#i’m open to discussing the topic if you can have a reasonable discussion

[plague-of-insomnia]

Ciel does not see Sebastian as his father.

He is actively repulsed by the idea and Yana has shown this explicitly at least twice: once in the Circus Arc and again in the Murder Arc.

I know there’s a significant segment of the fandom who genuinely believes that Ciel wanted to have Sebastian to replace his dead father, but I disagree strongly, not only because of the above, but also because Yana has shown us that OC was much closer with Tanaka than Vincent.

Besides, if you look at the revisited contract scene from ch 138, it almost seems as if Ciel is not thinking of replacing Vincent when he makes the decision to accept Sebastian’s offer, but in fact is looking for a new protector to replace RC, his dead twin.

It’s impossible to talk about this moment without the gorgeous full-page series from the chapter.

Sebastian offers the contract. Ciel recalls his brother promising to protect him. He gazes out at his brother’s corpse and realizes that his only way forward now is through making a pact with the demon. His brother’s soul is gone already, as is his life.

So Ciel becomes his twin. He takes Sebastian on as his new shield for his revenge. Sebastian may be someone that Ciel relies on, but he is absolutely not his new father figure.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

i have asked this before on a different page and i CANNOT get an answer but can someone pls explain how porn addiction isn’t real??

like we had someone during sex ed in school bring it up as a topic and explain that (primarily a penis haver) you can train your brain to only be able to get hard/cum to porn and not be able to with a real person… and like sex addiction is real? but porn addiction is not? r there people just using “porn addiction” as a reason to ban porn all together and demonize it? like is that why?

i’m sorry if this comes across ignorant in any way. i am genuinely asking and open minded about this. if u take the time to answer thank you!! 🙏🏻

hi anon,

so it's actually helpful, and interesting, that you mention sex addiction, because that's also on pretty shaky ground as an actual thing that can be meaningfully diagnosed. which isn't to say that no one in the world exhibits maladaptive sexual behaviors, of course, but whether those behaviors can be accurately characterized as addictions is actively debated. in many cases what's casually described as "sex addiction" (which includes the use of pornography) would more accurately be classified as compulsive sexual behavior disorder, or CSBD, which has much more in common with obsessive compulsive disorder than addiction. to my knowledge, CSBD is rarely treated as a primary diagnoses, but rather part of a larger pattern of compulsive behavioral issues.

put this way: in many cases, saying that someone is a "sex addict" is sort of like saying someone with OCD is "addicted to washing their hands," in that it's misrepresenting a symptom as the primary issue and misunderstanding the cause of the behavior to boot.

now, talking about CSBD gives us a great segue into something that I think is really important when discussing the validity of porn addiction, which I'll lead into with this quote:

In their study, Grubbs, et al., analyzed data from about 15 different studies by varied researchers (and reviewed many more), comprising nearly 7,000 different participants. Studies were conducted in-person and online, in the United States and Europe. The team found that, first, religiousness was a strong, clear predictor of moral incongruence regarding porn use. This is important, as it indicates that we can and should use a person’s religiousness as an indicator of the likelihood of moral conflict over porn use. Not all people who are morally opposed to porn are religious, but it appears that religiosity captures the majority of people who feel this way. Given that the WHO and ICD-11 recommend an exclusion of moral conflict over sex from the diagnosis of Compulsive Sexual Behavior Disorder, this finding suggests that when diagnosing CSBD, a person’s religiousness is a critically important factor.

put more simply: high levels of religious guilt contribute to so much self-reported "porn addiction" that it can make it hard to figure out who's experiencing actual, verifiable compulsive behavioral issues.

this quote comes from an article called "Science Stopped Believing In Porn Addiction. You Should, Too," in which the author argues that porn addiction is essentially an outmoded understanding of problematic consumption of pornography that's failing to take into account other factors, in this case the moral incongruence or sense of conflict that many people feel about viewing pornography that causes them to feel shameful, dirty, or "out of control" when the use it. it can be read here:

porn addiction is problematic as a classification for other reasons as well; Dr. Devon price elaborates very neatly on many of them here:

again, I don't point out any of this to argue that no one ever has a relationship to sex or pornography that's detrimental to them and their ability to function, only that branding that as addiction is a.) inaccurate b.) unhelpful and c.) deeply loaded in a culture that so often stigmatizes addiction as a matter of weakness and poor character rather than recognizing it for what it actually is. many people grow up in a cultural context that profoundly stigmatizes sexuality, which makes a lot of people worry that they're aberrant and dangerous for doing anything that brings them sexual pleasure. trust me, my own inbox is a testament to that; I spend an enormous amount of time reassuring people that they're allowed to partake in utterly benign sexual behavior.

your example of people training themselves to only get off with porn is actually a great example here. the simple truth is that it's possible for people to train themselves into all kinds of sexual behaviors whether porn is involved or not, because if you only get off one way then your brain and body will simply learn to associate that particular type of stimuli with sexual pleasure and have a more difficult time with anything else.

people with clits who have spent a lot of time getting off by putting a vibrator smack on their clitoris benefit hugely from taking breaks and varying their masturbation style, especially since human partners are rarely able to provide the same type of stimuli as a toy. folks who are accustomed to only getting off in one position, whether it's on their back or humping a pillow or whatever else, can struggle with orgasming in other other position. people who have spent years masturbating before having partnered sex for the first time often find that it's a difficult adjustment—and I can attest to that one personally, because I had trouble for YEARS finishing with partners and almost always had to touch myself to make it happen. you can't even accuse porn of being responsible for that, because I've never particularly enjoyed watching porn and can probably count on one hand the number of times I've used it to get off.

to your final question about whether people are just claiming the existence of porn addiction as a reason to ban it—absolutely yes, many are. if you dig a little beneath the surface you'll find very quickly that many of the most vocal and well-funded anti-porn groups are run by deeply conservative religious groups and other far right wingnuts who stand to benefit tremendously if they can a.) ban porn and then b.) define "porn" as "anything that includes any kind of depiction of sexuality that I personally think is yucky." you see this deployed frequently with challenges to books in schools and libraries and subsequent book banning, which frequently target books about sex education, books featuring information about sexual abuse, and LGBTQ+ books of all stripes as "pornographic."

tl;dr I'm certainly not arguing that nobody on earth has a bad relationship with porn, but I do think the words we use to talk about that are important and porn addiction is a largely unhelpful way to do so.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Can’t live without your love inside me now

Tags: sextherapist!Nanami x fem!reader, nocurse!au, taboo romance, heavy topics such as sexual assault, dead dove due to the power imbalance and heavy conversation.

Synopsis: In which Kento Nanami is a sex therapist, and his client is a young neglected wife with an emotionally absent husband. He teaches you what love is really all about.

An: Was really on the fence about posting the first part to this series. i’m glad most people seem to be enjoying it though :) so sit down and let sextherapist!nanami be your comfort for today

Part one. | Part two. |

‘I guess it makes me feel like I’m not good enough for him. Every time we have sex I try to cater to him, but it just feels like it’s never enough. If he had it his way, we’d probably have sex everyday, but I just don’t have that kind of time, energy, or desire.’

Those words burned Nanami’s ears. He knows it’s only your first session, but he can see that there’s already progress being made just by having these discussions of sex out in the open..

It reminded him just why he was so passionate about safe sex measures.

“I was only going to take the tea to placate you…”

Even if he knew that was the truth behind your answer, it still left a heavy somber feeling on his heart. He nodded, keeping his face trained on an empathetic expression.

“Do you do that often..? Put your needs behind the wants of others..?”

God, why was he reading you to filth right now? You took a deep shaky breath, reaching for more tissues because you’re definitely going to need them.

“It’s just easier..” Your throat feels like it’s trying to close as you’re attempting to force back your tears.

“Shh, let it all out..” Nanami knows that he shouldn’t be taking this tone of voice with you. He shouldn’t be shushing you and cooing to you that it’s okay, but he can’t override his innate biological need to protect and nurture.

The tears begin falling down your cheeks once again, and your shoulders shake with each small sob that wracks your body.

Nanami can’t resist himself. He leans over, and his big thick palm rests on your shoulder, feeling like a secure anchor out in the middle of the ocean.

“Such a kind, caring soul..” he whispers to you, using his hand to rub on your shoulder soothingly.

You feel the urge to press your face into his chest and vent out all of your innermost feelings and thoughts to this man while he strokes your hair lovingly, but you hold yourself still in your chair, knowing it’d be highly inappropriate.

Soon, your tears dry and you take a sobering breath. That was a lot, and the session isn’t even over yet.

“So, what do I do about.. him hounding me..?” For some reason, you still can’t come to terms with using the word coercion. It feels like a betrayal to your marriage, even if you do implicitly know that he’s been coercing you to get what he wants.

“Well, what can you do?” Nanami asked softly. He eased back into his chair, preparing himself mentally to get back in his counselor mindset.

“I guess I could…” you search your mind for answers. The only obviously wrong answer is to continue giving into him. “I could tell him how it stresses me out when he does that.”

Nanami nods his head. Inwardly, he doesn’t think that’s going to be enough. If your husband was anywhere near a halfway decent person, he would be able to understand how asking multiple times is inappropriate.

“What do you think will get in your way from telling him about how it makes you feel?”

You imagine telling your husband and how he’d react. “I guess I can be scared of him going in the complete opposite…”

Nanami’s eyebrows furrow, and he pushes his glasses up on his nose. “What do you mean by that?”

“Like… I imagine telling him, and he’ll probably respond by saying that he’ll never ask again and that I’ll need to initiate sex anytime I want it.”

Nanami can feel his eye twitch. Is there any manipulation tactic that your husband isn’t using? “I can see how that’d be discouraging. You unfortunately can’t control how your husband responds, but you can control how you phrase the question. Let’s roleplay this conversation if that’s okay. Pretend I’m your husband.”

Your face heats a bit. A tiny voice in your head tells you that if Nanami was your husband, you wouldn’t be having this issue. After taking a deep breath, you try and pretend that you’re speaking to your husband.

“When you ask me to have sex with you multiple times in a day, it really stresses me out and puts a lot of pressure on me.”

“So? What do you want me to do, Y/n? Am I suppose to read your mind and know when you want it?” Kento’s voice is uncharacteristically sharp and irritated. He watches your eyes widen in response, hurt coils on your face. “Is that how he’d respond?” he adds in a much softer tone, trying to remind you that this is just a roleplay exercise.

After a long pause, “Yeah, you got it spot on somehow…”

Because I know how narcissistic assholes act, he thinks to himself.

“Let’s try that question again, but this time, I want you to phrase your statement so you put blame on the questions and not your husband, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe out, trying to find the words to say. “Those types of questions make me feel really pressured and make it hard for me to feel ready for sex.”

“Perfect. You did so well,” Nanami praises you with a warm smile.

Butterflies swarm your stomach. It’s not often you hear those words instead of hearing more things you need to work on. A small, timid smile curls on your lips.

“Do you think he’ll react poorly to that too?” you ask, wanting to know Nanami’s opinion.

“There’s no way for me to know how he’ll respond, but there’s only one way to find out, right? If we get no where with this plan, we’ll do something else,” he assures you, sitting back in his chair.

His eyes flick down to his watch. The session needs to come to an end soon, but the thought of you walking out of his home makes his stomach feel tight. He’s not ready to let you leave yet.

“Let’s briefly touch on the second thing—“

Your phone’s ringtone interrupts Nanami’s words, and you quickly apologize before fishing your phone out of your purse.

“It’s my husband. He’s probably wondering how much longer I’ll be.” You click the reject button and lock your phone, but Nanami can see how the simple act of rejecting his call makes you feel nervous. Your fingers shook lightly, and you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“That’s okay. We can wrap it up here for today… During our next session…”

The sound of vibration fills the room this time.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Nanami. He gets worried..”

More like controlling. It’s just barely been one hour.

“Send him a small text and let him know we’re almost done.” Nanami gives a kind smile, even while he’s having violent thoughts about your husband.

He watches as your fingers fly across your keyboard, quickly typing out a small message. You then lock your phone again, stow it away in your purse, and you return your gaze back to Nanami.

If you keep your husband waiting too much longer, you’ll hear about it later today.

“During our next session, I want you to tell me how it went with your husband. I also would like to touch base on the next thing you said while we talked about your lack of sex drive. You mentioned that you try to cater to him, but it’s never enough. We’ll get into what that means next time, okay?” Nanami says, finally getting his words out without an interruption.

You swallow thickly, immediately feeling nervous for the next session. You’re not sure if you’re ready to talk about the act of having sex, but you knew it’d come up eventually.

“Okay… I’ll see you then, Mr. Nanami. Take care,” you wish him farewell before rising from the small couch. Nanami rises with you and guides you toward his front door.

His eyes can’t help but glance down towards your figure, and he feels his hatred for your husband grow. He must not truly understand how lucky he is to have a wife like you.

“Take care, Y/n. You have my number if you need to come in earlier than scheduled.”

As soon as the front door closes, you dial your husband’s number, ready to explain that the session went over in timing.

Meanwhile, Nanami also picks up his phone, and he dials a peer’s number, Atsuya Kusakabe. Nanami’s known Kusakabe since they were in graduate school together. They often shared phone calls with each other and their other friend, Hiromi Higuruma. While Higuruma wasn’t a therapist, he did work in legal, which helped Kusakabe and Nanami out a lot with legal questions.

After a few rings, Kusakabe answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, you’re not in a session, are you?” Nanami asks, holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder. He pours water into his kettle to start on some tea.

“I wouldn’t have answered if I was in one. I only do intakes today, and I finished those up hours ago. Why? You needing to talk?” Kusakabe’s voice sounds even more gravely over the phone than it does in person. Nanami imagines he’s probably enjoying a cigarette right now.

“Yeah, I just got out of a first session with a female patient. It’s weighing on me.”

“I don’t know how you do what you do, Nanami. You know, you’d probably have a better quality of life if you focused on something else.”

“Not an option. I didn’t spend years of my life researching to do something else. This also isn’t weighing on me like my other cases do.” Nanami leans against one of his kitchen counters, looking up towards the ceiling. He debates on not telling Kusakabe at all about how your case. If he tells him how he feels, that means he has to acknowledge that it’s teetering on breaking ethical code.

“Well? Go on.”

“My client has a piss poor excuse for a husband, and I’m pretty sure the story runs a lot deeper than what is being said.”

“Jeez Ken, you said this was her first session, right? Of course there’s more to the story. That’s a given. You think there’s abuse going on?” Kusakabe flicks his cigarette, looking out into his property. He always enjoyed the quiet life way more, which is why he did career counseling. It was way less stressful.

“I know there’s at least emotional abuse going on. I can tell she’s not even aware of the levels of manipulation her husband is using. I had to bite my tongue several times throughout our session.”

A chuckle sounds from the other side of the phone.

“Don’t tell me you’re already partial to this woman, Ken.”

Nanami doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw tenses slightly. Luckily, the tea kettle whistling breaks the slight tension. “I just care. That’s all.”

“You wouldn’t be doing this job if you didn’t care, but do you care too much to do your job effectively?”

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @aldebrana @pandabiene5115 @petrichorvzlia @stargirl-mayaa @simssssssss5 @des-todoroki @nevvynev @dysphxriaii @rjreins @sukunawhores @nanamin-chan @mullermilkshake @thelostkira @anuncalledbridge @elliehenry24 @williamafton26 @ambiguouslady42 @airandyeah

[wstviewvidal]

boulevardier- w. maximoff

pairing: rich!wanda x r

summary: sparks fly at a chance encounter

a/n: first part of dirty cash!! i finished this early december but i was so nervous to post it but i don’t want to keep yall waiting any longer. i hope yall like it!

dirty cash masterlist

next part

minors do not interact

looking over at your friend, you give her a glare as you watch her mingle with some potential business partners. being dragged to a fundraising banquet as your friend’s plus one was a way you did not want to spend your saturday evening. especially a night that is full of rich privileged people— a place that you surely don’t feel you belong.

“but you owe me from when you needed me to bail you out of that date a few weeks ago, remember?” was what she told you— and it was true.

the said date went downhill in record time, not even lasting a full thirty minutes before you had your friend call with a fake emergency. your date continuously went on and on about the state of the economy and how people should be investing in stocks to grow wealth rather than focusing on a day job.

needless to say, your friend pulled through and gave an overly convincing act to get you out of there quickly.

your friend is now immersed in a discussion with a man in a suit, probably trying to win him over in hopes to find an investor for her small business. you slip away quietly and let her work her charm.

walking around the banquet hall, you admire the decorations and the ambiance, something you’re not used to being around. you watch as women walk around in either suits or beautiful dresses, you can’t help but admire and feel a little out of place. you’re not used to the flashy life that the people here live— you’ve never had the ample opportunities that the people in this room have had. feeling a sense of jealousy and insecurity run through your veins, you try to snap out of it. it’s not healthy and you know it, but you can’t help but wish you’d be in their shoes.

sighing softly to yourself, you you find a vacant seat at the open bar and order a drink while you people watch. you can hear the live music playing, the chatter of everyone’s conversations, clinking of champagne glasses, the expensive laughter.

imagining your life in their shoes while you nurse your cocktail is how you spend the next few minutes occupying your time.

“is it any good?” you hear a smooth, confident voice ask beside you.

glancing over, you’re met with a dark haired woman with captivating green eyes smiling at you— the kind that disarms you before you even realize it. you smile back and shrug a bit, “it’s a drink. i needed one.”

you joke, now looking over at her well tailored suit and dark makeup. she’s beautiful.

chuckling subtly, “i’d ask you how your night is going, but based off of that sentence— i think i know how it’s going so far. i’m wanda, it’s nice to meet you.” she puts her hand out for a handshake, the glint in her eyes showing her amusement in the introduction.

her hand is warm when you shake it and you can smell a hint of expensive perfume as she gets closer to you to sit in the seat next to you. she speaks with confidence and an alluring charm.

you introduce yourself and laugh, “i didn’t mean any bad by it, it’s just not my.. environment,” you gesture to the crowd around you, “the rich pretentious crowd, it all seems fake to me. dressing up in your finest jewels just to fake altruistic behavior.. it’s not real to me.”

perhaps the drink was already getting to you. maybe that’s the reason you’re letting out a word spill to the beautiful woman who just wanted to know if your paloma was good.

or maybe it’s the way she giggled along with a small nod of her head as you spoke your mind. either way, she wasn’t put off by your tangent. in fact, she continued to sit with you and entertained your preferred topic of discussion for the next few minutes.

wanda watches you with an amused smile on her face. her eyes linger a bit longer on your lips longer than they should.

“fake altruism, huh? what would make it real?” she asks, with a small tilt of her head. her eyes squint the tiniest bit, her grin showing genuine interest. her voice is inquisitive, almost like she’s trying to probe you for something.

had you gone too far? you hesitate to respond, realizing you’ve possibly offended her— wondering if you’ve crossed a line. instead, wanda’s smiling and leaning into you as she wants to hear more.

noticing your slight hesitation, “you know, not a lot of people have the guts to say that. i really like it,” she chuckles softly. wanda looks over your features with a small smile as you move on to talk animatedly about your line of work. she’s enamored by how you’re wearing your emotions on your sleeve— something she struggles with.

you catch yourself, “i’m so sorry, wanda. i’ve been talking at you this whole time.” you inwardly cringe at how you’ve been holding her up with your rambling.

she shakes her head and puts her whiskey down on the bar gently, “no, please, i’m enjoying you. this is quite possibly the most entertainment i’ve had all night so far.” she puts a comforting hand on your forearm that’s resting on the bar in a comforting approach, she’s giving you a genuine smile. her gesture lasts a second too long, her gaze feeling a bit more personal than it needs to be.

