself, but uses the time to mourn, instead of celebrate.

Anyways, hope all is well, and thank you for sharing your writing!

AAHHHH??? YOUR BRAIN??? Thank you!! I love sharing my writing, it soothes my need for attention lol. lmao, even. (Also how did you know i was thinking of my danyal al ghul au today -- i have an unfinished draft that i was thinking of delving into after my work meeting) also aahh!!!!!!!! im so happy that you wanted to share your thoughts with me about it <333

But dude BOTH of these ideas are soo?? GOOD and ANGSTY. I love angsty. Danny would for sure know if Bruce was Jewish, lil guy did an obsessive amount of research on his dad the moment he got his hands on a computer and figured out how they worked. Danny has like, a three inch thick folder almost on his father alone. Anything he could get his hands on, he's got it. That thickness is almost exclusively from his first like, six months in Amity Park. He keeps it in a box in his closet, along with his growing-folder on Damian and his achievements as Damian Wayne. He pages through it when he's feeling like mourning.

First off: him wearing a Star of David necklace to feel connected to Bruce. That is SO sad and I love it so much. He bought it with an allowance he'd been given when he first started living with the Fentons, he keeps it tucked under his shirt so nobody even knows he has it. Sam and Tucker don't until it slips out while he's hanging out with them and when they ask him about it, Danny very reluctantly tells them that his father is Jewish. When he's distracted, nervous, or sad, he fidgets with it. How this looks is that he looks like he's kinda rubbing his chest, like ungrasping and grasping something.

Second Off: him keeping it in a box under the floorboards. That is also so, so good. He's got it in the box along with a few other things that remind him of his father and Damian and his mother. He takes it out when he's feeling particularly lonely and homesick, it's a feeling that never really goes away even after five years of living in Amity Park. It's like a longing for something you'll never see again, but isn't that just how grief works? i can just imagine him sitting against the bed, late at night and back from patrol. He's still in his ghost form, his katana laid on the ground next to him, and his almost bird-like cape pooling down beside him as he cups the necklace in his hand like he's cradling an egg. Maybe he's bleeding from somewhere, and he's telling the necklace about patrol, murmured soft in Arabic.

When he finds out Sam is Jewish he probably, after much consideration, asks if he can observe their holidays -- after all, researching Jewish holidays only does so much. Sam agrees when he explains why, much to her parents chagrin, and he sometimes tags along. But once he gets an understanding of how they go, he starts doing it on his own. Somewhat. He celebrates with Sam for most of it, and then has some time to himself where he celebrates it on his own. So it's a little bit of both.

^^^ which brings me to thinking about my danyal snippet here where Sam is at a Wayne gala and tears into her parents over Danny in front of Bruce. And it's making me think of, with this idea in mind, Sam in a moment of emotional impulsivity, saying "I know that he wears a Star of David because his father is Jewish and he wants to be closer to him, because he loves him so very fucking much." And while saying that, briefly makes direct eye contact with Bruce as a way to tell him "I know you're his fucking dad. Look at the son you have left behind."

If only for the emotional gut punch that can leave Bruce with. 🥰

Thank you for the ask! I had a lot of fun responding to it, have a fantastic evening/day/night.

[doobea]

✰⋆⁺★DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: you're positive that your roommate is a witch. or warlock? wizard? whatever the correct term is.

contents: fluff, gn!reader, reader is a human who can't see cursed spirits, roommate!choso, slight AU where Choso pretends to be a college student but is actually a sorcerer wc: 2K a/n: hello i am somewhat alive... i think? this has been sitting in my drafts for a while idk

You're not a superstitious person by nature, but there are just some things that you can't help but notice whenever Choso's in the same room.

One: Aside from coming home and smelling like he’s just crawled out of the city sewer like ten times, Choso brings back a lot of weird… vintage accessories — and this is just you being nice, okay?

Sometimes it’s straight up weapons, like swords and medieval looking armor. Other times it’s eerie looking talismans and charms that feel strangely alive whenever you go into his room. And, today, he comes back with a fucking urn of something. You could’ve sworn you heard the jar straight up hiss when you stared at it too long.

He’s not making anything that smells, though, which you’re thankful for.

“Choso,” you call out your roommate’s name and cautiously peer into the kitchen, where he’s currently cooking the damn thing on the stove top. 

“Yeah?” Choso’s back is facing you, the sleeves of his sweater are rolled up to his elbows, and some rock tunes are playing in the background as he’s stirring whatever concoction that’s in the urn with, thankfully, his own utensils. “Did you need something?”

You originally moved to a bigger place when you landed a job out of college. It’s located in the middle of the city, so naturally you found an apartment that’s about a fifteen minute subway ride away, but being in the city meant crazy expenses. Roommate forums are currently extremely popular and not totally sketchy by any means, so that’s how Choso, a PhD candidate, ended up moving into your two bedroom apartment. 

Oh, and he totally justifies all the weird little knick knacks as part of his thesis. You’re definitely going to ask him about it whenever he finishes that up. 

And, weirdly enough, even after six months of living together, there’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you to avoid questions about family members and distant pasts. There are also untouchable topics, like on days where Choso comes back bloody knuckled and bruised, and you kinda respect his boundaries. You do. Because, whether he's actually a PhD student, his personal life is beyond your concern.

You did, however, once asked if you could do a taste test on a similar… DIY recipe Choso created, back in the earlier days when you just thought Choso was weird, and his eyes went wide, a little bit terrified, and shot down your offer immediately. He also made you pinky promise him to never, ever consume or touch anything that he brings home that looks remotely out of place, as he would put it.

But, recently, he isn’t even making an effort to hide these things away.

“I’ll be done with the stove soon, if you need it.” Choso adds when you’re taking a moment too long to reply. He removes the wooden ladle and it’s practically soaked in all red. Whatever’s in that urn… it can’t be just simple tomato sauce. 

The answer dies in your throat as you’re reminded that your health insurance would probably not cover whatever might happen if you offer to watch him… cook? If that’s even what he’s doing.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m planning to make some noodles tonight, if you want any.” You’re saying this with as little precaution as possible, not trying to offend him because, hey, at the end of the day Choso could be running a research experiment that could also be life changing. At least, that’s what you try and convince yourself.

He turns his head at this and nods with a tired smile, dark bags evident. “That’d be nice,” Choso continues to stir, almost stuck in a trance, before adding, “By the way, have you seen my—”

“Weird glowy talisman with the monkey in the middle? Yeah, somehow it got moved to the coat closet this time,” you say with a casual shrug.

It’s a bit amusing to know that you’ve gotten used to all the accessories he’s brought back. You don’t bother questioning how some of these things also keep getting misplaced around the apartment. Maybe your roommate has a sleepwalking condition, too?

“Oh, I’ve been looking for that everywhere since this morning! Thanks, it’s actually for—”

“Your thesis?” A loud snort slips out when his face drops and flushes a shade darker. 

“Right, yeah, thesis—totally not anything else….”

Two: Choso’s relatives are definitely not human. Not like you, at least.

There were a few rare times where Choso would come home with someone other than himself. The first time it happened, you nearly pooped yourself from the sight alone. Your roommate stumbled back nearly shirtless, clothes almost in rags, bruises marred every visible inch of his body, and he was unconscious while leaning onto a younger man who was in similar condition.

You nearly fought with a complete stranger, who was equally acting as weird as Choso, about calling the police and sending your roommate to a hospital for treatment instead of resting on the thrifted IKEA couch you got off a shitty marketplace forum. 

The man, who introduced himself as Yuuji, refused and even threw a couple of bribes your way to keep quiet about the whole thing. And, while you never really suspected whether your roommate is secretly affiliated with gangs, you were honestly so close to breaking your lease and finding another place, maybe another job, somewhere far away so you don’t have to deal with whatever Choso goes through.

Choso makes a brief comment after that event, something along the lines of ‘needing to clean up after work’ and ‘sorry, our centrifuge malfunctioned’. You seriously begin to start questioning the academic integrity behind everything at this point. Just what kind of thesis is he working on?

In the end, you two don’t talk about it and you barely see Yuuji after that — well, until tonight. 

Yuuji happened to be around the area, showing up to your apartment in a similar, but not too extreme, condition as last time you’ve remembered. Less scratches, minimal tear to his clothes, but still managing to throw half ass bribes your way to ‘keep things quiet’, which earned him an earful from Choso. And, from that conversation, it turns out that Yuuji and him are half brothers. Outside of how they interact with each other, you really can’t see the resemblance at all. 

Somehow, despite all of this, you feel slightly better compared to the first time when Yuuji arrived. Whatever they’re doing, it must be kinda safe, since they still have their brain cells intact. 

“I hope you still have extras,” Yuuji muffles out as he scoops up another mouthful of noodles from his already overflowing bowl. Choso’s currently fighting the urge to wipe Yuuji’s sauce painted cheeks clean, you can easily tell by the deep furrow on his face. 

“Yuuji,” you’re trying so hard to not sound rude when you say this, and point at the empty container on the stove top. “You’ve already gone through four servings and the bread sticks, I don’t even have enough in the fridge for lunch tomorrow.” Seriously, does this guy have an infinite stomach?

Not to mention, the bruises and cuts from his cheeks earlier have all entirely faded away by the time you finished setting the dining table. Yuuji’s superhuman strength and tenacity alone is something suspicious, too. It was the fact that Yuuji effortlessly lifted up the couch with one hand when his phone slid under or the fact that he drank from Choso’s weird concoction earlier and is still thriving.

Choso, too. Because he also did a fucking taste test and you could’ve sworn on your life that the strange broth started to bend whenever he hovered his fingers over it. He’s always had a distinct smell of blood, and there’s always a vibe of something not-right about him.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell that they’re both human. 

And, if they are, you’re going to eat your shorts.

But that’s besides the point.

“Did you actually?” Choso blinks a few times. 

The younger male makes a strangled noise, most likely out of the fact he lost track of just how many portions he consumed, and flashes you an apologetic smile behind all of his tomato smeared lips. “Sorry… I’ll make it up to you later?”

Though, despite the non-human traits that both of them show, you can’t deny that they’re pleasant to be around. Right now, Yuuji is definitely radiating golden retriever energy right now with his pouting lips and big pleading eyes. How can anyone say no to that?

Choso has helped you out every now and then with weird blessings and strange hand movements that somehow always gets rid of cramps on your shoulders. That’s gotta be witchcraft in itself. Oh, and he always takes out the trash, that’s a bonus to have. 

“Just bring dinner over next time,” you suggest, which earns you a strange look from your roommate across the table. Oh, wait, wouldn’t that be crossing personal boundaries? “Or you can just do delivery, it doesn’t really—”

“No, it’s fine,” Choso spits out, stirring the remaining noodles on his plate back and forth with his fork. He has a strange expression on his face that you can’t quite make out. “I don’t mind.”

Three: Choso can see things that you can’t. And you kinda prefer to keep it that way.

You should probably be used to these things by now. There’s certain odd occurrences that come hand-in-hand when rooming with Choso. The most alarming one you can possibly think of is the strange mumblings you would hear sometimes from his room. It’s… well been apparent to you since day one but, again, not really your business to pry.

Tonight has been a strange string of events and you’ve never seen Choso so… comfortable showing you a glimpse of his personal life. 

You’re not sure what prompted you to join Choso on his walk with Yuuji to the train station late at night. You should be in bed, getting ready for work tomorrow, not out accompanying your not-so-human roommate and his brother. It’s nearly midnight and you need to catch the train earlier than usual because of a stupid work conference and not get yourself into weird supernatural events. What if next time they both mark a demon summoning circle in the bathroom, or you get home to ghouls in your kitchen, or—

“Something bothering you?”

You scream, and promptly hit the nearest object near you out of fear, which happened to be Choso, but he stops your fist with his palm as if it were a paper airplane. 

“Hey,” he softly calls out your name and eyes you, creeping closer until his shoulders are bumping into yours. “Stay still for a second…”

“W-What?” You swallow around a dry tongue, laughing nervously at the lack of distance. 

But Choso has an unreadable look in his eyes, like he’s focused on something else, a look he always puts on whenever he’s anxious and peering out the apartment windows many times at night. Waiting for the right moment for… something. Then, after a long, stretching pause, he raises his arms and pulls you into a tight embrace that leaves you with more questions than anything else.

“Um, h-hello?!”

“It’ll be over in just a second,” Choso says, still deep in focus.

But you notice how intimate the position is. Your chests are nearly pressed together, your foreheads are, and you can absolutely smell the remnants of dinner from his mouth. Eventually, Choso shifts away and untangles himself from you, wiping his fingers off on the bottom of his shirt. He looks content with himself, hands on his hips.

You’re not sure what the hell just happened, but now that weird mind haze from earlier is slowly fading away, and you’re realizing that being hugged by your weird roommate feels way too good.

“Are you like… Merlin or something?”

Yeah, you’re positive that he’s some sort of wizard at this point.

© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Distractions (Soldier Boy)

Pairing: Soldier Boy X F!Reader

Summary: You're Soldier Boy's assistant and you're trying to prepare things for an upcoming premiere, but he has other plans. And he really wants your attention.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, you know better than these mfs), fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, bit of denigration, praising kink, choking, dirty talk, Soldier Boy bc yes he's a warning on his own, cursing. I'm not really following any plots or canons here, this is just porn w/ soldier boy.

WC: 3k

A/N: So yeah, I said I had a little something hidden in my drafts, and after thinking I don't give a fuck, I'm posting it. We all know soldier boy is a horrible person, there's no need to debate on it, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend he is, but hes a lot of fun to write and hes fucking hot and I want to fuck him, shitty or not, so to anyone who wants to fuck him as much as I do, here's whatever the fuck this is. Enjoy you sinful fucks.

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

“Ben.” You hissed, moving your head and nudging him away with your shoulder when you felt his lips on your neck. 

He sat back in shock, taking a minute to process the fact that you actually shoved him away, “Did you just—”

You tore your eyes away from the pile of papers in your hands and you looked at him. His green eyes were glued to your face and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from laughing at the genuinely offended look on his face. You have been his assistant for a little over six months, you had gotten used to him whining and complaining whenever he didn't get his way. It hadn't even been a month when he was already bending you over a table and fucking you senseless simply because he wanted to. You were pretty much done for then. So it was nearly impossible to tell him no after that. 

“I’m trying to look over your goddamn talking points for tomorrow’s premiere, so yes, yes I did.” You reminded him with a sarcastic smile as you held up the pile of stapled papers in your hands. He snatched them from your hand with a scoff. 

“The fuck do I need talking points for?” He asked as he eyed the printed words as well the written notes and scribbles you had made on the paper. 

“Because unlike what you have been led to believe, you can’t actually do or say whatever the fuck you want in public.” You sighed, it was like you were talking to a teenager. You took the papers from him with annoyance and returned to scribbling and crossing things off and tried to ignore him huffing and puffing next to you. 

“That’s funny because I can do whatever the fuck I want. And right now I want to fuck you stupid over this couch, so I’m gonna do just that.” He said as he grabbed your jaw and turned your face towards him, kissing you hard. 

You gasped against his mouth but you were melting into it merely a second later. It took all of your willpower to not give in. It was nearly impossible to say no to Soldier Boy, but fuck were you going to try. You held yourself together, standing your ground, despite that part of yourself just screaming at you to do as he told you. You whined against his lips and pulled your head back. You almost missed the look of both annoyance and neediness he gave you. He didn’t take kindly to being told to wait. 

“Ben I’m serious, I have to finish looking over these because Mr. Edgar will have my fucking head if you go off your script again.” You sighed, running your fingers through his thick hair. He rolled his eyes at you and slightly smacked his lips with equal irritation. 

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” He scoffed, holding your jaw with a tight grip, he wasn’t taking no for an answer and you knew that. “Just a quick fuck. Then you can do all the boring paperwork shit you want.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and bit your lip, almost giving in, almost, “It’s never just a quick fuck with you. I can barely move after, let alone think about work.”

“Awe, I do fuck you stupid, huh sweeatheart?” He smirked and tilted his head as he eyed you with a smug glint in his eyes. You glared at him and pulled your head away from his grip, turning your body away from his entirely. Now you just wanted to fuck with him. 

“You’re insufferable,” You said with distaste, going back to your papers. You completely missed the way his jaw twitched, but you did hear him inhale sharply. 

“You know, you’ve lasted longer than any other assistant I’ve ever had, they don’t even last a month, and yet here you are, so I can’t be that insufferable.” 

“Oh, you are insufferable, trust me, I can’t stand you either most of the time, especially when you won’t let me do my fucking job,” You started to say, not looking in his direction, but you felt his weight leave the couch and you saw him stand up out of your peripheral vision. Huh, you couldn’t believe that actually worked. “I don’t think any of your other assistants had the amount of patience I do, because being around you is like being around a spoiled teenager twenty-four seve— Hey!” 

You looked up at him with wide eyes when he stood in front of you, took the papers right out of your hands and threw them behind him, out of your reach. You glared at him as you stood up to grab them, but when you did, he grabbed you with ease and threw you back on the couch. Your back hit the armrest and you were about to protest when he grabbed your ankle and dragged you so that your back was fully on the couch. He spread your legs apart and settled between them before you could protest. 

“And, none of my other assistants dared to speak to me the way you do. So maybe I should remind you who’s in charge here.” He said gravelly, eyes dark as he laid a hand flat on your collarbone with enough force to hold down with just that one hand. His body was also on top of you, you wouldn’t be able to move even if you wanted to. Which you didn’t, not really. 

His lips came crashing down on yours hard. You gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to invade your mouth with tongue. You could taste the faint whiskey on his tongue. He took everything and gave you nothing. He was kissing you so hard you didn’t notice the trip grip he had on your shirt and before you realized, you felt a harsh tug and you heard the fabric tear. The shirt fell in two pieces on opposite ends and you groaned against his mouth. 

“Dude again? Stop ruining my clothes.” You complained but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it, the way he could manhandle you like that. He didn’t look bothered at all, there was a smirk on his face, if anything he looked proud. 

“Be thankful I’m letting you walk away with panties this time.” 

His mouth was back on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease as his hands did quick work of getting rid of your pants. He tore them off your legs along with your panties with ease. He thankfully didn’t tear the fabric of either this time, he could be careful if he really wanted to at times. You were completely naked under him, and he was fully clothed still. Though, thankfully, you didn’t have to go through the hassle of taking his entire suit off since, at times, when he knew you were both completely alone in his penthouse, he would ditch the suit and would dress in comfortable clothes. Your hands found the end of his shirt and you tugged it up. He pulled back and pulled his shirt over his head before he was leaning down again. His lips found the skin of your neck and he sucked, hard. You gasped when you felt his teeth dig into your skin, surely leaving a mark you would have to cover for tomorrow’s premiere. 

“I'm gonna have that there tomorrow you know.” You muttered to him as he pulled back and eyed the spot that would soon turn a shade of purple with a proud smirk on his lips.

“Good, maybe then you won’t have corporate assholes kissing your ass all night if they see you’re fucking a real man.” There was a certain hint of possessiveness in his tone as he spat into his hand with equal harshness.

“Not that anyone would actually know who that is, because you won’t tell anyone about us.” You pointed out with a bit of harshness of your own. You didn’t know why it bothered you that he wouldn’t go public, probably because it meant this wasn’t anything serious to him. And as much as you knew you coukdnt expect anything out of him, it did bother you and he knew that.

He looked at you, face turning serious for a moment and he leaned down, planting a hard kiss to your lips, “Trust me sweetheart, we’re better off. You don’t want Vought to use you as PR, I don’t want you to be, okay?” He cocked his eyebrows at you, expecting a response. He rested a hand on your hip while the other one ghosted over your inner thigh. You didn’t want to argue with him about that now, you already were craving him, your mind foggy with want and need for him, you weren’t in the right state of mind to have that conversation, so you simply nodded. 

“Good girl.” He smiled at you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your mouth before he pressed his fingers against your already wet core. You whined softly and squirmed under his much larger body. He caught the way your eyebrows narrowed and your lips parted, and he smirked, spreading the wetness over your clit.

“Fuck,” You cursed under your breath, a sigh of satisfaction leaving your lips as he rubbed small circles over the buncle of nerves. He watched your face with amusement as he slipped two long fingers into you. He said nothing as he worked you open with his fingers, simply listening to the increasingly loud moans that came out of your mouth each time his fingers curved against you. “Please Ben, I need you.”

“Hold on, I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered, scissoring his fingers with urgency. Despite being as needy and desperate as you were, him being the one who wanted you in the first place, he wanted you to come first, he had learned his lesson trying to take you without foreplay.

But honestly? You didn’t care, you just wanted him. 

“I’m not going to break. I can handle you.” You whined, shaky hands coming to tug his sweatpants down his hips, or at least attempt to. He really wanted to control himself. But fuck, if you were begging him? Fuck control.

His fingers quickly left you. You shivered softly at the sudden emptiness, but that didn’t last long. Ben tugged his sweats down past his thighs, his cock springing free against his stomach. Your eyes unconsciously traveled down and your lips slightly parted at the sight. He chuckled smugly, loving how you always seemed to worship him at times. He leaned down, using one of his arms to brace himself above you as he guided his cock to your entrance. You hooked your legs around his torso and braced yourself. He slid into you with ease, already rolling his eyes back at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. 