“what are you here for?” you shake your head and change the subject to her, wanting to know more about her and why she’s still here wanting to be with you.

her eyes flicker towards the crowd and she hesitates for a moment, almost debating whether or not to be honest with you, “i’m just here for work, requirement by the job.” she shrugs and avoids eye contact, switching the subject back to you. she plays with the rim of her cup, not quite giving you her undivided attention like she just was.

weird.

you don’t spend too much time on it, not wanting to push her away. “i’m here for my friend. she recently started a new business and is hoping to find an investor here, make a good connection.”

you tell her as you gesture to your friend who’s now moved onto her next target of the night. she’s speaking with a woman this time, half interested in what she’s talking about.

wanda nods and follows to where your gesturing, “hm, i’ll have to check her out later.”

you two laugh and talk about different topics over the next ten minutes— ambitions you two have, where you two went to school, where you want to travel. the conversation is lighthearted but the both of you are enjoying the other’s presence.

shaking her head with a laugh, “paris is overrated. you’ll spend more time in traffic than seeing the eiffel tower.”

she watches your expression with a teasing smirk as she says this. she can tell paris is the one place you have always wanted to go to, but she wants to rile you up a bit. pure enjoyment is written on her face as she watched your face contort in mock and offense.

scoffing and looking at her with an incredulous glance, “so tell me where you’d recommend since you’re so well travelled.”

you place your chin in your hand as you await her response. your eyes are slightly glazed over and wanda can’t help but melt at the way the lights are reflecting in your eyes.

wanda grins at your tease, “vienna. no contest. it’s beautiful, and the pastries there will ruin everywhere else for you. you need to go if you ever find the opportunity.” she’s gazing at you intently as you take in her words, the way you’re nodding along to what’s she’s saying with genuine intrigue.

you are just about to respond right as a man taps her on the shoulder and says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. he leans in with a hint of impatience and you can see how wanda’s posture goes rigid and her jaw tightens.

wanda grimaces and lets out an exasperated sigh, “i’m sorry. they’re calling me for work. i’ll try to find you after, okay? please don’t leave until i see you again. i’d hate to lose my best conversation of the night.”

she gets up from her chair and gives your shoulder a squeeze, lingering a bit longer than needed, her thumb brushes against your skin. she smiles at you warmly just before she takes off in the direction of the man.

you watch as she leaves, noticing how people look in her direction with a hint of awe as she walks past. it makes sense since she had you wrapped around her finger in such a short amount of time.

you leave the bar to find your friend, glancing in the direction wanda left with a love struck smile on your face.

you find her and ask how the networking went. she lets out a sigh of content, “i can’t believe i got to talk to so many people! i gave them all my buriness card and i hope they’ll get in contact with me sometime this week.”

you nod along as she speaks, but subtly looking around the room for any glimpse of the well dressed brunette who had you captivated as soon as she spoke to you.

“did you meet anyone? you’ve been cooped up at the bar all night,” your friend asks as she nudges your shoulder playful with a grin.

rolling your eyes, “actually, yeah. i was talking to a woman, she seems sweet.”

your friends eyes lighten up and she grabs your arm with a small squeal. you laugh at her excitement about your (potentially) blossoming love life. she has continuously tried to set you up on dates in the past, but it never works out.

you groan and cringe, “i know, i know, but remember that i just met her and we don’t even know if-“

your friend shushes you with a stern look, “stop, look! that’s the ceo, the one i told you about earlier i hope i can get in with. she sponsors and invests in a lot of companies and schools. if i can get in with her, it’s like winning the lottery.”

you furrow your eyebrows and turn around to face the stage she’s pointing you to. it takes you a second to find a gap to look in between the bodies in front of you.

and there she is— wanda. your wanda. only now, there she is smiling in all her glory, waving at the crowd that is now forming in front of the stage. the faintest smile on her lips as she gently waves to the crowd.

“oh my god,” your blood runs cold and you freeze in place. you look over at your friend with a terrified look, eyebrows pulling together and eyes wide.

heat rushes to your face and you begin to replay every word you’d said to her at the bar. did she think you were mocking her? your hands begins to clench in nervousness and you want the ground to swallow you whole.

you messed up.

your friend looks at you with a confused look, then pieces it together slowly as she gauges your facial expressions. “oh my god,” she grabs your arm, “oh my god!”

people around look at you two, some shushing you with judgemental looks on their faces. she giggles and mouths, ‘no way.’

she’s filled with excitement at the potential in, you’re filled with dread and embarrassment as you mule over the fact that you complained about this event to wanda. wanda maximoff, the ceo of maximoff industries— founder and organizer of the charity event you’re attending.

your face heats up in embarrassment and you try to hide behind your friend as wanda speaks.

“good evening, everyone,” she stands tall and poised, her voice steady and confident, “thank you all for being here tonight. together, we all share a common goal: to invest in the future by supporting the education of our children.”

you muffle out wanda’s words as you try your best to stand still and not make any sudden movement. maybe if you’ll suddenly become invisible if you stand still enough.

unbeknownst to you, wanda was trying her hardest to spot you in the crowd. unfortunately, the stage lights kept her from being able to clearly see beyond the podium.

you feel queasy and lightheaded as you quickly walk to the restroom. you lean against the sink and try to steady your breathing as much as you can. of course you would somehow offend a ceo at their own event.

you groan as you force yourself to suck up your ego and walk back out into the now booming crowd.

you try to keep a low profile as you walk parallel to the wall— the last thing you want is to offend someone else here.

“there you are,” wanda walks up to you with a two glasses of champagne in her hand. she hands one to you with a smile, “i thought you left me.”

you take the glass with a polite smile, then cringing inwardly as you remember your word vomit at the bar. “listen, wanda, i’m so sorry about what i said. the event is beautiful and i love what you’re doing for the community. it’s amazing, really.”

the words come out rushed and wanda can see a flush on your cheeks. she chuckles softly and shakes her head, “hey, you’re okay. it’s okay. i didn’t take any offense, in fact, i really admire your honesty. it’s rare that i get that nowadays. you really.. stood out tonight.”

you groan and avert your eyes from her. she looks you over and admires you silently. she wants to laugh at your now embarrassed demeanor, a stark contrast to your extroverted energy at the bar.

she realizes she’s been looking at you for too long , clearing her throat and bringing the champagne up to her lips. she looks over the rim at you, trying to be as subtle as possible. your side profile is illuminated by the string lights on the ceiling, your eyes twinkling a bit more than before. perhaps the alcohol now settling in your blood stream? or maybe the fact that wanda actively sought you out after her speech.

you turn to wanda with a small sigh, “are you sure you’re not offended?” you play with the bracelet on your left wrist to try and ground yourself. you feel horrible and uncomfortable in her presence now.

wanda placed a warm hand on your forearm with a gentle look, “i promise. i mean, maybe don’t write off an event before you know what it’s about. people can surprise you, you know?”

wanda’s voice is teasing but soft and comforting. her eyes show no sign of telling a lie and you let out a small laugh at the situation. wanda nudges you with her shoulder softly as she goes to stand next to you.

for a split second, you want to throw caution to the wind and get to know her. you want to ask personal questions— hope there’s something more there.

but you don’t get the chance to. the same man who pulled her away earlier is now speaking into her ear and you can see how irritated she quickly gets with what he’s saying. nodding at what he says, she turns to you with an apologetic look on her face.

“it was refreshing talking to you,” she wants to say more, wants to offer to get you another drink— but she can’t, “take care of yourself, okay?”

and just like that, she’s gone into the crowd. maybe this wasn’t meant to continue on past tonight. maybe meeting wanda was just meant to be a chance encounter.

your friend walks up to you with a furrowed brow, “you’re seriously going to just let her leave?”

you can see the subtle hint of frustration on her face, the wild gesturing in wanda’s direction making it evident she wasn’t happy that you let her leave.

shrugging softly, “i’m sure she’s got better things to do.”

your voice is soft as you stare at wanda speaking with a group of people. she’s got an effortless grace and charm to her, something you don’t have.

following your friend to the exit, you try to push back the thought of wanda and the ‘what if.’

but the memories of her lingering touches, the laughs at your jokes, her soft smiles are now engraved into your mind. you don’t expect to see her again, but a part of you so desperately wishes you could.

[litsenn]

Astarion craves connection

Lately, I've been thinking an awful lot about Astarion's desperate need to bond with others, especially in Act 1. Not just to seduce you and have sex with you, not just because he wants to secure his place in the party, but because he wants - and surely needs - to connect with people after two centuries of loneliness.

I’m talking about genuine interactions with other people, without the pressure of Cazador’s will, and with interlocutors who are neither targets nor threats. Of course, sometimes it’s difficult to say if he’s only pretending or if he’s genuinely trying to bond with you, but the more I think about it, the more I see it. Just think about all the discussions you can have with him in Act 1. He's certainly the companion with the most evening interactions, and I think there's a reason for it, especially when you know that he's been so lonely for so long. And it's also quite striking given the fact that one could expect him to be much more wary, maybe even paranoid somehow (like Shadowheart), but on the contrary, he shows a real capacity to open up, to share and to relate. It's awkward sometimes, but he's trying, even if he doesn't really understand it himself.

So I wanted to look back at some interactions in act 1 and to have a closer look at them (in no particular order). And it's going to be long. And chaotic.

Take the first night in camp for instance; he opens up about not feeling comfortable sleeping in the woods. Yes, he remains quite cryptic, he doesn't tell you how terrified he is (you can't expect him to at this point), but still... he doesn't know you and yet tells you he's not feeling comfortable here. You don't even have to ask him.

He could have kept it to himself, he could have preferred to let you believe that he's fine.

Nothing forces him to tell you about it. And yet he decides, against all odds, to let you know that he's not so fine. It's implicit and subtle, yes, but it's there. He tries to reach out to someone. He's not good at it, but that's a meaningful step.

And take the stargazing scene, which, to me, is when he really decides to go for his “nice little plan”. But whether this is it or not, he is lying down and stargazing in the middle of camp, and I can't stress this enough: in the middle of camp. He’s not sitting apart, seeking calm and solitude. He obviously expects someone (you) to come and talk to him.

Another meaningful example is his confession if you go to the Underdark before the bite night. In this case, he will decide to tell you he’s a vampire. Nothing forces him to tell you. He admits it simply because he wants to be honest about it – he feels that, at this point, you won’t let him down. He wants to connect with you, despite the risks of such a revelation.

And look at his face when you say it's alright: he’s so relieved! Because you don't drive a stake through his heart, yes, but also because he knows now that you trust him. That he is ok. That he can count on you.

As for the bite scene, it's a little more complicated: He's famished and he wants to know if he can bite a sentient being now that Cazador can't control him. Of course, doing it without your consent is a terrible move (I tend to believe his idea of personal boundaries is quite fucked up at this point, but that's a topic for a another post).

But if you accept him as a vampire, he trusts you to trust him enough to ask for a snack. Which, to me, is not only related to his burning hunger. This mutual trust, again, is something he desperately craves. Because it means your partnership is not superficial. And when you let him bite you, you prove him that trust can exist between the two of you (even if he's already planning to manipulate you, because people are complicated and full of contradictions).

Then you have the scene when he asks you who you'd like to bite. IMO, it's one of the most relevant scenes concerning his need for connection. Of course he’s flirting a little, he probably has already been scheming his nice little plan. But come on, if it was only about seducing you, I think he would have chosen another topic for the conversation… I mean, honestly, you don’t usually flirt by speaking about other people’s blood (except for all the Durges around, but he doesn’t really now about that yet). 

No, beyond the flirting bits, this man is desperate to talk about his newfound freedom! for the first time in two hundred years, he can feed on all kind of beasts, whenever he wants! Of course he's excited and want to ramble about it! Imagine you've been feeding on rotten and unseasoned garbage for weeks and suddenly you can taste all kind of different spicy food, wouldn't you want to share that experience with someone? To ask them what kind of food they prefer? To imagine how this or that would taste?

Astarion is curious, he says it himself, and he wants to share his curiosity with you. Because he appreciates your company. Because he wants to share something with you, the open-minded companion who accepts him as he is. Astarion is not just teasing you, he's enjoying speaking to you "in the spirit of theoretical questions".

By the way, if you refuse to have this talk, he disapproves. Understandably!

You just turned down his first attempt to connect, to have a playful conversation, without any pressure. Of course he is disappointed! He thought you'd understand after you let him dine on you.

But if you play along, he approves whoever you pick, and gives a little comment of his own according to the companion you choose. And each answer reveals an attempt at bonding, it's always positive, even when he wouldn't have picked the same companion.

Even if you choose him.

And even if he’s already performing for his nice little plan, don't forget that it’s the first time he can really choose and decide to flirt and seduce. He feels somehow that he has to seduce you, because that's how he learned to survive, but nobody is actually forcing him to, for the first time in 200 years. So many reasons which make me believe that this discussion isn’t a performance, not completely at least, and that it's not just about his plan. It's about bonding and having a little fun.

By the way, during that scene, he calls you a friend. Is it genuine? Maybe not at this point, but I take it as wishful thinking. Whether he acknowledges it or not, he wants friends, or at least a friendly interaction.

He used the words 'friends' before, in an even more sarcastic way: The morning after the bite night, when you decide to keep him in the party after the revelation. Here, he’s not talking about you in particular, but about the whole group, and half of them are particularly wary of him, some of them are lowkey threatening him (and right before this, he told you he was scared anyone would turn against him - he still is). Without you, they would have at best kicked him out of camp.

This "friend" is ironical because none of them is seeing Astarion as a friend right now. So he deflates it with irony. Likewise, when he asks you to sleep with him the first time before the party, the “trusting friends” is ironical since you just called him out on his potential bullshit - and he knows it. It's a defence mechanism he uses each time someone sees him as a threat.

There's another "friend" in Act 1. During the "drunk scene".

This part sounds much more genuine to me. He's intoxicated, and he greets you with a "my friend" and a little laugh that makes him sound very giddy about it. If you listen to it, it doesn’t sound like he’s bitter, or manipulating.

Even the dev notes indicate that he must look “very happy".

At this point he really begins to trust you. It seems to make him happy to believe that you could really become friends. And being intoxicated helps him drop the mask a little, he's more himself: Playful, silly, displaying a sheer need to talk with someone. (look at this silly goose)

But being intoxicated also helps him open up about his past, about the torments. About his bitterness and his belief that power is the only way to be safe. About his biased vision of the world, of heroes, of power structures and responsibilities.

IMO he really needs someone he can talk to, someone who would listen and understand, if he's not sure how to do it, if he can do it, if you can be that person. He's "drunk", he needs to vent, and he vents to you.

This need to communicate, to connect with someone is even clearer when you play Durge, since he seems to relate a little more to your character. First things he tells you after you recruited him shows that he observes you and notices something is off, but it seems to be comforting to him.

As if he was thinking "thank goodness I'm not the only one who's a mess. Maybe they'll understand." And a few days letter, he comments on your state.

Not only he worries about you, but he also wants to understand what's happening to you. And if that's not a proof that this man wants to connect with others, I don't know what you need.

He has a hard time acknowledging it himself, with that little "do take care of yourself" which sounds a little awkward. And it makes sense, that must not be the kind of things he's used to say to anyone. Hence the silly little bow.

According to your answer, he can also appear to be very supportive, telling you to not fear who you are, accepting your quirks just (like you accepted his). Partners in crime. He's not alone in this.

And don't get me started on the fact that he doesn't refuse to tell you about his past. Despite his little remark on you insisting “about exhuming the past”, you don’t actually have to insist to make him talk about it. Comparing to Shadowheart, he willingly tells you about Cazador, about him being slave and very soon after you learned he's a vampire. You just have to ask, he opens up. He complains a little but he talks, for the first time in so long he's found someone he can talk to, someone who's willing to listen. And the more he trusts you, the more he tells you, without you having to insist.

I could go on for ages with examples: How he approves if you decide to tell Eithel about the tadpole in the grove. He doesn’t trust the old lady, but he clearly wants the two of you to have fun.  

How he confesses that you are "his first". I don't think he's lying about it. After all, being completely unexperimented in term of biting people, it's not exactly the image of "the sexy vampire" that he usually tries to display.

Not to mention that he seems quite embarrassed about it. His body language gives him away. He's looking away, clearing his throat.

And why would he tell you if not to bond with you?

It's not about seducing you, it's about opening up a little and talk about his experience. He's already trying to be honest with you, because it's the first time in so long that he can allow himself to be honest. His face is particularly vulnerable when he admits it after he killed you during that first snack.

Should I also mention the fact that he never installs his tent in a lonely corner like Shadowheart or Lae'zel or even Wyll sometimes do? He's always, at least, close to another companion, if not in the middle of camp. Of course, it could be a question of feeling safer if the others are around, but I nonetheless think it's quite telling about his need to belong within this little group of weirdos. Likewise, a certain number of banters in Act 1 indicate that he does want to have innocent interactions with the group.

And finally, let's go back to the beginning, when you first meet him. As soon as he realises you're not an enemy, he drops his guard, relieved to have found another survivor. He obviously didn't expect you to invite him to join - it didn't even cross his mind because who would want him as part of a group? - but he quickly accepts to join "the herd". Not being alone anymore could be a good idea, right?

You could expect that after two hundred years of slavery and torment, one would be much more wary, keeping to oneself, keeping their distance with the others. But not Astarion, no. Because whether he admits it or not, he craves companionship. He craves attention - not for his looks, but for his individuality. He craves acceptance.

He joins you, first installs his tent in the centre of camp, he makes himself useful for the group, he wants to talk to you almost every night, he tries to bond with you in the most awkward ways and shares his enthusiasm for his newfound freedom. Yes, he wants to seduce you to make sure you won't let him down, but beyond that, there's a deep need for bonding, and to feel like he belongs somewhere. And if at first he probably thinks he only belongs in your bed as a good fuck, through all your interactions he begins to understand that he belongs beside you as a partner, as a friend and simply, as a person. He needs emotional support, he finds it in you, and even finds himself capable of giving emotional support. You trust him, and this trust is precious because it means you see him as a valuable person, not just a Swiss knife or a pretty thing. And it means he can trust you too. And it also means that, maybe, the world isn't as cruel as he was made to believe.

[bunni-v1]

so shadow milk legendary costume is coming so can we get more content of pre-corruption smilk 😝😝😭 pretty please and thank you ♥️

🍓Again I’m gonna call him Blueberry Yogurt because typing out pre corruption is annoying as fuck. Anyway, yes you can pookie mwah mwah mwah! These are short, but I still hope u like them :)

-Blueberry Yogurt is veryyyyy different from Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk describes his past self as a “Goody two shoes wet rag with no personality,” and while he’s being dramatic I don’t think he’s far off.

-Blueberry Yogurt is contemplative, gentle, kind, and above all else caring. He loves his subjects and his friends and he aims to share his knowledge with everyone. He’s in all sense of the word harmless. A sweet cookie with nothing but good intentions.

-He’s, essentially, his position as sage. And he doesn’t mind that, but he’s never really considered that he could be anything more. It’s what he was baked for, of course.

-Booooriiingggggg, as Shadow Milk would put it. But Blueberry Yogurt was content with things, it’s only after he realized cookies turn from the truth — mixed with the understanding of the sheer amount of power he held, that his mind changed.

-You we’re part of that realization. That, maybe, he could be more than what he was. That the life he lived wasn’t all it seemed to be. He was never made to fall in love, but he did, whose to say there isn’t more for him out there?

-But before that, he was likely the perfect partner to have. He cares a lot about his partner and their well-being, and he wants to be their total equal, even if they’re weaker than him.

-He spends a lot of his spare time with you. He’s an incredibly busy cookie with too many things to do, but he will always find time to spend on you. You are a high priority in his life, and he makes sure you know that.

-He likes having you around him, even when you aren’t doing the same things. Just you being there brings him peace of mind and makes him feel content.

-You being educated is equally important to him, so he takes the time to have conversations about serious topics. He’s particularly fond of reading with you and discussing the books with a critical eye. He won’t let you be blind to the truth, and if you’re afraid of it, he’ll work with you to ensure you aren’t.

-He’ll take you around the town when he visits, and most cookies know you as “The Sage’s Lover”. He won’t admit it, but that fact makes him proud. He loves to show you off, and he loves the fact that others know you’re together.

-Oh he does this cute thing where he’ll sweep you up in his arms and dance around with you. He’ll press you tightly against his body and swirl around like you’re at a real ball.

-He is so much more open about how much he loves you. He has no reason to hide or fear his affections for you, so he just doesn’t. His love is unabashedly displayed through physical touch as Blueberry Yogurt.

-Soft and gentle kisses pressed upon you dough. He burns into your dough his love for you so that you never forgot how much you are adored.

-He pulls you close and whispers his adoration like a prayer, as if to convince you of his love for you. Like you might forget if he doesn’t remind you so tenderly.

-He treats you to beautiful dates in locations you’ve only dreamed about, each one more heartfelt and romantic than the last. They’re built specifically to wow you, and he’s phenomenal at his job.

-He also gives you gifts all the time, hand made or things he found around the kingdom, it doesn’t matter. They’re all things you’ll make good use of, he makes sure of that.

-His goal is to make you feel considered and thought of. Again, he’s very successful. Everything he does takes you into account, and you become a very important part of his day to day life.

-One thing he does that Shadow Milk keeps is his love for carrying you around. It’s not a strength thing, he isn’t showing off, he just loves carrying you around. He feels like he can really care for you like that, so he does it as much as he can.

-He’s also very protective of you. He doesn’t stop you from engaging difficult topics and finding out truths, but he does stop others from disturbing your peace. It’s the one time he’ll use his magical abilities for selfish reasons, his need to keep you safe and happy winning out his morals for once.

-This is why when he feels himself… slipping… he sends you away as soon as he can. He doesn’t want you to think of him differently, and he’ll even take extra measures to ensure he won’t find you once he’s fully gone. (It’s the most annoying thing about himself, if you ask Shadow Milk. He plans for everything far too well.)

-It does ache and pain him to be so far from you when he does it, but it’s more important to him that you are safe. Even if it means you have to be safe from him.

[sweetfushi]

HOW THEY REALISED THEY WERE ATTRACTED TO YOU PT 2

fluff | tobio kageyama, hajime iwaizumi, kotaro bokuto x reader. ◦ notes. part one here.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA.

He started viewing you as his inspiration.

You wouldn’t call yourself the strongest or bravest person in the world, but Kageyama thought that there’s just something about you that oozes confidence.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep mugging like that,” you snort, mushing your fist against his tense forehead. Kageyama groans and slaps your hand away, rolling his eyes at your stuck out tongue. You were almost childlike in your behaviour, but he couldn’t help but turn to you for advice or reassurance about things.

“Is that why you’re so ugly?” He jokes, knowing to shield himself just as you start to punch him all over.

In fact, nothing about you as of now screamed success, you were working hard to reach that just as much as he was. However, despite your two different paths in life and career choices, you started to notice that Kageyama would discuss everything with you, whether you’ve had experience with a topic or not (and you were very much expected to answer).

During matches, when he’d be setting or even just tossing the ball against a wall, he’d have you in mind, cheering him on and insisting that if he gave up now or cut his practise short by a few minutes, he could miss out on great progress.

So he’d listen to the voice of you he had created in his head.

And when it came to actually hearing your voice during official matches, screaming his name and pounding your fists in the air, he couldn’t deny the small smile he’d flash you when attributing each win to you with a raised fist.

He didn’t start noticing these things until Hinata wiggled his eyebrows at him one day. “Tobio, are you in loooooove?” Hinata snickers.

Kageyama slaps the back of his neck and tells him to keep his mouth shut about you.

HAJIME IWAIZUMI.

He wanted to be the one you opened up to.

Iwaizumi wasn’t a particularly social person. In fact, he didn’t really like interacting with people he was unfamiliar with. You, he wasn’t exactly familiar with, but he had seen you at his games and even around campus, texting on your phone or engrossed in a heavy looking book. Much like him, you like to keep to yourself and mind your business. You found that it was the best way to avoid unnecessary drama and relationships.

But Iwaizumi wanted to get in your business and see why you were so much like him. He liked that he found someone like him - at first, to have someone to call a friend, of sorts. As time passed and he talked to you more often, he realised his attraction to you when he started anticipating your arrival at the school’s library.

“How was class?” He asked after developing the courage to approach you. It had been fifteen minutes since you walked in and sat down with your laptop.

You nod. “It was alright, I think I’m just not feelin’ it today,” you murmur, shrugging. Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed and he hesitated before taking the seat opposite you.

“Any reason why?”

You smile, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I feel like talking about it, you know? I don’t wanna burden you—“

“You wouldn’t be burdening me at all,” he insists. For a moment, you two just look at each other, before he averts his gaze with an unmistakable smile.

KOTARO BOKUTO.

He started seeking validation from you.

Bokuto had convinced himself that he was gonna marry you. You’d known each other for four years, and every day he found himself celebrating his successes with you. Akaashi was the first to notice the sparkle in his eyes when he talked to you, but had decided to not point it out.

“Did you see that awesome freakin’ serve I just did? Did you? Did you?” He asks you, practically squealing and jumping up and down at your big smile and reciporcated energy.

“That was so cool, Bo! Can you teach me some time?” You beam, Akaashi smiling at the sight of you two.

“I gotta warn ya’,” Bokuto boasts, placing his hands on his hips and puffing his chest, “I don’t know if you’ll ever be as good as me.”

Sometimes, he’d buy you ring pops and tell you that you’re the only person that truly understands him and is worthy of his affections. You’d go along with it and pretend that you were getting proposed to, telling him, “It’s about time I’m rewarded for the support I show you!”

Bokuto had become known for attributing his successful games to you with a thumbs up at the end of every match. Close to the starting of a game, Bokuto would always ask if you had come, or would search for you in the crowd when walking onto the court. Fans would wave at him, cheer his name and flash banners with his face on them, but all Bokuto truly cared about was seeing your gorgeous face.

And when he did? There wasn’t a single opponent who could prevent him from winning that game.

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post in any way. all that is included in this post, aside from the fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[moonlightcycle571]

The Pros Of Being Omni-Lingual

Saw a while back someone saying Captain Marvel (or Shazam or Captain Thunder or whatever name you choose for him) is omni-lingual. I have no idea if it’s actually cannon, but it lives rent free in my head, and I got no plans of evicting it any time soon.

But anyways, the reasoning makes sense. He got his powers from The Wizard, to be The Champion of Magic, so it makes sense that among his other powers, he’s got all the languages down. And that works in his favour when connecting with Heroes

In general, people are more relaxed and open when speaking in their mother tongue, and with Cap knowing all the language cause of ✨magic✨, no one can blame him for knowing even the most top secret and heavily guarded languages (like Themisquiran, Atlanlantian or other).

See, when someone like Batman or Martian Manhunter speaks to you in your native language, it’s intimidating. When another JL member does it, it’s a pleasant surprise, but you can sense they aren’t that comfy with a language also do it for work purposes.

But when Cap does it? It’s “oh you speak …” “oh, I’m omni-lingual” type dialogue. If he gets a cult after mentioning that it was a gift from the Gods, then that’s a while other story

Pair that with his sunny attitude, and his golden retriever attitude, of course he gets people to like him. He’ll understand all the memes, have fantastic insight (Wisdom of Solomon) and political views (Whiz Kid radio host). To put it blankly, he has amazing conversational skills, and I am convinced that discussions can be the most meme filled talks or the most profound stuff you have ever heard, especially if it’s about Magic.

To get back on topic, these facts make him especially loved, not just by civilians he saves (head cannon that he knows what’s your preferred language of you speak more than one and reassures them in that language), but also by other heroes.

He can be seen with Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian (speaking Martian) while helping them cook some food from their home world.

Or with Supergirl in the lounge Kryptonian (Kal is great and all, as are the other supers, but Kryptonian is not their first language, not like her).

Or with Aquaman, talking about various Sea Gods in Atlantian. Whenever he’s got some Magical duties in Atlantis for whatever reason, he always gets invited for dinner with the Aquafam. He, Mera and Gar have the best Magic discussions

He tries to avoid speaking Themesciran, cause he’s a guy and he doesn’t want to disrespect their culture, but Wonder Woman is always more relaxed when speaking in her mother tongue. Most of the time, he will settle for Greek though (it’s her second language so it’s close enough). Although he did take it upon himself to teach Cassie when Diana couldn’t

For any of the Batfam, he switches languages, every other sentence. They love it, especially Bruce, Dick and surprisingly Alfred. It’s enrichment and tests their knowledge. When Clark and Diana aren’t here and his kids are in the watch tower, they go to the Captain to help with their language education (they don’t know he’s a kid, which makes Billy think he’s adulting right). Later when it was revealed he’s a kid, it makes the JL groan that a child was the better designated Baby Sitter (now Batman sends his kids in to hopefully adopt Billy)

When meeting new heroes, it’s the same shabang. He can instantly acclimatise to them and is just a walking talking Pitbull (looks scary, is a sweetie pie)

The lantern corps love him, and keeps sending him rings. My guy has to give the GLs a bad full of rings before every meeting (although they do wonder why there’s the a red, and sometimes yellow rings in the bag). holy shit I need to make a post about lantern corp and Captain marvel

But anyways, that’s just me ranting as someone who was raised bilingual and who definitely prefers English.

[firelilyfox]

Cut The Past Away

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader Summary: This takes place after Endgame and before FATWS. Bucky struggles with self worth and with memories that haunting his thoughts. When he almost kills someone because the girl he loves gets hurt, he knows something has to change. Worcount: 1.5k Warnings: trauma. mentions of injuries. crying. blood. Bucky having a secret crush on you. struggle with self worth. hugging tightly. cutting his hair. forehead kisses. kissing in general. hurt/comfort.

__________________________

Bucky got pardoned by the government but he struggled to forgive himself for all the terrible things he’d done in the past. 

After the earth got saved from this big, purple alien person, he searched for something worth moving forward. And that something just happened to stumble into his life like a wild tornado with pretty eyes and a kind, loving heart. 

You. His girl. 

Well, technically not his girl. Because he never told you about his feelings and the way his pulse quickens, as soon as he thinks about you. Bucky didn’t know how it happened, but somehow you managed to wrap him around your pinkie without even trying. 

The only problem about this whole feeling thing, was that he could never tell you about it. Bucky was too messed up, too damaged to let someone near him. Too broken to feel worthy of the kind of love, he knew you were able to give. 

Even in meetings, when he watched you talk to the other teammates, he noticed that you truly care about every single one of them. You listen, you never judge someone and you’re doing it like it’s breathing. He never met someone so pure and kind. And he knew for a fact, that he could never be the man who deserved your heart. He doubt to even had a chance to win it anyway so, why bother thinking about it? 

„You are awkwardly quiet today, Buck. What’s wrong?“ Sam asked with concern. 

Bucky welcomed the distraction from his spiraling thoughts. „Nothing. I’m always quiet.“ 

„Nah, because today you are extra grumpy. Normally you just look like a hungry cat and somebody took your sandwich. Today you look like a beaten dog.“ 

Bucky rolled his eyes. This was no topic to discuss on a mission. Especially if the reason he looked like a sad - or beaten - dog was sitting right across him in the Jet, talking to Shuri about some computer stuff he failed to understand. 

„Your comparisons are really getting worse everyday.“ 

Sam laughed. „You know that aint true. You’re just embarrassed that I can read you like an open book.“ 

Hopefully not. He thought for himself. If Sam would be able to get a look inside his head, he would’ve turn around and never talk to him again. All the horrible things he’d done in the past, getting dragged to the surface as soon as he closes his eyes by nightfall. Every damn night. 

Even after the treatment in Wakanda. He sometimes can’t look in the mirror, scarred to see the Winter Soldier starring back. 

Bucky ran his hand through his thick hair, trying to get it out of his face, but it fell back right away. „Enough talking. Get ready. We are landing soon.“ 

You looked up and Bucky held your gaze for a moment. The shy smile you gave him, liftet the heavy weight above his heart, which always appeared right before a mission. Right before a fight. 

„I got your back out there“, you said stretching your neck. Bucky looked at you, now standing right beside him. You were a lot smaller than him, your head only reaching his chest, but the fire in your eyes made up for the fragile impression. 

„Couldn’t wish for someone better“, he mumbled. Bucky felt his whole body longing to get a little closer to you, so his arm could accidentally brush your shoulder. But he pulled himself together, trying to focus, even if the slight pink on your cheeks made him feel like the luckiest man alive. 

„Okay Team“, Shuri shouted over the rushing wind as the door got opened. „No serious injuries. I need you all tomorrow in your best form.“ Everyone gave her a thumbs up and then they’d jump out of the Jet. 

Bucky couldn’t remember what happened next. 

The only thing that was stuck inside his head, was you screaming in fear and the feeling of his hand punching a man almost to the gates of the afterlife. In that very moment nothing mattered for Bucky, except for you being safe. He couldn’t stop himself. Bucky had to be stopped. 

You stopped him. 

He didn’t know how you managed to drag him away and getting him into the Jet. The only thing he knew, you were holding his hand, guiding him away from the battle. 

„Are the others alright?“ His voice was raspy and silent. 

You looked up at him, nodding softly. „Yeah they went home with us. Don’t you remember?“ 

Bucky shakes his head, pining his eyes to the floor. How could he forget that? Why was his brain not functioning correctly, putting all the pieces into the right places? 

„Are you alright?“, Bucky asked. He slowly raising his eyes to meet yours, noticing some bruises slowly showing on you cheekbone and under your jawline. He gently cupped your face with his hands to get a better look at it … when his heart stumbles. 

His hands. 

They were covered in blood. 

Blood that was now on your cheeks. In the shape of fingerprints. His bloody fingerprints, marking you in a disturbing way. 

You noticed his reaction. The bare horror in his eyes. 

„Here let’s get this washed off.“ You took his hands in yours, guiding them over the sink. Only now Bucky realized where he was. Back in the Base. Back home. Standing in his bathroom. 

He let you wash the blood off his rough hands. Bucky tried to cast away all the unforgivable things, these hands have done and how they would’ve never be worthy of touching you, in the way he wished he could. He watched you closely. 

But he didn’t wanted to make you uncomfortable by him just staring at you, so he turned his head to the mirror. 

Winter Soldier. 

The blood had sprayed all over his face, leaving dark red marks and calling him out as the monster that still lives inside him. Bucky tore his hands out of yours and started to roughly wash his face with uncontrolled, painful movements. He ran his wet hands through his bloody hair, trying to get rid of the guilt. 

You were just standing beside him, letting him have this moment and then watching him holding on to the sink with both hands and a bowed head. 

„You know“, You started and softly resting a hand on his bicep. „I could cut it for you.“ 

Bucky raised his head to look at you. His wild eyes trying to make sense of your words. „What?“ 

„Your hair. I could cut it for you.“ 

A moment passes. „Why?“ 

„There is a saying. Hair holds memories. Normally it’s just something to smile about because people use it for changing their appearances after a breakup, but … in your case … I think it makes more sense.“ 

Bucky swallowed hard. He’d let go of the sink and turned around to you. The way he looked down at you made you a little weak in the knees. His body was strong and tall, something to lean on to and feel protected… but the deeply vulnerable expression on his face woke the wish in you to protect him and his kind soul from all the bad in the world. 

„How’d you know?“ Bucky asked. 

You shrug, not breaking eye contact. „I guess I know you good enough to tell what’s on your mind.“ 

„God, I hope not.“ He mumbles unaware that he just said the words, that should’ve stayed thoughts in his head. „Sorry.“ 

„Don’t apologize, Bucky.“ You whispered. Tears started to blur your vision and your throat just got a bit tighter. „It’s a pleasure to know all about you. Honestly.“ 

Now it was Bucky, who teared up a little. He struggled to wrap his head around the idea of you talking to him like that. Like he was someone worth to be treated this kind and soft. He couldn’t remember the last time he was treated this gentle. 

„You don’t know what your saying, doll. I’m not a good person.“ 

You stepped closer to him. So close, that your chest touching him with every breath. „You saved so many people fighting against all kind of enemies. Although you’ve lost so much and have been through so much you are still here, trying to keep on moving.“ 

You closed the remaining distance between him and you and wrapping your arms around his back. At first Bucky was surprised by the sudden contact but then he leaned into the hug, pulling you close to him, resting his head in the curve of you neck. 

„You saved me today. Bucky you are good. And I can’t thank you enough.“ 

Under your fingertips you could feel Bucky slightly shivering as he started to cry silently. You knew how hard it is for him to let his guard down like this, especially in front of another person, so you just kept on holding him without saying anything until the moment passes. 

„I would like you to cut it“, he said as he pulled away from you. 

You nod with a sweet smile. „Gladly.“ 

Without further thinking, Bucky cupped your face and brushed a soft kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes to remember this forever. 

„Thank you, doll.“ 

When he’d let go, you got up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek to return the favor. Instead of distancing immediately after, you hesitated by the intense look on his face and the way his head turned slightly, so that your lips are just inches away. 

You took a chance and kissed him. Briefly and soft. 

A gala took place the next evening and Bucky appeared with short hair, a smile on his face and holding the hand of a girl with pretty eyes and a kind, loving heart. 

His girl. 

____________________

Thanks for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated (but don't copy my work please)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[joelmillers-wife]

take my hand (joel miller x f!reader) chapter ten

18+, MDNI series masterlist: here | please check this for complete series warnings and tags | 🎵series playlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader chapter summary: conversations with joel and ellie help you after the events of the previous day  wc: 15k rating: this story is 18+ (minors, do not interact), there will be explicit smut in later chapters  chapter warnings and tags: cursing and tlou lore accurate outbreak content below, TW: topics discussing SA, trauma, vague mentions of ellie’s experience with david, tons of fluff, reader has no description besides she has hair and can be lifted, small mention of reader’s life before the outbreak, jackson!joel, age difference: reader is in her 30s and joel is in his 50s, sloooow burn spoiler tags… hehehehe, explicit smut, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv sex (unrealistic i know ok i’m just a girl with a breeding kink and a disinterest in getting pregnant alright sue me AND USE PROTECTION), soft!joel, joel talks you through it, begging?, creampie, aftercare, loss of virginity/first time, virgin!reader but not infantilizing, lmk if i missed anything!! a/n: sorry this took longer than i wanted! trying to edit while having a fever was not ideal and for obvious reasons… this chapter needed my full brain capacity to make perfect. my first time writing smut so i hope i did it justice. enjoy <3 ao3 | follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for chapters! dividers made by: @saradika-graphics , check them out!

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X. LIGHTNING CRASHES

I can feel it coming back again Like a rolling thunder chasing the wind Forces pulling from the center of the Earth again I can feel it

The following morning, you wake to the sounds of soft chatter downstairs and the smell of fresh eggs. When you open your eyes, squinting as you look around your room, you are capable of holding on to the ten seconds of peaceful bliss before you remember the events that occurred the previous day. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.

It’s an effort to blink the groggy feeling out of your eyes, turning in your bed to look towards your bedroom door that is still left partly open, left just as it was the night before by Joel. Focusing on your staircase, your ears pick up the voices you had heard—Joel and Tommy.

“... Came by to check how you both were doin’, didn’t find ya at your house,” you hear from Tommy.

“Stayed here for the night. Slept on her couch…”

Their voices fade away as they speak in hushed tones. You will yourself to get out of bed, glancing at the small radio clock on your bedside table that tells you it was noon. Jesus… you can’t remember a time sleeping in so late, even when your body was pushed past the point of exhaustion.

A piece of you wants to stay in bed for eternity and let the warmth and safety under the blankets take over you, but that isn’t you. You’ve dealt with horrors in this world—both from infected and from humans. You’d get past this. You’d move on. You know this, because you have in the past many times. It doesn’t make the feeling disappear, though.

Moving around your room, you hear the soft bang of your front door closing, signaling to you that Tommy has left. You make your way over to your bathroom, feet dragging behind you as you trudge your way across the carpeted floor. Your hand reaches out to flip the light switch and you come face to face with your mirror. With yourself.

The injuries shock you. Purple splotches cloud over your arms from where hands had grabbed at you, gripping you tightly. A small, thin line across your throat from the edge of the knife that pressed into your skin as you struggled, but not deep enough to cause a scar. Your eyes are heavy—red and puffy from tears and exhaustion. The only thing that doesn’t look disastrous is your hair, making you thankful that you washed away and worked through any knots or blood that may have been left in it.

No wonder Joel had looked at you the way he did last night.

You shake away the memory as best as you can, splashing cold water on your face before you head downstairs where the sounds of food sizzling in a pan travel from the kitchen and to your ears—the smell of breakfast foods being made becoming stronger as you reach the last step. Your footsteps softly pad across the wood floors, heading for the kitchen but stopping at your couch. A slight indent of a large body is left in the cushions with blankets neatly folded on one end of the couch. The sight makes you feel something you’re too hesitant to name, and you let yourself merely drag your fingertips across the back of the couch as you continue walking further into your home.

Reaching the kitchen, you lean on the edge of the archway and see Joel’s back to you as he flips eggs in your frying pan. You notice fresh orange juice in a pitcher on your small kitchen table that sits against one wall, space for three—something you didn’t think you needed when you first moved here that became something you were grateful for as the chairs were filled more often than not. 

You mutter a soft greeting to make Joel aware of your presence. He jumps slightly and turns around, a shocked laugh leaving him. “Jesus, didn’t even hear ya, darlin’.”

“Sorry, I just woke up and smelled food, so…”

He shakes his head lightly at you. “Nothin’ to say sorry for. I woke up a bit ago. Decided to make us some food ‘cause I figured you would be up soon.”

He quirks his head as if he remembers something and looks at you with a wince. “Hope I didn’t wake you up with Tommy. He stopped by to check in with us and see how you were holdin’ up.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reassure him. A small smile grows on your face before you’re able to stop it, his consideration of you making you feel lighter. “Feels weird waking up this late but… I feel a little better.”

His eyes are big and round in momentary surprise until his features smooth out to match your smile. “I’m glad.”

“How’d you sleep? Couch okay?”

Joel laughs and turns back to continue cooking. “Couch ain’t the worst thing I’ve slept on. I’ve never been the best sleeper so it just took a sec to pass out. Think just sleepin’ under the same roof as you gave me some peace more than anythin’.”

His head jerks in the direction of a coffee pot in one corner of your kitchen counters, his voice kicking up in slight excitement. “Oh, got some coffee started for us. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll eat for a bit.”

Joel turns the stove off, leaving the pan on the hot circle to let it finish cooking. As you push your body off the doorframe, he makes his way over to the table to pull out a chair for you and beckons you to sit. You make your way over to sit and eye him as he moves with fluidity through your kitchen space, grabbing plates from the cupboards and filling two of them with eggs and toast, bringing them over to you and setting each of them in front of your respective chairs.

He fills up glasses of orange juice and coffee for the both of you, which you graciously accept, taking a drink from your orange juice as you begin to eat and setting the warm coffee mug in one corner of the table.

You both eat silently for a few minutes until Joel quips up with, “Tommy said he wants you off for a few days, take some time for yourself. If you want somethin’ to do, there’s some help that could be needed ‘round town.”