“Fuck you’re so—” He groaned, his hips shifting as he sat still for a second and he soaked in the way your lips parted and your eyes rolled back with pleasure. “—Fucking tight. You’re already squeezing the fuck outta my cock.” 

He gave you a second before he was drawing his hips back and slamming back in with enough force to make you scream. Well good thing he had a whole penthouse to himself, you could make as much noise as you wanted and nobody would tell him shit. Not that anyone would otherwise. 

You had to bite your lip to stifle the sounds that wanted to come out of your mouth. He was relentless, he fucked you like it was his mission. With each thrust of his hips, he went deeper, hitting your most sensitive spot over and again once he found it. He gripped your hips roughly, slightly lifting them off the couch to meet his thrusts at an angle that had you screaming. And while his grip was bruising and his movements were rough, he wasn’t hurting you, something he learned after months. You always thought he would break you, but he never did, nor would he ever dream of it. 

“Stop biting that fucking lip or I’m gonna bite it for you. Let me hear you scream for me.” He demanded, gripping your jaw with a tight grip as he gave a particularly deep thrust that made you scream. “Yeah, just like that.”

You were squirming under him, your thighs clenched around him and you were squeezing him so tight he knew you had to be close. Soldier Boy was one smug motherfucker, he lived off his pride and ego, and he’d be fucking damned if anyone ever said he didn’t please his women. 

“Fuck Ben!” You cried out as he pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the swollen bud, that combined with his already unforgiving pace, you pretty much lost it. 

He pulled you into a sloppy kiss, happily swallowing your moans as you trembled, your orgasm washing over you. He fucked you through it, groaning when your walls squeezed him and your juices made him slip in and out of you with ease. Your head was spinning and you were shaking, but you were coherent enough to still feel Ben above you, his pace not once faltering or slowing down. Supe stamina you guessed. 

You were about to speak when he grabbed your hips and flipped you over, your stomach flat on the couch but he pulled your ass up. He held your hip with a bruising grip as he slammed back into you. You pressed your forehead against the couch, your mouth falling open into silent scream as he sunk into you again. You didn’t know if you were just sensitive or fuck drunk, but you could already feel the coil in your stomach after he gave you a few more thrusts. Your eyes were filling up with tears and you could feel a burn in the pit of your stomach. 

“Ben wait— I can’t—”

“Yes you can sweetheart. Just give me one more and I’ll leave you be.” He panted, close to tipping over the edge but not quite there yet.

“Ben,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut, the overstimulation making tears slip from your eyes and your legs shake. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you felt his lips on your spine, his tongue running over your skin. He stopped at your neck, he left a trail of wet kisses before he pressed his lips against your ear.

“You’re my good girl right? You’d do anything I tell you to?” He coaxed, his voice deep and smooth, enough to make you want to come right then and there, again. You nodded, not trusting your voice. “Yeah you fucking would. So come for me, now.” He demanded, his hand slipping down your body to run your sensitive clit and the overstimulation was enough to send you over the edge, again. He sat up, pulling you flush against his chest as he fucked you through your high. His hips actually faltered this time. 

“You’re still on the pill right?” He rasped in your ear, the hand that had been on your hip now resting on the column of your neck. You somewhat registered his words in your fucked out brain and you half nodded, you had a feeling you knew why he was asking. “Good. Yeah, you’re gonna be a good little slut and take everything I give you.” 

Not that you would say no, as pathetic as it might’ve been, you’d do anything he told you, you’d take whatever he gave you. And he loved that, just as much as he loved shutting you up. 

“Fuck, fuck that’s it,” He moaned, his hand squeezing your neck tight enough to bruise, but not enough cut off your air entirely. He turned your head and kissed you hard, tongue slipping into your mouth as he sunk into you one more time before he spilled inside you.

You both sat there, he held you as you both tried to normalize your breathing for a while. You could feel the mixture of releases slip down your thigh but you didn’t care. You closed your eyes as Ben said dirty praises into your ear. And when you were no longer shaking, he unwrapped his arms from you and slipped out of you, the mess he left seeping out of you and coating the couch. You couldn't be less bothered by this as you simply laid on your stomach, eyes still closed and your body sore and arching. You didn’t come out of your little trance until you felt Ben leave the couch and chuckle lowly. 

“Clean yourself up sweetheart, you're making a mess.” You could hear the amusement in his tone, he was fucking with you. It still annoyed you enough to make you open your eyes and flip him off. He laughed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

Oh right.. Work. Totally forgot about that in between all the fucking. 

“Shut up. Just leave me be.” You muttered still in a drunken state of bliss. The last thing you could think about was work. 

“Whatever you say sweetheart. I was just thinkin’ I could run you a hot bath, have you relax while I finger that pretty little pussy ‘til you’re coming all over my fingers again. Then we can go to bed,” He paused, waiting to see your reaction. He successfully caught your attention and you lifted your head, your eyes finding his playful green ones and he continued. “But hey, if you want to sit here all night doing this boring shit nobody will actually give a fuck about tomorrow because I’m gonna say whatever the fuck I want anyway, be my guest.”

“You’re gonna have to carry me then, I don’t trust my legs with walking.” You hummed, flipping onto your back and you looked up at him, catching the smirk on his lips and the glint in his eyes. 

“Trust me sweetheart, you won’t be doing much of that either after I’m done with you tonight.”

[jamespottersmixtape]

rosekiller microfic: goldilocks 1,632 words

a bit of soft rosekiller!! this is inspired by @myrows rosekiller art which you can find here! it made me want to weep a little when I first saw it, so naturally I had to write something haha :) ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's by no means perfect but enjoy!! <3

Barty has always cherished quiet nights at Hogwarts.

When the chatter in the halls finally dies down enough for his thoughts to come back to him and homework has been carelessly tossed aside to save for tomorrow.

There’s a sense of serenity to it all that Barty rarely finds elsewhere. A break that he craves most at the end of a particularly stressful day.

Sixth year courses have been—to put it lightly, beating his ass—no matter how well he does. Today, it had taken him ten tries to get the nonverbal spell to work in Transfiguration. Ten.

Usually Barty needs no more than six tries for complicated spells, less than that for complex potions. Disregarding that he still did it faster than over half the class, now he’s just fucking tired.

He groans and shoves his schoolbag off the bed, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud, then flops backwards dramatically onto his pillows. The dorm room is dim, save for a few small candles on his bedside table. Cloaked in various shadows that dance around the room from the flickering flame.

Barty closes his eyes, taking a spare second to just breathe. There’s the soft white noise of the shower running in the background—Evan is taking forever, as usual—and sometimes Barty imagines he can hear the push and pull of the black lake against their walls. Lack of windows be damned.

It isn’t long before the water shuts off, and Barty feels the smallest smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s just the two of them for now, Regulus off doing god knows what at this hour. So naturally, a lot of built up restraint is needed for Barty not to rip open the bathroom door. To go and take in the sight of a freshly showered Evan and gather him in his arms before he can be stopped.

He’s been in there for less than thirty minutes but fuck it, Barty misses him.

Grumbling, he goes to change into the first clothes he can find. Settling for some years old joggers and a loose tank top, the soft fabric already making him drowsy.

The bathroom door creaks open and his head snaps up, immediately catching Evan’s eye. Barty really can’t help it when his heart skips a beat.

Evan raises his eyebrows, chuckling when Barty takes no subtlety in checking him out. His hair is dry, most likely done by magic. A thin blue t-shirt hangs off his shorter frame and each step taken towards Barty casts golden shadows over his skin.

Looking like everything warm and comfortable; the smell of his shampoo in the air so familiar that it hurts.

Barty’s smirk is wicked when he tugs Evan by his shirt into a light kiss. He makes a startled noise but melts into Barty’s touch regardless, fingers cupping his chin. The kiss is short but effective in making Barty’s head go all fuzzy.

“What happened to hello?” Evan asks when they pull apart—though not very far—now standing chest to chest. Evan’s bare feet fit in between his socked ones.

 Barty makes sure to slather his words in extra charm, grinning. “Hello, gorgeous.” 

“Wow, smooth talker,” Evan deadpans.

“You know you love it, Goldilocks.”

Barty takes a blonde strand between two fingers, tugging lightly at the end and earning him a deep scowl.

“I told you that nickname is stupid.” Evan rolls his eyes but Barty catches the blush high on his cheekbones. A light dusting of pinks and reds that work to compliment his freckles. Barty pokes him on one cheek.

“And I told you I don’t care.”

“Brat.”

Barty hums noncommittally, threading their fingers together. Warmth settles in his chest from the steady weight of Evan’s hand.

He leads Evan past the emerald green curtains of his bed and down onto the soft mattress. It’s a routine they’ve created over the last few months, and every time Barty wraps the covers around them it becomes harder and harder to let Evan slip back into his own bed. Something about having him in his arms means a night free of restless tossing and turning.

They lie facing each other for a few minutes, minimal space between them and their heads resting on one pillow. Quiet voices and even quieter laughs, a sacred bubble that neither of them dare to pop.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Barty laughs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You told Cresswell what?”

Evan frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told him…that if he feels the need to keep staring at you in class then maybe I should tape his fucking eyes open. You know, that way he wouldn’t miss it when I inevitably snog you right in front of him.”

“Evan!” Barty can’t help it, his laugh is loud when it bursts from his chest.

“Well, maybe I left out that last bit…”

It takes him a minute before his laughter dies down, the quiet settling back in. “You jealous?” Barty teases, raising an eyebrow.

Evan purses his lips. “No.”

Barty stares at him knowingly.

Silence.

Evan averts his eyes.

“Mhm sure, come here.”

He drags Evan in by his waist, the pair of them fumbling around until Evan’s head relaxes in the crook of Barty’s neck and his forearm rests over his chest. Their sides pressed together, Barty smiles—fully content now.

Wordlessly, Barty ghosts his hand over the warm skin, relishing in the way Evan shivers from the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger.

There’s silence for a few minutes. Evan’s hair brushes the side of his face and his warm breath fans across his chest, their hearts only slightly out of sync as they beat so close together.

It’s a lot for Barty to take in sometimes—the whole idea of them. Having someone so delicate, yet so utterly untouchable, be his. If anyone took the time to ask him, though, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Barty knows Evan’s eyes are closed, can see the shadow of his eyelashes. He takes the opportunity to trace over his freckles; a messy constellation that follows the high points of his cheeks, crosses sporadically over the bridge of his nose.

Evan scrunches his face up, which should not be so endearing. “That tickles.”

Barty turns his head, placing the quickest of kisses atop of Evan’s forehead, debating whether or not he should just give in and lick the side of his face. Then ultimately deciding against it—Evan did just take a shower—he’ll be nice for once.

“I wasn’t jealous. I don’t get jealous,” Evan mumbles, his voice lulled and tired sounding.

“Of course not, Ev.” Barty resists rolling his eyes, Evan can’t see his face anyway. 

“Besides,” Barty continues, “If you were jealous, I don’t mind you threatening people for me…it’s kinda hot.”

Evan smacks him lightly across the chest, but snuggles deeper against his shoulder. Which definitely does not do a weird flippy thing to Barty’s stomach. Nope, not at all.

“Mm okay,” Evan yawns. Which, Barty can’t blame him. Exhaustion is slowly taking over his body the longer they lie here. At this point all he wants to do is blow out the candles and fall asleep. Keep Evan next to him the whole night.

“Hey Goldilocks.”

“Mhm…” Evan must be too tired to even rebuke the nickname.

“Reg is going to freak out if he finds you here in my bed.”

Evan huffs, not very different from a petulant child. He makes no move to get up or even open his eyes. “I don’t care.”

This time Barty can’t hold back his yawn. He shuts his eyes and allows his body to sink further into the bed. Further into Evan. “Maybe we can tell Potter how madly in love with him Reg is. Then they can finally leave us alone.”

“Payback,” Evan snorts.

They both fall asleep without really meaning to. Tangled limbs beneath the covers and hands that aren’t inclined to let go. As his mind quiets down, something in Barty feels settled. A puzzle piece slotting into place after searching and searching for the edge that matches. Evan tends to have that effect on him, he’s come to notice.

All is quiet for a while, the whole school in a coinciding state of slumber. A time when portraits snore softly and only ghosts roam the halls, the usual lively presence of magic at bay for now.

But not even thirty minutes later they’re awoken with a loud thud and a significantly darker room—Barty had blown the candles out after all—just in case.

“Lumos,” someone whispers.

Regulus stands at the end of Barty’s bed, hands on his hips and a look of annoyance on his face. His wand is now lit and shining far too bright for Barty’s liking.

“What the fuck, Reg?” he asks groggily. Evan groans beside him and tries to hide his face.

“Not my fault I tripped over your fucking books, Barty,” Regulus hisses. “And you guys are gross. You said no PDA in the dorm.”

Barty squints and gestures for him to lower his wand. Regulus does so slowly. “Yeah, well I’m a fucking liar. Let us sleep.”

It’s with a lot of grumbling and a sharp glare that Regulus turns and stalks to his side of the room. When he shuts himself in the bathroom Barty reaches for his own wand and spells his curtains closed.

He has Evan back in his arms in no time, steady and real and here. Absolutely not going anywhere, if Barty has a say in it. His fingers resume their path over his arm, tracing nonsensical shapes that neither can decipher. Before they both drift off again a thought pops into Barty’s head.

“We are definitely getting him back for this.”

[apprenticestanheight]

Work Stress- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

ALLLLLLL RIGHT, welcome to the monthly "my mental health is shit" fic that I bestow upon the people whenever my mental health isn't as great as it could be, which--in fairness--is nearly all the fucking time.

Two of these might be coming out this month, though! I have not had the greatest streak of days without anxiety lately and I write fics whenever it gets really bad. The day I finished this one, I was like "I am going to write something. for chainshipping (again)" so a chainshipping fic will probably be out by the end of the week

On some other notes, A: while it's not explicitly stated, the reader is what's traditionally considered midsized as that's what I am and I wanted to write a fic with my body type. As per usual with me, the reader is generally gn but as I know the anatomy best, they're AFAB. B: requests are starting to get looked at! I have one waiting to be finished, edited and posted sitting in my drafts but otherwise will have probably looked through and decided which requests I will do vs which ones I won't by the time this has been posted. Things will probably start coming out at the end of this week and keep coming out into next.

Fic type- this jumps into a lot of differing areas, but the main genres are quite possibly the oddest combination I've ever written--smut and angst.

Warnings- as this fic contains smut it caters to an audience of people 18+, so minors, DO NOT INTERACT. There is A LOT here--p in v, oral (both recieve, even if on Adams end the oral is only mentioned), doggy style, fingering, petplay kind of (I was trying to think of a gender neutral petname and puppy was the only thing my brain could think of at first. It's literally just used as a petname and gets overshadowed by 'baby' after a point bc I remembered that that word existed--I wrote a lot of this while tired, pls take some of the stuff in it with a grain of salt), as for sfw warnings: there's a mention of loss of appetite in relation to extreme stress

It's no secret to Adam that you've been having a very, very rough year.

You've been living together since just a couple weeks after he'd escaped the trap--he was taken from his apartment and found it too anxiety inducing to stay there so you let him move into yours.

You'd been dating since you were twenty one and at twenty six, moving in was bound to happen eventually, but getting out of his lease was taking a hell of a lot more time than Adam had originally anticipated.

He noticed every rough day in the bags that you'd begun to sport underneath your eyes, how late you came to bed and your reluctancy to be very affectionate with him--whenever things got bad, be it at work or with stuff going on in your head, you withdrew and pushed him away--and in the fact that you weren't eating as much, in that you always looked like your mind was somewhere else, wandering off completely.

So, one day near the middle of November--where he'd started to notice your bad days in very early March--he joins you in the kitchen while you speak to one of your bosses via phone call.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze. He wants to cheer you up--you're prone to bad days due to insecurity and because of a long-standing not so great track record where your mental health is concerned--and, in that particular moment, finds himself willing to do anything.

You give your best go at grinning back at him, but it comes out looking like more of a grimace. You let Adams hand go to run a stressed hand through your hair, returning your hand to Adams and letting him interlace your fingers thereafter.

"Yes," you whisper. "I understand that things are always tough in the last quarter, but--" you sigh dejectedly as your boss cuts you off, and Adam presses another kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a minute.

"Yes, Earle--but you're not seeing the point here. I'm eligible for the raise because I've kept the teams afloat! The only reason you're not also eligible for the raise is because you took an eight month vacation with PTO that you quite literally stole from other employees, myself included, and just because Monica isn't willing to fire you over that doesn't mean your actions didn't warrant alternative punishments," you lean forward, press a kiss to Adams shoulder. Adams grin widens slightly as he notices that you're visibly relaxing from his touches.

A solid two minutes of shouting pass by on the other end. Adam gives your hand a supportive squeeze whenever Earles voice raises another octave in his shouting, pressing kisses against your temple when you let him pull you into a half hug. He keeps hold of your hand when the position changes, your torso pressing against the counter as Adam stands in front of you.

"Earle--I am eligible for the raise because you took six weeks of PTO from me, which I only get thanks to our companies union," You snap. "Now, because I had to spend so much time doing my fucking job, unlike you, I'm eligible for enough of a raise to make me capable of buying a home by '06, and if you're pissed off at me for that, I genuinely cannot help you any further. I have a boyfriend who I would much rather be talking to over your sorry arse, so I'm going to hang up now and if you call me back, I will ignore it. Have the day you deserve, asshat."

You hang up the phone and sigh, gaze meeting Adams in an instant.

"'M sorry," you whisper, biting your top lip for a few seconds as you look at him. "Work has been a fuckin' mess since like, the end of February. I just--damn it all."

"Eh, Earle sounds like a dickhead," Adam laughs. "How does one even get away with--eight full months? Of PTO? How?"

"Per the union agreement we have, we get six weeks a year," you start. "It's why I'm always off in December--I like staying home when it gets cold, gives me an excuse to read and drink more tea than I should--but we've moved to digitizing off time recently. Took the six weeks I'd planned to pace between the end of this month and all of next and switched them up for himself. Did that with five other employees and still, Monica doesn't fire him. Just makes me eligible for a raise of fifteen dollars on company dime because the off time I lost out on forced me to do more while I was there. Our company has one hundred and eighty-six employees in the Jersey branch and a bunch of 'em like taking spaces in the last six months of the year off, so it was me managing two teams of eighty people. Not easy work at all."

Adam blinks. "Did Monica even offer to give you the PTO back?"

"She gave me hers," you shrug. "Earle can have a lot of fuckin' fun managing one hundred and sixty people by himself. I'll find out if I get the raise tomorrow morning and my PTO will kick in then, too. He can eat shit as far as I'm concerned, I have a long list of books and two boxes of my favorite tea to drink my way through as of tomorrow."

You let Adam lead you into your shared bedroom, humming as you lay down on your bed and close your eyes.

"Are you okay?" Adam asks.

"Been a very, very stressful eight months," you laugh. "Trying to think of what I need and only one thing continually comes to mind."

"What's that?" You can hear the eagerness behind the teasing tone in Adams voice.

"I need--uh--" You laugh, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Propositioning Adam for sex was not typically done with words but kisses and your hands on his chest, relishing in the way that he looked when he lead you to your bedroom and fucked you senseless.

"Go on, baby," Adam whispers, his lips suddenly near your ear. "Gonna say it?"

You hum, suddenly embarrassed at yourself, and Adam laughs.

"Use your words, puppy," He whispers, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. "How am I supposed to know what you want me to do if you don't use your words?"

You moan helplessly in response.

"You really are cute," Adam says. "Tough while at work, one phone call later and now you're helpless that you can't even speak. Can't even say one word."

"Adam," you breathe, both because it's the one word that's coming to mind and also because you know he loves the way you say his name when all you want is for him to fuck you.

"Good puppy," Adam presses a kiss to your cheek. "Tell me what you want me to do, mm? I'll do whatever you want, but if you want me to fuck you, know that you'll be in bed for a long time once we go to sleep. You're going to come a lot tonight, puppy. You deserve it."

You moan in response. "Please," you whisper.

"You want me to fuck you, puppy?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Adam--I need you to. Don't wanna think anymore. In eight months, I've thought enough for eight lifetimes. Fuck me senseless, please."

"Whatever you want," Adam says, pulling you into a long kiss that has your head spinning.

You spend the next few minutes like that, in a kiss that's so intense, so loving and so fucking good that you wonder how you've been able to go so long being fine with quick kisses and self gratification.

The first kiss reminds you of how amazing it is to be kissed by Adam whenever the more dominant side of him comes out for a bit of fun, the way that his hands anchor themselves on your hips before one slides up your torso to cup your face, the sureness of his tongue in your mouth--everything feels amazing, and it's almost like it's too good to be true.

And then Adam pulls away for air and your eyes are opening and his lips are against your clothed shoulder, breathing in deeply with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry we've not been--well--" you start. Adam tilts your chin upward and presses a kiss on the underside of your jaw. "I've been a terrible--"

"I've missed this, sure," Adam says, pressing another kiss against the underside of your jaw. "Yeah. Of course I've missed it, Y/N, but I absolutely understand that you've been busy. Work has kept me busy, too, so I'm just glad we can have tonight. I've missed you so much and I just wanna make you forget about how shitty the past months have been. Wanna make sure the only word you remember how to stay is my name, and that's what I'm going to do tonight, puppy. Sounds good?"