You nod, feeling grateful instead of protesting against the offer. For once you want to stay home for as long as they’d allow. “How about you?”

Joel swallows a large gulp of coffee before he responds. “Same, essentially. M’okay to go back on patrol…” 

His words trail off when he sees your eyes go slightly wide before you can help yourself, but he’s quick to clarify. “But, I rather stay here in town for as long as you need. And don’t start feelin’ bad. I’m choosin’ to stay off patrol ‘cause I want to, okay?”

He gives you a knowing look as if waiting for you to make some comment, pointing at you with a fork in his hand as a playful warning that makes you giggle. “Okay, okay. I won’t,” you reply, hands raised up in mock surrender.

Joel’s face relaxes into a tender look at the sound of your laughter. He moves to get up, putting the dishes away when both of you have finished your food. Speaking as he walks towards the sink to put the dishes in there, he says, “Only thing is Maria and Tommy want me to come by their place to talk more ‘bout…”

He trails off as his demeanor hardens and you see the muscles in his back tense up—the fabric of his shirt rippling with the movement. After a moment, he turns to look back at you still sitting at the table. “I’ll only be gone a few hours. If you want me to come back here after, I can.”

You find yourself nodding embarrassingly quickly, but Joel only seems to be relieved at your answer.

He looks around the room, searching for anything else he needs to do. “Alright, um… you gonna be okay here? Do you need anythin’?”

“I’ll be alright,” you say. He gives you a questionable look, not from judgement but from nerves, before you stand up and make your way in front of him. Something in you compels you to reach out and grab his hand, watching him looking down at your hands intertwined. “I promise, Joel. I feel a bit better. Swear I won’t act the way I did yesterday.”

Joel still looks down at your hands clasped together with his own. He takes a stuttering breath in before he looks up at you, the tension in his shoulders dropping at your touch. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with how you acted, sweetheart. I’d never be upset with you if you were still like that.”

His doubt and uneasiness about your current state makes sense to you—you know he only wants to double check for your own sake. Thinking about how you prove to him you mean what you say, you decide to move your hand laying in his to adjust your grip until you interlock your pinky finger with his.

Without looking down, Joel feels your finger around his and breaks into a grin. “Alright then. Good.”

You walk him over to your door, Joel not leaving until he promises once more that he will be back as soon as he is able. Shutting the door behind him, you press your back against it and stare around your house and try to figure out what to do. You decide to do what you have always done when you feel anxious. Cleaning. 

A full deep clean of your whole house all at once, something you have done quite a few times during your stay in Jackson as it helped distract you from any stress or overthinking your mind had sucked you into. 

Putting a vinyl onto your record player, you allow your mind to shut off for the next couple hours as your body succumbs to the routine—moving with ease as you dust and wipe down various items in your home. You find yourself harshly scrubbing over multiple spots again and again, unloading your emotions into the tasks and desperately trying to make everything new again. Like you wish you could do with yourself.

As evening approaches, you still feel unclean. A feeling that has been hovering over you since you got back to Jackson last night. A quick glance at the clock tells you that Joel wouldn’t be back for quite some time, so you settle on the decision to take another shower—one that’s longer than last night as you remove the crawling feeling over your skin, doing your best to force yourself into feeling like you again. 

After however long you spend under the hot water, you eventually reach down to turn the knob shut and step out onto the small rug placed outside the tub. You work quickly and diligently to dry off your body, shaking out most of the water from your hair before moving into your bedroom to get dressed. You keep it simple, something soft and loose and cozy. Something that brings you comfort.

When putting on the last article of clothing, you hear knocking at your front door. Your face scrunches up in confusion considering Joel has a key that he always used when you were expecting him. Regardless, you rush to straighten out your clothing and walk downstairs to greet him.

“Ellie?”

She looks relieved when she sees you. “Hi…”

“Is everything okay?” You’re startled but not unhappy to see her here. It just had been some time since she had come over.

She hesitates for a moment until she says, “Yeah. I mean, no. I mean, like, I’m fine, I just…”

Her words trail off and you take notice of the worried lines that are etched on her face, combined with what looks like a glassy look in her eyes as she mumbles out, “Joel– I ran into him while he was with Tommy and they told me about…”

You nod knowingly, silently encouraging her to continue. “I just wanted to check on you. I… I feel like a really shitty person for not seeing you much lately.”

A sad laugh spills out of you. “Oh, Ellie…” You beckon her to come inside and she waits behind you while you close the door. 

The moment the lock clicks, you barely have time to turn back around when you’re met with a sudden hug from Ellie—your body stumbling for a second at the unexpected force before you steady yourself. Your arms hover over her at first, not knowing what to do. She’s hugged you before, sure. Mainly out of gratitude or excitement for something. But never like this.

Ellie’s head burrows further into your chest and you hear small sniffles come from her. The sound makes you wrap your arms around her instantly, settling one of your hands on the back of her head as you pet her hair. 

After a few moments, she mutters an apology into your shirt and you pull yourself back to look at her directly, holding both sides of her face in your hands. “Honey, you have no reason to be apologizing.”

She sniffles again, wiping away a few stray tears. “I just… Fuck, man. I feel bad I haven’t seen you much. Then something like… this happens and I wouldn’t have been able—”

Your heart breaks as she cuts herself off, her emotions seeming to get the best of her. You do your best to convey your reassurance to her, dipping your head low to meet her eyes and smile. “You’re a teenager, Ellie. I don’t expect you to hang out with old people all the time when you make new friends. I’m glad you have people to be around.”

She smiles back, a teasing glint in her eye that has you feeling relieved. “You’re not as old as Joel, if it makes you feel better.”

“Wow, yeah. That makes me feel so much better, thank you for that.”

She giggles at you before pulling away completely and looking back into your house. “Could I, uh, stay here for a bit? Joel said he’d be back soon, he just wanted to shower before coming here because he ended up working on fixing some things with Tommy. I have dinner with Dina and Jesse at his mom’s place later, but I wanted to see you first.”

You nod before she can even finish speaking. “Of course you can hang out here.”

Her bright smile fills you with joy while watching her bounce on the balls of her feet lightly, her child-like spirit from when you first met her coming back in that moment. “Good, because I brought some newer volumes of Savage Starlight that I gotta catch you up on!”

Ellie doesn’t hesitate to make her way to your couch, jumping on it before reaching into her backpack to pull out the comics and spread them over your coffee table. As you walk around the couch to join her, tucking your legs beneath you, you feel overwhelmed at how quickly and simply one kid can make you feel eons better. 

You lean over to pick up one of the comics in an attempt to flip through them and refresh your memory, but you stop yourself when you see her face has become more serious, making you grow concerned. “Are you okay?”

Ellie thinks about it for a moment, eyes on the ground as she bites the inside of her cheek before she turns her body to face you, propping one leg underneath her. You shift yourself to face her directly as well, letting one arm rest on top of the back of the couch to give her your full attention.

“When I first traveled with Joel, years ago, we ran into a group.” She pauses, looking to you for confirmation that she’s free to speak. You nod to show you were listening and move your hand to rest on top of her shoulder soothingly.

She lets out a shaky sigh and you notice her begin to pinch the skin around her tattoo nervously. “They, um… they weren’t good people. Joel was sick and they took me.”

You take a sharp breath in but make no attempt to stop her. “Um… basically, they were just really fucking creepy… men. Nothing happened really, just… they wanted to hurt me, or something.”

Rage builds inside you as you process her words and their implications—her emphasis on the last word making bile creep up your throat. She was so young. Is so young, still, yet knowing how much has happened to her makes you sick. Sick of the world and the kinds of people that existed. The fact that the life you live in is already so cruel and scary, and you can’t even find peace in living in the midst of it all. 

You internally tell yourself to calm down and give her the chance to continue before responding.

She takes a deep breath before looking at you. “It stopped before… anything happened. I promise. Just, I wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened to you and I want to be there for you, if you need. And… don’t let shit like this take over you completely and push people away. I did that, and it was stupid. You can’t let it consume you. It’s okay to need people. Let yourself rely on others. If we don’t, then what’s the point of being alive?”

Her words stun you into silence, only able to take them in as tears silently fall down your face. You suddenly surge forward to bring her into a tight hug, holding her against you and whispering into her hair. “Thank you, Ellie. I’m so sorry, I…” Your thoughts trail off as you squeeze your eyes shut, running your hands over her back soothingly. “I’ll always be here for you, too. Okay?”

You feel slight shaking from her for only a couple seconds before she mutters into your shoulder. “Love you, dude.”

You let out a laugh that sounds like a sob as you pull back smiling at her, rubbing your thumbs over her cheeks and smoothing her hair out of her face. “Thanks… dude.”

She laughs and playfully shoves your arm. “Fuck off and say it back.”

You smile so hard it hurts your cheeks, unable to stop even if you wanted to. “I love you too, Ellie.”

She sighs deeply, shaking her head and blinking away tears from her eyes to move the conversation forward. Turning her attention back to the comics, she slaps her hands on the tops of her thighs gently as she grabs a book from the spread she made. “Okay, so in this volume…”

The next two hours are spent just talking with each other—about the comics and about things happening in your lives. She updates you on school subjects, discussing the topics with disinterest until mentioning the week they they learned about astronomy and the history of the Mesozoic era.

Somewhere along the way, the topic turns into her asking about your love life.

“Nonexistent,” you say bluntly with a short laugh.

Ellie eyes you with a doubtful look. “Really?”

Her tone puzzles you until you see a smirk on her lips, your eyes widening from her implication. A deadpan look is the only way you respond to her before you change the subject. 

“How about you, huh? Everything good with you and Cat?”

Her eyes widen for a moment before she seems to recover. “What do you mean about me and Cat?”

Her reaction makes you confused before you clarify. “Like… you don’t talk about her much anymore. I’ve seen you spend more time with Dina lately. Is Cat a shitty friend?”

Ellie lets out a quick exhale. “Oh. Yeah, no, we’re still… friends, I guess. Dina doesn’t like her much, says Cat is ‘not good news’.” Looking off to the side, her face twists into annoyance. “As if she can really be one to talk. Her and Jesse have this weird on and off tension,” she shudders at the thought. “Gonna suck when Dina most likely gets paired on patrols with Jesse as her partner.”

The two of you are distracted when you both hear the lock of your door turn. Your attention shifts over to watch as Joel comes through, his usual dark jeans and brown coat adorning his body and the dark of the evening looming behind him. He steps in with one foot before lifting his head and freezing in the door, a surprised and apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry,” he says timidly. “Am I interruptin’ girl talk?”

Ellie turns back to you and mutters, “Speaking of partners…”

You send her a warning glare before she puts her hands up innocently. “What? You guys are ‘patrol partners’,” she says while putting air quotes around the last two words.

You playfully slap her arm, hearing her snicker and say ow, before you shake away her comment and turn your attention back to Joel. “Not interrupting. Ellie just stopped by to show me some of her new comics she found.”

Joel smiles, stepping inside fully and raising himself on his toes for a second to peer over at your coffee table to see what comic you two were currently looking at. “Ah, yeah, she told me ‘bout that one.”

Ellie looks between you two for a moment, then begins moving to gather all her comics and shove them into her backpack before standing up with you. “Well… I better go. Jesse’s mom is gonna be pissed if I’m late again. I’ll leave you two crazy kids at it.”

Joel snickers at her. “Now who sounds old?”

Ellie rolls her eyes at him. “Literally still you, dude.”

She says her goodbyes to you with a quick hug, giving Joel a nod as she goes to the door and swings it open before calling out behind her, “Make good choices!”

Her words make you wince when remembering what she had asked just moments ago, but Joel is none the wiser about the meaning behind them.

You take a second to look at him more clearly, noticing his hair is wet and slicked back a bit, a few strands curling in the front. You remember Ellie telling you he would stop at his place to take care of a few things and shower before coming here.

“How was everything with Tommy?”

He rolls his eyes. “Damn idiot roped me into fixin’ up some stuff at the bar. Had to hear Seth’s fuckin’ mouth run for hours. Almost wringed his damn neck.”

You smirk and ask, “Tommy’s neck or Seth’s?”

He snorts, eyes going wide dramatically for a second. “Both. At the same time.”

His response makes your shoulders shake with laughter, which has Joel looking at you sideways with a twitching smile. “You seem more yourself… Did Ellie spike your drink or somethin’?”

“No, no. She just… We had a good talk. Hadn’t gotten to see her much so it was nice catching up.” You tilt your head as a joking thought comes to you. “You know, she gives eerily good advice for someone so young. You think Jackson needs another therapist?”

Joel barks out a laugh at that. “Don’t know how many people could tolerate a shrink swearin’ every three words. Best to keep that occupation for Gail.”

“You know what… fair enough, actually.”

The two of you stand there in silence for a second while you shift on your feet. “Do you… wanna watch a movie or something?” You offer.

Joel seems to remember something. “Actually, I thought we could sit out on your porch swing. The weather's a bit cool tonight, so I thought it might be nice?”

There’s an uncertainty in his voice that makes you quickly reassure him by eagerly nodding, stopping at your coat rack near the door to get a sweater shawl to wear outside before following him. Despite being the summer, the air still got cooler as the sun fades away.

When you walk out, you see him leaning against your porch railing waiting for you. Your porch lights light up the profile of his face as he looks off to the side, hitting his skin and encasing him in a warm glow. Hearing you step out, he lifts off of the wooden beam and holds your swing steady as you sit on one side, folding your legs underneath you as you sit sideways. You settle your shawl over your shoulders, resting your face against your hand as you lean your arm on the back of the swing.

You glance up to see Joel still standing in front of you, fidgeting on his feet. With a frown, you ask, “You okay?”

He just nods, mostly to himself, like he’s trying to convince himself of his answer. After a brief pause, he glances to the opposite corner of your porch that’s too dark in the shadows for you to see. “I, uh… I brought somethin’...”

Walking over to that corner, you watch Joel pull a guitar that had apparently been leaning up against the brick wall. At the sight, your eyes light up and your mouth parts open—trying, yet failing, to not to startle him with your excitement. 

You close your mouth shut, keeping your lips pressed tightly together, but Joel had already seen your enthusiasm. He just huffs out a laugh and clears his throat, holding the guitar in front of him as he walks back over to the swing. “Promised I’d play for you one day. Only if you want–”

“Yes, please.”

With a shy smile, he sits down next to you and props the guitar on his lap, placing his hands on the strings accordingly.

“You gonna sing for me, Miller?”

Joel glances up at you, catching your smirk and laughing as his cheeks flush. “Not that confident yet… but maybe one day I will.”

His attention moves back to the guitar, his face shifted into concentration. You take notice of his hands trembling as he holds the instrument, showing you his nerves to play for you.

Without thinking, you reach out and place one hand against his arm in hopes of settling his anxiety. At your touch, his face turns to look down at where your skin meets the sleeve of his jacket, and watch his body physically sag as the tension leaves him.

The contact only lasts a few seconds before you pull away and allow him to move freely in order to play. With a shaky deep breath in, Joel closes his eyes and begins playing. 

The notes sound beautiful as you attentively sit and watch his fingers move with ease over the chords. The music has a small smile dancing on your lips, but after about ten seconds of playing, you let out a gasp—your body going stiff when you recognize the song and a wave of emotion hits you.

It was your favorite song. Lightning Crashes by Live, from 1994. The song your dad would play for you in the car repeatedly until you knew every word. Back in a time where you had no worries.

Joel doesn’t know that fact, but you know he does know your reaction when you had found it in a pile of vinyls at some abandoned store a few months back. The way you froze when you found it just laying at the top of a pile left on the floor, long forgotten and discarded over the years. How Joel sharply turned around when he heard your loud gasp and thought you had been in danger, only for him to shift into a look of amused bewilderment when you kept repeating oh my god, over and over again.

From that day on, you played the song every chance you got—Joel and Ellie hearing it endlessly for days on end. Ellie playfully picking on you and saying you would get sick of it having it on repeat for so long. But you knew you never could.

A stinging feeling in your eyes has you blinking furiously, but not wiping away the tears that formed and begin to trickle down your cheeks. Joel plays the chords flawlessly. His fingers move with such precision that you believe he had played this many times before, as if he had spent time practicing the song repeatedly to get it perfect. And it was. He was.

The pacing and volume of the notes begin to pick up, signaling to you that he was reaching your favorite part. The one that would have you screaming with your father. The part you’d mouth the lyrics to around Ellie and Joel.

It’s then that you hear another sound and realize Joel was softly humming the words to himself. The apples of your cheeks began to hurt from how wide you were grinning, the movement in your face only letting more tears slip out and drop onto your shirt.

Eventually the chords fade out and Joel stills his hands on the instrument, his eyes opening to stare down at his lap as you both sit quietly.

“That bad, huh?” He tries to joke, insecurity dripping into his tone from your silence.

After a beat, you softly call his name, prompting him to look at you. He slowly lifts his head to meet your gaze and relief courses through him at the sight. You sit before him with tears falling silently and your lips pressed tightly in a smile in an effort to not let a sob escape you. 

To Joel, the way you look at him right now with so much adoration in your eyes, makes his chest constrict.

“Hope those are happy tears, darlin’.”

You laugh, or try to—the noise being a slightly choked sound in the process. “Joel… that was beautiful.” 

Your compliment and the emphasis you put in your words has Joel’s face and neck feel warm. He leans forward to rest his guitar against the porch railing in front of him. As he settles back into the swing, you feel his body freeze in shock when you suddenly throw yourself at him to wrap your arms around his neck. Pressing your face into his shoulder, you’re hit with a scent of vanilla and sandalwood that makes your head dizzy.

Joel’s quick to wrap his arms around you in return when his mind catches up to the moment, letting his body relax at the feeling of you in his arms again. This time, though, it feels different.

You shift your face to bring your lips towards his ear and whisper a soft, “Thank you,” trying your best to pour the extent of your emotions into two simple words.

After some time, you reluctantly slip your arms from his neck and pull away, leaning your side back into the swing. Joel adjusts himself to face you directly and rests his arm on the back of the swing, delicately playing with the fluff of your sweater on your shoulder.

“So, you like the song choice?”

You give him an incredulous look that makes him laugh. “It was perfect. I’m more surprised you weren’t too sick of hearing that song so much to want to learn how to play it.”

He smirks and moves his eyes across your face. “It’s a good song. I probably liked it even more because of how you are when you listen to it.”

The hint of shyness in his voice at the end makes you smile before you begin to ask him details of the song—finding out that when you had seen his guitar and asked to hear him play, he wanted to find a good song for you. Then, that night the two of you and Ellie played cards, you had put that song on and ended up moving the needle back at least six times before letting the next song selection play. When he had taken a look at the vinyl cover, he recognized it from when you had first found it on patrol with him, and knew it was the only choice.

You hear about how often he practiced to get the song down right, but that he was quick to memorize the chords. The topic transitions into you asking him more about his skill with the instrument and realizing he had been playing for a very long time, and actually took it very seriously in his earlier years.

Joel shares with you that having Sarah so young forced him to find a different career path—all the singing and playing at bars not being enough to support her. He tells you stories of how he’d play and sing lullabies to her as she grew up, whether it was to help her sleep or soothe her after a bad day, and that he dreamed of teaching her how to play one day. 

“She was too focused on soccer to start practicin’ regularly, but I did teach her some notes,” he says, his voice turning quiet and sad as the concept of not having enough time kicks in. You lean your head to lay on his arm splayed across the swing, and you see his attention turn from his lap and onto you before one corner of his mouth pulls up.

The two of you go into easy conversations talking about anything and everything. Discussing likes, dislikes, favorite things, hobbies you both had before the outbreak, what life was like in general for either of you. This continues on for a couple hours as you both flow and switch between topics, the sky growing darker as the moon becomes visible. 

You take note of how the evening has made you feel a million times lighter and in general more at ease. It’s something you wouldn’t have thought possible before Jackson. Before Ellie. Joel.

Ellie’s words from earlier ring through your mind—this moment with Joel making you understand her fully. You had always forced yourself to shove things down. Always needing to move on quickly and relying on only yourself for so long. You think back to Joel’s interactions with you over time. How often he helped you, and how insistent he always is to let him help you. 

Ellie, who’s presence alone fills you with a level of joy and love you didn’t think was possible. Just today, seeing her and spending time with her made you forget your troubles, even if for a brief moment. The way that Tommy and Maria have shown you so much kindness and grace this whole time—how they even brought you here and gave you a chance in the first place.

Your fight with Joel in the comic book store almost a year ago comes to you, and the memory has you feeling stunned at how different your relationship with Joel was compared to how. The way you told him no one needs you, contrasting with Ellie’s advice from earlier.

She was right. You have to allow people to feel needed by you.

Your thoughts drift away and you come back to Joel talking about his love of coffee, saying that he was an addict for it before the outbreak. Considering how he always trades whatever he has to restock on some coffee beans, you aren’t shocked to find this passion had existed in a time long before now.

In the midst of his story, he seems to remember something. “By the way, when I was makin’ breakfast for us earlier, I saw you didn’t have much coffee grounds left.”