You nod eagerly, which makes Adam laugh as the hand that's on your hip gives it a squeeze.

Your gaze becomes affixed to a random point on the ceiling as Adams kisses rove across the scope of your neck, one hand on your jaw to move your head whenever he wants better access.

After a point, you start to realize that his kisses are getting longer and not too long thereafter you realize that Adam is carefully laying hickeys over your neck and is taking his time with doing it.

You want to murmur a quip, do something to jab at the possessiveness hickeys usually carry, but right as you go to do so his lips and tongue find a home on the pulse point on the right side of your neck and all you can do is moan softly, one hand finding his hair.

"Adam," you whisper. "Fucking hell, Adam--you're going to drive me insane. Please don't stop."

You hear Adams laugh, slow, amused, a little sadistic. "Well, if I'm the one who drives you to insanity, I think that means I'm the one who has to pull you out of it, doesn't it, puppy?"

With the use of that one, silly nickname, you're reduced to what is basically a human shaped puddle, and Adam knows it. Whenever he calls you his puppy in a slightly dominant tone, your knees are at risk of giving out and the look you give him is tantamount to torture if he intends to tease you until you're begging.

"Mhm," you hum, moaning as Adams lips press in a peck against your pulse point. "Also means the same if you put me into subspace with all this foreplay, Adam."

Adam grins, and you let him tilt your chin so that your head turns to meet his gaze.

"Of course," he says. "I'm basically an aftercare god, despite the fact that Scott dunked on me for it while believing a cigarette afterwards is anything less than the bare minimum--I'll take good care of you once the session is done, puppy. I promise."

Your shoulders relax at the reassurance, and you grin as Adams lips press against your forehead.

You nod after a second. "Okay," you say. "I--thank you, for this. Pre-emptively."

Deep enough into subspace and you'll borderline on mute, only able to focus on how Adams ministrations feel. You have no doubt he intends to take you there tonight, so you feel the need to thank him before you slink that far in and have to wait for it to wear off to speak a coherent sentence to him again.

"We both need it, so it's my pleasure," Adam says, starting to undo the buttons of the black long sleeved button up you'd worn to work and had yet to take off that day. "And yours--it's both of us. I promise I'll start getting more dominant in a sec, these buttons hate me."

You laugh a little, helping him undo the rest of the buttons. "They're square. They hate everybody, me included. Getting this shirt on was a nightmare this morning and I've been reminded as to why I never wear the damn thing."

Adam uses the small of your back to guide you off the bed just enough to be able to completely take the shirt off, following it by the oddly quick--Adam is very, very good at undoing the pesky little hooks that hold bras together, oddly--removal of your bra.

His lips are on yours again, one hand on your bare hip while the other finds itself cupping your face, tongue gliding across your lip in asking for entrance which you grant as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

Kissing Adam in moments like that is always amazing--kissing him has been one of your favorite things since your romance started, even quick and chaste kisses that don't last more than a few seconds. Kissing Adam has never ceased to be an absolute delight, whether it led to sex or was used as an alternative form of "hello" "goodbye" "good night" or "good morning."

And then his lips start traversing down your neck once more, and then they go further.

Adam starts draping kiss after kiss across your torso, lips pressing against you in a way that allows his tongue to poke through his teeth as he kisses you with his mouth slightly open. Every single touch of his cold tongue against your warm skin makes you clench around nothing, quickens your heart rate and feels so impossibly delightful. Adam is kissing you in a way that damn near drives you insane, and you feel yourself sinking into how good his lips and tongue feel against you as he delivers praise between kisses.

"Such a good puppy for me, mm?" Adam murmurs when he's close to your belly button. "Taking all of this so well even though you probably just want me inside you already. Such a good cumdump for me, puppy. Perfect."

You hum in response, eyes drifting down to meet his gaze as he looks up at you. He smiles, briefly, before continuing with his kisses, letting himself spend a lot of time on your hips before his kisses rove across your stomach.

He kisses along your v-line slowly and in a way that makes you want to start begging, hands roving up from your hips to your biceps.

He glances at you for a second in the asking, waiting for you to nod. You do so and Adams hands move to your pants, taking them off along with your underwear before laughing at himself.

"I've got you here, lookin' fucking perfect," he says, kissing your bicep. "And yet I'm still clothed."

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and he lets you pull it off, kissing the side of your shoulder as he watches you toss it near the laundry hamper in the far left corner of the room. Next come his pants and his boxers, which Adam takes off in a manner that's somehow effortless despite his continued kisses to your biceps throughout the process.

"I forget how much I love your arms until I'm kissing your biceps again," Adam says, laughing a little. "Fuck, baby. Your arms are fucking gorgeous."

You hum, pressing your head into the pillow behind you as Adams kisses start up again and his hands start wandering. One settles against your face, cupping it softly, and the other goes wandering delightfully down your torso, not stopping until his fingers are millimeters above your clit.

He pauses, gaze meeting yours in a way that feels almost a little sadistic.

"Gonna make you come so many times tonight, baby," he says. "Safe word?"

"Hibiscus," you whisper. It's a precaution for when you get really kinky, a word you came up with but, five years into your relationship, have yet to actually use.

Adams lips press against the center of your collarbone, "good puppy," he whispers against the skin.

His fingers start making slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, and his kisses continue, roving down your torso and staying in the general area of your hips and stomach.

A few minutes pass you by, and right when Adam has picked up the speed and is bringing you to the edge of an orgasm, he stops.

When he notices the disappointment in the way your head falls back onto the pillow, he wastes no time in licking his fingers clean of the wetness spread across them.

"Didn't think I'd let you come so soon, did you, puppy?" Adam moves up, lips near your ear. "I did say I'd make you come multiple times tonight, but I said nothing of letting you do so without a little edging first. Gonna edge you until the sun goes down, at least, and then make you cum until at least one or two in the morning. Gonna call in sick tomorrow, too, so that I'm not worrying about waking up and going into work."

"How much more time until the sunset?" You ask. It's four--the sunset can't really be so far off, can it?

"An hour," Adam says. "But--to be fair, a lot more can be done in an hour than one might think. Also--eight hours between five and one am. Assuming that the session exhausts you, you'll probably wake up close to noon tomorrow, but there's snow in the forecast and I'll probably make you a cup of tea if I wake up before you do."

You hum. "Thank you, Adam," you whisper. He kisses you deeply, and you can still taste yourself on his tongue.

"Don't thank me," he says when he's pulled away. "It's what good partners do, especially when I'll have practically rearranged your guts and it'll be a reward for doing good anyway."

You laugh. Adam presses a kiss to your forehead as his hands once again ground themselves on your hips and yours find his shoulders, holding him close.

"I love you, baby," he says. "Sorry that work has been shit."

"I love you too," you respond. "And--that's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself for mistakes that aren't yours, Adam. Please, just kiss me. Wanna forget about work and stupid fucking Earle--just wanna think about how good it feels to be touched and kissed by you. Please."

Adams lips press against your forehead again, his hands cupping your face.

"Gonna make sure you do," he says. His lips move to your biceps again, and you shudder an intake of breath as he leaves a hickey in the wake of one of his kisses.

You have a thought to call him a hickey fiend but don't--the risk of joking with him when Adam is in dom mode is not worth the reward even slightly.

His kisses trail down your face to your neck, and from your neck to your chest. You moan a little when his lips find your nipples, biting gently as his hands give your hips a contented squeeze.

Your head falls back onto the pillow beneath it, and you smile slightly as you hear Adams contented hum as he kisses along your chest from one nipple to the other.

The next several minutes are spent in pretty much the same state. Adam kisses your chest and neck with an open mouth, tongue all too eager to leave a trail of saliva behind his kisses. He's mostly quiet as he goes about it, but every time he does something to make you moan his hands squeeze your hips in acknowledgement.

And then his lips move to your stomach, spending an absurd amount of time leaving hickeys in the less obvious places. He spends more time on your hips which tells you you'll have dark hickeys to look forward to once you have the time to investigate the state of your body in a mirror, but he's not always the dominant one when you two are having sex--you'll find your moment where he's in a particularly submissive mood and douse his body with light-ish hickeys in some very obvious spots.

His lips move down to your thighs, and his gaze meets yours.

"You're feeling all right?" He asks, lips pressing gloriously against the top of your right thigh. "Need you to make space for me, puppy. Haven't paid your thighs attention in so fucking long--'nother minute of waiting and I will go insane."

You laugh as you spread your legs and Adam positions himself in between them, lips moving across your thighs as his arms slip under them and his hands find your hips.

The amount of attention he devotes to your legs alone is almost a little excessive--it takes him ten minutes before he's content to move from your right leg to your left, and then he's focusing on that leg just as long.

Then again--Adam has always loved your thighs. You've had moments of insecurity that they were too big to handle but he's always met your insecurity with reassurance, promised that he'd tell you if he was having trouble breathing whenever he asked you to sit on his face. He loves your thighs and your biceps, which are two of the areas where you find most of your insecurity.

And then you feel his breath against your folds, and you breathe in deeply while clenching around nothing.

"Wanna taste you, puppy," Adam says. You're nodding eagerly before he can even finish the sentence, wondering how it was that you managed to go eight months without feeling Adams mouth over your folds, his lips on your clit.

Adam is good at giving oral--he is fucking amazing at it, and as his tongue presses flat against your folds, his gaze holding yours, you find that it seems he's still as good as he was eight months ago.

His tongue runs through your folds for a very long few seconds before it presses against your clit. You moan at the contact, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as his tongue moves in circles around the bundle of nerves.

His tongue moves back to your folds, and your hand goes to his hair. You don't hold him in a tight grip or anything, just enough to ground yourself and keep yourself from slipping away.

It's hard not to slip into it, though. The grip that Adam has on your hips, the way he's eating you out like a man starved and that goddamned nickname he always uses whenever he's domming. All of it is so much combined, so much after eight months, and all you want to do is slip into subspace and just let Adam use you however he wants.

He keeps going until you're so close--teetering on the edge, nearly ready to come on his face--and then he stops, pulling away with a glistening mouth to take a breath.

And then he's lifting himself off of you, pulling himself up to press kiss after kiss after kiss to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hand is cupping your face.

"Please, puppy," he says. "Don't wanna go eight months without this ever again. Missed it."

It takes everything in you to drum up a response, still working through the second almost-orgasm of the evening.

"Never," you manage to mumble as your head turns, seeking Adams lips. He kisses you slowly, meaningfully, and you have a moment--just a moment--where you hate yourself for letting sex get away from you for such a long time.

Work has been eight months of never ending stress, eight months of managing one hundred and sixty people, dealing with a boss who claims to care about the team but only offers a raise to the five people from whom a guy stole off time rather than firing the idiot. You feel bad--work has taken the majority of your head space since March, and that doesn't feel fair in the fucking slightest.

"Adam," you whisper. He presses a peck to your lower lip and darts his tongue out to wet his own.

"Yeah, puppy?"

"Missed you," you respond. "'M sorry about work. I promise I didn't mean to get so busy, it's just--Earle and his fucking scheme, and Monica refusing to fire his sorry ass while he has the time of his goddamned life in Monaco, and--ugh. I don't mean to ruin the mood but it's just not leaving my head."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know how you get, Y/N," he says. "I'm too drunk on the thought of your thighs around my head to even get slightly turned off right now but that's not the point."

He laughs again, thumb gliding across your bottom lip. "I've been worried about you but I knew work was probably the reason for your late nights, baby. I promise, it just made me cherish our lazy mornings even more. If you don't like working there, you can always quit, too--you've got your rainy day savings, and my job lets me cover the rent and have money left for groceries if you don't get something right away. Has anything else been bugging you or is it just work?"

"Just been in a funk," you respond. "The sex is helping a lot, but I've always found that being with you helps me like nothing else can. Needed this, Adam. Even if you've kept me from orgasming twice so far."

"Fifteen more minutes til sundown," Adam says. "You'll be so sick of coming when I finally start letting you, baby. I think I have it in me to last eight hours, but that's because I'll be giving myself a reprieve. You, however, might not get one. Dunno--it depends on if you'll want one, really."

"You'll know I do if I use the safe word," you respond. "Just--be soft with me, mm? I don't think I can handle being degraded too much, if at all. I'm scared that if you call me a slut with a mean tone I'll just fall to pieces and start crying."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your temple. "Think I've done enough edging," he says. "Kind of just wanna kiss you until you're begging me for more, baby. Sound okay?"

You nod, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You really wouldn't be mad if I quit my job?"

"I would be the opposite of angry at you if you just announced it and didn't even give your two weeks," Adam says. "You've spent the majority of the last year giving them an arm and both of your legs in the effort it's taken to keep things afloat. You're up for a significant raise which I would wait to see if you got, but there are places that pay the amount you'd be getting after your raise as the starting salary, which only goes up after the first six months. I'd start applying to those places if I were in your shoes and I didn't get the raise I fuckin' deserved."

Adams lips drop to your collarbone. "'M so in love with you," he says. "And I'm sorry that work has been such a shitstorm lately. If you want, you can switch from a marketing job to working for a salary that covers rent and groceries with me at the bookshop? They're hiring all the fucking time and it means I can basically just...spend the entirety of my break just kissing you relentlessly if you do decide to join up."

You laugh, pulling a hand through his hair. "Maybe," you say. "If I don't get the raise."

Adam laughs, gently biting against your collarbone as his hands find your hips again.

"Love your hips, puppy," he says. "Will probably have to put lotion on the hickeys I left on 'em. Got a little carried away."

"I'll get my revenge somehow," you respond. "If you ever find yourself in a submissive mood, I will absolutely cover your neck in them."

"I like hickeys in obvious places, so long as you keep them light,"

"Oh, they will be. Everywhere but your pulse point--I happen to like your pulse point, Adam. Might get carried away worse than you did with my hips."

Adam bites your collarbone again, kissing up the center of it to the underside of your jaw before his lips are once again against yours.

"I love you so fucking much," Adam says into the kiss, giving your hips a hard squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N. Gonna make sure all of your stress is gone from your mind completely. Just want you to be thinking about me, puppy."

All you can do in response is moan into Adams mouth, closing your eyes and moaning once more as he uses your moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth, one hand coming up to cup your face.

You spend the next little eternity kissing, moaning whenever Adams hands squeeze whichever part of your body they've ended up near or on--typically your ass, just below it on your thigh, your hips, or your tits--and occasionally tugging at the hairs near the nape of his neck, where one of your hands rests.

And then, Adam pulls away. You gaze at him as he holds himself up by his elbows, a handsome smirk on his face.

"You're all right?" He asks.

The truth is, all you can think about is the memory of his cock inside you and you're convinced it's slowly driving you nuts, but by all other accounts, yeah.

You nod. "I'm amazing, Adam," you say. "Need to feel you."

As you speak the words, Adam is already reaching for his night stand on his side of the bed, grabbing a condom.

You roll it onto his length, one of your hands overlapping the hand he places on your hip as you lie back down.

Adam positions himself at your entrance, pushing into you slowly even despite how wet you are--you're more than ready to feel him, but Adam still goes slow to be cautious.

When he bottoms out, both of you moan. Your lips are almost right next to Adams ear, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, so the sound of you moaning just makes Adam want you more. One of his hands is on your breast, and he squeezes it, rolling the nipple between his first finger and thumb as you clench around his length.

After a minute, you're telling Adam he can start moving and his thrusts come to a slow start as Adam figures out the pace he wants to start with.

His lips have dipped close to your ear when he whispers, "you're so wet for me," and he kisses the side of your head before adding "such a good puppy. Fuck--you're amazing."

And you're moaning in response, starting to get cockdrunk as Adam moves in calculated thrusts, one hand propping himself up by the elbow and the other against your hip.

Your thighs wrap around his waist to keep him in place, and Adam laughs as he lifts the hand on your hip to cup your face.

"You like this, baby?" He asks. You moan, nodding slightly as your eyes close, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Such a good puppy for me," he says. "So good, baby. You're doing so good."

And then you moan again, and Adam presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, lips moving to your neck as the hand that was on your face moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it and delighting in the moans it brings from your throat.

Your release spurs his on, and while you moan and release around him Adam releases into the condom, thrusting his way through the aftershocks and the way that your legs start shaking with them.

He pulls out and discards the condom, heading back to you quickly and peppering your face with kisses.

You find yourself in a state of complete and total relaxation and euphoria. Adams hands on you make you sink further in, and Adam laughs a little--you're looking at him like he's the love of your life while you're practically drowning in post-orgasm bliss, which is a delightful and meaningful addition to the times in which you've looked at him like that, particularly whenever he's decided to surprise you with breakfast or when you wake up to find him admiring you as he'd woken up before you had.

"You're feeling all right?" The orgasm had been a little intense.

You nod, and Adam presses his nose against the apple of your cheek, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands find your face.

"Going quiet?" He presses his lips to your forehead. "Not for long, baby. I have at least seven more hours with you, yeah?"

You nod, and Adams lips are on yours again.

A lot of the time, you start to realize, will be passed with Adams lips against yours, his hands going somewhere on your body as you moan and whine at his touches.

You don't hate the idea, though--Adam is a damn good kisser and absolutely knows what he's doing with his lips and tongue. You've proven yourself capable of lazily making out with Adam for hours several times, though that was when the two of you were kiss fiends in the honeymoon phase and couldn't go more than twenty minutes without it.

But then, Adams lips trail from your lips to your chest, paying attention to it as his hands move from your face to your hips. Once he's paid satisfactory attention to your chest, he moves to your stomach, where, per the presence of your hips close by, he stays for a long ten minutes.

Then his lips are on your inner thighs and your hand is in his hair and all you can do is moan, one word waiting and ready at the tip of your tongue but not falling off of it.

You watch through half lidded eyes as Adams eyes lock on your cunt, nod fervently when his gaze meets yours and his head tilts in the asking.

His tongue finds your clit and he moves one finger, slowly, into your hole as his lips follow his tongue. You turn your head and moan into the pillow in an effort to silence yourself, but the noise level at which the moan sits is still so obscene that Adam chuckles, shaking his head as his left arm slips under your thigh and his hand finds purchase at your chest.

Adams tongue moves around your clit in evenly paced circles, finger moving at a calculated pace as he adds another. Adams fingers curl around your g-spot once every fifteen-ish seconds, and every time your moans get louder because of the action, Adam laughs a little and presses his tongue flat against your clit.

Adam has you pushed to your orgasm in fifteen minutes. You barely have time to warn him before you're coming over his mouth, chin, and his hand, but Adam hardly cares. He only licks his fingers to clean them and juts his tongue out to run it over his lips, all while holding your gaze.

And then he's kissing you and you're tasting yourself, humming into the kiss as Adam reaches one arm out and fumbles for the nightstand in search of another condom.

Adam gets it and rips it open, sliding it onto his length and motioning for you to get on your knees and turn around. You do as he says and Adam slowly slides into you, the both of you moaning slightly as he bottoms out.

Adam waits a minute for you to adjust to him, and once you have he starts thrusting. He sets an even, quick pace and moves a hand to your clit, moaning as you lean back and press your back against his front.

Adams lips find a spot in the space between your neck and shoulder, and every last one of the sounds you make spurs him on. His moans are low, typically comorbid with yours, and they come in between the praise he manages to mumble out as he moves and you start moving back onto him.

"So good," he mutters, biting gently against your shoulder. "Fuck--"

You moan in response, unable to form any coherent thought other than Adams name.

"Adam," you whisper as the pace at which Adams finger touches your clit increases. "Adam--"

You feel him smile against your skin, a cocky grin taking up his face.

"Yes, baby?" He asks, moaning as you clench around him. "Gonna use your words for me, mm?"

"Adam," it's the only word that comes to mind right now, though it'll be one of ten, at best, once he's pushed you to orgasm again.

"Adam, oh--" You moan as he snaps his hips up into you.

Adam keeps the pace he's set and it's not long before you're moaning loudly as Adams lips and tongue suck a hickey into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, your release occurring just seconds before his own, before he's a moaning mess as he thrusts into you through the aftershocks.

Adam pulls out and lays you back onto the bed before rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash.

The cycle continues that way until you find yourselves nearing one in the morning. Your lips are wet with your own saliva after you've pulled off of Adams length and he's being sweet, your face in his hands as you start moving to sit on the bed.

"One more for me, baby," he says. In eight hours, you've come more than eight times, your legs are basically jelly, and all you have on your mind is Adam. "Just one more, mm? Then I'll run us a bath and we can just relax, I promise. Aftercare god, remember?" He laughs a little at the tail end of his sentence, cringing at himself a little bit.

And you're nodding, smiling at Adam as his lips find your inner thighs and you're blissed out on post-orgasm euphoria--Adam had let you touch yourself while sucking his dick, and you'd come over your hand as he shot his load into your mouth, which you'd agreed to let him do--and it's fifteen minutes til one and Adams lips against your thighs is absolutely amazing.

And then his lips and tongue go to your cunt, and you're moaning as your thighs wrap around his head, which leads to him laughing and squeezing your hips.

And Adam eats you out carefully, slowly, moaning as he does so. He's taking his time with you because you're blissed out and will definitively need to be easy on yourself in terms of walking after all that's been done. He's moaning, tongue moving through your folds in a way that feels incredible to both you and him, and his lips find your clit as he moves to start fingering you.