Realization strikes you, and you quickly try to reassure him you don’t mind. Shaking his head, he persists. “Nah, I feel bad I’m always takin’ ‘em from ya. I’ll make sure to bring you fresh ones next time someone comes through with ‘em, yeah?”

You sit and stare at your lap, twisting your fingers nervously. “Joel… I, uh, I gotta tell you something.”

He focuses on you with a serious face, straightening his posture to give you the place to speak freely. 

You look at him sideways as you force out the words. “I… I don’t actually like coffee.”

There’s a pause before Joel laughs. “Yes you do?” He says, chuckling while a frown flickers on his face. “You drink it all the time. Darlin’, you drank it this mornin’?”

His voice kicking up at the end makes you smile nervously. “I never really drank it. I always just kinda… hold the mug to act like I did.”

Joel’s brows furrow close together, staring at you for a beat before looking off into the front yard. He thinks for a moment and turns back to you. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, wincing. “I sorta, kinda, really hate coffee.”

He stares at you while trying to process your words carefully. “But you always got coffee grounds here?”

His cluelessness has you fighting back a laugh. 

“Well, yeah, because I know how much you love coffee.” 

Joel’s eyes flit around as he wracks through his brain, trying to recall previous experiences you two have had. You continue and say, “I mean, think about it—I am always drinking and making tea. If I make coffee, it’s because it’s for you. And if I have a mug, it’s because you were the one to give it to me.”

The dramatic look on Joel’s face has you breaking, unable to stop the giggle as you watch him act like his whole world view just shifted.

His eyes widen slightly, shaking his head and looking around before focusing back on you and squinting in curiosity. “Holy… Are you even who you say you are?”

You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds of your laughter. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t like coffee? It’s the best thing ever invented. I mean, hell, only psychopaths don’t like coffee.”

You catch the playful edge to his offended tone and throw your head back to laugh out loud. You lightly smack the side of his arm and give him a pointed look. “Hey, Ellie doesn’t like coffee,” you say, attempting to defend your point.

That only makes Joel’s eye go wide and throw his hands out. “That’s my damn point, sweetheart!”

You struggle to speak for a moment before saying, “Well, I’m really sorry to break it to you, honey.”

You don’t even realize what you say at first, just freely speaking without thinking when the word comes to you naturally. Joel, on the other hand, did notice.

Right away, his teasingly offended nature dissipates and his smile from your laughter drops completely. At his expression, you’re confused for a split second until your mind catches up to your words from moments ago and you freeze—your laughter ceasing as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve heard those kinds of names from Joel all the time. Darlin’. Sweetheart. All something that you stopped searching for a deeper meaning in them, chalking it up to be a result of being from Texas—his southern drawl letting the terms of endearment slip freely.

But, you. You have never reciprocated the sentiment. Until now. And you both know it.

The two of you stare at each other, both slightly shocked and unsure what to say, your chests picking up rapidly from quick breathing. You part your lips, intending to say something, anything, but nothing comes to mind and you’re left opening and closing your mouth like a fish. The movement on your face has Joel’s eyes dropping to stare at your mouth, and you find yourself doing the same to him.

He blinks once, and for a moment you think you see his body lean towards yours, not even an inch, before a shrieking laugh from down the road catches your attention. The sound makes you both jump and look in the direction to see a group of young adults stumbling down the road, most likely returning home from the Tipsy Bison.

Watching them for a moment, you keep your face turned away from Joel’s and shut your eyes, internally cursing yourself as that embarrassment comes back.

You find the courage to look back to Joel to see him staring down at his hands, almost like he’s offended by them. Suddenly, he clears his throat and shifts his body forward and away from you. Placing his hands on his thighs, he pushes himself to stand with a soft grunt. “Looks like it’s gettin’ late. You should probably head to bed.”

The tone in his voice makes you think he is uncertain of the decision, forcing himself to believe his own words. Regardless, he puts his hand out for you to grab and let him help pull you up. With a sigh to yourself, you let your shoulders sag and place your hand into his—the warmness of your palm in his rough ones making heat spread through the both of you, unaware of the effect you have on each other.

You wordlessly let him guide you inside first before he turns to grab his guitar and bring it inside, setting it on the back of your couch.

For a moment, you shift on your feet while you watch Joel gently shut the door behind him. You notice him lingering his palm against the door with his back to you and see the rapid rise and fall of his back.

Tension seems to radiate in the air around you—the interruption leaving you annoyed like a child throwing a tantrum, but you bottle that feeling and shove it down.

Joel slowly turns around with his head bowed until he faces you and looks up into your eyes, flicking his own between them. He shakes away a thought, looking off to the side and clearing his throat. A deep frown stays etched onto his face as he speaks, his voice coming out thick and deep. “Um, did you want me to…”

His wrist flicks as he gestures towards the couch, wondering if you wanted him to stay the night over here again. 

You shake your head. “I’ll be okay on my own tonight. I feel more safe, and uh… I don’t wanna make you spend another night on that thing.” What you don’t say is that you do want him to stay over. Not because you didn’t want to be alone, but because you wanted to be around him.

Joel chews on the inside of his cheek as he nods, his fingers twitching at his sides and he balls his hands into fists and flexes them.

You linger expectedly, hoping for some sign of… something. The thought is useless when Joel briefly passes his eyes over you and says, “Well… g’night, then.”

He turns his back to you and heads towards the door. You look down at your feet and shut your eyes, sighing to yourself. Stupid… so stupid.

With his hand on the doorknob, Joel stands at the door hesitantly. You lift your head and frown as you wait. Did he need something?

You see the profile of his face as he hovers near the door, his face pinched in concentration as he takes a deep breath in before lifting his head towards you. The intensity of his gaze makes the air feel like it’s been sucked out of you. Your expression twitches in confusion while you watch him study you, thoughts racing through his head that you try to decipher through his eyes.

A few seconds pass when you see Joel’s face settle, his mind seeming to have made some decision unbeknownst to you. His face twists up in a mix of pain and frustration before he mutters, “Oh, fuckin’ hell.”

With those words, he crosses the short distance between you two with three long strides, grabbing both sides of your face with his hands and tilting his head to capture your lips with his own.

The action has your body stumble to try and find your balance. The force in which he collided with you makes you think he was too impatient to stop in front of you first—the only thing on his mind being to get to you as soon as possible. Doing this.

A brief pause goes by for your brain to catch up with what’s happening, and you move your lips against his own while grabbing the sides of his shirt to steady yourself, both physically and mentally.

You feel and hear Joel take a deep inhale through his nose once he feels your response, kissing you with more purpose like he was holding back in case the kiss was unwanted on your end. The intensity of his kiss has a quiet whimper leaving you, in turn making a rumbling groan come from the back of Joel’s throat.

Your hands slide up his side and wrap around the back of his neck to hold him closer to you while his own hands shift from your face and into your hair, holding the back of your head gently.

Eventually, his kisses become more slow and languid as he draws back just enough to press his forehead against yours. You both stare at each other’s mouths that are left parted open from the heavy breathing leaving you both. Joel tilts his head slightly to get a full view of your face, giving you time to study his as well. The pupils of his eyes are blown wide until there’s more black than brown. His lips are red and swollen from your kisses, his cheeks flushed.

His eyes dart across your face, unable to find anywhere to settle as he looks from your lips to your eyes, like he’s trying to memorize the way you look in this exact moment. The gleam in his eyes has your breath hitch in your throat. 

His features soften as he brings his hands to hold your face, gently rubbing his thumbs across the apple of your cheeks. You watch his gaze land on your lips before he softly laughs, his face breaking into what you think has to be the most beautiful smile you have ever seen.

“Was that okay?” He asks in a whispered tone.

The tension in your body melts as you laugh in response to his question, your smile matching his own. “More than okay.”

His brows push together and raise up slightly in the middle, his eyes so soft. “You have no idea how fuckin’ long I’ve wanted to do that, darlin’.”

The admittance makes your head spin. “Can’t be much longer than me.”

He breathes out a laugh at that. “You tellin’ me I could’ve done this sooner?” 

You shrug with a teasing smirk. “Guess so, Miller.”

He shakes his head slowly with a lazy half-smile on his face. “Nothin’ but trouble,” he mutters, to himself more than to you. Looking back down to your lips, he breathes a question. “Can I kiss you again?”

Your answer comes in the form of placing your hands on the tops of his shoulders and bringing yourself towards him again. Joel meets you halfway and sighs into your mouth at your approval. You feel his tongue lightly run over your lips, silently seeking permission. You welcome the offer and part your lips, feeling his tongue dip into the parted space and swirling it with your own.

The two of you stand there for however long, your tongues dancing as your hands roam over each other’s bodies, until you both pull back to catch your breath for a moment. That brief period of time you spend not touching each other makes the air shift. The tension that hangs in the air becomes more charged, nearly choking you. The need and impatience you had silently shared without the other knowing seems to snap—having waited so long for something that feels so good. Internally cursing yourselves for not doing anything sooner.

You look up to meet Joel’s eyes, listening to the sounds of your breathing mingling in with the soft tick of the clock in your living room, when you both share a silent agreement. You collide with one another once more, your lips moving against each other more urgently. Hungrier. 

Suddenly, Joel’s moving your bodies until your back hits the bottom of your staircase railing. He shifts you around the corner of it, both of you scrambling up the steps and only separating every couple seconds to make sure you don’t blindly trip on the way up. Somewhere along the way your sweater and his coat are discarded hastily in an effort to appease the heat growing between you two, while also trying to get closer.

Reaching your bedroom door, your back hits it softly before you push it open behind you with frantic hands fumbling to find the doorknob. Once you hear the sound of the knob turning, Joel brings his hand up to forcibly push the door open and into the bedroom. As you step in, he turns you and presses you against the wall beside your door. His hands come up to rest against the wall on either of your face, caging you in.

Joel rips himself away from you to look down at you with a disheveled look. “Darlin’, you sure you wanna do this?”

You impatiently nod your head, fully aware of what you want, and lean forward to kiss him again before being stopped when he pulls his face back another inch.

Raising his brows, he speaks your name in a more serious tone. “I need you to say it.”

“Yes,” you breathe.

He gulps as he looks to your lips before shaking his head to focus, not wanting to get distracted. “I’m serious. I gotta… darlin’, I need to make sure. After everythin’ yesterday I–”

He cuts himself off, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before opening them and looking to the floor. You bring your hands to either side of his face in an effort to coax him into looking at you.

“Joel…”

His eyes fall shut at the sound of you calling his name, your voice soothing to him. When he opens his eyes to yours, he sees nothing but certainty in them. 

“I promise you, I am okay. I want this. I want you. Regardless of what happened, I know how I feel. I’ve known for a while. I… I’ve wanted this for a while,” you say, gesturing between the two of you. “And I don’t just mean the physicality of it. I just mean… all of you. You’re what I want.”

Joel’s eyes flick between yours while scanning your face for any signs of doubt, but finding none. His own desire fights to take over, making him sigh and rest his forehead on yours.

You see his shoulders relax and feel his hand come up in between your bodies. Looking down, you see him holding his right hand with his pinky finger sticking out. Biting back a smile, you return the gesture to him, your agreement having Joel immediately leaning forward to steal your lips into a kiss the moment he felt the first touch of your finger wrapping around his.

Your body arches off the door and into him more and more as he deepens the kiss further, more frenzied as his own body leans naturally into yours. It feels as though this is a release of every single moment that has come before tonight begging to be let out—the both of you desperately needing to feel the other as close as humanly possible.

Joel lifts you off of the wall to bring you over to your bed, laying you down before stepping back. You scoot your body further up the bed towards your pillows, your hands braced against the comforter as Joel begins to remove his shirt while standing at the foot of your bed. Your throat goes dry at the sight of his exposed skin. 

Sure, you knew he was broad. You’ve seen the expanse of his shoulders when he’s not wearing his thick winter coats. You’ve seen him wear t-shirts all the time in the warmer seasons. Seen the way the fabric would cling to his back and highlight the hard lines of his body as he sweat under the sun. But nothing could make you feel any less in awe at the man standing before you. Large, toned arms lay at this side. Muscles flexing as he works his shirt over his head and throws it somewhere in your room. Graying hair scattered across his chest that, as your eyes move down his body, you notice a trail of thicker, darker hair disappearing below the belt of his jeans. His soft tummy on display contrasting the hardness that is prominent in other parts of his body.

“Like what you see?”

You flinch at the words, not realizing how long you had been staring. You see a smirk on Joel’s face and your cheeks turn bright red from having been caught in your obvious gawking.

He saves you from embarrassment by kneeling onto the bed and crawling over to you, leaning you back so you lay with your head against the pillows. His body settles over yours, making your legs part instinctively to make space for him, and cups your face with one hand while using his other to roam across your body as he kisses you.

His hand travels down over your mid-section and lands at the bottom of your shirt, wrapping his finger around the hem and begins lifting the fabric. A sliver of your stomach gets exposed to the cool air, shocking you into focus as you suddenly break away and place your hands on his arms to stop him.

“Wait.”

Joel immediately stops, hovering his body higher over yours to give you more space as he looks down at you with concern filling his features. “What is it?”

You momentarily freeze, the realization making you suddenly nervous for his reaction.

At your silence, Joel becomes increasingly worried and rushes out to say, “Darlin’, if you wanna stop then you say the word and we stop.”

You shake your head assuredly. “No!” The word comes out in a panic and you take a slow breath in to compose yourself. “No, it’s not that I– I don’t want to stop, I swear.”

Joel’s worry lessens, his face softening a little. He gently responds, “Okay. What is it, then? What’s wrong?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, anxiety building in you, but he only reassures further. “Sweetheart, whatever it is, I promise you can tell me.”

Opening your eyes, you keep your gaze trained to his chest to avoid making eye contact with him as you talk. “I… I’ve never…”

You weren’t embarrassed about your lack of experience. The world being what it is, and it starting during your time as an adolescent, made it so intimacy and having a partner was never high on your list of priorities, if at all. It did, however, worry you that Joel wouldn’t want this with you right now.

He remains silent for a moment before he gently speaks your name, giving you the push to raise your eyes up to his. What you see is not judgment, but soft understanding with a firm look in his eyes.

He knows what you mean and sits there silently. You’re unsure of what to say until he slowly brings his face down to press a slower kiss that relaxes your body. He pulls back slightly to place a quick kiss to your bottom lip before lifting his head to look at you more directly.

“Promise that’s okay, darlin’. Ain’t gonna change anythin’ for me, alright?”

You nod at him. The fact you hadn’t done anything before doesn’t deter you from wanting this with him—you just wanted him to know beforehand. 

Joel looks at you with a more serious yet still tender gaze. “You still sure ‘bout this?”

You wordlessly nod, but he pushes for more. “M’serious, baby. Any point you wanna stop or slow down at all you–”

The name, mixed with the safety and trust he provides you with his words, makes you cut him off by impatiently pulling his face down to you. The force of it makes his balance above you stumble for a bit before he mutters a curse under his breath.

You take control of the decision by taking his hand and guiding it to the hem of your shirt like it was a moment ago. Feeling your eager initiative, you feel the vibrations of him moaning into your mouth before you hear it—the noise causing a whimper to leave the back of your throat as your mind becomes clouded in euphoria.

Grabbing onto the bottom of your shirt, he slowly lifts it up your body and over your head as you lean forward to help him. Discarding your shirt somewhere across the room, he takes a second to look down at you, slowly admiring you as you did him. Although your anxiety from the newness of this moment makes you unable to match the confident and teasing look he had minutes before, even though you try.

His eyes travel over your body and come back up to your face where he notices the hesitation in your eyes—the way your hands twitch at your sides as you fight the urge to cover yourself.

Joel brings his hand to hold your face and comes close enough to whisper inches from you. “You don’t gotta be nervous, darlin’.” Taking another look down at you, he laughs in disbelief. “Can’t tell ya how fuckin’ lucky I am to be with someone so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn hot at his words, his hands melting the tension from your body as they slide behind you to unhook your bra. Slipping the straps off your shoulders, he curses under his breath before leaning down to hover his face over one of your breasts. Joel pauses to look up at you through hooded eyes, seeking permission before you quickly nod your head and feel his lips wrap around your nipple that stands hard and sensitive. 

You throw your head back as you breathe out moans at the unfamiliar sensation. You didn’t anticipate how good it would feel as he sucks and presses hot, open-mouthed kisses across your chest, alternating between both sides as he uses a hand to cup the other breast.

He trails kisses up your neck as you card your fingers through his hair, stopping to suck at your skin before dragging his lips across your jaw and to your lips, hungrily kissing you as you eagerly respond. 

One of his hands travels down to the button on your pants, stopping his mouth against yours for a moment until he feels you nod. You hold your breath as he unbuttons your bottoms, shifting his body down to remove them as he makes his way. Now on his knees and hovering above your legs, you watch as he lets out a staggered breath when looking at the now exposed skin.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, gesturing to your underwear. The last thing that separates him from seeing you fully. 

You slowly nod before he raises his eyebrows at you, waiting until you breathe out a shaky yes. With your permission, he grabs the sides of your underwear with his fingers and begins to peel the fabric off painfully slow. 

Your feet stay planted on the bed with your knees bent up as you lift your hips up to help him remove your underwear. Sliding his hands up your skin, his touch guides you to straighten out your legs, giving view to what he desires most in the moment.

His jaw clenches as his eyes roam across the space between your thighs, looking up at you a few seconds later with his eyes completely black and mouth parted open, breathing heavily.

Joel leans his body back to hover over yours, giving you a short kiss while stroking your hair. Pulling away, he asks you, “You ever touched yourself before?”

You nod against his hand that rests on the side of your head. Your words cause him to inhale deeply and shut his eyes in a form of restraint for a moment. Voice now thick with lust, he says, “Good. Helps me know what works best for you.”

His right hand runs down to hover between your legs, your breath catching in your throat at the touch. Slowly, he runs a finger through your folds, gathering the wetness that has accumulated. He groans. “Can I touch you, darlin’?”

Lightheaded, you nod and mutter a quick approval as you anticipate his touch. Using his thumb, Joel runs soft yet purposeful circles over your clit with the right amount of pressure. He moves to drag his middle finger through your slit, spreading your slick before curving his finger inside you, causing you to gasp and arch your back at the intrusion.

He leans his forehead on yours, pressing a kiss to your nose as he balances his weight on one elbow. Feeling him pause, you nod your head to encourage him to keep going and feel him move his finger in and out slowly, curving it diligently as if he knows your body. 

He continues this for a minute before he adds his ring finger, moving them in a come here motion while using his thumb to continue rubbing circles over your clit. “Oh god,” you gasp out as he hits a spot deep inside you after a few strokes, leaning your head back into your pillow and scrunching your face in a shock of pleasure.

Joel uses his free hand to stroke your hair while pressing light and comforting kisses across the side of your face. “That’s it,” he reassures you. “You’re doin’ so good for me. This feel good?”

You give a frantic nod. Joel smiles against your temple as he feels you begin to unintentionally clench around his fingers.

“You gonna come for me?” Nodding in response to him, he asks with a shaky breath, “What do you need from me?”

You struggle finding the words to speak, making him slow his movements to get your attention. The loss of friction causes you to look over at him with wide eyes until he presses. “You gotta tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what feels good.”

Letting out a frustrated whine, a sound that makes Joel teasingly smirk, you finally find the strength to spit out the words. “Just… fuck, Joel. Please just… keep going. Faster, please.”

He gives you a hum of approval before continuing the same motions at a slightly quicker speed—the feeling building up inside you as he rhythmically hits that spot you’ve never felt before tonight. 

The sounds of Joel’s praises and rigid panting against the side of your face, mixed with his thumb rubbing patterns on your clit, propels you closer to the edge.

A tight thread in your body snaps and you throw your head back clenching around his fingers, your body shuddering as you come. 

The moment you fall apart on his fingers, Joel lets out a low moan and leaves open-mouthed kisses across the side of your face as he continues to help you ride out your high, only slowly withdrawing his fingers when you stop shaking.

Your breathing more regulated, you blink open your eyes to Joel’s head dipped down into your neck and nipping at your skin, tracing the area with his tongue before pulling away. When he looks up to you, a cocky smile spreads on his face. “You feelin’ alright?”

You playfully roll your eyes and let your body sag further into bed at his question. “Yeah, just trying to find the ability to breathe right now.”  

He lets out a low laugh, letting his head fall onto your chest before looking back up at you with warm eyes. You bring your hands up to his face to pull him in for a slow kiss. Joel moves his body to lean into yours more, causing you to feel the hardness through his jeans that rests on your thigh. You let out a small gasp as you pull away and look down, gulping at the sight. Your nerves suddenly kick in again.

“Can I… um–”

You trail off and look down in between you two. Furrowing his brow, Joel looks down for a moment before he understands your offer. His face lifts back to yours as a softer expression takes over his features. Giving a small shake of his head, he says, “No, no. We won’t do that tonight.”

Insecurity washes over you as you look away, murmuring, “Do you not want me to…?”

Hearing the vulnerable tone in your voice, Joel’s eyes widen as he immediately clarifies himself. “Darlin’, no I–” He cuts off to let out a soft scoffing sound, breathing out a curse before looking at you with complete sincerity. “Believe me, that is absolutely somethin’ I want. Fuck, I’ll take anythin’ you would ever wanna give me, but tonight is ‘bout you. You don’t need to be doin’ that tonight, okay, sweet girl?”

Looking off to the side, you chew the inside of your cheek lightly. “What if I want to?”

Your question makes a low groan leave the back of Joel’s throat before he shuts his eyes to compose himself. Opening them back up, you see such a strong desire in them. “I promise, if that’s still what you want, then another time, okay?” Looking down at your body, he lets out a soft laugh. “I ain’t as young as I used to be, darlin’, and I got plans for tonight. Wanna make this as comfortable as possible for you. Plus, I’m fightin’ the urge to not come in my fuckin’ jeans like a god damn teenager already.”

You let out a giggle at that. Looking back down at the tent in his pants, you let out a slight wince envisioning the constriction. “You know, if I’m completely naked it feels only fair that you do the same. If you’re uncomfortable you can…” 

Joel nods and takes the chance to stand and remove his jeans and underwear. With the discarded clothing, you make the same face you gave him when he took his shirt off, except with wider eyes—a mix of nerves and excitement striking you.

He takes your look for worry and crawls back over you gently to ease your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says. “We aren’t going to do that yet.” You scrunch your face in confusion at that. Then what are you going to do?

Joel moves his body down until his upper body sits between your thighs, face hovering over you as he looks up at you under his eyebrows. 

Your body tenses up and you feel the air disappear from your lungs for a moment as you look down at him, so achingly beautiful and so close to you, realizing what he was planning. “What are you doing?” 

His hands slide down your sides to land at the tops of your thighs. “Been wantin’ to get a taste of you all night. Longer than tonight if I’m bein’ honest with the both of us.” 

You feel your body burn hot at his words while a knot gets formed in your stomach. Furrowing your brows and wincing, you ask, “You… you want to do that?”

He gives you a look like you’re crazy before he sees the genuine confusion in your eyes. Pressing long kisses over the tops and insides of your thighs, you feel your body tense and gasp. He looks up at you, his gaze tender as he tells you, “I guarantee you, I very much want to. Only if you’ll let me.”

You stare at him, chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation as he looks at you up through his lashes. “So, can I, baby?”

A soft moan escapes you before you eagerly nod your head. “Fuck… oh my god, please.”

A smirk crosses Joel’s face at your enthusiasm, before he focuses his eyes back down, wrapping a hand underneath one of your thighs to hook your leg over his shoulder. He brings his mouth down between your thighs and you instantly respond as your body arches up with the contact. He presses kisses over you before you feel his tongue leaving small licks there, easing you into the act. The moment he dips his tongue into you, a sharp whine leaves your throat as you throw your head back in ecstasy. The feeling is beyond overwhelming, your body having not experienced something even close to this.

You find yourself biting your lip to suppress the sounds that want to come out, gripping your hands into the sheets at your sides with your eyes squeezed shut. Having started gentle, it’s as if Joel has become a man possessed as you hear and feel moans of his own as he tastes you. You feel him reach deeper, his movements more frantic as he swirls his tongue inside you, his nose bumping against your clit in the process. The friction makes you let out a particularly loud cry before you bring your hand up to your mouth to try and bite down to calm yourself.

Joel seems to notice the movement from you, and looks up before he pulls his face a few inches away from where you need him most. You feel like a child as you fight back a whine from the loss of contact. Looking down to see why he stopped, you’re left breathless from the lustful look in his eyes—his mouth and chin shining with your slick. 

Voice gruff, he says, “Don’t hold back.” You hesitate before he pushes with a determined look in his eyes. “Let me hear ya. Loud as you want.”

He waits until you nod and drop your hands back onto your pillow besides your face. Satisfied, he tilts his face back down to wrap his lips around your clit and suck gently, but with purpose. The feeling causes a sharp moan to leave you, crying out, “Oh fuck… Joel…”

He hums, moving his tongue back inside you to continue licking you so sweetly. You arch your back and almost squirm away from the intense feeling growing inside you. Having none of that, Joel brings one hand to your stomach, pressing down firmly to keep you in place. He looks up at you, using his hand that holds your leg over his shoulder to grab onto one of your hands. You make and hold eye contact with him as he guides your hand into his hair, encouraging you to grab onto him to hold yourself steady. Pulling away just enough, he rushes out, “Use me, darlin’. Let yourself feel good.” 

“But… I don’t want to hurt you–”

He groans, mouth already back on you, hurriedly mumbling against your skin, “Fuckin’ christ, make it hurt, darlin’. I don’t care just…” He trails off, too impatient to continue talking.

Still unsure at first, you only lightly hold your hand on his head, unsure of what to do. In that moment he moves the hand not holding you down to place a finger onto your clit, mouth still on you and tongue still greedily moving in you. The simultaneous pressure makes you let out a loud moan, your body reacting instantly as your grip in his hair tightens, pushing his face deeper against you without you even realizing. At that, Joel begins moaning into you, the vibration only bringing your orgasm closer. You think you hear a faint, muffled, “Good girl,” but you’re too distracted to hear clearly.

You can feel your orgasm coming closer, and Joel seems to notice too as he replaces his tongue with the two fingers he had in you earlier, curling them with accuracy into you. The feeling causes a frantic mix of whimpers and moans to leave your mouth, back arching and eyes screwed shut as you repeat his name like a mantra. 

Looking up at you, face glistening and lips swollen, he says, “Look at me.” The words don’t process in your mind right away, and he withdraws his fingers from you to grab your attention, the loss causing you to look down at him with frustration. He smirks, continuing the circles on your clit. “Need you to look at me when you come, baby.”

You shake your head. “I–I can’t, it’s…”

“You can,” he says. “Need to feel you come on my mouth, darlin. Let me see you.”

Face screwed in pleasure, you whine out an agreement and try to keep yourself looking at him. He smiles and brings his face down to continue moving his tongue inside you while still looking up at you. 

His thumb on your clit mixed with his tongue devouring you, and the look in his eyes makes your orgasm begin to wash over you. “Oh my– fucking… Joel,” you cry out, whimpering and holding his face closer to you with your hands tangled in his hair. He replaces his tongue with his fingers again so he can place his mouth on your clit, sucking as you ride out your high on his face, your thighs closing around his head. Your body shakes through your orgasm, ending with you squirming in overstimulation as Joel begins to slow his motions towards your end. 

Your orgasm dying down, you let your head fall back, eyes shut as you slowly try to control your breathing. You feel Joel take his mouth off you, and you open your eyes halfway to find him bringing the two fingers that were inside you to his mouth, tasting you. The sight makes you clench in want, surprised at your body’s response to him still after everything.

He brings his body up to hover his face over yours, one hand smoothing your probably wild hair with a lazy smile on his face. “Did so good for me, darlin’,” he says, peppering kisses across your face while you shut your eyes and take deep breaths in and out. “My sweet girl.”

His praise makes you pull his face down to yours, hungrily moving your lips against his, making you notice the taste of yourself. He gives a soft hum before bringing one hand to cup the side of your face, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly you pull away and rush out, “I need you.”

His breathing stutters at your words. Your words shock even you, your need to feel him filling all of your senses—your body aching for it.

“Darlin’, you sure? We can take a break or stop here completely if you need a second–”

You frantically shake your head, borderline pouting.“No, I’m ready. I promise. I want this. I want you. Joel, please,” your voice ending in a whine.

Joel shuts his eyes, his resolve crumbling before he nods softly. “Okay… okay, don’t worry, I got ya.”

Straightening his body to hover directly over yours, you shift yourself a bit higher on your pillows. Joel reaches down between your thighs and you feel him run his fingers across you. The contact makes you gasp and whine from overstimulation until he gently hushes you. “M’just makin’ sure you’re ready, darlin’. Wanna make sure your body is prepared.”

You nod in understanding. “I am. I promise, Joel. Please…”

He reaches to hold his cock in his hand, the movement making you look to watch him place his cock against your folds, causing you to both let out a groan. The contact makes him screw his eyes shut, seeing you clench around nothing in an effort to soothe your desire. He quickly composes himself, looking at you with a serious face. “M’gonna go slow, but if it hurts, or if you need me to stop at any point, you tell me. Okay?”

You nod wordlessly before he raises an eyebrow and you remember. “Yes,” you say out loud. “I will. I promise I’ll tell you.”

Content with your answer, he notches the head of his cock against your entrance before he slowly pushes himself inside you until only the tip sits in you. “Fuck,” Joel says.

The feeling causes both of you to moan out loud, Joel letting his body fall forward a bit before he catches himself on his elbows, bringing his forehead to yours and the two of you breath into each other's mouths. He pushes his brows together, eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched. “How do you feel?”

Your face twisted in an unknown feeling, you whisper, “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt, it's just… I’m getting used to it.”

He nods, waiting for your permission to keep going. “You just tell me when you’re ready, okay, darlin’?” 

Nodding, you two stay there for a moment until your body feels more adjusted. “Okay,” you say. “More. Keep going.”

Pushing himself further into you a bit, the fullness you feel makes a sharp noise rip from the back of your throat. Joel leans his head into the pillow, turning his head to place kisses in your hair and whisper reassurance. “You’re doin’ good, darlin’. Doin’ so good for me.”

The stretch is what you feel the most—not painful, just uncomfortable from your body not used to any feeling similar to this.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, softly.

“No,” you shake your head sincerely. “It’s just… really thick.” You both feel yourself pulse and clench around his length as you slowly but surely get used to the feeling. 

Guilt builds inside you as you see warmth in his eyes mixed with what looks like discomfort from taking it slow. “I’m sorry,” you say, suddenly feeling yourself wash over with insecurity.

Confused and worried, Joel frantically comforts you. “Hey, hey, hey—darlin’, you do not need to apologize.” You open your mouth to say something about how you feel bad for making him wait, but Joel cuts you off gently, but fiercely, speaking your name with a whisper. “I am completely okay. Fuck… darlin’, I’d wait forever for you. I just want to make sure you feel okay. Don’t worry about me.”

His words ease you enough for you to tell him to continue. He pulls out a bit before pushing in, feeding more of himself inside you. This time, you feel almost no discomfort, pleasure taking over you more and more as he slowly slides himself further.

Your face twists into pleasure, your mouth falling open with a moan. “More.”

Joel falters. “It’s just a bit more, darlin’. We don’t need to rush–”

You cut him off with a whine of frustration, rambling out, “Joel, I'm begging you. It feels good but I need more…”

He groans but still doesn’t give you what you want, so you keep going. “I feel so full. I need more… it’s not enough. I need to feel all of you, fuck. Baby, please–”

The moment he hears the affectionate name, it’s as if whatever was holding him back just broke and he pushes the last bit of him, crying out your name. “Fuckin’ hell, darlin’.”

“Oh my god,” you let out. Your mouth drops open in shock and bliss at the feeling of him completely inside you. Joel recovers enough to say, “Fuck, you feel okay?”

You frantically nod your head, hands gripping his shoulders tightly before you beg. “Please, move. I need you to move.”

Your voice trailing off into a string of moans, Joel begins to slowly withdraw himself from you until only the head sits in you before he slowly pushes back inside until you feel the base of his cock flushed against you.

The feeling consumes and overwhelms you. How intense and how good it feels sends your mind reeling—the reality of finally feeling all of him.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good, god–my sweet girl… So fuckin’ good, darlin’.”

You whimper and squirm at the praise, hands beginning to roam over his back and dig in as he brings one hand down between the two of you, fingers settling on your clit as he begins to rub circles over you.

“I–holy fuck–” 

You can’t find the words to speak properly, your voice coming out in broken sentences mixing with moans. Joel understands, feeling your body’s response to him inside you. “How does it feel?”

You’re distracted until he brings his mouth on yours, kissing you fiercely before pulling away. “Tell me how you feel, baby.”

Eventually you find the strength to speak. “Good… you feel so fucking good Joel.” You break off in another moan as he takes himself halfway out before pushing back in with a hard thrust—wrapping his arm underneath one of your knees and allowing himself to hit a deeper spot in you that has your vision blurring.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel this good, and a part of you believes that half the reason is because it’s Joel—your already developed feelings for him making the moment bring stubborn tears to your eyes. Noticing this, Joel’s face fills with worry for a moment but you don’t give him the chance to speak.“It doesn’t hurt. It feels so good, Joel, I just…”

Understanding, Joel leans his forehead on yours. “I know,” he whispers. He repeats praises in your ear of, “You feel so good, baby. Fuckin’ perfect, god–”

Increasing the pace of his thrusts in time with the movements of his finger on your clit makes your body feel like it’s been lit on fire, a loud moan leaving you as you feel yourself reaching your end.

Frantically, you start saying, “Fuck , Joel… I’m gonna–”

Nodding his head against your forehead, he says, “I know, baby. I feel you clenchin’ down on me– fuckin’ christ you feel so…”

He trails off, encouraging your orgasm with his words and the pleasure he’s bringing you. “Want you to come for me, baby. Need to feel you come ‘round my cock. Need to hear you say my name darlin’, please–”

You clench down around him, body writhing as you arch into him, a cry leaving your throat. You repeat his name like a mantra in between loud moans and sounds you didn’t know you were capable of.

Joel helps you through it, keeping pace with his thrusts and thumb on your clit. “That’s it, darlin’. Doin’ so good for me. My good girl. Fuck, I–”

He cuts himself as his face screws up in pleasure at the feeling of you fluttering around him. Having come down a bit from your own orgasm, you encourage him, saying, “Joel, I want to feel you. I need it so bad, please…”

His thrusts become more staggered and unhinged, a whimper leaving his throat at your words. “M’comin’, I’m–fuck,” he says, crying out your name. Pushing himself deep inside you, he stops as his body shakes from his own orgasm, your name falling off his lips like a sinful prayer as his head falls into your neck.

The warm feeling of him finishing inside you overwhelms you. His moans and grunts in your ear fill your mind until all your senses become taken over by Joel.

His own orgasm finishing, Joel lets his body weight fall more on you, his exhaustion causing his strength to falter as he struggles to hold himself over you. You welcome the weight, relishing in the feeling of how heavy and big he is, letting it take over you in a wave of comfort.

The two of you lay there for a moment, the only sounds being the both of you trying to regulate your breathing mixed with quiet murmurs of praise coming from Joel. Your hands move from the grip they held on his back over to his hair, holding his body impossibly closer to you. Your touch causes his body to completely relax, allowing himself to sag against you as he lays his head in the crook of your neck, turning his face to press lazy kisses along your jaw and cheek. 

Having come back down a bit, Joel lifts his head until his face hovers over yours, eyes staring into yours with a half-smile on his face.

Your expression matching his, you whisper a shy, quiet, “Hi.”

His smile grows, a soft laugh leaving his lips. “Hi.”

You pull his face down to bring his lips to yours for a deep, slow kiss, feeling Joel melt at your touch. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth at the kiss, shifting his hand to tangle into your hair.

A few moments later, he pulls away from you and looks down between the two of you. “I’m gonna take myself out, okay?”

You nod, fingers running through his hair in mindless motions as he slowly retracts himself from inside you. The friction causes you to let out a whine that he quiets with a kiss. Having taken himself out, you both sigh at the loss of contact. Some voice in your head wishes he could stay in you forever. That you needed to feel every part of him on and in you for as long as possible.

Pressing soothing kisses across the side of your head, he pulls away and begins to stand up from the bed. The action makes your stomach drop, suddenly feeling the most vulnerable you had felt all night.

Is he going to leave?

Noticing your worried look, Joel presses a knee into the bed to lean over you, his voice soft. “I’m just goin’ to get somethin’ to help clean you up, okay?”

You slowly nod and don’t take your eyes off him as you watch him walk into your bathroom and hear him opening a cabinet, followed by the sounds of water running. He walks back into your bedroom holding a small rag he had slightly damp with water. 

Sitting down on the bed beside you, he takes the rag and begins to wipe between your thighs. The contact makes you hiss, Joel giving you a soft wince in apology at the overstimulation. Finished, he pulls away the rag and squeezes your hand before getting back up to discard the rag in your laundry basket that sits in your bathroom. 

You let your eyes look around your room as the reality of the night sets in you, feeling nothing but bliss.

Joel walks back over to your side of the bed, reaching down to grab his boxers and pull them over his hips before he gestures downstairs. “M’gonna go fill us both up some glasses of water. You go ‘head and do what you need to do before bed, alright?”

You nod, sitting up and letting Joel help pull you up. Standing up with two feet, you stumble for a moment, thankful Joel was holding onto your hands still. You slowly look up at him to find him fighting a smirk on his face. 

You scoff playfully. “Don’t look so proud, Miller.”

He barks out a laugh at that, waiting for you to find your balance before letting go of you. “No idea what you mean, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes in response, heading into the bathroom to get ready for bed while Joel heads down into the kitchen. When you come out, you find him setting your waters on the tables either side of your bed. 

At the sound of the door opening, he turns to you with a small smile as you grab and pull your underwear on. Searching through your drawers for a shirt to wear to sleep, you’re interrupted by the sound of Joel clearing his throat behind you. You turn around to find him nervously rubbing the back of his neck, holding out his shirt for you. 

Raising one eyebrow, you ask, “... Do you want me to wear that?”

He shyly nods at you before you grab the shirt and pull it over you. “Didn’t take you for the shy type,” you tease.

He lets out a low laugh at that, grabbing your hand wordlessly and bringing you to bed after you take a big drink of water. Laying down first, he guides your body to lay next to his. You settle your face on his chest and wrap an arm over his stomach as he puts an arm around you to pull you in closer to him. 

The feeling of his warmth makes you realize the exhaustion you feel, your eyes beginning to fall shut.

“How do you feel?”

You look up to find him with an unsure look on his face. “Amazing,” you respond. 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he takes his free arm to hold your hand that lays on his stomach, looking down at your intertwined fingers and fidgeting. “Was it, um… was it good for you?”

For the first time in the entire night, you notice the uncertainty in Joel’s voice and expression. The whole night, he was focused so much on making you feel good, that you didn’t think that he would be equally vulnerable to the experience.

The realization makes you straighten a little bit, lifting your head and looking at him more directly. His eyes settle on yours, brows drawn together and raised a bit in the middle. “Joel. You were perfect. Tonight was everything I could’ve ever wanted and more.”

His eyes flit between yours, checking for any sign of a lie in you. You move your hand that holds his to wrap your pinky finger around his. The two of you still maintaining eye contact, you see his lips quirk up at the corner before his face relaxes, letting you know he believes you. “Good,” he breathes out. “That’s all I want, darlin’.”

You settle your chin on his chest. “What about you? Was it good for you?”

He gives you a dramatic look as if you were crazy, making you let out a small giggle. “Baby… this has been the best night of my damn life.” You laugh at his response before he continues. “And trust me, that’s a long ass time to compare to.”

Your cheeks hurt from the smile that graces your face, Joel matching your expression with his own smile before he leans in to place a slow and drawn out kiss to your lips. Pulling away, he looks at you and notices the heaviness of your eyelids. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

Nodding, you move your head to rest on his chest once more, feeling his heartbeat against your ear. Settling into him more comfortably, he moves to wrap his arms around you the way he did a few minutes ago. Pressing one final kiss to the top of your head, he whispers, “G’night, darlin’.”

Eyes closed, your exhaustion pulling you away already, you only offer a hum in response—feeling pure content for the first time in your life as the thump of his heartbeat lulls you to sleep.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! i hope you all enjoy <3 follow @writtenbynic and turn on notifications for updates!

a/n: honesty hour lol. i really was sick, but i also was nitpicking about this chapter for way too long because i wanted it to be perfect. i just needed to rip the bandaid off and post it. hope you guys like it! 🏷️: @dendulinka6 @suzysface @koshkaj-blog @orcasoul @emmasveinyahhdih @thatoneperson38747 @silksepia @orodaeh @ithinkimokeei @emnull0 @warriorkarol @luvwanda @pascal-mynightlyobsession @grayandthyme @crlsummer @ashleyfilm @darling-imobsessed @tjohn63 @lizzie-cakes @vanishintoyoubby @keileighr if anyone else wants to be tagged, or if i missed any, then please let me know!

[redroomreflections]

Something Like Peace

Secret Service Natasha and Presidential R

nothing like listening to the woman you're in love with talk about her husband.(atp i need to just fully develop this) Maybe I'm watching too much Scandal lately.

You didn't want to discuss this topic in the meeting. You didn't even want it to be an option that people considered. Yet here you were, one year away from your final year as president, and you were discussing reelection strategies. Someone had thrown the idea out there - remarriage. It left a bitter taste in your mouth. The senior advisors, donors, and political strategists sat with folders, charts, and polling numbers. Somehow, they'd all chosen to beat around the bush until this very moment.

"If you want to win reelection, Madam President… you’re going to need a husband."