Adam sets a good pace, quick but not too quick, and curls his fingers at your g-spot with every thrust. You're moaning loudly despite the time and Adam is loving it, and then you're coming on his lips and his tongue and Adam is licking it off your cunt and his lips with a focused precision.

Then Adam is getting up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you he'll be back in a few minutes. He tells you he loves you but doesn't expect a response--you're absolutely too blissed out to say much of anything, and he loves it because it's the first time in eight months where you've looked so relaxed, the first time in eight months where you've felt it.

Your eyes close as Adam leaves your shared bedroom, and you hear him starting up a bath. You smile to yourself, pressing your cheek against the pillow, having a brief, floaty thought of I am so lucky before Adam comes into the room again, smile on his clean face.

He kisses your eyelids, hands finding and interlacing themselves with yours.

"C'mon," he says. "I've run us a bath, baby. Gonna relax your legs, which are definitely sore by this point."

And then your eyes are opening and he's helping you stand as he tells you how much he loves you and how amazing you were during the session, and his lips are against your forehead in a kiss.

You're mostly quiet as Adam leads you to the bathroom, humming as you get into the tub with him.

You press your chin against Adams shoulder and in the next few minutes, you're still tired but the water is still hot and you're starting to form coherent thoughts again.

"Thank you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to Adams wet shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"For what?" Adam asks.

"For the last nine hours," you say. "For making me forget about work stress and for the sex."

Adam laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "The sex was enjoyable for both parties, then," he says. "And--you're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. Just wanted to help you de-stress a little, and I'm glad I could do that."

You're in the bath together for thirty-ish minutes after that, and you let Adam wash your hair as he peppers your hickied neck with kisses and his hands run along your biceps. You wash his, and you spend the time waiting for the conditioner to set talking about your plans for the day as the day has turned.

Adam intends to let you sleep in and to make breakfast, and you intend to at least move from the bedroom to the living room after you've woken up so that you can read from the comfort of your couch.

You get out of the bath and, because your legs are still pretty sore, have barely any choice but to let Adam help you back to your room and sit on the bed as Adam gets dressed and grabs you clothes.

You get dressed into a pair of black boxers--they, Adam decides, will be comfier than sweatpants--and a hoodie Adam had during his baggy clothes phase that's baggy on you, too, and covers two thirds of your thigh before your knee amidst laughter and kisses that you share in the relative dark.

You and Adam end up going to sleep on the couch anyway so as to avoid halfhearted fighting about who sleeps on the wet spot on the bed from the sweat emitted during sex, curled up in each others arms with a thick, warm and fuzzy blanket covering you both up to your shoulders.

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠

part three of do you feel my hand? it is there. | part one | part two | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader's childhood cat suddenly gets diagnosed with cancer, and she has to make a big decision about what to do. this fanfic includes heavy topics like: pet euthanasia, extreme loss/grief, depression, the problems with pet healthcare, and more. there will be some humor/fluff placed throughout, and also smut somewhere along the way. :))

18+ warnings: slight hints of masterbation. sexual fantasies.

word count: 4.2k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: rewarding you guys with this update tonight as it's my birthday and i was feeling a little generous haha! 🥰 i am seriously SO overwhelmed by the positive response i've gotten on this little series of mine... it makes me incredibly happy to hear that a lot of you are enjoying this. i'm have about two-and-a-half draft chapters left to write to reach completion of this, and i'm excited for the big writing plans that i have in the future, so please look forward to that as well~ 💖

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

 The next six months passed in a blur of emotion and grief. Most days, it was hard to even force yourself out of bed. You just didn’t feel like doing anything - resulting in your dingy apartment growing filthy with uncleanliness. Boxes of takeout were sprawled across the kitchen counter, bottles of soju and wine - which you had been using to drown out your sorrows - were in every corner of the living room, and your bed was perpetually unmade. 

 You felt like you wore the same two outfits every single day - slacks and a blouse to work, and then baggy sweatpants and a hoodie as soon as you got home. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change - to clean, or to switch up your clothes. 

 It was even hard to eat. You felt nauseous most mornings, so you opted to skip breakfast and instead grab a quick snack at lunch which you forced down your dry throat. 

 Because fuck- was your throat dry. 

 It was mainly due to all of the crying, which would commence every time you would arrive home at night and walk into an apartment that was void of her. You saw Nyx in every corner, every surface of your place. The remnants of her life - of her memories - were hidden in the very fabric of your being and your grungy hovel that you called home. From the way that her food and water bowls were still right next to Taffy’s, how the comfy blanket she liked to curl up in was still positioned on the edge of your living room couch, and the box of her favorite treats that were still sitting atop your kitchen counter, opened long ago and left to grow stale from the chilly air. 

 Taffy was somewhat of a comfort, as she could no doubt sense your change in demeanor. Every time you’d break down into a fit of tears when you walked through your front door after a long, arduous day at work, she’d prance over to you and nuzzle her head into your folded-up legs. She’d lay beside you in bed late at night when the tears would finally stop falling but your heart squeezed and squeezed the life right out of you. 

 Because that’s what it felt like- 

 Like life was slipping right out of your hands, 

 From under your feet, you were slowly falling down that deep, dark hole. 

 But you just couldn’t seem to get yourself out of it, no matter how hard you tried. And try you did - as you forced yourself to go an entire week without breaking down. But then you saw an ad on tv that marketed a nearby cat cafe, and you ugly-cried for the next three days straight. 

 And through the worst of it all, you hated to ask for help. You knew that it was one of your biggest problems, the fact that you had a sort of inability to reach out to others when you needed a helping hand. 

 You all but shut down at work, resisting the invites of co-workers that were going to local clubs. You just sat down at your desk every day, forcing yourself to focus on your work before you could finally go home and sob the night away. 

 And the clinic- 

 Fuck, the clinic. 

 You hadn’t been back there since the day Nyx passed. 

 It just felt too depressing, to try and step foot in the place where she had been laid to rest. What once was a warm and comforting place now left a bitter taste in your mouth. You avoided the building at all costs, instead opting to walk side streets in case you ever needed to pass by it. 

 The pain was too real and raw for you to ever try visiting the clinic again, so you decided that you’d stop altogether and instead find a different place, that was just as close to your apartment but didn’t hold so many horrible memories for you. 

 After all, you’d probably die a slow death if something happened to Taffy because of your inability to take her to a vet. So at the six-month mark, you managed to find a nearby clinic that had relatively low prices. The veterinarian was nice enough, but she was quite serious and mainly only talked business with you. Thankfully, Taffy checked out in perfect health and the doctor recommended that you wait to bring her in until she hit her third birthday, which would be in about a year. 

 The doctor was amiable, but… 

Nothing like Dr. Lee. 

 And the thought of him was fresh in your mind the entire time that you visited the new clinic. The staff at Starry Skies also took up a lot of your focus, as you pondered on the gentleness they had all shown you during such a difficult time in your life. 

 But most of all, your previous local veterinarian kept stirring your heart the entire time that you sat in front of your new one. 

 And you couldn't help but compare her to him- 

 And how he’d always greet you with a warm smile and always laugh whenever you told him one of your stupid jokes. How he was so incredibly nice to everyone he came across, and how delicate he treated the animals at his clinic. But especially Nyx and Taffy… 

 He had had a special bond with your two cats, and you hated to take that away so suddenly. 

 However, the pain of going back there was just too much for you to endure. 

 So instead, you decided to work through your feelings about the old clinic - about Dr. Lee - and put everything to rest before you made a mistake that you knew you’d regret soon after… like dropping by the clinic late one night, unexpectedly. Like you had done that one time when Nyx had given you a big scare. 

 Even still, you caught yourself often pondering if he felt the same way… if he missed your presence at all, even a tiny bit. After all, you had been his client for over three years and had grown quite close throughout all of your visits. But the silence on his end was pretty blatant of his feelings on it all - that you were just another client who had lost touch with his services, and nothing more. Granted, the clinic’s front desk had tried to call you a few times after Nyx’s final day, but you had refused to answer any of the calls, and soon, they stopped altogether. 

 In the end, he was just your veterinarian. He wasn’t supposed to be anything else, anything more. The relationship there was supposed to remain stagnant and professional, no matter what. 

 So why, then, did you find it so hard to get over it all? 

 Your mind and heart were acting like the two of you had been dating for five fucking years. When in reality, you had only shared a platonic acquaintanceship for a few years because of your damn cats. It wasn’t like he thought of you any differently than before, nothing had changed… except for him calling you by your first name, and him touching you so many times and- 

 And yeah, 

 You’d admit that sometimes, after a long bout of successfully pushing him out of your thoughts, 

 You’d… treat yourself. 

 Late at night. 

 But only on very rare occasions… 

 When you were so exhausted from work and searching for a release, 

 When your fingers found that all-too-sensitive part of you, your mind drifting off to fantasizing about him. And what he’d feel like, doing such things to do. 

 Afterward, when you’d wake up the next day to face another grueling routine of mourning Nyx and work, you’d banish any pondering that you had about him, shoving all of that darkness into the very depths of your heart until you’d dredge them up again sometime later. 

 You continued to do such a routine for a long time, and slowly, as the months continued to pass, you realized that the pain… wasn’t so bad anymore. It was still there, and you still cried a few times a month about it. But it just didn’t feel as palpable and potent anymore. Things were different now, not like they had been right after Nyx's passing. It felt like a part of you was missing, and everything seemed a little bit darker. But you knew that with time, things would get better. You would keep Nyx's memory alive in my heart, and you would focus on the good times you shared. Life goes on, and you would do your best to honor Nyx's legacy by living your life to the fullest.

Gradually, you noticed a slight improvement in the mending of your heart. Piece by piece, you were putting it back together every day, by doing things that brought you joy. Recently, you picked up the hobby of cooking. And it felt good- to throw yourself into something that wasn’t work or chores or running errands. Already you had made a handful of dishes in your tiny apartment’s kitchen. Granted, they were nothing special and on the bland side of things, but you didn’t mind… it was, fun. And you liked seeing the finished product in the end. It was satisfying and made you feel proud of yourself, for the progress that you were making, little by little. 

 When you hit the one-year mark of Nyx being gone, you came to the sudden realization that in the wake of your grief, you had been ignoring your other cat, Taffy. And you began to notice how, after you’d arrive home from work, she’d no longer happily greet you at the door, and instead stay lounging on the living room's couch. 

 This opened a huge pit in your heart, as it pained you to acknowledge the fact that you had been so focused on Nyx and her leaving your side that you failed to see your other cat, who was suffering from loneliness. 

 Hence, you decided to take her to that nearby cat cafe that had recently opened up in your neighborhood. You had seen the ads for it on your tv, and you liked the idea of Taffy getting out of your small apartment and playing with other cats. She was a young thing, and quite rambunctious, so you were sure that she felt the absence of Nyx just as much as you.

 It wasn’t until Saturday rolled around that you were able to visit the new cafe, as that was one of your only days off from work. The place was quite busy for being so early in the morning, and as you stepped through the front doors, you were greeted with the cloying aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries. 

 The friendly-looking girl at the cash register welcomed you with a bright smile as you made your way up to the front counter. “Hi there! Welcome to Cats & Cupcakes! What can I get you this morning?” 

 You motioned to Taffy, who was quietly meowing in her carrier to be let out as soon as she glimpsed the other cats that were roaming around the area. She was such a social butterfly - quite the opposite of you. “Uhm- I brought my cat along with me, I hope that’s okay?” 

 The young girl’s smile only grew wider as she caught sight of Taffy. “Oh my gosh, yes! We always welcome a new kitty around here! Just make sure you keep an eye on her during your visit.” 

 “Okay, thanks… Taffy here really needs some social time with other cats,” you laughed nervously, as you bent down and unzipped her carrier. Immediately, she shot out of the small black thing, scurrying over to a few of her furry friends that were playing with a faux mouse just off to the right of you. You couldn’t help the wide grin that bloomed across your face at the sight of her lively personality coming out so quickly. 

 “Will you be ordering anything today?” The girl at the register asked you then, forcing your attention away from your cat and onto the menu board that was hung just above her head. 

 “Yeah- I’m going to have a… lemon meringue cupcake and an iced chamomile tea, please.” With it being so late in the spring, the weather was finally warm enough for you to start drinking cold beverages again, which was one of the few pleasures in your life. 

 In no time at all, you were picking up your order at the front counter and finding a nearby table that was tucked into the very corner of the cafe. As you settled into the comfy armchair, your eyes followed Taffy around the room, as she chased a grey-coated chubby Scottish Fold. 

 You sat back in your seat, taking a sip of your chamomile tea and basking in the sunlight that shone down on you through the window to your left. The cafe was relatively small but bustling with activity. It was decorated with bright colors of violets and yellows, which painted everything in a rather cheerful mood. And of course, the many cats roaming around also helped to add to the atmosphere of happiness. 

 As you studied your surroundings, your eyes landed on the figure of a man sitting in a chair similar to yours. He was by himself, his head turned downward, as he was immersed in a thick book. But he looked so… familiar. From the way that the light blue sweater he was wearing clung to his shoulders, to the way that his brown-rimmed glasses slipped down the sharp bridge of his nose, and the way that his raven-black locks were slightly tousled from the windy morning. A large white cat was lying across his lap, dozing happily as he stroked its back with a hand. The way that his slender fingers gently combed through the kitty's fur lit up a part of your heart with fuzzy warmth. 

 He looked like someone you knew well, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it…

 Just then, a young couple filed through the front doors of the cafe, the tiny bell jingling at the top of the door to signal their welcome. This serene noise prompted the man to peek up from his book and study the newcomers, his eyes landing on the sweet way that they were holding hands.

 And all at once, you completely froze in your place. 

 Spine going rigid, 

 Fingers clutching at your jeans, 

 Heart skipping over itself inside your chest. 

 Because holy fuck- there he was. 

 In all of his handsome, typical glory… 

 No wonder why you felt like you had recognized him. 

 Dr. Lee didn’t look any different from the last time you had seen him, which had already been over a year since Nyx had left your side on that fateful day. He still had that easiness about him, that gentle aura that radiated around him like a faint, glorious halo. 

 But before you could think about anything else, the fear was creeping up in your mind. About what he’d think of you, if he saw you here - at the cafe - after so long of ghosting him and his clinic, even after everything they had all done for you. You were scared that he’d be angry with you for not darkening the doorstep of Starry Skies ever since that past April. 

 And if you were honest, the sadness also played a role in your warring feelings. Seeing him reminded you of so many of your past emotions - of grief and depression and heartache. 

 Before you could do, or even think anything else, he was shifting in his chair again, his opaque, chestnut-brown eyes scanning the cafe around him lazily. 

 Then those expressive irises came across your face, jamming to a stop at the sight of you sitting there, all alone in the corner of the cafe. 

 And your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach. 

 From the way that remembrance automatically dawned on his face, 

 From the way that his eyes lightened in that way that you had been so used to before, 

 From the way that a slight grin cracked across his lips. 

 And suddenly, you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

 Not right then. 

 You didn’t want to face all of the sentiments of seeing him again - of having to talk to him, after everything that had happened in the past year.

 So in a hasty moment, you scooped up Taffy who had been playing near your feet, and gently put her in her carrier ignoring her meows of protest. Then all at once, you were shooting up from your seat and rushing out of the cafe, your shoulders brushing past a woman as she stepped in at the same time you were leaving.

 Since your apartment was fairly close to the cafe, you began to walk down the side street just outside of the restaurant, setting a quick pace. Ignoring the sounds of movement behind you. Trying to block out the sound of someone calling your name. 

 It wasn’t until you felt a hand clamp down on your forearm that you stopped in your tracks. With your back turned you could hear the distinct sound of heavy breathing. The air seemed to constrict and bend around you - shifting uncomfortably and turning irrevocably frigid at the oncoming dread that you expected to appear any second. 

 “Y/N.” 

 The way that he said your name- the way that it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, compressed your heart in pain. Caused the blood to rush a little harder in your veins. Caused a zap of energy to coarse down the length of your spine, pooling deep in your belly. You felt everything at that moment - the painful heat of breath flowing from your form to the way that his touch against your covered arm burned like fire down to the very depths of your soul.

 “Why- why are you running away?” 

 And as much as you wanted to avoid the confrontation, as much as you didn’t want to talk to him again, you decided that there was no longer another option. Because he had you in his grasp, with his fingers pressing into your skin, stopping you right in your place. And as it would seem, it was quite impossible for you to ever try and fight him when he was clasping onto you so delicately.  

 “It’s… it’s too hard,” you began, voice quaking at the end of your words from the ache that squeezed at your heart. “Seeing you- it reminds me of everything.” You screwed your eyes shut, cringy inwardly at the confession.

 There was a few beats of silence then, and you wanted to turn around. At that moment, you wanted to see what he looked like as you spoke in that quiet, shaky tone of yours. You wanted to know what he was feeling, just by the way that his eyes would land on your face. 

 Then, he was speaking again, but this time, he was a lot quieter than before. “Is that why you stopped coming around?” 

 Coming around to the clinic. 

 Stopped visiting Starry Skies and using his services. 

 And yes- at the beginning, the reason for your absence was because of Nyx and your sorrow from losing her. But as the months stretched on, and you started to heal from the agony of her passing, you came to terms with the fact that it wasn’t just because of her.

 It was also the fact that upon your realization that you- 

 That you had feelings for Dr. Lee, 

 You were reminded of your lot in life, about your two opposite positions... that he was a rich doctor and you were just a poor woman barely scraping by with her 9-to-5 job. 

 Even still, that didn’t stop the feelings from bubbling up every time you randomly passed the clinic on your commute to run errands. That's why you decided to avoid it entirely after a while. 

 It was better that way- than trying to face and acknowledge the storm that had been brewing inside of you for so long, without you even realizing it was stirring in the first place. 

 You hadn’t noticed the warning signs until it was all too late, 

 And you were too head-over-heels for him. 

 For the man that was far too unreachable for you. 

“Yeah, that’s why.” You managed to lie, swallowing around the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. You clutched a little harder at the handle of Taffy’s carrier, and thankfully, she was quiet for the moment - she probably recognized the scent of him. Just like you did. 

 “Well, we all miss you at the clinic… the guys are always asking me when you’ll be back,” Dr. Lee started, still holding onto your arm. Like, if he let go, you’d disappear right before his eyes, never to be seen again. Like you had been doing for the past year. “I miss you… you were- one of my favorite clients.” 

 And there it was. 

 Your worst fear for why you never told him about your true feelings. 

 That he only thought of you as his client. 

 Simply a woman that came around every six months so that he could treat her cats. 

 Nothing more, and nothing less. 

 In an instant, you were suddenly glad that you hadn’t turned around - that he hadn’t forced you to. Because you didn’t want to see his face then. Not when he shoved you into the friend zone without even realizing it. Or maybe, he did realize it. Maybe, he had known about your feelings all along but had been ignoring them this whole time because he wanted to keep things professional. 

  Because he just didn’t feel the same way about you… 

 “Well, I should get going. Taffy here doesn’t like being cooped up in her carrier for too long.” 

 With that, you pulled your arm out of his hold. He hadn’t been gripping you harshly, so it was easy for you to release yourself. Almost like, he didn’t want to trap you at the moment. Like, if you didn’t like speaking to him, you’d easily be able to get away without any such fight having to be put up on your end. 

 As you took a few steps forward, Minho’s soothing voice graced your ears once more.“Y/N- wait.” This time, his tone was soft - possibly the gentlest you had ever heard it before. And it did something funny to your soul, caused a low-lit candle to burn in the chasms of your body. Like an ember that just couldn’t be put out. “I… we’re having a party at my place next Friday night to celebrate the clinic’s fourth anniversary of being open. It’s just gonna be me and the guys, and super chill and-”

 “I don’t know, Dr. Lee… I- I don’t want to invade your special time with your friends.” 

 “You wouldn’t be invading, Y/N.” 

 “Still- I just-”

 “Say you’ll come. Please.” 

 The slight desperation that dripped into his baritone caused a profound stir inside of you, igniting something dark and murky in the pit of your mind. It was confusing yet exhilarating all at once, as this high-caliber man practically begged you to come to his homey party. And yeah- it’d probably be awkward as fuck at first since you hadn’t seen everyone in so long. But… you were off of work, and… it was at his place. Which was somewhere you’d always been curious about, if you had to be honest with yourself. 

“Okay, okay- I’ll go.” You finally said, looking down at your feet to try and hide the smile that crept across your mouth at the thought of spending more time with him. Because even if it hurt you- even if he wasn’t the right one, maybe a single night of partying with him would quell the ache inside of you. Would douse the blaze that was alight in your very being just by the thought of him alone. 

 “Great, I’ll text you my address and the time to be there.” And you couldn’t help to notice how he sounded lighter than before - like he was happy to hear that you were coming. You, who had practically ghosted him and everyone else for the past year. You, who was broke beyond belief and barely surviving in the harsh world around you. 

 You held on a little tighter to Taffy’s carrier, feeling the creep of a smile on your lips at the thought of getting to see him again. At getting to face him, finally, without having your back turned in cowardliness. “Well… I’ll see you then, I guess.” 

 “Yeah, have a good night…” His words faded off into the distance, as you began to make the commute back to your quaint apartment. 

 The entire time you walked down the street, you could feel his eyes on you - practically searing two holes into your skin as he stared you down until you turned a corner and eventually grew out of his sight. 

 But it didn’t terrify you in the least bit, like how it usually did when a man looked at you so intently.

 Rather, it caused butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach, 

 Forced your heart to beat a little harder, 

 Urged you to walk a little faster, as you began to ponder on what the party would be like. 

 More importantly, you wondered what you were going to wear to it…  

To be continued...

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[bigalockwood]

August and Rousseau

I’ve outed myself as the #resident horse expert (thanks @youngroyalsconfession for the title I’m genuinely elated bc I’ve never gotten my own online moniker lmao) and I think it’s time that I contributed some more unasked for and useless horse knowledge to the YR discussion. This has been sitting in my drafts for ages and since I don’t see myself finding any time to research this further in the next few weeks, I thought I might as well post it before season 3 drops. Plenty of posts have been made about how the August-Rousseau situation could play out, and I don’t want to talk about those theories today, because I have anything to add right now.

As has been pointed out many times, horses are expensive, at least in western, industrialized countries. They used to be a necessity for most people, because they were a mode of transport, used to harvest food etc. This is still true in many parts of the world, but not Western and Northern Europe. There, horses have become a luxury, and are usually notoriously expensive, especially if you can’t keep them on your own grounds and produce your own hay. And even then- vet bills are painful to look at, and there are plenty of other costs, too. So, August most definitely won’t be able to pay for the monthly expenses that come with having a horse, at least not if he gets no financial aid by the court or doesn’t sell some of his assets. And even then, I’m not sure what they would say when they learn that they are financing a horse of all things (especially since August has zero interest in or knowledge of horses). In the following you can find a rough overview of just how expensive owning a horse is. Keep in mind, these numbers are generalized. I’m not from Sweden, but another European country, and even if I were, prices fluctuate a lot depending on the success of harvest, proximity to large cities, services offered by the stable, etc.… But maybe it can give those of you less familiar with horses a better idea of just how fucked August actually is.

Stable: this variable is already very hard to judge. You can find fairly cheap barns, but you usually have to do at least part of the work yourself, too (just imagine August mucking out Rousseau’s stall lmao). Feed is often included in the price, doesn’t cover any special needs, though (hay is included, but anything else you have to buy yourself). However, Hillerska is a prestigious school. They have a groom (our beloved Marcus) to take care of everything the owners don’t want to do (mucking out, feeding, taking horses out to the pastures and then back inside). You can find yourself with anywhere between 200- 600 Euros per month, depending on the services offered. Knowing what we do about Hillerska, you can expect the cost to be at the higher end.

The farrier should come every six to eight weeks and, again, costs depend on what work needs to be done. It can be anywhere between 50 Euro (bare hoof, only need to be trimmed) to close to 200 Euro (horse shoes for all four hooves). As long as Rousseau isn’t being exercised he’ll most likely only need a trim. 

Insurance depends greatly on your horse and its value (it’s hinted that he is valuable in the show) but generally costs between 50 to 150 Euro per month where I’m from.

Vet costs (assuming your horse is healthy and you only need to get the recommended vaccinations and check-up’s as well as anthelmintics) will usually be around 400 Euros a year and can go way up, depending on whether your horse has any special needs. Rousseau seems to be healthy, so we’ll assume he only needs the bare minimum.

Based on what he definitely needs to buy/pay for, the annual cost would be somewhere between 3400 and 12.400 Euro. Which is a super rough estimate and doesn’t even cover any extra expenses (Rousseau most certainly doesn’t only eat hay but also other feed specifically for sport horses). A horse can easily cost up to 21.400 Euro per year. August saves some money because he doesn’t take any training sessions and thus doesn’t need to pay for a trainer. He could also lend Rousseau to the school and let other students ride him; a deal like that would reduce how much he needs to pay for the monthly care of Rousseau.

But either way: August has to pay between 295 and 1800 Euro per month. If he wasn’t struggling financially, he probably wouldn’t even notice such a “small” expense. As it is, he can’t even pay his own tuition. There’s no way he’ll be able to pay for a horse.

(Would also like to, again, state that this is extremely generalized; I just wanted to highlight how much a horse usually costs).

[silentglassbreak]

Fragmented

Noah Sebastian x OFC

Alright, back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you all for being patient with me. We need to develop this plot, so let's all buckle up.

Warnings: Nothing wild here. Testosterone being tossed around.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess @lma1986 @myownthoughts12 @poisongirl616 @missduffsblog @reidsblessing @malerieee @jilliemiw86 @thisbicc @xx-like-a-villian-xx @diabolicdiatonics

Part 9 - First Time

One Month Later

Normal is a relative term, isn’t it? By definition, it means conforming to a standard. Therefore, my life was getting into a sense of normalcy, as I was forcing it to.

I couldn’t handle the heartbreak anymore. It was too painful to allow myself to continue to sulk. Every time she left, anytime we said goodbye, my soul folded in on itself more and more. Is it going to stop hurting just because I want it to? No. Can I allow myself to move on? I think so.

One hundred and eighteen days since she ended things. My world fell apart, but I only have to wait so long before I start trying to put it back together. I’m encouraged to move forward. I’m told to let myself heal. And I think maybe it’s time.

Thirty-six days since Mileena and I recovered from the stomach flu, and our safe bubble was burst. We haven’t kissed, fucked, or had any above mildly flirtatious contact since.

We’re still close, and we still talk every day - sometimes for hours, but I’ve put up a silent barrier between us. Continuing to allow the physical affection was only making it harder for both of us. And I’ve learned, through months of dealing with this, that she has little to no control.

She’s still seeing Justin, which stings in ways I can’t even begin to explain, but I’ve swallowed it. Leena seems to have taken to him, which makes me happy. Although I never expected to feel that way, I do. Seeing her smile, and seeing her joy has brought a sense of calm to my soul, even if I’m not the person lighting that fire inside her.

Maybe I’m moving on.

Today, I was awake early, driving to the guys’ place, anxious and excited all at once.

Today was album completion day. After hours on hours of sitting with Jolly in the studio, rewriting lyrics, re-recording vocals, and reworking the instrumentals, it was finally ready.

Today, at 9AM, the album was due to Sumerian. We were going to send it at 8AM, the email already drafted and all of the files attached. It was a big moment, and we were ecstatic. The amount of work that had gone into this album made Death of Peace of Mind look like child’s play. We were all so ready to be moving to the next stage - preparing for release.

I pulled into the driveway, and noticed the amount of vehicles. I, clearly, wasn’t the only one there.

Just inside the front door, I kicked my boots off and made my way toward the living room, already hearing many conversations ongoing. Just inside the foyer, I could see Nick and Laura, enthralled in whatever conversation they were having. Jolly was sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the screen of his laptop, surely checking the email again to make sure all of the attachments were sound, and nothing had been forgotten.

In the back corner of the room, Folio stood by the fireplace, mid-conversation with Leena, who was holding Addison on her hip.

“Well, hello family!”

Everyone’s eyes flashed to me, smiles breaking out on everyone’s faces.

“There he is!” Nick walked over and clapped my shoulder. “Cant believe you’re the last one here!”

I shook my head. “Traffic was rough this morning.”

I gave him and Laura welcoming hugs, and made my way over to Leena and Addison.

“There’s my girls.” I gave Mileena a one-armed hug, and took Addie from her, squeezing her tight.

“Are you excited?” Leena was beaming at me, something like pride on her face.

“Excited and anxious. I’ll be glad once it’s out of our hands.”

Folio snorted next to me. “Yeah, so you can’t fuck with it anymore.”

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “It’s not fucking with it. It’s perfecting.”

He reached over, slipping Addie from my arms. “Well, go check on Jolly. He hasn’t spoken in twenty minutes.”

I padded over to the couch and flopped down. “All good here?”

He nodded, reopening the email. “I think so. Everything’s working. Cover art and back art is there. Lyric docs are attached. I think we’re all set. Bryan is going to forward in the pictures for the social media announcements. And Matt’s working on the details for the release party already.”

I nodded. “We don’t know how long?”

Jolly shrugged. “Three months, maybe? Slaughter is releasing their album next month, but then Alec told me it’s pretty clear until November. We’re likely shooting for a fall release.”

“Oh sweet. We can start touring in spring, maybe?”

Jolly smiled and leaned back. “I fucking hope so man. We’ve been getting a lot of heat for not hitting Australia on the last tour. Or Asia.”

“Maybe we start there?”

I could feel eyes burning into the side of my head, Mileena standing close enough to hear our conversation, but I ignored them.

“Festival season is in the spring and summer, so maybe we start with that? And work our way out?”

I huffed, and let my eyes drift over to Leena, who had a sad expression on her face that she wasn’t hiding well. “We’ll let Matt and Lana work it out.”

“Two minutes, guys.” Nick called from across the coffee table.

Folio came and plopped next to me. Nick sat next to Jolly, Laura perched on one of his knees. Leena sat, Addie in her lap, on the arm of the couch.

Jolly’s finger hovered over the ‘Send’ button, and we all held our breath.

“As always, I would like to just say, you guys are the best. We have worked our asses off for this, and if we receive even half of the success as Death of Peace of Mind, we’re lucky. We’re lucky to do what we love, and do it well.” I spoke to the entire room. To my brothers.

“Let’s fucking do this!” Folio announced, and the clock struck 8:30, Jolly clicking the mouse.

A second of silence fell over us, until the confirmation that it was sent popped on the screen.

We all broke out in celebratory hollers and clapping.

“Fuck yeah! We fucking did it!” Nick exclaimed, patting Jolly’s shoulder.

“You guys are awesome, you know that?” Laura smiled at us all.

“We need to celebrate!” Folio stood up suddenly, all of our eyes snapping up to him. “Let’s call Matt, Bryan, Lana, and Davis, and let’s go fucking celebrate!”

“Uh, dude…it’s not even 9AM…” I was smirking at him.

“It doesn’t have to be a party.” He stopped, thinking for a moment. “Let’s go ride fucking roller coasters!”

Nick, Jolly, and myself all stood up, affirming our excitement at once.

“That’s fucking awesome! Let’s do it!” Nick was still holding onto Laura. “You’ll come?”

She smiled wide. “Blocked my whole day for you, babe. I’m down.”

Nick glanced at Leena. “You too?”

She seemed to hesitate, her eyes looking over to me. “I, uh, might need to pass.” She chewed her lip. “Addie and I had plans today.”

“So…cancel them?” Jolly interjected.

“We were supposed to meet with Justin.”

I scoffed. “So bring him?” Her eyes widened in surprise at me. Valid, given I was mildly surprised at myself as well. “Unless, of course, he’s too scared…”

-

The drive to Knott's Berry Farm was quicker than I expected. Folio and I rode in my truck with Addison, Nick and Laura were in her car, Bryan and Matt were picking up Davis and Lana, and Mileena would be meeting us in about an hour after she picked up Justin. As we turned right off of La Palma onto Beach Boulevard, the traffic came to a dead stop. The turn-in to Knott's toward the parking lot was packed.

"Is something going on today?"

I shrugged. "No idea. We got here early, so I didn't think it would be too packed for a Thursday." I glanced at the dash. "It's only noon."

He rolled his window down, leaning his body out of the window, and waving at a security guard who was directing traffic.

"Hey," The guard walked over to my car. "is there a reason it's so busy?"

The guard stood with his hands on his belt, and glanced down to the line of cars.

"The concert today. It doesn't start until 6, but folks want to get in early."

Folio raised an eyebrow, dropping back into the vehicle. "Concert?" He pulled his phone out and opened his browser. After a moment of searching, he smiled. "Oh dope, dude! There's three bands playing today!"

I was pulling toward the parking lot now, waiting for my turn to pay at the stall. "Which ones?"

"Skillet, Daughtry, and Lifehouse."

I nodded in surprise. "That's fucking cool, man. We picked a good day to come."

Once we had all parked, I was pushing the stroller with Addison squealing excitedly. We all talked about which rides we were hitting first.

"Dude, we can't just start with the biggest ones. We've got to warm up." Nick was trying to reason with Folio, who looked as though he was crawling right out of his skin.

"Bro, I am riding the Xcelerator first, and you can't fucking stop me."

I chuckled. "I'm so in on that, man."

Laura reached for the stroller, taking it from me easily. "That's fine. You and Folio go get your adrenaline rush. Addie and I will be waiting for Leena in Camp Snoopy."

I bent down to kiss Addie's nose as she munched on her cotton candy, making an absolute mess. "You be good for Auntie, baby girl."

She blew a bubble in response.

Folio and I practically sprinted to the line for the roller coaster, only being a few dozen people back. He immediately hopped up onto the railing, smiling wide.

"So excited. I haven't been here since I was a kid."

I nodded. "Leena and I came like...three months after we met? She likes to act like she loves roller coasters, but in reality, she only rides the mellow ones."

He giggled. "She always talks such a big game, dude."

"Fucking honestly. She's as human as the rest of us, contrary to popular belief."

He nodded, jumping down to move with the line. "You going to be good with her bringing Justin?"

I perused this a moment. "I think so. I've had some time to adjust."

He looked at me suspiciously. "Have you been adjusting? You and Leena seem to be pretty...I don't know...weird?"

Leaning against the rail, I crossed my arms and looked at him. "Weird like how?"

"Well, let's see," Folio turned to face his body toward me. "you break up, when clearly neither of you wanted to do that. You both get majorly depressed for a while. Then you have an outburst at the 4th party, where you both disappear for half an hour." He raised his eyebrow suspiciously. "Then you flirt all the time, and both get sick at the same time, hiding out for three days together, where neither of you will talk about what happened." I chewed on my bottom lip. "Now you guys just stare longingly at each other from across rooms, and act like everything's okay." We moved forward with the line.

"Oh, and not to mention that she has a boyfriend."

Thanks for that, Folio.

"Doesn't seem very adjusted."

I scoffed. "Well, I didn't realize I came today to get attacked, but alright."

He chuckled at me, smacking my shoulder. "I'm just asking. I'm not sure any of us really get why you two aren't just...together...."

I shrugged, then. "That was her decision."

He cocked his head. "But why?"

I sighed hard, arms still crossed. "She can't handle it, dude. The," I waved my hand around us. "Bad Omens, rock and roll, touring thing."

Folio looked interested. "No?"

Shaking my head, I noticed we were getting closer to the front. "Nope. And that's my life."

"Can't her and Addison come on tour?"

"Man, I wish. I've even tried to convince her too, but having a toddler on a tour bus wouldn't work, and even I know that."

He looked disappointed. "Fuck, man."

"Yeah, I know." Huffing out a weak laugh, I rubbed the back of my neck. "I even offered to quit. Just write and produce so I wouldn't have to tour."

"You couldn't do that, dude. You love this shit."

I nodded, and looked directly at him. "I know, but I love them more."

Folio and I were walking over to Camp Snoopy, where everyone had convened after riding their respective rides. I caught a glimpse of Mileena sat at a picnic table, surrounded by everyone, feeding Addison in the stroller. Before I even reached the group, I noticed it.

Everyone was speaking, laughing together. Justin was stood talking to Davis, talking about something with his hands, and Davis was definitely into the story. The entire group was engaged in some form of conversation, looking excited and lighthearted. Everyone, except Mileena.

She was handing Addison her snacks, back turned to the group, and a look of frustration on her face.

We approached them, everyone turning their attention to us.

"How was it?" Nick chirped up from behind Laura.

"Fucking rush. So much fun." Folio responded, coming to sit next to Leena, and grabbing the snacks from her. Leena smiled at him as he started talking to Addie, handing her the puffs from the bag. If anyone bonded with the baby the most, to everyone's surprise, it was Folio.

I stepped over to stand in front of Leena, staring down at her. I lowered my eyes so I was looking directly at her. I gave her the look; the one that she knew asked if she was alright. She just pursed her lips, and nodded curtly.

I glanced back over to where Justin was still talking to Davis, Jolly now having joined the conversation.

I smiled down at Leena. "Want to come with me to grab a soda?"

Her eyes drifted over to Justin, who was paying her no mind, and stood up.

"You okay with her for a minute?" Folio just nodded to her in response.

She followed behind me as I made my way toward the Calico Ghost Town, and the snack shops they had nearby. We joined the long line, and I turned to look at her.

"What's going on?"

She sighed. "Nothing, just wanted to be here a lot sooner."

"Everything okay with you two?"

She looked at me, her eyes hesitant, but I could see that she wanted to tell me.

I held my hands up. "Safe space, here."

Leaning her head back, she groaned. "He's irritating me."

"How so?"

"He's pissed that I wanted to come here. We had plans to get lunch, and take Addie to the park. I explained that today was a big deal, but he told me he didn't see why I had to come."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ah, okay. Makes sense."

"No, it doesn't. He knows that I'm close with all of the guys, not just you. But he still gets so fucking weird about it." Her voice was full of annoyance, which amused me.

"I mean..." I calculated my words. "Can you blame the guy?"

Her head snapped toward me. "What?"

Laughing, I took a step away from her. "Leena, I am your ex. We spend an awful lot of time together."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "We have a kid together, Noah."

I nodded. "I get that. I'm just saying, he probably has pretty good reason to be skeptical."

She huffed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I know. I just," Taking a slow breath, she calmed herself. "if him and I are going to make it work, he's going to have to understand. You guys are my family."

I let my arms reach for her, pulling her into a comfortable hug. "I know. And if he really likes you, he'll figure it out."

The day passed comfortably, the warm sun baking us while we waited in lines, played games, and ate funnel cakes. Mileena passed on the bigger coasters, as I had expected. Laura and I rode the Jaguar six times in a row, nearly toppling over from lightheadedness after the last ride.

Justin and I didn't speak much, only in passing comments and niceties. It was easier that way.

By 5PM, we started to see the signs go up for the concert, so we decided to head over to the stage area, tucked behind the Ghost Rider, in an attempt to get decent seats. We found a table big enough for everyone - with the exception of Matt and Lana, who insisted they be at the front - and got comfortable.

Addison had been sleeping for about an hour, and I had pulled her from the stroller, cradling her to my chest against my sweatshirt, so I could try and shield her ears some from the music. I stood at the end of the table, swaying her back and forth, Mileena sitting next to where I stood, chatting idly with Laura about the day.

I felt a bump to my elbow, and looked to my right, seeing Justin standing next to me, large beer in his hand.

I nodded toward him. "What's up, man?"

My hand was rubbing circles on Addison's back, my knees bouncing gently.

"Could I borrow you for a minute?"

Looking at him curiously, I tried to gauge his intentions. I had kept a good enough distance from Leena for the day, in an attempt to not stir any drama.

"Uh, one sec." I turned, motioning with my chin for Folio to come over. "Can you take her for a minute?"

He just peeled her off of me, repositioning her on his chest. This caught Mileena's attention, who had a concerned look on her face as I began following Justin to where he stood a few feet away. I flashed her a small smile for reassurance.

The opening riffs to Skillet's first song caught my attention for a split second before I turned my attention back to Justin.

"What's going on?"

He took a long pull from his beer, and I noted that it wasn't the first he had that night. "I just wanted to chat with you. Hadn't had much chance to talk today." He snorted then. "Or...ever, really."

I laughed, putting my hands in my sweater pocket. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Congrats on finishing the album, man."

I nodded. "Thank you, I appreciate that."

We both looked over to the stage, taking a second to listen to the song. Comatose. A good one.

"So, can I ask you something? Man to man?"

I turned back to look at him, shrugging. "Go for it."

"Are you fucking Mileena?"

This caught me wildly off guard, making me lean back on my heels, eyes blown wide.

"Excuse me?"

"Cause you two seem a little more comfortable than typical exes."

My mouth was hanging open, my brain scrambled. "Dude..."

"If you are, I guess it's whatever. We never made anything exclusive." His words didn't match his tone at all, which told me if I didn't give the right answer, he would probably put a fist straight into my mouth.

As tempting as that was...

"No, man, we're not sleeping together." I waved a hand in between us, shaking my head. "We're not like that."

"Anymore." He added on.

"Well," I glanced back at Leena, who was watching the concert from her seat. "clearly. We do have a kid together."

He smiled at me then, his eyes darkening. The look made my stomach turn.

"She's great in bed, isn't she?"

My blood turned to ice, and my spine involuntarily straightened. I may be moving on, but I'm still a human being. I can only tolerate so much, and he was testing my fucking limit.

Before I could respond, he decided to continue. "I can't imagine how you ever let go of that, brother. She's fucking wild."

I ground my teeth together, jaw clicking in the process. My hands were balled into fists at my side.

"Let's not." Was all I could get out.

He scoffed. "Oh come on, it's not like we haven't both been there."

The eyes staring back at me were malicious. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. A hot, angry fire lit in my chest, screaming at me to rip this jackass' tongue straight out of his mouth, but I didn't. Instead, I returned his smile with my own, venomous and rage-induced.

"I mean, I guess you have a point." He raised his eyebrows, clearly not expecting my response. "There is a small difference, though."

He took another chug from his cup, wiping his mouth. "What's that?"

I licked my lips, glancing around to ensure no one was around.

"You get to fuck her, right?" He just nodded in response. "She begged me to fuck her."