Suggestions had been thrown around. Possible candidates who would make great First Gentlemen. Senators, congressmen, the former governor of a neighboring state, and the former Secretary of Education. All good men, and all not your type. The first gentleman would need to be someone you could trust. Someone you could be sure would do their job, but wouldn’t overstep their boundaries. Someone you could rely on. Someone you didn't want. You were not getting married again. Certainly not for love and certainly not for the country.

You allowed everyone to talk around you until Jennie Alba recommended an app.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to do some presidential version of Tinder to find a husband?”

A few coughs. Nervous glances.

You leaned forward.

“So I can parade him out in front of crowds and kiss him on the cheek like some state-sanctioned Barbie? Smile at the cameras while he whispers something vaguely condescending in my ear to prove that I’m warm? Approachable? Woman enough to lead?”

Someone tried to interject. You held up a finger.

“No. I’m not finished.”

You stood then, voice rising not loud, but commanding. The room went still. You needed to pace.

“You want me to trade my grief in for a photo op. With my husband not even being gone for the entirety of this run. You want me to water down my leadership so the public can sleep better at night knowing there’s a man in the picture, even if it’s all pretend. You want a storybook. A fairytale. The devoted widow turned blushing bride. And why? Because the country is uncomfortable with a woman who leads without needing to be led?”

Now you're pacing.

“I have stared down dictators. Ran a presidential election campaign all while coming home to breastfeed twins. I have buried my husband. I have raised three children while running this nation. And somehow, somehow, that’s not enough. You don’t want a president. You want a pageant.”

You stopped. Looking around at semi-guilty faces.

“You want a man to stand beside me so you can pretend he’s the reason I haven’t fallen apart. So you don’t have to admit that I did this without him. Without anyone.”

Silence.

Then, softer but lethal.

“I will not find a husband to make this country feel better about a woman in charge. I will not sell my life for your polling numbers. And if you think I need a ring to win this election, then you are the problem.”

You grabbed your folder. Stood tall. And left them stunned.

******

An hour later, you stood by a small table near the window, a framed photo in your hands.

It was him.

Your Andrew. Smiling in a way you only ever got to see. The kind of smile that made hard days easier, the kind that held up the world when yours was falling apart.

You brushed your thumb over the glass. Just once.

The door opened quietly.

Natasha stepped in, eyes scanning the room before settling on you. She didn't approach right away. She never did when you were like that.

“Just came to check in,” Natasha said softly. “Wanted to see if you’re well enough for me to go.”

You don’t turn around immediately.

“I’m fine.” You nodded to yourself. "You can go."

A beat.

“Do people ever ask you to get married?” you asked, still staring at the photo.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say they do.”

“Not for love. I mean for... appearance. For strategy.”

Natasha stepped closer now, careful with her tone. “No one expects that from me.”

You finally turned, the photo still in your hand. “Lucky you.”

Natasha watched you quietly. “Did they bring it up again?”

You laughed under your breath. “They want me to find a husband." You probably shouldn't have that conversation with your Secret Service agent.

"You know you don't need a husband, right? You're doing just fine on your own."

You shrugged.

Natasha tilted her head. "You are. And I'll remind anyone who tries to say otherwise. You are the president, and they should all be honored to serve you. You are enough. Husband or not. Ring or not."

"You should be my spokesperson."

"Only if it pays better," She joked. You cracked a small smile. "You miss him."

"I do," You nodded, holding the frame tighter.

Natasha watched your hands.

"When's the last time you went out?" she asked.

You raised an eyebrow. "Out where?"

"I don't know," Natasha shrugged. "Anywhere. Out."

"I have work. A country to run."

"But when's the last time you've gone out for something other than a rally or a meeting?"

"Well-"

"I'd start there," Natasha nodded. "If you're looking, of course."

"I'm not." You could tell there was a moment Natasha regretted speaking.

"Why not Maragrat Cannon? I mean, she was so miffed that you hadn't called her back." Natasha began. "Even gave you a raving review."

"You weren't supposed to listen to that conversation," You mumbled amusedly. Maragrat Cannon was an FBI chief you'd had a brief fling with months ago. Your first fling since Andrew had died. She had been nice, but it didn't last.

"We don't usually eavesdrop, but we were worried about her tone," Natasha teased. "You don't need her. Or a man."

"Thank you," You replied. "But I'm fine. Truly."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

Natasha nodded once, the kind of nod that meant copy that guard up, posture straight. Back in secret service mode. She took a small step back.

But you weren’t ready to let her go.

“Do you think it’s too soon?” you asked, your voice low.

She turned, surprised by the softness in it.

“For what?” she asked.

“To… move on. To be open. To even think about someone else.”

Natasha studied you. Not the President. Not the strategist. Just you, tired, grieving, holding your late husband’s photo like it still steadied you.

You swallowed. “Andrew just died. Sophia barely looks at me. My approval rating is hanging on by a thread, and I haven’t had a moment to just… be. So maybe this is a ridiculous question, but I just—” You trailed off. “I don’t know who I am if I’m not holding it all together.”

Natasha’s gaze softened.

“I think it’s not about too soon,” she said finally. “I think it’s too heavy. You’ve been carrying everyone’s grief on top of your own. And people forget that you’re not a statue, they forget that your heart’s still breaking too.”

Your lip quivered, just barely. You pressed it together to stop it.

Natasha took a slow step forward. Not too close. Just enough.

“If you’re asking if it’s too soon to feel again, to want peace, to laugh for real…” She shook her head. “No. It’s not.”

You blinked quickly. “Even if Sophia hates me?”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Natasha said it without hesitation. “She’s hurting. And she’s trying to figure out where to put it. Right now, she’s putting it on you because you’re the one person who will still be there after.”

You stared at her.

And Natasha, still in uniform, still technically on duty, gave you a small, honest smile.

“You’re allowed to be human. Even here. Even now.” Natasha watched you for a reaction. If you were any other person, she would have broken professional protocol and begged to go back to her room. She wouldn't have cared about feelings or questions or anything outside of her scope of practice.

But you weren't just any other person.

And Natasha wouldn't break protocol for just anyone.

"Thank you," You breathed, smiling at her.

"You could tell me about him," She offered.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't," You shook your head. "I'm sure you have somewhere to be."

Natasha shrugged, "Not right now."

"Don't you have a family?"

"I don't have much going on." She admitted. "Just waiting on my boss."

You sat down on the edge of the couch, the picture frame still in your lap. The room felt too big, too quiet, too late.

“You know the public story,” you said after a long pause, your fingers tracing the edge of the frame. “The headlines. The photos. The speeches we gave while standing next to each other. The ‘power couple’ fairytale.”

Natasha didn’t interrupt. When you gestured, she moved to sit in the nearby chair, close enough to listen, far enough to respect the space.

“But what they never printed,” you continued, your voice soft and distant, “was how we met in a politics and public policy seminar sophomore year. He was cocky. Smarter than me in ways that irritated me. And when he got up to argue about the ethics of foreign aid, I realized I was either going to strangle him or marry him.”

Natasha smiled faintly.

“We fell in love slowly. But completely.” You looked down at the photo. “I got pregnant with Sophia right after graduation. We were terrified. I thought my life was over. He told me it was just beginning.”

Your voice cracked, but you didn’t stop.

“He believed in me before I believed in myself. Always said I could lead a revolution and be home for bedtime stories. He loved my ambition. Never once made me feel like I had to shrink to keep him comfortable.”

You looked over at Natasha now.

“He wasn’t just my husband. He was my equal. My best friend. My center.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“I miss the way he laughed at his own bad jokes,” you added, more to yourself than to her. “And how he’d read every single draft of my speeches, even when he was tired. He always circled the metaphors in red pen. Said I used too many.”

Natasha let out a small breath of laughter. “That sounds about right.”

You gave her a teary smile.

“I keep waiting for the part where it hurts less,” you admitted.

Natasha’s voice was gentle. “Maybe it doesn’t hurt less. Maybe it just… stops being so loud.”

You nodded slowly.

“I didn’t expect to tell you all of this.”

Natasha shrugged again. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to stay.”

You looked at her, then really looked, and for the first time, you didn’t feel like the President. You felt like a woman sitting in a quiet room, talking about the man she still loved, with someone who saw her.

“Thank you,” you said again, quieter this time.

Natasha leaned back slightly, her posture relaxing, just barely.

“I’m still waiting on my boss,” she reminded you.

“Then you can stay.”

[kooyabooya]

HIERARCHY

dahyun x m reader

9k words

(shoutout to @passingnotions for allowing me to adapt this idea <3)

“I have her here waiting at the desk if you’re ready to see her, sir.” 

“Perfect. Send her up.” 

It’s peculiar for these kinds of rumors to circulate given her status - and even when the sounds of her heels click off against the polished tiles and get gradually louder; until she steps past the open door and into the oval office, you still can’t put together why she’s a controversial topic in the first place. 

“I’m glad that we can finally have this arrangement,” you say, glancing over the more she makes her presence known, “Overseer.”  

-

It’s as simple as it sounds: 

She’s the regulator. You’re the higher-up. It’s your job to assess, determine, and take action. 

And the roles exist for a reason, and every system has its necessary balance. Nobody gets out of line, and nobody ever questions the orders that come from the superiors. Everything feels right in its place, between the people and where this institution stands, but there’s one catch that you’ve sought yourself to see out personally, after hearing some peculiar commentary building up with various faculty members.

This very woman standing in your quarters exudes this infectious aura that sweeps up the whole room. In the case of the students, it would send a chill down their spine, get a few beads of sweat to form in the palms of their hands and foreheads - a quick breath beneath their lips as they tense up because despite not being the main person in trouble, and she makes them feel that way regardless. 

“I would like to know why you asked to see me in the first place,” she says, face stoic as she settles into the seat, gaze locked with yours, “Hopefully this isn’t about what we discussed the other time, is it?” 

Something in the way that she sits, and how the two-piece set of her dress rests along the line of her shoulders, how her eyes dart through yours when you’ve caught yourself staring a bit longer than expected. Make the goosebumps along your arms stand up underneath the sleeves. 

“It’s partly that,” you answer, pinching the edge of your cuff, hoping to divert the attention of death staring in your direction. “Among other things.” 

“Meaning what, sir?” 

Breaking eye contact, the formality alone snaps some composure into you. To recap: you’ve been in and out of meetings all day, talking about future plans to implement amongst the student body and faculty; then there was some discrepancies that was dealt with from past incidents brought to your desk, but the common thread from these accounts all pointed to the same thing: 

“It’s about your recent-” the pause alone of the intended word hanging between your lips makes the Overseer puzzled about this discussion (though with the implications through the reports sitting on your desk, tell a different tale). 

“-modes of conduct.” You tell her, which only earns a quirked eyebrow and a nod, signaling that you’re right. “I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been going around between the other staff members and what not, Dahyun.” 

Even the name alone sometimes sends chills to your body. Overseer Kim Dahyun: the academy’s best instructor. Lead figure when it comes to dishing out disciplinary measures to those who were stupid enough to go against the rules. Once she has someone that’s out of order, it’s automatically assured that there won’t be any further incidents coming from them moving on. You’ve looked at the written reports, noticed that there’s nothing worth putting against someone like her with the reputation that she carries, but no one ever really stays perfect for this long. 

“So tell me, Superior,” Dahyun begins, one leg over the other in her chair while you continue with the glacial pacing around the office, “What is it that you have heard about me, circling around with the other staff in the past weeks?” 

“I guess it’s mainly the latter, the ‘forms’ of discipline you’ve been committing with various students.” 

“What about them?” 

“That's the reason why I’m having this discussion with you in the first place.” 

Dahyun tilts her head down, eyes wandering the opposite direction, reflecting almost as her mind tries to piece the different shards of information rummaging about in her head. She’s one to not leave anything unchecked - down to the minute detail possible. Intricate in the way that she does her line of work, and meticulous with how she wants things to be done. She also gets along well with others to which they speak highly of her. You wouldn’t want to call these accounts ‘accusations’; not yet, until you’ve seen both ends of the scope before drawing up a solid conclusion. 

She turns her head around to see you at the tray table next to the door, tending to the two glasses of water before a wave to the keypad locks the deadbolt into place, to ensure privacy and know that someone will eventually knock without even going to the front desk in the first place. “This is a first for me, especially coming from you, questioning my methods.” 

“I don’t see what you mean,” you tell her, making peace with the glass in your left hand to which she accepts, “I’m only aware of the stories that were told in recent weeks.” Dahyun acknowledges with a sip, eyes still trained on you now on the other side of your desk, “Let this be a simple conversation between you and I, please.” 

“Okay then,” she remarks, handing back the empty glass once she’s done with it, “I’ll ask this again: What is it that you’ve heard about me that caused this whole debacle in the first place?” 

Her look shifts up, maintaining her posture, hands resting on her lap. There’s a few strands in her hair that look out of place, but most of it is neatly tied up in the bun hanging low behind her head. She knows that she holds this sort of entitlement, this status - even from the glances alone in all sorts of seriousness tell you not to mess with a woman like her if you were a student. 

But you’re not. 

The lift from her eyebrows, above the upper rims of her glasses, prompting you to answer. It’s all in your head, right there, the only problem is how the delivery is going to hit her. You have every right to feel bad to be the bearer of not-so-good news, but it’s the part of the job, and the more you stand there in silence with her looking up waiting for a reply, adds on the slow building tension in the room. 

You’re reminded however, of the actions she committed. 

“We have an issue, technically it’s not really an issue, yet.” Dahyun’s gaze twists at that, but it isn’t a look of clear confusion, moreso thrown off at the very topic of discussion. She scoffs, slightly amused, and you can’t blame her for giving that reaction. “Though it’s been brought to my attention in the past few days.” 

And in terms of issues, there’s hardly any throughout the academy; thanks to the dedication towards molding the best and brightest students into civilized beings for the real world. Most of these incidents come at a scarce occurrence alone - but it still happens even if it’s an ordinary day throughout the week. 

She blinks twice, maybe thrice, turns her head away, fixated on the edge of the desk still. Her hands mold together with a small unease, but she still looks empathetic with how her eyelids flutter in the small lines of breaking light past the windows. 

“So say it then,” she says, tone flat - like in her lectures or when having a one-on-one conversation with a troubled student outside the hallways, “since you’re always so on top of the loop with the faculty here.” 

The prompting. It’s so on brand for her to be like this - to set someone else up as a way for them to keep their attention, carrying on with the conversation till she finally has that satisfaction with the answer. There’s some admiration for her, in the way that she doesn’t back down from a disagreement, because she’ll always see it through no matter what the circumstance may be. It’s her strength, and also her weakness, but she’s good enough to not let it show on her face. 

At some point you were afraid of her, something that you can admit to yourself from a long while ago. Not a lot of people at the academy even really liked her because she’s extremely intimidating, and that still seems to be the case now. Though, with all of the different events spread out across the place, some of the roses were given in her effort to come out of her shell which she takes your encouragement. It’s in those rare moments where she laughs or smiles, like a blue moon passing in the night sky. 

You remember the task at hand, what needs to be done. 

“It’s about the students,” you tell her, air slipping through your upper lip as a way of preparation, “I’ve been told by a few individuals that you’ve been having an affair with one of them.” 

“What!?” 

“This is all just speculation,” you say, settling into your chair as Dahyun keeps her posture upright and composed, “Hence you being here to tell me your side of the story so that we can try to line up the two different perspectives together.” 

“That’s what this is about?” 

“Dahyun.” That sense of professionalism has to be cared for. An eye to the desk to the few different reports that insinuate a wrongful framing; some of them were just verbal accounts and had to be on the record, but the whistleblower tip in the form of a post-it note already caused quite a stir around the teachers lounge. 

“All of this is unbelievable.” She plucks her glasses away from her face, catching a few wisps fall out from their spot on the top of her head, clearly irritated. “I have- I have not. In no way those accusations are true.” 

You pull your lips inward, trying to be sympathetic as much as possible in addition to being transparent. Her eyes darted back at yours, fully interested as to what you might say next. She expects an answer, and you’ll give it to her, but all you do is raise an eyebrow to where she scrunches her eyes in response. 

“Are you sure?” To that, Dahyun rolls her eyes. You notice a quick pull from one of the corners of her lip, shuffling the small stack of files off to the side, leaning closer with both elbows on the wood. “I hope you realize that if you are withholding information from me, it can lead to harsher consequences.” 

Dahyun clasps her hand to a fist, face still as stone as you watch her eyes sweep across the floor. A heavy bundle of air leaves your chest, keeping your gaze locked to her, waiting for an answer within the next moments or so. She knows that she can’t shy away from this, and she knows that the only direction to take is the one where truth is the sole passage. It’s also very interesting the way she doesn’t falter, sheltering her emotions inside. You’ve only seen her be the opposite of that - only once, a spell ago, and you were convinced that it was only a one time thing. The silence seems to get louder in the room, and she finally shifts her eyes back to you. 

“Well?” you ask, to break the tension a bit, “You’re not my enemy here. I just want you to be as open and honest as possible.” 

You can see the slightest clench at the bottom of her jaw, gritting her teeth behind her lips. There’s that thought of clear common sense, telling you that what she did was wrong, but that’s just one side of the story. Sure, that someone who created the rumor might’ve done it out of spite, or maybe they wanted to see Dahyun in a state of panic just for the fun of it. Some will say one thing, and others will say another. The only way that you’ll know for sure to make all of this go away is the personal statement directly from her. 

“Overseer.” You huff, sighing out of pure annoyance.

Her brows crunch in response to the title. 

“I need to know. That’s all I’m requesting of you right now.” 

She sets herself square on the seat, facing you; she’s matching your height now in a sitting position, but despite the lack in length is replaced with the demeanor that she carries. There’s been some sort of competition thrown around by the students, talking about how Dahyun’s figure comes second to none with the likes of Jihyo or Mina to name a few. Gawking at the fellow staff members who caught wind of the conversation is what you give them, and it would take a metric fuck-ton of persuading to spill an answer out of your lips. 

Still no answer from her as of this second. 

“Overseer Dahyun,” voice now in a much lower register than usual to punctuate the gravity of the situation, “We don’t have all day; so either you fess up now, or I’ll carry on this conversation tomorrow if I’m not going to get it out of you today.” 

Running her upper lip inward, you carry on with the scattered paperworks spread across the desk as she contemplates, unwilling to make eye contact with her while she keeps her eyes focused on you. By all expectations, you were hoping that this meeting would be quick and easy; just get the required information before writing up a report and be on your way. Still, you can’t help but think as to why she’s being so reluctant about saving her status let alone her job - all because she didn't do something that had very little significance to her and became such a big deal. 

“Fine,” you say, slapping the pen lightly on the desk before beginning to stand up from the chair, “Just forget that I asked and you can-” 

“One.” she finally says, after what felt like an eternity it seems. And then again, “One.” 

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” you start, falling back onto the seat; Dahyun collects herself with the subtle rise and fall of her chest, breathing carefully. That crucial first step was already taken, and the plan in your mind to diminish this whole controversy is slowly scaffolding into place. “So I’ll ask this once again in a different way: Are you having an affair with one of the students in the academy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is it…just the one?” 

“Just the one.” 

Despite how this information may be shocking to a degree, composure has to be kept from this point on. You’re just simply doing your job as the superior, and if this doesn’t get solved quickly, there’s more people in higher places than you that will do what you couldn’t. 

“So,” you set yourself up for the next connecting inquiry, “I want a full explanation for this, as to when and how all of this came to be.” 

Dahyun licks her lips, unsure if what she’ll say next will either be her saving grace or a shortsighted opportunity breeding on disappointment. You can easily tell that she’s uneasy, and it’s very impressive at how she’s able to keep an expressionless face for an instance like this. Put anyone else that works here in her seat and situation, they’d all panic or break a sweat pleading for an appeal to save their own skin. To hell with the fading wish for an interesting day every few weeks or so - because this potential scandal might make the whole week or even the whole year. 

“Alright,” she relaxes, finally letting her body release all of the tension while she flutters her eyes back to you, “For the record, he came to me. It was-” a quick look to the side before subduing the sudden impulse coursing through her neck, “It was supposed to be a simple form of disciplinary action. A one time thing. Had him serve the correction and be on his way. Though, you’re very familiar with, well- you know, the methodology.” 

“I see, and it took you that long to tell your side of the story??” Swallowing the small lump in your throat growing as her eyes fail to leave yours. “But let me guess, he-” 

“He wanted to see me. Actually, he wanted to keep seeing me. I asked him as to why one day, and he was just fascinated with the approach that I do; he just wanted the pleasure for himself and as for me, I reveled in the satisfaction of taking advantage of him.” 

“And you found it to be completely appropriate for this little entanglement to keep on happening?” 

Dahyun then leans forward, and thank Christ you managed to save your wandering eyes from leering a second too late at the overflowing swarm of pale thighs ballooning on the cushion as more and more skin is revealed at the help of that tight light blue dress getting hiked up with the press of her legs. The inquisitive angle of her head at the given question, letting a stray wisp of her hair fall from the side before she drags it back behind the cuff of her ear. “So what are you saying?”