I watched his smile fall, his eyes squinting and chest puffing out. "Oh yeah?"

I let my shoulders roll back easily. "Yeah. So," I leaned in, making sure he could hear me clearly. "that girl over there, regardless of if she's riding your cock, or any other douchebag's, belongs to me."

I could see his jaw tighten. I turned my body to walk away, leaving him with one last comment.

"And I'll just warn you now," I looked him up and down. "you're just temporary. May want to wrap your head around that."

With that, I walked away. It wasn't my proudest moment, I'll admit, but I didn't care. I held my head high as I walked back to the table, and took my daughter from Folio, bobbing to the music while she slept soundly in my arms.

Mileena and Justin had disappeared shortly after our talk, which didn't surprise me. I didn't see them through the rest of Skillet's set, and Lifehouse was due to come out after the intermission. I had handed Addie to Laura, taking a few minutes to run to the restrooms and grab a pretzel. I waited in line at the snack stand, scrolling through the photos I had taken on my phone that day, when I felt a hard slap come across my left shoulder.

I looked over, seeing a tearful Leena, face red with anger. "What the fuck did you say to him?!"

My eyes panned around, seeing all of the eyes staring at us.

"C'mon." I grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the line, but as soon as we were alone, she squirmed out of my grip.

"Seriously, Noah! What did you say?! He fucking left!"

I rolled my eyes at that. "I didn't say anything he didn't need to hear."

She deadpanned at me. "Which was what?"

Sighing, I adjusted my hat, turning it backwards on my head. "The guy's a dick, Leena. He wanted to talk about how you are in bed with me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"I just made it clear that wasn't a good idea."

She narrowed her eyes. "He told me you said we were still sleeping together."

I shook my head. "Nope. I actually told him that we weren't."

"Noah, what did you say?"

After several attempts of trying to give her the cliffnotes version, she finally snapped and demanded to know what I said, verbatim.

Once I told her, I thought the big vein in her neck was going to explode all over both of us.

"What the fuck, Noah?!"

I kept my voice even. "I love how you're only mad at me, when he wanted to antagonize me, while also being halfway drunk." I threw my hands up. "On a day that's about my band, to begin with." I smirked, annoyed, and put my hands in my pockets. "Guy's got some fucking balls, I'll give him that."

Leena shook her head. "I am mad at him. But I'm more mad at you."

My face held an amused, bewildered look. "Make it make sense?"

She rolled her eyes. "Noah, you were the one who reasoned that he had a right to be uncomfortable."

"Oh, well let me be clear - I hereby retract that statement. Guy's a douche." I nodded at her to emphasize each word.

She groaned, and rubbed a hand over her face.

"The fuck am I going to do?"

I snorted. "That's on you, dude." She glared at me. "But my two cents? Break it off. He's an ass." And with that, I walked away from her, leaving her to stare after me with an exasperated look on her face.

Lifehouse finished, but my mood was dead. I had no interest in staying for Daughtry. I was so beyond annoyed by this entire situation, that I elected to leave early.

I offered to take Addison, but Mileena assured that she would take her until my regular day. Rather than argue, I just said my goodbyes to everyone, and headed for the entrance of the park.

My irritation grew the further out I got, and was at a full blown rage by the time I reached my truck, my fist landing on the door.

How could she? This muscled-up dirtbag comes in, pisses her off, and then has the audacity to try and talk shop with me, about her, and she's mad at me? Where is the fucking math on that? What did I fucking miss?

I had been so God damn tolerant. So patient. I had taken the mixed fucking signals, the back and forth emotions, the wanting me one second, and treating me like the outlier the next. I had taken it all on the chin. I'd sat there and watched her be in a new relationship, ignoring how painful that is. Moving on before my very eyes.

And all for...what? For going on tour? For leaving her alone? For admitting that I'm a human fucking being and pictured another woman naked? That for a split fucking second, I considered sleeping with her? For which I then beat myself up and felt guilty as fuck afterwards?!

I was done. Done being patient. Done being the bigger person. I got the fucked end of the stick this entire time, and now she's mad at me?

I sped down the highway, no regard for the limit, zooming toward my house so I could be alone. She ruined this day, and I was fucking over it.

It only took me twenty-five minutes before I was pulled up to my gate, noticing a sedan parked on the street outside of it with it's headlights on. This caught my attention, as it was a vehicle I didn't recognize.

I swiped in, and saw the sedan following me through the gate. This had me on guard, my eyes watching my rearview mirror as the car stopped behind my truck. I was too keyed up, willing to fuck up anyone who tried me at this moment.

Jumping out of my struck, I slammed the door behind me and walked toward the vehicle. The driver's door opened, and a small man, slightly hunched over, stepped out. He wore a lanyard around his neck with some form of ID, and held a manila envelope in his hands.

"This is private property." Was all I said before he walked up to me, a kind smile on his face.

"Noah Davis?"

I scrunched my nose. "Who's asking?"

He looked down at his papers and back up to me. "My name is Leonard James. Are you Noah Davis?"

I crossed my arms. "Sebastian."

He adjusted his glasses. "Oh, I apologize sir. I see that here. Noah Sebastian Davis?"

I rolled my eyes. "My government name, sure. Who are you?"

He handed me the envelope, still smiling at me.

"You've been served."

[evangelineshifts]

(This has been sitting in my drafts since feb)

I just had the weirdest shifting (?) dream ever???

Warning: sorry if this is confusing I’m literally losing my mind trying to process this. It probably won’t convey as dire as I’m making it out to be but I’m very disoriented still

Basically the dream started out normal (which for me isn’t normal at all) I was in my living room with my family when all of a sudden my front door slammed open and in comes my older brother- my older brother who DIED SIX YEARS AGO. I did have it in mind to manifest him being alive again but I was gobsmacked. He comes in and everyone acts normal as if he’d never left and I audibly went “oh my god” in the most horrified voice ever and they all looked at me and I ran upstairs to my room (which also hasn’t been my room up there in years) and went to grab my phone which was still like modern to these times. My Lock Screen was different and stuff but like I could read everything on the screen. Which is weird cause in dreams you shouldn’t be able to do that. Everything was clear I read the date it said it was Wednesday, December 8. I fuckin lost it I was going insane. I was like crying cause I was overwhelmed and I went to google and I searched up what year it was (idk why I didn’t just go to calendar but I was distressed). It said it was 2016 which I thought was a bit weird cause I didn’t manifest I wanted to go back to 2016 I wanted to go back to 2021 when I was 15 but I didn’t complain cause my brother was back. (Woke up and checked if Dec 8 was on a Wednesday in 2016. It wasn’t but it was in 2021 😭😭)

So I went to snap chat and checked my friends list and there where tons of new people that I had sent pics too but I was looking for one in particular- the girl I script to be my bsf in every DR that I wanted to manifest was real here and lo and behold, there’s her name “Savanna 😊🙈” i was 🫨 so anyways the dream goes on and looking back at it, it didn’t make as much sense as I thought it did at the time but I was sort of confused then too cause things weren’t how I wanted only half like it. So I told someone (who I think was meant to be savanna but looked nothing like her) about what was going on and I told her “I haven’t always been here” and she went “yes you have 🤨” and I went “no like this current awareness, this consciousness hasn’t always been here” and she just looked at me blankly and went “ok” and kept walking while I was loosing my shit. I saw friends from my dr that I wanted to manifest into this reality and my bf from my better cr dr and he called me over to him and he literally just held me and looked at me with the biggest smile but then I realized he didn’t look like my boy. Like his hair was lighter and his eyes were brown not bluish green like usual so I like decided to go away and look for other people. I found Jules (Leblanc) and she’s my best friend in a ton of my drs and ran over to her like practically sobbing cause I was so confused cause everything seemed clear and yet not at the same time and it feel like my brain was exploding and she just hugged me and listened as I babbled on about how I just woke up in the wrong year and my dead brother was suddenly alive and nothing was exactly how I wanted it yet it was close???? I was just so confused and overwhelmed and everyone was really supportive and trying to comfort me as I was literally losing my mind but I could visibly see the confusion on their faces which made me more distressed cause I didn’t understand. And then after awhile the dream got. all weird again. If anyone and I mean ANYONE has any ideas of what the fuck this could’ve been I’d be open to theories cause a whole month later and I still got nothing 😊

[en-hale]

Give Him a Sign ♡‧₊˚

Bottom!Jay x Male!reader ♡‧₊˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

En-Hale Comeback ~~ Manifesto Day 15

SYNOPSIS ≕ Jay has a hard time communicating how he feels and what he wants, especially to you, his younger and much more experienced boyfriend. So with his cheeky friends' plan, he sets out to do the most embarrassing thing known to man just so you'll know he wants to be fucked.

WARNING ≕ 18+/smut (oral sex - Jay receiving, blowjob, fingering, rimming, protected sex, lube used, cowboy, Doggystyle, spanking). Cursing. Read at your own discretion !

WORD COUNT ≕ 10.0k (Yeah I went a lil crazy..)

AUTHOR'S NOTE ≕ This has been sitting in my draft for exactly a year now lol. Which is the reason it's so freaking long. I revised, edited, and added in a lot of shit. Please enjoy! Tune in tomorrow for day 16 at 10pm CST!

──•°.-ˏˋ ♡ ˊˎ-.°•──

© to en-hale. no translations/reposts etc. (w/out permission!)

Jay dwelled, even when he didn't want to, on the fact that he was still a virgin. It seemed as though having an attractive and flirty boyfriend did him no good, none at all. They've been dating for six months now, a long six months, and it was beginning to get tiresome. You just had to be the world's most considerate boyfriend. It didn't matter that you were younger than Jay, another thing he seemed to dwell on, you cared for him in a way he's never gotten before. Yes, he was thankful, but he worried that if you kept this up, there was no chance of either of you getting anywhere.

And sure, part of this was Jay's fault. Anytime you touched him in the slightest way that read intimate, he stopped you or grabbed your hands. He blamed it on a shivering sensation that played at the base of his stomach and up to his spine. And you were patient, obeying his request with no uncertainty. Your hands were off in seconds and instead, you settled on cuddles and backrubs, showing as much care and patience as possible.

Part of you understood and the other part of you was sometimes puzzled by his actions. But even Jay was somewhat stirred in his emotions, having but the toughest time possible navigating his feelings. He knew he had always been like this, ever since he was young. He had a problem with feeling anxious, so anxious to a point where he had to stop it all at once. He didn't want to be this way, but a life full of harsh adults that forced him to be the IT child -- grand conversations with other adults and rubbing elbows with the other rich kids -- didn't leave him much room to make decisions on his own. So when it did come time to do things for himself, like being intimate, he stopped, as if waiting for someone else to tell him what to do.

The only way he learned to get rid of his anxiety was by masking it with other forced traits from his parents, like charm and snobbiness. He let the latter go a long time ago, but it still crept up in daily routines and plans. Instead of being just an ordinary college student; having fun and letting loose, Jay was living as a cooped-up housewife, doing chores and working. And it takes time for Jay, for him to learn to adapt to an environment that he's not used to, just like it would take time for him to open up to a whole new environment, full of lust and pleasure and excitement.

You've admitted multiple times to him that you were willing to go further, and you watched as his face shared little to no change in emotion. Jay had no problem giving you whatever you needed; whether it was with his mouth or hands, but when it came to himself, it was like a bomb of humility went off in his head. Jay was too fearful to come to terms with the fact that he did really want you to see him -- and more so really wanted sex -- especially with you. He doesn't care that others were out sleeping with their umpteenth partner, and he had no problem being a virgin, but it was something about you that overwhelmed him, something about you that fueled every dirty desire he's ever had. He wanted to feel you, get used to your body and revel in its beauty. And as much as he was unnerving at admitting to sex, he was even more unwilling to admit to himself that he was nervous as hell. To let someone in, to see him so vulnerable and open. There were plenty of nights where it kept him up.

Days that you both spent together, laughing and talking, were the days that he wanted to explain it to you the most, but he knew his voice would be washed away by his nerves. He was too skittish to initiate the first move, and he knew that you were too fragile with him to continue on when he said wait or stop. And plenty of times has Jay done awkward suggestive gestures to persuade you into making a move but then deters them by not following as planned. A part of him wanted you to ignore his words and push through, but he knew it was next to zero for you to ever pressure him into continuing on with something he was not ready for.

Jay never goes to anyone with his problems, especially not his bratty childish friend, but when Jake asked what was wrong, it seemed to all come pouring out of Jay like a fountain. He explained it as his "friend's problem" but Jake wasn't that naive, catching on within seconds.

"So your problem is that your boyfriend's too nice and you're not open enough to tell him that you wanna fuck?"

Jay swats at the other's arm, looking around to make sure those close to them didn't hear. "I said it's my friend's problem, not mine."

"Oh, okay, and I'm an idol with millions of fans." He popped a fry in his mouth and laughed to himself at his fascinating friend. "Look, if you wanna fuck, just tell him that. Don't think into this too deeply or you'll go insane. Or better yet, why not just wait until you're ready and then get it on?"

"Would I have told you all of this if it was just as easy as telling him? And there's no way I can wait. I can't handle going through one more awkward encounter with him or I might actually explode."

"Oh, so the both of you have gotten hanky-panky before?" Jake wiggled his eyebrows and Jay tried hard not to blush. Things went smooth when Jay was the one doing the work. He's done plenty of oral on you, but it was never the other way around. Jay didn't even like to be naked around you; hell, even shirtless. His shyness was cute in the beginning, but now it was a burden, to both you and him.

Jay half-heartedly answers the younger's question, "But it's never gone further than that."

"Okay then, so then next time you're sucking his dick, you'll be in the moment, and it'll be easy to ask for more."

"Jake!" he whisper-yelled. "Do you have to speak so loudly? " He looked around again, paranoid that someone was listening in, "I'm telling you, dude, it's not that easy!"

Jake looked up from his tray to furrow his brows at the older one. "I don't get you."

"Don't get what?"

"This entire situation of yours! I thought relationships were about being open and honest and all that other bullshit, so why not just talk to him? Didn't you say he was like the best boyfriend ever, and he was caring and shit? So why do you think it would be a hellfire if you were to sit him down and explain you want to get freaky?" Again, Jay's hand went flying to the younger's arm with his bold choice of words in such a public area.

"Be quieter! And I can't talk to him about this because if I could I would've already done so. I need to save myself the embarrassment of having to discuss with someone younger than me my problems of being sexual."

"I'm younger than you!"

You roll your eyes, "You and him are not the same,"

This made Jake roll his eyes before continuing, "And anyway, him being younger than you is the least of your worries," he remarked. He might've been right, and if anything, Jay knew you never acted your age, but it still was a conversation he'd rather not have. His cheeks were already growing red at the thought of sitting you down and discussing his bodily urges.

They both don't say anything. Jake gives an annoyed stare as he chewed on his sandwich. Jay sharpened his jaw and gave the same look back.

"talk to him."

"No."

"Okay, then just make the first move."

"Were you even listening? I can't, I'll chicken out."

Jake slams his sandwich down in aggravation of Jay's no-changing demeanor. He rests his elbows on the table, contemplating in his head before speaking, "okay, then how about putting yourself in a predicament where no talking is involved."

Jay's the one to furrow his eyebrows now. "What?"

"How about doing something that will automatically let him know that your intentions are to shag? Plan something way left-field from what Jay would do so that it's clear what's going on and he'll see that and know exactly what to do."

And Jay does ponder on this for a while, watching his friend's knowing smirk slowly creep on his face.

"Sound great and all, but how exactly and I suppose to do that?"

Jake pauses, "I don't know, I haven't thought that far yet,"

He huffs in frustration. A plan that would initiate the actions for him, perfect. But Jay wasn't very big on plans and actually following them, the same way he wasn't strong on showing emotions and letting it happen. He knew he was a work in progress, and he was thankful that you were patient enough to notice, but now his patience was running out, and so was yours, even if you'd never show it.

He sits and ponders as his friend scarfs down the rest of his food. He goes to ask another question but feels the presence of others coming closer. He could tell it was Heeseung and Sunghoon from the way they talked and laughed with no inside voices.

Heesung pauses before sitting, "Why do I feel like I just walk into a war zone?"

"Yeah, what's with you guys? Why so serious Jay?" Sunghoon ruffles the older's hair which is his way of greeting.

"How come love is so complicated?" Jake acted solemnly, moving the focus from Jay to him.

"Ah, which girl broke you're heart this time? And why would you bother poor Jay with your problems?" Jake threw a fry at Heeseung's head for his teasing words. Jay tried his best to keep his cheeks from exposing his situation, especially to the two dudes that picked on him the most for being the only virgin in the group. Jake liked to poke often, but Jay was still convinced he was lying about his virginity status.

"Maybe because Jay is the only one in a committed relationship," Sunoo seemed to appear out of thin air as he spoke, sitting near Jake and peering down at his hyung's disappointing appetite.

The others don't bother to remark on the youngest's comment, partially because he was right and partially because it was never-ending when you started an argument with Sunoo.

Jay gave Jake a knowing look and gestured for him to continue on his lie.

"So, what if I met this girl that I like but she's overly shy? She gives great head and all, but after that, when we try to go further, she's so shy that it turns me off."

Jay would slap Jake again if it didn't cause curiosity among the group. Instead, he lowered his head, paying close attention and fiddling his bland salad around with a fork.

"Easy, find a new girl." Heeseung is bold with his statement, but Sunoo shuts him down immediately.

"No, don't do that. Why don't you talk to her, ask her what makes her so shy."

Jay can feel that Jake wants to turn around and shout "I told you so" in his face, but he holds his composure, "Okay, but I'm not good at talking, I'm too scared like some child. What do I do then?"

"If you're too scared to talk then maybe you shouldn't be in a relationship in the first place." Sunghoon didn't even look up from his phone, but his comment struck a bullet through the older.

"I won't lie, talking can be scary sometimes, like when trying to break up or tell her to move on. If she's too shy to talk then wait until she shows you a sign."

"A sign?" Jay thought it was the right time to chime in without being exposed.

"Yeah, like a sign that she wants you. Remember that girl with the dyed hair? She was a killer kisser, I mean made my mouth water, but anytime I touched her, she panicked. You wouldn't imagine the look on my face the next day when I went out to the gym and came back to her in my shirt, cooking me breakfast."

"You're too easy," Sunoo spoke towards Heesueng.

Heesueng flipped him the bird, "it wasn't just the shirt asshole, it was the fact that the shirt was the only thing she was wearing. Besides some cute little thongs underneath, she wore nothing else, was completely naked. She could've been shy all she pleased, but if she didn't want it, then why act so naughty?" Heseeung clapped for himself, smirking widely.

"And that, my boys, is your sign."

********

Sign. It was the only thing Jay could think of for the rest of his lunch and until he got home. He wasn't sure if he wanted to exactly do the same as some cute petite girl when he was very opposite of that, so he pondered when he got back to his shared apartment what do to. He showered first then took away the time he wanted to procrastinate to actually think. He knew you'd be home soon, so he had to act fast. If he wanted to go his own route, he'd down a whole bottle of wine and hope for the best, but being drunk made his situation ten times harder when he knew you wouldn't act on his advances. If anything, you would send him to sleep and have a nice cup of water waiting on his nightstand when he wakes up.

Scratch that.

He pondered on if he could make it to the store quicker than you could get back home. Maybe he could shape a heart on the bed with roses leading from the front door, spelling out his exact needs in clear font. But Jay is a neat freak and he envisioned the rose ending up anywhere and everywhere he didn't want them.

Scratch that.

And now he was tired of thinking. There was no way he'd look like some sexy goddess in his boyfriend's shirt, but it was his last resource, and he was sure it would throw you off your game to see him in a shirt that's yours since you both rarely ever shared clothes.

He walked into your room and looked through your drawers and closet. He couldn't find a shirt that suited him or was even big enough to cover his butt, so he settled on a hoodie you bought online that was two sizes too big. It sat in your closet for the longest time, and it was thankfully big enough to cover the parts of Jay that were supposed to look mischievous. The sleeves were a little too long, and it was too hot in his small apartment to be wearing such a large layer of clothing even without pants, so really, he was starting to think this was a mistake.

He pushed through the mess in his own closet to find the bag of lube and condoms he had bought a day earlier. Surprisingly, he wasn't embarrassed, probably cause he was in a rush to meet up with you, so there was no time to be embarrassed. He pushed it all inside his nightstand drawer and walked to the kitchen for his next step.

If any part of this plan was going to work, it would be the only part that he was good at; cooking. He decided on your favorite meal which didn't take long to make. He gathered the ingredients and washed, cut, and mixed them. Next was to boil the noodles and scramble the eggs.

The next few minutes of cooking were silent, too silent because now he worried that this entire thing was a huge mistake. How could you ever take him seriously like this? What if you walked in and laughed at him? The last thing he could tolerate is being humiliated by his own boyfriend. He stood over the pot of noodles and watched them boil. He liked the feeling of the steam coming up and warming his face. For a split second, he could see his reflection in the water, and he thought at that moment that he could simply just crawl into a hole and never come back up again.

There went his anxiousness again, that feeling that he hated the most. You hadn't even got home yet, and there went that aching feeling in his chest, the one that caused him to shiver. He was tired of his own nerves getting in the way, he wanted this to be done, and soon.

But he knew this was ridiculous; absolutely pathetic. But by the time he tried to go back to his room and change, he heard the clanking of the door.

He froze in place. Anther clank came and in you walked.

He met your soft eyes and you smiled. You didn't realize anything out of the ordinary until you could see more than just his face.

You looked down at your boyfriend who was only a few inches shorter. His hair was like usual because he was always too stubborn to fix it any other way, the cross earrings you got him for his birthday dangled beneath his ears, and his jaw that was never not sharp was illuminated by the kitchen lights.

The usual.

But it was when your eyes traveled down that things started becoming different. For one, you noticed he wasn't wearing pants. You've never seen his skin much higher than above his knees. It was a milky color, different than the tan that started on his calves. His skin was smooth and glistening, he didn't like being hairy, so he always shaved, which only added to the beautiful shine of his muscular legs.

And then your eyes traveled up to his body which was covered in the hoodie you bought online that was way too big for you. You meant to throw it out but instead stuffed it in the back of your closet. Now your boyfriend was wearing it, and it seemed like it was the only thing he was wearing. The hem of the hoodie swayed loosely on the higher parts of his thighs. The sleeves were way too long, dangling at the end of his fingertips which you saw go red, including the rest of him, leading up to his face.

His eyes went wide and so did his mouth. You watched his hands tug on the ends of the hoodie in an act to get it to go further down.

"Jay?" You unloosen the key from the hole and walked in, shutting the door behind you, hopeful that no one was passing by.

"What is all this?" You could smell the aroma of your favorite food. If what was happening right now wasn't so bewildering, you might've just drooled at the mouth.

Jay didn't know how to feel about the way you looked at him. For one, he felt powerful in a way, showing off something he's never exposed, but in another instance, he felt shy, shyer than when you've even tried to make a move on him. He wanted to laugh out of nerves, but even that wouldn't come out. All he could do was stand in the opening of the kitchen and let his astounding mistake be reveled in by the one man he wanted to impress.

You stayed paralyzed by the door, not really sure where to move next.

"Oh, the food!" Jay rushed to the pan of scrambled eggs and sighed when he flipped them over to reveal their dark and crusted backs.

"Shit," he cursed. He turned the stove off and threw the no-good eggs in the trash. He felt the tickling coldness of the air travel along his upper thighs and go across his exposed bottom, the one that was facing you while he leaned over the trash.

And you tried not to look as he bent down, worried that he'd worry, but it ignited something in you, seeing his small but round cheeks covered by short blue briefs.

He quickly snapped back into place, his crimson face growing darker.

Jay couldn't handle that you were still rooted in your spot, your expressions changed ever so often from what he thought was confusion to maybe lust, but he couldn't tell. His mind wanted to tell him to run into his bedroom and never come out again until he was old and grey, but it was like he couldn't get himself to move.

One simple chunk of his mind thought about jumping on his boyfriend and letting the rest play out, except, he knew he couldn't, he'd never gain enough courage to do so. He wished you'd take the hint, and just push him against the counter and take whatever you wanted, but again, he knew it didn't work like that.

You could see that Jay was scared, excited but scared. You couldn't depict what his reasoning for all of this was, but you felt the need to get closer, in a manner to calm his breathing and the anxiousness that started to play on his face.

"Babe," You did one more once over before connecting your eyes back to his. Now you were close enough to reach for his hands and he took them on instinct. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

Jay didn't respond. Instead, he hid his face on your chest. There were plenty of things he wanted to say, starting from "please leave' to "fuck me" but he found it hard to say anything that would sound reasonable after his failed attempt at getting laid.

You removed your hands from his to hold them around his little waist. "Ah, hyung don't be shy." You whine.

"Shut up," he muffled from your chest.

He was more than shy at this point, he was down bad. He was so glad you had walked to him when you did, if not, he'd be knee-deep in his own tears. And while he felt dramatic at the thought of himself crying, he couldn't stop them from brewing to the surface. But he stopped them in time when you sat down at the dining table and asked him to sit on your lap.

You try not to react too much at the feeling of his skin touching yours, and instead get down to the bottom of what all of this was.

"Did you do all of this for me?" You gestured with your eyes at Jay's attire.

He folded his hands in his lap, a pout playing on his lips. Jay wasn't good at expressing his emotions. The only time he cried to you was when he failed a class and it overwhelmed him with distraught. Here and there he was mad or sad about something, but never did he let you in on it. But this time you were going to force your way in, whether he liked it or not.

"Jay," you shake his arm when he doesn't reply.

He hums a yes. There was no way you could contain your smile.

"Well this is very sweet of you but can I ask why?"

Jay glares up at you, his usual mechanism when he was embarrassed. "Can't I do nice things for my boyfriend?"

You squeeze your arms around the tiny one, "Of course you can, I'm just making sure I didn't miss an anniversary or something." You take a deep breath before continuing, "your intentions with this feel a little not you."

Jay tries to get up and you squeeze him even tighter. "Wait, Hyung. I love you and I love you like this, but I just want to make sure I'm not mixing my signals here. Cause it seems -- like you want something? Maybe something that I want too?"

Jay turns his head away. This was what he was trying to avoid, confrontation. He didn't want to have to spell it out to the younger that he was ready, that he needed him more than he was verbally able to explain. it was embarrassing, too embarrassing to say out loud. "I don't like talking, can't you just see that I missed you and wanted to do something special?"

You chuckle. "I just saw you this morning babe. I mean, not that I don't miss you and all, but, I've never seen you like this -- I never imagined this would be the first time I'd see you so exposed."

Jay clasps a hand over your mouth. "Don't say that!"

"It's the truth!" You manage to muffle.

He doesn't comment back, but his face scolds and pouts all in one.

It was time. Jay thought to himself. Be bold, say one thing and maybe the rest can speak for itself.

"I'm not even fully exposed yet," it comes out quieter than he wanted it to, but the look on your face is enough to let him know that you didn't miss a word.

You can't find the right words to say. Your boyfriend just explained he wants to be naked, he wants you to see him. A tingle in your stomach travels through your body and down to the core of your heat.

Jay felt the situation shifted to where he finally wanted it to be. The look in your eyes was intimidating, but exactly what Jay needed to feel confident about all the choices he's made in just a few hours.

"Come here," your voice drops low, and in seconds, you're able to manually swing one of Jay's legs over your lap so that he was now facing forward, straddling you.

Jay had straddled you plenty of times, some of those times he would rut against you. Sooner or later you both were releasing in your pants. This day, hopefully, it would be different.

Jay looked down at your soft pink lips. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than kiss you, especially when he watches you lick them slowly, teasingly. And he might've been a scardey-cat, but he wasn't scared of those, your beautiful lips.

And in moments, you lean your head up and drag Jay's down to connect lips.

Jay could feel you smirking and wanted to lean away in an attempt to tease, but your hand on the back of his neck doesn't let him.

This kiss was the same as the others exchanged between the two of you, and it still had the same effect on Jay: his heart beats fast, his palms get a little sweaty, he sometimes has to hold back moans from how pleasurable just your lips could feel; but it never made him anxious, no matter how heated it could get.

He wrapped his arms around your neck in a bid to be closer. Jay feels your hands travel along the parts of him that they always did, but he goes stiff when he feels them play at the end of his back. He didn't realize due to his straddling that the hoodie had hiked up to brush just against his buttocks, but he had no time to dwell on it. He licks along your lips requesting access and you have no problem allowing him in. He pushed his tongue in as deep as possible, trying to distract himself from the fact that he was so exposed. You couldn't hold back the moan that escaped feeling his hot tongue and all the slickness it brought to your own. Your hands travel just enough underneath the hoodie to feel the older's bare skin. You listen to the sound he emits, something of a deep sigh and an angry huff.

"I want you, Jay," You wished it came out like a calm statement, but you could hear the shakiness in your voice and the slight pitch in tone. You don't give him time to respond back before you fit a hand under Jay to boost him as you stood.

He gasps in your mouth but automatically wraps his legs around your waist and clamps on tight.

Still kissing, you manage to get the door of your room open and as gently as ever, lay your boyfriend along the bed.

Breathe, Jay kept telling himself. He forced the thoughts of you seeing him naked and the plenty of other sexual ones out of his mind.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You step closer, and Jay can feel his breathing fall out of routine. You smile that stupidly sexy smile before leaning over and fragilely stroke a finger on his leg.

"Is this okay?"

Jay knew his nervousness was probably more than evident on his face but there was no way he'd let it get in the way for the umpteenth time. "Yes," it's small and brittle, but it was still an answer.

You climb beside him on the bed. You're still aware that -- whatever this was -- you had to be patient. So you graze your fingertips over his forehead and brush the hairs that had fallen in front of his eyes. You share a moment with him, looking longingly into his eyes, capturing the way they sparkled under the light. The best moment was watching his eyes calm and relax. There was no way you could stop yourself from kissing him next. It's gentle and dry, the perfect blend for cooling not only his racing heart but yours too. You both kissed like this for a while, and it was comfortable and homey. Jay plays around and sucks down on your lips, and you both giggle. You use your tongue to lick his, and a soft moan escapes from his throat.

Jay wondered why such a random memory ran through his brain, but he was puzzled about it for just a second. He remembered when you joked about wanting him to top you, and he remembered laughing out of nerves. He hadn't given much of that a thought, but if you really wanted him on top, then he knew he would. However, part of him wanted it to be the other way around. Not that you couldn't hold him while he was on top, but he knew he wanted to feel your arms grasp around and hold on tight. It was his only time talking about something like that, but he let it known that he had no problem being 'bottom'. He, again, opened up to Jake about it, and he was almost ashamed that his childish friend had to be the one to preach to him how sex positions didn't make him any less of a man.

His mind snaps back to reality as you slip a hand under his neck and press harder on his lips. There was a certain look in your eyes as you leaned in, accompanied by your plumped mouth that made Jay's mind scared-stiff, but he forced it in and kissed you back just as deeply.

But his brain and his body worked at different paces. His hand reached for your leg so that it was now lying comfortably between his own. His other hand gripped tightly to your tricep that kept you propped up.

Jay can't help but make small noises into the kiss, sounding somewhere between desperate and cheerful. You wondered if you should ask again if he was okay, but your body wouldn't let you. You melted in his sounds. You tried hard not to touch him more than he seemed comfortable with, but there was no stopping your hand from reaching under his hoodie and slowly hiking it up. It tingled as it memorize the feeling of his hot skin for the first time. You wanted so badly to open your eyes and soak yourself in his milky torso, but you were comfortable enough just to touch it.

And Jay enjoyed your hand. It was coarse, yet soft, and he never wanted it to go away. He couldn't believe how sensational just your hand felt, and he cursed himself for waiting so long for your touch.

You lift his hoodie as high as it would go without taking it off, and immediately attach yourself to his naked top. You kiss the hollow structure of his stomach and he moans just the slightest. That was enough for you to suck and lick until it was rosy and wet.

"Baby," Jay was too stubborn to call you nicknames, but you knew the only time he did was when he was feeling feverish. It was the prettiest word that ever escaped his lips. It was followed by another one of his delightful sounds and you wished you could collect it in a jar and keep it forever.

You kiss individually between the dips of his ribcage and over his sides. You count another win in your head when he squirms under you and pulls but the slightest on your hair.

Jay's head was scrambled with lust. Your mouth was so slick that it was impossible to keep the noises from escaping. His anxiousness had threatened to break its cover, but it bursts through its seams when he felt your wetness move over his nipple.

You hover over his pink bud cautiously and watch his reaction. He bites down on his lip harshly, and as you go into lick, he protests.

"Wait, wait," it's breathless coming out, but you do exactly as he asks and waits.

Jay knew at this point that he wasn't worried about you seeing his body, cause you've come this far and he felt okay. He wondered why his brain took over and paused his pleasure, it was like it wanted him to live on the edge forever. He wants to take it back, but you already raised your head in attentiveness.

He wasn't following through and from the looks of it, you weren't going to go further unless he wants it. You ask him if this is where he'd like to stop and he's quiet.

Jay is mad at himself, mad that he was so close to breaking the stupid barrier he had put up, and lost hope of ever being able to move on further than this. Maybe it was okay that he was at least willing enough to get so far as to let you see his body, not fully naked, but it was better than it was before.

You watched his eyes lose hope and regain it on a repeated cycle, all in the span of a few seconds. Jay wasn't the one to get emotional but you couldn't look past the moisture collecting in his eyes.

"Jay, stop and look at me." Your voice was bold and confident and Jay obeyed. "If you don't want to do this then tell me, you know I would never get mad at you. But please don't force yourself to be okay with this if you aren't."

Jay wanted to scream "fuck" if he could. he wanted to yell back in objection, but if he talks now, he knew he'd cry, and if he hadn't already screwed this entire thing up, then his tears would.

You would stop in a heartbeat if that was what Jay wanted, but you heard the sounds he made, the way his skin warmed with your touch, the beating of his heartbeat playing like background music. You wished he was better at explaining his feelings, but you couldn't stop your own. You were hot all over, and your body ached for something more than this, and you simply couldn't deal with another dreary day without him.

You glide your hand over his cheek and soothe it with your thumb. "Let's do this instead. If you want to actually stop at any given moment, just say 'karaoke' and we can stop and go do some singing in the living room. But if you're unable to vocalize then," You grab Jay's finger and place it on your nose. "then just boop my nose, got it?"

Jay can't believe you could make him laugh in a moment like this, but he was more than thankful that there was a way of communicating, if need be, that didn't need words. In seconds, he felt an overwhelming sensation spike through his nerves, and it struck right down to his pelvis, igniting his half-awakened member. He squeaks out a measling 'got it' and you grin down at him.

You're next few kisses on his skin are soft and warming. You travel along the spots that Jay made the best sounds to and make sure that this time it wasn't just red but bruised. And as if on cue, his sounds come out an octave louder.

His hands return to their positions on your arms and you take the time to start back up on his pink bud. You watch his reaction -- again he bites on his lips, but he arches his back off the bed and it's enough of a sign to continue further. You switch between the both of them, twirling your tongue and sucking with all your might until Jay cries out, "Fuck!" and the urge to suck further down his skin takes over.

You retrace his bruises with your lips and travel them along his cloth-covered thighs. You watched the bulge in his underwear grow larger and larger the more you kissed, and you could feel your own boner increasing due to the older one's.

His eyes were screwed shut -- as if he'd look down at the chaos you were ensuing and burst into pieces. His cheeks were hot -- he worried for a second if he had an actual fever, but the thought went loose from his mind when your hand finds its way down to his cock.

He clutches hard on the bedsheets.

"Is this too much pressure?" You ask when you take it in hand.

"I thought you've done this before, expert." You wanted to scold him for being so teasing in a situation like this, but it meant he was comfortable, and that outweighed the negative.

"My expertise range from a vast variety," you lob back.

He tried rebuking back but the slow movement of your hand trails him off his sentence and into a moan.

"There you go," You raise up and sit between his legs, continuing up and down Jay's hard shaft.

"Feel good for me."

If Jay could yell "shut up" he would, but words were fuzzy, and moaning was the only thing that managed to buzz from his throat. But he did try his best at a worthless groan in protest, and the younger one only laughs. Any precedence that Jay once had over you was gone the minute he allowed you to speak informally to him. He did better at just dealing with it than trying to reprimand you for it.

"Mmm, don't be difficult now, hyung. " You couldn't keep your eyes off the spot you created on his stomach and reach down to kiss it lightly. "You have no idea how bad I want to taste you right now."

You kiss more harshly on his skin and prep your hands to his hips where the band on his cute little brief's started.

He could feel your hot breath hitting his skin in rhythmic patterns, it was enough to distract him from the thought of you seeing him so exposed. So was the hand that you place on his waist to massage carefully and your mouth that was now attempting a hickey on his soft thighs. Gradually, Jay's cock comes uncovered by your hasty hand.

You take in the pool that forms at the head. It requires nothing more for you to swallow him down. Your first contact with his cock brings out a low whine, there was no holding back that perfect feeling of him in your mouth.

The sound from his own only makes you want to go down further, to hear the variety of his noises and collect them like fireflies. "Good boy," you tease.

Jay grabs at the pillow beneath him, probably to toss because of your nagging words, but you suck at his tip and he folds, hand's clutching to the pillow instead of throwing.

This wasn't your first rodeo at sucking dick, but it was the first with someone you genuinely cared about, so you perfected your moves with the utmost care, being extra cautious with your teeth and making sure to keep your mouth as moist as possible. But like everything else about Jay, it's perfect, and you had to make sure his first experience with this was just as perfect.

The further your mouth descended, the more antsy Jay's hips became. He was red to the face when he realized how close he was. the feeling of your mouth was like nothing he was expecting. He had to grip harder on your arms for support, otherwise, he'd be embarrassed to announce he was coming soon.

You spread his legs further, ripping down his boxer that were settled on his thighs and throw them to the floor. You wanted to tease about your expertise, but when you go down to take him in all the way, a gag stops you dead in the middle. So what you couldn't swallow, you just stroked with your hand.

He couldn't hold on anymore. The faster you move, the harder you tug, the deeper you went it drives him more and more insane.

And you can feel the whole spiel happening in your mouth. You weren't ready for it to end, worried that Jay would want to end things there, and if he let you keep going, then there was no chance you'd end it earlier than need be. So you stop, squeezing on the base of his cock as if asking for it to hold on.

Jay felt dizzy and overheated. It took him a minute to notice your hand dug into your own pants, frantically moving, your breathing matching in rhythmic tones.

"Turn around," You say. Jay's heart spikes in his chest. He knew from the roughness of your voice that there was no time for jokes. You were serious.

So he does as asked, turning around, lucking to be facing away from the younger's face so you wouldn't see how red he was getting. He so badly wanted to pull down on the hoodie he realized he still had on, and he felt it tumbling down his back, but you were quick to catch it, rolling it back to its original position.

"Your so perfect, baby," The words lift from your lips before you can even think of them. with his round ass facing towards you, you took in the expanse of skin and the way it sculpted his figure. The most addicting was watching his spine curve inward when he arches slightly.

Your hand sputtered on your cock. "I have to taste you," You hear him gasp at your words, but pay it no mind, telling him to lay comfortably on his stomach.

You observe his hesitance and want to comfort him, but your patience was running thin. "Unless you use our safe word or boop my nose this is okay right?"

Jay was still trying to grasp the fact of what you were about to do. He lost the mobility to even process anything else since then. So he nods aimlessly. "Okay, then let me eat you out," you push him the rest of the way down and maneuver for his legs to spread further apart, situating yourself between them. You could've come right there at the way his balls were visible from beneath him.

"A pillow might be more comfortable Hyung," Your eyes never leave his skin, even when he reaches for the pillow he tried to hit across your face, stuffing it under him.

Jay doesn't mean to grind against the soft fabric, but his aching cock that was seconds away from exploding begged for action. It didn't help any when he felt your hands stroke against his bottom, gripping and pulling.

A sharp smack cuts through the room and Jay lets out a garbled moan. He didn't like that the pain and stinging from your hand caused him so much pleasure, he thought by the end of this, he'd be more than just a non-virgin, he'd be a masochist. He could feel himself twitching underneath.

"Sorry, I had to," You rub a calming hand over the red mark shaped as your hand as if to cool it down.

"Again."

It's bearly above a whisper, but your taken aback by his request.

But you do it, again and again until his cheeks are redder than the ones on his face.

Impatience finally took its course and you spread his cheeks wide without asking.

His intuition made him clench down around the sudden exposure of his hole. He shivers at the way the cool air flushes against it, a new feeling that he wasn't at all familiar with.

You're quick to act. You take your thumb and rub gently against it, careful not to irritate the dry hole. You couldn't even believe that that same hole would be stretched large enough to fit all of you. You had to take a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

"I can't take my eyes off you,"

Jay whines, the rest of his body flushing to match his ass, "oh my god, don't say that right now,"

"But it's the truth, you know I can't." You swallowed to take away the extra spit that was brimming at your mouth. God, he was so perfect, more than perfect. You hadn't felt anything like this before, so thirsty, so ready.

"I have to fucking taste you," was the last thing you said before sliding on your own stomach and going to town on his opening.

There is nothing Jay could've done to prepare for the feeling of a tongue, much less your tongue, running along his asshole, and consequently, neither was the mewl that he lets out at the impact. His hips jolt aggressively, his body was in a predicament, not knowing if it wanted more or less of whatever was happening.

"I guess your extra sensitive here," you gush. You feel your cock straining at his noises.

Knowing his hips had a mind of their own, you slip your arms under his legs and wrap your hands around his cheeks, pushing them down so that there was no way he could buck around. You crouch your head down and are back tasting his skin, the way you've wanted to ever since you've met the older one.

You swirl your tongue around it, sharpening it to a point and running it up and down, left to right, anything that would get those precious sounds out of your boyfriend. Your spit has it glistening in seconds, and you love the way it reflects the light beaming through the window, groaning at how vulgar it looked. You imagined it was your seed after this hopeful outcome, and you watched as Jay tried desperately to rut against the pillow.

"Please, please," His words were breathy, heavy with pants. Jay knew the sheets of your bed were wet. He could feel himself dripping every second your tongue slid pasted him. He needed to come so bad, and he didn't want to without you, but he'd die if his release wasn't soon.

Your mischievous chuckle makes him shiver, he gasps when he feels your pool of spit land right in the center of his hole. You watch it travel down slowly and revel in its beauty. Jay can't take it anymore and pushes back into your face, forcing his needed friction.

"Yes, push back into me," You lap up the fallen spit and run it in and out of him. His whines grow louder and louder until you're sure he's reaching his end.

"Don't come yet," He feels the coldness replace your body and turns to watch as you remove your sweatshirt. You were both sweaty and the fact that you had stayed in your clothes for the whole of this heated encounter must have been hard. But he watches as you lose piece by piece, frantically pulling them off like they were on fire.

He felt stuck in his spot, because if he could, he'd leap up and help you with each article of clothing, But all he could do was gaze. He gawked at your torso and your slick skin. He watches you pull off your pants, and ogles at the thick stature of your legs. He's seen your cock before, but he wasn't prepared for it to sling out of your underwear so abrupt and so fast. he didn't care before because it only even went in his mouth, now he panicked thinking of the vast amount of you entering in, stretching him out, hitting hopefully every spot where it counts.

"Should I take mine off?" He's surprised he asked, but the air was getting too thick with silence.

You smirk, walking back over to your flushed boyfriend. "Keep it on, it's a reminder of everything you've done for me," his ears were burning. he couldn't help by be embarrassed as you took in the full sight of him.

"Jay," you climbed back on the bed and bend over to kiss his cheek, 'I'm so in love with you,"

That anxiousness rose again, and Jay marveled at the fact that he hadn't felt it until now, and he'd smack you for being so sentimental if he wasn't in such a dazed state.

"Me too," and he doesn't hesitate either. He couldn't look you in the eyes, but the hand that landed on his back could tell it was genuine by the way his heart pounded.

You lift his chin to meet his lips and it's only soft for a second, before returning to its intensity. Jay made those small little sounds, and it drove you to push your hand down on his lower back, grinding his hips into the pillow. And he moans louder.

"Keep grinding," And he obeys as you open the bottom drawer of your nightstand and unravel the pack of condoms and the squeeze bottle of lube.

"I knew this would come in handy one day," you comment.

He's unable to speak about his own pricey goods sitting in his nightstand and kept it for another conversation.

He watches you coat your fingers in lube, but he pays closer attention to the way your eyes furrow. It was the same furrow you did when you worried. He didn't even realize that you could be nervous too.

"Baby," he calls to your attention, "You're not going to hurt me."

With his comment, you poor on more lube. "I just want to make sure. I want this to be so good for you.

"And it will," you lay the lube on the side of the bed and scoot closer.

You kiss his back gently, "Tell me immediately if something doesn't feel good." and he nods in response.

Your finger slips in with no hesitation, but you still take Jay's mouth into a kiss to distract him, and so you could experience the way he moaned into your mouth.

Jay couldn't help the roll of his back when it starts to feel good. Your finger is slippery and part of its intrusion was uncomfortable, but when you curved it slightly to the right, he can't hold back his yelps. "There, there." And your repeat it over and over again, making sure to hit exactly where he wanted.

You watch him lose the part of him that was still holding back. He wails, pushing himself along your finger to gain more motion.

He winces a bit when you fit another finger. You give him time, making sure to be cautious of his facial expressions. He was tight, so tight that it felt like your fingers were merging together. You couldn't imagine how it would feel when you finally got in there. You held on to the crumb of patience you could endure, and watch him start back his riding when it feels good. Soon, a third finger slips in with ease, and Jay is practically fucking your hand.

"Now," Jay pants out and your mind works slower than usual.

"Now?" Out of fear, you grab more lube and squirt it against his hole, and rubbed it in, working your fingers to hit that spot again.

Jay whines in desperation, "Now, fuck me now." He couldn't believe his words. Any shyness he had flew out the second you hit his prostate. It was like no pleasure he's ever felt before. he needed more, Now.

"You loosen your fingers from his hole and lie back. "I want you on top,"

Jay's confused for a second, and you have to manually position him over your lap and hover above your dick. He gives a knowing look. He watches as you hurriedly slip on the condom and add on what had to be half the bottle of lube.

"I think it will hurt less if you're on top, so you can move how you want to make it feel good."

Jay gives you a half-smile and your heart pounds through your ears. "You let me know-"

"if it hurts, got it." And he waist no time positioning himself perfectly in row with your cock. You prop your legs up to reach underneath him and slide it in. He digs into your chest tightly, wailing out sporadically. You think you could come there just feeling an inch of his heat, but you hold your composure gripping onto his small waist.

"Fuck," He scrunches up his face and you try your best to soothe his skin around it.

It hurt entering, but Jay felt your fingers dancing to his sides, and it motivated him to go deeper.

"Take your time, don't go too fast." but he does slip down further. You both moan in unison.

Then his back arches up and he slips down easily, fastly. Your hands can't stop touching his skin. You put them anywhere they can be, but they fall perfectly with the slopes of his hips.

"Fuck you feel good." and then he slips the rest of the way down, and you have to grip onto him as if to hold your release that was waiting to burst.

Jay doesn't think about it. He doesn't think about the pain or the fact that he can feel you stretching him out, he just wanted all of you and more. He braces himself on you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He squeezes down and rocks gently. His tempo is unsteady, and so are your hips that meet halfway. It takes a while before you both match patterns, and when you do, that's when his pleasure sets in, times 10. You grip at his ass and help him grind down, slapping it every now and then, listening to his whimpers.

His breathing is off track, you feel the sweat from his forehead drip onto your shoulder, and it only turns you on more.

He whines your name, "I'm tired." He pants.

In one quick grab, you flip him over so that he's the one on the bottom and you hover over him with a smirk. "Turn around," and he wastes no time, again, obeying orders.

You move behind him, putting on more lube than necessary.

He gasps when he feels you grip his hips and drag them upward, his body now in the position of what he knew would be a different type of pleasure.

"Relax," he hadn't realized he went stiff at the feel of you against his hole, but he takes one deep breath and arch as much as possible, laying his head sideways on the bed, clenching onto a pillow like it was his enemy.

it was uncomfortable to the older one at first, especially when you started moving in, but when all of you was wrapped around his heat, his back did that incredible arch up and squeezed down.

"How does this feel?" you start moving in and out steadily, starting slow and picking up the pace. Jay could only nod. He was tired of making sounds, his throat was dry and croaking, but when your hips started slapping against his, it didn't matter how he felt, his voice was inevitable.

His body was on fire, and so was yours, he had a rapid second where he understood why people fucked, and fucked on multiple occasions. It was more pleasure than pain, the sting tolerable enough that at one point, he forget it exists.

You plow into him with as much force as you possibly can. You watch the way his ass comes in contact with your pelvis and bounces back. You watch this until you can't take anymore and need his lips.

A hand grips his stomach and pulls him up vertically. He gasps at the sudden change in position, but squirms in your hold. You take your other hand and twist his chin to the side so that your lips come together, sloppy and desperate.

The heat from his mouth and his bottom caused you to moan just as loud as he was. You kissed him to the best of your ability, but it was hard to focus on thrusting into him and kissing him.

This position was different like what Jay had thought, and it was rougher. He could really feel you now, all of you, and it was slightly more painful, yet, you hit that spot that drove him crazy. He tried opening his eyes, so badly wanting to watch your face, but his eyes filled with warm tears, so it was all just a blur.

Then your thrusts became jagged, with an aggressive jolt in and out. Jay grabbed at his own cock, becoming more desperate than ever to come.

"I'm gonna cum," you yell out, scared that both of your noises and the sound of slapping skin would overlaps your announcement.

Jay detaches his lips from yours and relaxes his head against your shoulder. You watch him jerk himself off, and it's enough for you to not be able to hold on any longer. You catch his member in your hand and jerk him fast. His fingers dig into the side of your thighs as you watched as much of him as you could squirt on himself before your own vision goes white. You could've sworn you were coming for ages. and Jay could've sworn too, the way he felt a continuous leak pouring out of him. He loses his balance and falls over onto the bed, your dick sliding out of him nicely. You're not to far behind him, plopping down on the side of him and taking in your first breath of air since you could remember.

Both of you take a few minutes to calm your pacing hearts. After, you both wash up in the bathroom and snuggle into his bed, the one that didn't need cleaning. But it hits him that part of his plan was not all the way fulfilled.

He jolts up immediately. "Oh my god, the food!" He runs to the kitchen and is thankful that most of the stove was turned off, but now the food he wasted money on was really no good use.

"Oh, I forgot you cooked for me," You chuckle, walking out of the room and position yourself behind him.

He turns to hit your shoulder for your lack of care.

The next few minutes are of both of you cleaning up the mess he made.

"Well," You coo, pulling up the dishwasher and pressing start. "The food part of your plan wasn't the most successful, but I still really enjoyed this little treat." You googley-eye down to Jay's body which was once wearing your oversized hoodie.

He throws a towel and it hits your side. "Yeah, whatever, punk." Jay pretended to have this cool-guy image, but when he turned around he couldn't help but blush.

No, things didn't turn out exactly the way Jay had planned it in his head, but instead, things were all the more better. Even looking back on the long day he's spent planning and executing and succeeding, he'd go through all the stress of trying to get you to take his virginity once more if it meant he could be in that perfect situation with you again,

Again. Jay thought.

Yeah, he definitely wanted to do that again.

[sepiamestus]

HOW ABOUT some raydon hcs perhaps :] -world's most normal normalest guy

OUGH hiii skye this has been sitting in my drafts for *checks timestamp* EIGHT DAYS bc executives stopped functioning the day i got it so i saved it to come back to latee and then i. Forgor. But anyways ummm ummmm

I imagine the development of there relationship was Slow at first. Immovable object (Ray, who has harbored catholic levels of guilt since he was six years old and doesnt think he deserves affection from the people he hurt) vs unstoppable force (Don, who is obsessed with him)

Furthered by the fact that neither of these fuckers know how to talk ab their feelings. They spend months post escape being totally convinced the other hates them. Its like mutual pining but theyre both being hunted for sport so they dont really have time to talk it out

Don had years to stew over his crush on ray so hes (read: a little) more functional ab it. Ray, on the other hand, never really had time for crushes, and is hit with these very distressing newfound feelings like a ton of bricks and is an absolute disaster about it

The start of their relationship is pretty tentative, seeing as neither of them know wtf theyre doing, which leads to ice cream dates that consist of them staring at each other in silence for twenty consecutive minutes because theyre both waiting for the other to speak first

They both make up for their incompetence in verbal communication in different ways. Don is very tactile and shows affection via small bits of physical contact. Ray is more of an acts of service kind if guy, and likes to give Don random little gifts out of the blue

Once they get over the initial awkwardness tho, they are the clingiest motherfuckers alive. If they are not holding hands 24/7 they will cry and scream and wail

They are soooooo t4t omg. This is true

Don is very secure in his identity, whilst Ray is very new to the idea of messing with his gender (that one post thats like "im probably non binary but i have a job so idc ab that rn" except said job is trying to save your friends from being killed and eaten)

Don says stuff like "this is Ray, she's my boyfriend" as frequently as possible. Ray thinks this is hilarious

Gilda is their main supporter mostly because "oh my god ray you have to go out with him just so he'll shut the fuck up about you"

They ermmmm unmmm ummmm. Are cute 🥺

[03josten]

hi friendoo. i saw your post about fics and i was wondering if you had any aftg fic recs. i remember you recommended me once "under the kitchen lights" and nothing beat that fic since...i reread it so many times...

roro u know this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i didn't want to post it until i was satisfied but it was just gonna rot here if i didn't post it now. i'll add to the post if i think of any more.

just linking these in the order i find them or think of them, some of them are unfinished and older

Neil never made it out of Baltimore.

Six years later, Andrew has his life together, more or less, but he's far from okay. When Bee convinces him to change the scenery and go on a trip around Europe, he knows this isn't going to fix anything.

Except, he's sitting on a train in Switzerland across a ghost who's staring at him with a familiar crystal blue gaze and no spark of recognition in his eyes

Neil has temporary amnesia, and Andrew is disconcertingly attractive. This is especially disconcerting because Neil was pretty sure he didn't swing. Nicky is endlessly pleased by the entire situation.

Andrew Doe had been on the streets since getting released from an Oakland juvenile facility six months ago. He'd made his way down the California coast, and had been living in a homeless encampment on Venice Beach for the last two months. He'd made a decent life for himself and felt relatively safe and settled--until a boy with a worn-out duffel bag and haunted eyes appeared at his corner of the beach and threw his life into chaos.

Andrew becomes a cliché and joins a travelling circus after falling for the pretty sword swallower.

A year post-canon, when they thought they were safe, Neil goes missing.

Neil dug into the bag, through the snacks, and stared. In the bottom was a bottle of red hair dye. Not natural red, like Neil's, but something more… firetruck. It was darker than that, but that was the closest word Neil could think of.

"Oh," Neil said dumbly. When he looked up, Andrew was already looking at him.

"Oh," Andrew mocked.

Andrew and Abram meet in California, only for him to be wrenched away by the Moriyamas - until he shows up at PSU four years later.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45407749

Neil desperately does not want to talk to her. It doesn’t matter how many times Andrew tells him Betsy is very good at her job and could do a lot to help him; Neil doesn’t need anyone rooting around in his brain trying to fix him, thank you very much. He knows he’s fucked in the head, but he’s been dealing with it by himself for his entire life, and he’ll keep dealing with it on his own until the day he dies.

But Andrew is exactly the problem, today, and as strong as Neil’s dislike for Betsy is, he knows that if there’s anyone who can advise him on how to approach this…issue, it’s her...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45405370

Andrew finally lets his emotions in - the good and the bad.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45297673 this one is SEXY

Yes or no?" Neil asked as he pulled away, a grin on his face.

Andrew contemplated. He felt good. He had woken up comfortably, and the presence in bed beside him hadn't set him on edge. Him and Neil had been together for years, but sometimes he still woke up and put space between them. Neil always understood, but there was a crease in his brow for the rest of the day whenever it happened. Today was a good day for Andrew. Not just okay, but good.

"Yes," Andrew decided.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42678765/chapters/107211447

The next universe over, life has gone a bit easier on Andrew. He’s gainfully employed as a nurse of all things, working beside his best friend Renee, and living in relative harmony with his brother, the recently graduated Dr. Aaron Minyard. Everything’s fine.

It’s fine that he hasn’t spoken to Kevin in person for three years. It’s fine if Aaron’s leaving him to marry his stupid doctor girlfriend.

It’s fine until the boy with the box-dyed hair stumbles into the ER and passes out at his feet, bringing a world of secrets and trouble with him.

And Neil? Neil’s looking for any port in a storm.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45106720

The Monsters come to Columbia for the summer. There is lemonade and sweet tea, video games, ice cream and Andrew in muscle tees and short shorts. Neil is having the best summer of his life.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27625013/chapters/67588202

Neil joins a band, gets laid and starts a mob war.

Andrew met a guy at a bar. Sort of. He had a one night stand with the guy he met at a bar. Sort of. Then said guy he met at a bar and had a one night stand with became a regular hook-up. Sort of.

Now the guy he met at a bar who became a regular hook-up after a one night stand keeps a toothbrush at his place.

Sort of.

Fuck.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47047513

"Andrew realized what he was seeing but he couldn’t comprehend it. He didn’t know how to help. There was no enemy to deal with – there was just Neil seizing on the floor and Andrew didn’t know what to do." _____ Neil starts having seizures and Andrew tries to help.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47005483

A hot guy moves in downstairs. Allison sees him first.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46988053

Andrew was a southern boy, through and through.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46033726

After an upbringing lacking in mundanity, Neil just wants to live a “normal” life. He’s got a home, a circle of friends, a job — why not give casual sex a shot?

Neil tries out poetry and he and Andrew are disgustingly in love.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47394898

Neil is on just a few more drugs when the Feds come to the hospital after picking him up from his father's basement, and doesn't cause enough of a ruckus to get the Foxes brought to his hospital room. Stuart takes him back to England instead.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47377012

Just falling in love.

(I've reread this fic maybe 8 times...10/10)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39298077

Neil's adventures in playing for the world's crappiest college Exy team, featuring highlights such as a meet-ugly of star players Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard, a tour of all three of Ohio's thrilling sights, copious amounts of shit-stirring, the mystery of an undead house plant, arguing about Pokémon with a guy he met online and sometimes hooks up with and definitely doesn't know in real life, forced team bonding, a date at the Mothman museum, charcuterie boards, and many more.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47515573

Someone's taken a dick pic in the arcade photobooth. Detective Andrew Minyard is on the case.

Andrew and the Idiotic, Thirsty, Ill-advised, Very Off-Limits Crush on his College Roommate's Younger Brother.

(a fav of mine. highly recommend)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650433

Four million words, written across hundreds of journals. But one of Andrew Minyard's decoded stories outlives the rest. The story of his forbidden love, Neil Hatford.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42831054

This is the story of Neil and Andrew post “The King’s Men” and spans 12 years. It’s about their sexual journey – every baby steps, missteps, and gigantic leaps. It is also (and perhaps more importantly) the journey of how they stay committed throughout it all, made visible in the little things, and bigger, grander gestures. Most of this is a mix of canonical facts and my own take on their future. A few of the scenes include: the night following the championship game, Andrew allowing Neil to get him off, Neil getting fucked for the first time, the handcuffs scene, Andrew moving to a new city while Neil has to stay at Palmetto for his last year, Andrew bottoming, Nicky’s wedding, and Andrew and Neil’s public coming out far, far in the future, followed by a crazy Fox reunion.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47370928

Every hair on his new body stood on end as he quickly patted himself down, finding a wallet in his back pocket but nothing else until his shoe caught on the strap of a duffle bag, half buried in the sand under his bench. He yanked the bag up beside him, giving it a quick shake to loosen the sand clinging to the canvas fabric, before turning his attention to stripping the wallet bare. He decided quite quickly that his other half was an asshole. There was plenty of loose cash in his wallet, but not a single personal item of any manner. No ID. No bank card. No pictures of girlfriends or family. Not even an old receipt stuffed in the bottom. At the very least, life hadn’t disappointed him with how shitty things could get.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34885285 this one is also so sexy ur welcome

Neil and Andrew have always been inseparable since the day they first met in seventh grade - when Neil was Natalie and Andrew was no longer a Doe. They grew up side by side, sharing everything with the other - everything besides their feelings for each other. But now they’re nineteen and eighteen, and after Andrew kisses Neil, they begin exploring a side of each other they never thought they would. Well, that, and they still aren't sharing their feelings for each other too.

[heartdaichi]

“we’ve had our downs, but we’ve had way more ups …”

“let’s make love.”

welcome to WASTELAND, a creative collab for broken hearts, sugar coated deception, reminiscent memories and an uncertain future.

so believe it or not, it’s my birthday in t-9 days, and this collab idea has been sitting dusty in my drafts for about a month. so, i officially announce the opening of luna’s birthday collab !!

wasteland is an album that (for some reason) lies very close to my heart. i’ve loved it since the moment it was released and i’ve listened to all of the songs a concerning amount of times 😅😅 below i’ve selected a couple of favourites and what i’d like you to do with them is simple:

RULES

you give me a character you would like to write for and i’ll give you a song that i think fits. i’d appreciate it if you listened to it to get a proper feel, but i’m including a lyric below if you don’t have the time.

write a fic/drabble/headcanons based on this particular song. these can be sfw, nsfw or dark content, but please make sure that warnings are marked accordingly. there is no word limit, just be creative! please note : do not enter this collab if you are below the age of 18.

when you post your work, please use the tag #wasteland collab and make sure to tag me!! i’d love to see what everyone comes up with.

this collab is open to all fandoms, but if your work contains spoilers, please make sure to put a warning (i say, having not watched blue lock yet)

that’s it really !! make sure to drop me an ask with the character you would like to write for, and i’ll assign you a song !! alternatively, if you can’t think of a character before i give you a song, just lmk and i can pick one before you decide.

the deadline is the end of july.

ALSO ALSO ALSO HUUUUUGE THANKS TO @nagicore FOR DOING THE GRAPHIC FOR ME ㅠㅠ i fought so hard with phonto and if it wasn’t for mai you’d get something below picsart quality. i’ve never been good at designing and mai literally saved my life. thank you :]

WASTELAND — luna’s picks

TRACK ONE : wasting time (ft. drake & the neptunes)

“if you’re gonna waste your time, then waste your time with me.”

vacant

vacant

TRACK TWO : fytb (ft. joony)

“i see you so much in my dreams, we could’ve worked it out: fuck is you talking about?”

vacant

vacant

TRACK THREE : addictions (ft. tre’ amani)

“maybe it’s the love, the drugs, the weed, the pussy, maybe it’s all the above.”

vacant

vacant

TRACK FOUR : bad luck

“don’t take my sweetness for a weakness baby, love or lust i don’t wanna fuck this up.”

kei tsukishima — no title yet (by @trafaligar)

vacant

TRACK FIVE : dead man walking

“i’m a lover boy, she love the toys.”

vacant

vacant

TRACK SIX : angel

“don’t ever leave my side, girl i’ll die.”

vacant

vacant

TRACK SEVEN : all mine

“we had our downs but we had way more ups - let’s make love.”

oliver aiku — no title yet (by @chosoguapo)

vacant

© heartdaichi 2023 — all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. graphic by nagicore. do not save.