“Well, I’m the one who asked you first,” you answer, twiddling the pen around your fingers, maintaining eye contact with her. “Besides, I’m also not the one stuck in the middle of this debacle in the first place anyway.” 

She sighs, head cocked back, almost vexed that this meeting has gone way longer than intended. You could’ve waited until after hours once all of the students had left the campus, but this was also the best possible convenient time because of the gap in her schedule during the regular day. Her lips stay shut, the soft tick of the clock mounted on the wall keeps on going. Maybe raising a white flag in the means of things might be better for today, and you’ll pick up where you left off tomorrow. 

Most days don’t often go this way. Aside from the usual responsibilities throughout the typical day whether it would be out your desk or out and about peeping in different classrooms, you’re slightly ecstatic for the sudden change in pace around these halls. “I digress,” you say, leaning forward before finally carrying on,  “So as your superior, Overseer, I’ll leave it off with this. Do you have anything else left to say before I draft up a report for all of the parties affected?” 

Dahyun crosses her left leg over the other, clutching the glasses in her hand, her head tilts at that same right angle as earlier. The gaze she has is unchanging, staring at you right in the face while you’re quickly examining the two sheets of paper placed next to each other on the desk, sliding them away into the pile as you stand up off the chair. You’ll take this meeting as a win, at least some of the information was suitable enough to your liking for now. With all that done and over with–

“Still no answer?” You ask, fingers dancing along the button of your cuff, carefully threading it through the small slit, “Don’t make me ask this again–” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I told you. No.” 

“Really now?” 

“I have already made my case with you, sir. There’s nothing else left for me to say for the time being.” she answers with a shrug to her shoulders. 

Dahyun’s throat tenses when she sees the once needling eyes from you become quickly disinterested with her return. Incompetence was a sheer rarity with the way you operate your role, let alone a hindrance that you see in other people. Like the rest, it wouldn’t be long for everyone to get whipped into the ‘new regime’ all those years ago; some stimulating commentary at the time, but everyone understood once the policies were put into place. 

Though, this meeting has gone long enough, and keeping her here wouldn’t really do anyone good at this point. 

“Consider this conversation to be over, then,” you say, turning your body to the window panes set behind your desk, looking out at the moving trees in the breeze. “You’ll hear from me within the next few days so, carry on until you’re notified.” 

She then stands too, hand clasping to her wrist, subjectively giving you a nod with your back turned, seeing  her out of your peripheral vision. The emotionless look that’s her only mask, unimpressed and cold, as if nothing ever phases her in the tiniest of mishaps. You know that she’s just like the rest, despite wearing that facade like if life were to depend on it, part of you wants to break her- to tear up that infuriating fray of nothingness, spark some kind of fear into her core that would have her screaming, beg for a twinge of mercy. 

Reading those accounts of what she did with that student, wasn’t supposed to make you interested, but it is. A worthy head-scratcher for someone like her to have a few screws loose every now and then. It just didn't add up, for her to treat this so pointlessly. 

Even when she starts to bundle her feet together, swiveling them across the tile, she still carries this peculiar gracefulness in her step as her profile sweeps out of the picture - her back coming into view. She’s put up with that facade against you for so long, you know that it’ll be easy for her to comply in her case because it’s not in her nature for her to defy orders. 

A turn of the head signifies a chance out of desperation; a lifeline, and you’ll give her the luxury of deciding her fate. 

“And one more thing,” you setup, rolling the sleeves of your shirt to the elbow, to where Dahyun turns her body the long way round, hands behind her back, waiting for the next thing to leave your lips, “I’ll be perfectly blunt with you because I know that you clearly know better.”

Her forehead twitches at the cause of her brows bridging against each other. You see the small nick of her head that also shows the acknowledgement she’s willing to give you, both ears and eyes trained on you once the spread of your fingertips rest on the polished bark. 

“You’re aware of this academy’s policies when it comes to relationships among peers, it’s basically frowned upon,” you tell her lowly, “Let alone of the fact that you’ve been having this intolerable amount of behavior out of the false guise of indignancy.” She starts to internalize this short reproachment you’re dishing out on her, watching as her eyes expand by the passing second, “Now, I’ve could’ve let this be handled by the high council, but they’ve gave the chance to me in order to see if I can get this incident resolved without having any further escalating conflicts.” 

She parts her lips, wanting to take the opportunity at clearing her name, but she holds back since there’s that hanging impression of ‘what’s there left to be said once everything is put on the table?’ And even so, would anything serve to be better in the good graces of innocence for her case?

So she says nothing. Forever holding her peace while you audibly scoff at her. “I expected better from you, Overseer, I really did.” 

It takes the next few seconds to re-organize your workstation, she hangs herself in limbo, gathering her thoughts as the window to save herself starts to close smaller and smaller, and she finally takes the sealed fate into her hands. 

“If I may,” she says, diverting your attention from the desk back to her - hesitant to the point where you can rightfully assume that she’s eager to finally set everything straight: “I’d like to formally tender my resignation here at the Academy.” 

A bold move, Overseer, but a surprise one too- 

“On what grounds?” you ask, clearly taken aback with the sudden course of action by her own admission. “I don’t really see to understand while you would go to such lengths for this little incident-” 

“Because I will admit to you, Superior, that I saw that student out of my own volition. I’ve made the effort to set time aside from my schedule so that he and I could have our private meetings in my office; for the sake of his pleasure and for my sake of being able to satisfy those kinds of requests for him.” 

This tidbit of honesty coming out serves as a great reaction to your scolding, and not a lot of people get the credit they deserve trying to convince a person like Dahyun, but luckily you’re the one - if not the only one to have that ability in advising her. You always believed that she’d come around in some way or another, considering that this was the very first big fuck up from her too. 

“Superior.” The name alone brings you back. “Please, consider my resignation. And I’ll make all of this go away.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why can’t you?” Her voice is strained, a fist at the side of her thigh, nails deep into her palm enough to draw blood, “I have to do this. I need to do this, sir. Please, let me-” 

You can see the desperation start to break through the cracks of her stoic persona, inching closer to where you want her to be. She can play the cool, level-headed teacher all she wants, but you know that this whole fiasco was her doing; like anyone else, they’ll do anything to make things right, no matter the cost. Then the getting ahead starts to seep through your frontal lobe: what she’ll start asking for next, the kinds of lengths she’ll commit to if you’re not the one to throw the figurative lifeline at her. 

Not just yet, guiding her into the right mindset will fall into place if you let the inner workings of panic do their thing. 

“Overseer Kim.” You slowly navigate closer to her, rounding the desk with every moving step across the room. “Even if you were to leave, you can’t. I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door here because I knew that this would happen: the way that you’re acting, we can’t have this.” 

It’s amazing at how she’s at ease, despite having the mini breakdown just an instant before. 

Because her act is rapidly deteriorating. 

“Sir, I don’t follow-” 

“Dahyun.” With a hand to her shoulder, her face freezes right when she flashes a look of suspicion, tensing up at the touch before she locks eyes with you again, the unsureness diminishing with a singular eyebrow raise. “I’m giving you an opportunity to have all of this resolved without any loose repercussions.” You can feel the heart rate within her start to calm down the way her breathing stabilizes, tension along the line of her shoulders releasing with every pass of air, “There would be no need to resign, and we would find a workaround to prevent this from ever happening again.”

“And how would you suggest that, Superior?” 

“By granting you amnesty. Without the word from anyone else but me.” 

You can see that same sweep of her eyes moving left and right, unable to meet yours. The offer alone is taking her a significant amount of time to consider, a mistake that she’s willing to undo. She then looks up with a wistful gaze, the small spark dashing through her irises - as if she had just made the discovery of fire. Her mind starts to work and it’s so easy to tell, reflecting on this potential choice that she’s able to make. “You don’t mean-”

“Mean what?” Letting a sly grin break through your lips. 

“By amnesty,” she adds, tilting her chin up, bearing your arms across your chest, “What would I have to do in order to achieve this?” 

She has a general idea of the term itself, and maybe you think she’s also heard of the many things thrown around with this specific practice or policy of yours. This occurrence has happened a few times, whipping up a few notable individuals into shape - some much more needed than others, but the commonality between all of them: they’d always submit themselves to you. 

“Do you admit and accept the responsibilities of your actions, Overseer?” You formally request with hands reaching to the fine creases of her dress to which she accepts. 

There’s a brief pause of consideration again, and you’re watching her eyes never leave yours, thinking about the whole reason that you two are in this position in the first place. It may be a little hard to believe still; knowing what Dahyun will do not only for herself, but for the academy. Then there’s the logged report from your desk, in detail of what she did with that student, makes you realize that she’s got a screw loose in her head. 

“Yes, sir.” She answers, looking up with a delighted smile, fully realizing the opportunity and taking it with no regret. “I do.” 

“Good.” With a sigh of relief,  a hand escalates to the back of her neck. “Because your punishment begins now.” And she’s in awe of the shimmer in your eyes, slowly grinning when you’re dipping your head down lower, minimizing the distance. It lights a fire within you, a motive of what will entail from this point going forward. 

This is what amnesty is, Dahyun would think, be oh- she has no idea what she just got herself into. 

You learn that she’s receptive, the way that she takes your lips with hers so well, hands flying freely, breath clashing with yours. It’s messy, the way more slick starts so spread on the lower half of both of your faces, wanting more. Her tongue weaves its way past your mouth, a leg hiked up that you greatly take the hint for, channeling the hum of approval coming from her down your throat. She grips tight on the back of your shirt, adamant on taking this chance to build a clean slate, a perfect rush of gasps followed with even more kissing. Her hands are well into your hair when you pull away, a pause to probably call a stop and- 

“So it is true,” she admits against your cheek, “About this little policy?” 

You lift an eyebrow unimpressed at her. 

“What do- you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you mumble, grip getting tighter on the fine part of her ass, chest heaving slightly, breaths getting uneven. 

“I thought it was just some legend here, around these halls.” Dahyun answers, letting her wrists relax while swooping under her legs, instinctively wrapping them around the small of your back. “Maybe you can show me if that’s actually a real thing.” 

She doesn’t see the flared nostrils you’re giving her, “I’d like to thank you, Overseer,” setting her on the desk nicely when the clack of her heels fall onto the floor, echoing the room as she removes the top piece of her dress, tossing it over to the chair she was previously sitting at, “For reminding me what I was doing.” 

“And that is?” She asks, naively. 

There’s a bit of a shock when you force her body to the desk, a flushed reaction covered with a gasp when you have one hand fastened to her wrist, the other lightly on her neck with the grip on the fingers getting delicately tighter. She tries to read your expression, map out the crinkles falling towards a cross or a devilish smile, feeling your breath graze along the line of her neck in these soft hitches. 

“Allow me to show you,” you whisper, flipping her small body to where her back is facing the ceiling, toe tips nearly grazing the floor but just barely. The same hand to her wrist is now shifted to her back, the other set flat; searching for something to take hold, she peeks over her shoulder, watching you study the way her dress hugs along the shape of her waist and hips. 

Doing this kind of practice was no surprise to you, and it doesn’t happen as often as you would’ve liked. Ryujin took three tries before she’d agree to not be a bother to you, Haewon probably took a few days or more to finally come around, and even Mina just recently. This revolving door into your office and form of chastising was the last resort of necessary actions for your fellow colleagues, some willing to challenge your authority, others were willing to submit. 

“What do you think this treatment entails?” you ask vaguely, raising the lower part of her dress to reveal more and more of her ass into the light, taking note of the noticeable choice of lace as she hikes it up with her free hand. “I sure hope that this should help you learn a thing or two. Though, it’s entirely up to you.” 

Dahyun’s side profile is amazingly flawless to see when you’re gently kneading her soft ass with your hand, palm moving graciously along the fine skin, fluttering her eyes shut, her breathing begins to become irregular, a small tremble to her hips as you press down lightly on the waistband, tugging on the elastic before letting go. The potential is right there at your hips - at your fingertips, to ruin, break skin, a perfect canvas for you to mutilate in any way you see fit. 

You laugh and admittedly, out of spite. “I’m sorry, if this meeting didn’t occur, you were going to invite him over for another one of your private sessions?” 

She seethes, but in anticipation, drawing a sharp inhale of air when your hand slides up her back. Part of you wants to put her back onto the wood, but you let it slide when she lifts herself off to meet your cheek, getting a bit selfish when she’s refusing to pull away. Her swollen lips and lidded eyes are too tempting to stop yourself- as if she’s the one pulling you into her spell. 

“Had I not been found out, I would’ve,” she murmurs, clutching onto a bit more of her hiked up dress, revealing her bare ass to the open air, unveiling a strike point. 

A fast hand tends to hers, placing it with her other hand still pressed behind her back. She writhes at the uncomfortable position but the tension passes through her body once you adjust. 

“You know what I would say to that, Overseer?” 

“What-” 

Nothing is said, but all is shown with a harsh slap to her ass. A statement. 

Strike one. 

Dahyun quietly yelps at the sudden hit to her backside, everything from the waist down clenching from the contact. The rough palm on your hand stings to the point where you’d have to flick your wrist a bit to subdue the burn. Her breathing starts to become irregular, wiggling her legs hanging from the side of the desk. 

“Superior, ah-” 

“I should’ve also mentioned that I’m permitting you to use expletives, but you’re already ahead of the curve as it is,” you tell her, massaging the crimson mark now apparent across the breadth of her ass, feeling the bits of heat emulating across the rough creases of your palm. “You’re now free to speak your mind.” 

“God, f-fuck. I can’t bel-” 

Another rough hit cracks an echo in the room. Earning a high-pitched whine from her. Strike two. 

“Choose your words more carefully.” Fighting the urge to smile at the sight this woman splayed across the table, letting out these heaves of desperation, body tightening and untightening on the surface as she’s hiding her face from you. “I don’t plan on easing up after what you did.” 

“Sir, please. I just need to-” 

You press her deeper into the table, hike up more of that insanely tight dress to her waist, letting her struggle under your grasp. The sounds leaving her pretty little lips would drive anyone else drastically crazy, watching as this uncrowned beauty crack under the weight of your touches with a third slap. Strike three.  

What sets Dahyun apart from the rest that has gone under your specified practices of treatment is the appeal she possesses. At least everyone from the faculty to the students have shared their thoughts about her: few envying and others fantasizing. You’re somewhere between the two, impossible to really tell for yourself, but what’s rest assured: 

There's more than a boatload of things to discover with Dahyun that’s already a list growing by the second. Dragging your fingertips along her thighs, pressing and pinching in spots where you’re trying to assess how nimble she can get, the way you can twist and mangle her limbs into a plethora of ways that’s drawing up with the imagination running through your head. How she shudders when you’re pulling on the elastic of her panties down her luscious legs, drinking in the sight of her glistening pussy lips hanging off the rim of your desk, clearly having an enjoyable time with the slick soaking her undergarments as well. 

“Have we had enough? Or are you willing to take more?” you ask, letting Dahyun keep her own hands behind her back with yours fastened over the curve of her hips, sliding down to her red cheeks, handprints visible as you're soothing the damage. “I definitely think that you can handle more, shall we continue?” 

She shivers, the slightest grasp to her ass gives another hitched breath, caressing it briefly as you’re plotting the next move in your head. 

“You can answer me, Dahyun,” you tell her, leaning down over her back, nose tangling within the threads of her hair, brushing the cuff of her ear before planting a kiss right below it, “But from these sounds I’m hearing tells me that you’re enjoying it.” 

A small twist from her singular eyebrow, lids still sewn shut, “You’re ecstatic, that I m-misbehaved.” 

“Can you tell?” Another slap to her ass and a tug to the soft skin. 

“Y-yes sir, I-” 

And another. 

“I’m not convinced yet.” 

Then another strike. 

“F-fuck sir-” 

One more hit to bring the tally up to seven. 

“Makes me wonder what you were going to do with that poor student if this carried on without my interference.” And at this point her ass has morphed into this ruby shade with every strike that follows. Her shoulders roll back, you’re keeping her in place, wrists still stacked on top of each other, hands opening and closing in response to the pain the more slaps you dish out.  

Dahyun struggles to keep her breathing stable, one firm grab to her asscheek as you’re planting a few scattered kisses down the column of her throat, teetering along the bridge of her collarbone. “Tell me, would this be on your mind with him also?” 

She doesn’t open her voice to tell, but a simple nod is all she gives. “My, my, Overseer. You really are something.” 

You could be satisfied with the way things transpired in this very room, content with the message sent and the warning laced between the lines. A momentary pause, hushing her whimpers, tending to the red tint of her ass, easing the ache of pain mixed with pleasure. Her eyes are scrunched along with the bridge of her nose, gnawing on her bottom lip as your fingertips continue to dance along the sensitive skin. 

“Are you ready for the next part?” you murmur into her ear as your hand trails down to the space between her legs, dragging a pointer finger across the warmth of her leaking slit, listening to the sharp breath passing through her lips again. 

“Mmmm…” Her legs buck against the drawers, dipping the two pads into her walls. The corner of her lip wobbles as she throbs around your fingers, dragging and sliding in a form of trial and error; seeing what she likes and what doesn’t, the light in her eyes filling with lust. “Sir, please, yes, God-” 

She sees another idea spark in your irises, drawing away from the warmth of her pussy temporarily, hands fast to undo the belt around your waist. Dahyun could only watch as you’ve got the leather wrapped around, creating a loose hoop at the end before lightly placing it across the two divots in her back resting above her ass. 

You test the pliancy of the looped belt on your other hand, ensuring that the article rebounds nicely across your palm. “I’ve got one more thing to do, consider this to be a test of some sorts.” 

“What do you mean, Superio–” 

Her voice screeches when you strike the leather in the same spot where your hand hit on her ass cheek; entire body tensing from the sharp pain before breaking down into broken down sobs. She tries to resist by getting up, but you keep her in place as she whines, adamant in believing that she can’t handle it any more. 

“Oh no, we’re not through yet,” you hiss, not paying any attention to the stray heel hitting your thigh in retaliation. “Not until you tell me that this won’t happen again going forward.”

“Just for the record, sir,” Her hand grips the underside of your forearm at the same time your weight begins to stack along her back, furrowing her brows and gritting her teeth. “I wanted this.” 

“So are we going to have a problem like this again next time?” 

“Absolu-” 

The leather belt finds her ass again, the crack in the atmosphere strong enough to mistake for the clap of lightning. 

“No,” she pleads, twisting her head back and forth, sounding off another thwap to make a point. “No sir, we’re not going to have another problem with this ever again.” 

“Good,” you say, the formality alone shortly returning, hands hovering over to her wrists, slackening the belt as you begin to wrap it around her. You’re keeping focus, maintaining your thoughts meticulously, fighting your cock that’s beginning to ache in your trousers. “I’m gonna take good care of you now.” 

Once you’ve got the leather fastened around her wrists, there’s another fill to be satisfied when you slip your fingers back into her cunt, throbbing at the way you curl them inside, earning a few harmonious sounds as her back arches to the touch. She’s melting by the second, “Yes, yes, please sir, I want-” 

“Speak up,” you breathe, sinking down to your knees, hands resting at the rise of her hips, glistening lips into view. Everything about her is a new learning curve, and the way her lower half is still hung over the edge, ankles neatly crossed together like her bound wrists, you almost feel bad for enacting this onto her. 

Keyword almost, and you put your mouth on her other set of lips. Unsure, testing, getting those first savoring seconds up her wet cunt. Her whole body pulls inward, choking down a cry, and you realize, this woman is filled with surprises. 

But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, the shivers she dishes out, the string of hums continue to leave her mouth. This wasn’t the time to keep the niceties - shoving your whole face and tongue into her pussy, tongue slipping through her opening in these strokes, body contracting and relaxing. The fingers also come into play, tapping along her clit and eventually dipping in to where your tongue can’t reach, the wetness soaking your fingers, the short grasps letting you know of that beautiful high fast approaching. 

“I’m gonna-” she says, voice peaking in a higher pitch than the last, the balls of her feet hitting your chest, holding her down at the bottom of her thigh and ass. “Sir, I’m gonna fucking-” 

“That fast?” you ask, gaze glassy, drunk on the sweet slick that’s all over your lips. Biting down the laugh from the top of your throat, “And here I thought you’d hold out a bit longer for me there.” 

She pulls her body up with what little strength she has while being tied up. Panting. Heaving. You’re content with the structured appearance of her face completely ruined, tense, letting her eyelids flutter when she feels your finger slip inside her once more, because another feeling like this wouldn’t really hurt anyone. 

“Final question. Are you going to be good for me from here on out?” 

There’s a silver lining with the sense of humiliation you’re giving her, nearly sympathetic when your knuckle finds its way deeper. It’s wrong, you think, to be like this, but you’ve learned with the years of experience of being in this place that people will only listen when backed to a corner with no other way out. Everyone here is aware of the rapport you have with others, the kind of power that shouldn’t be really shown until it’s a desperate call to make to ensure everyone’s on the same page as you. This time isn’t really different. 

But still, it’s a first with her, and you’ll take this grand opportunity to pressure her into not making another issue for the next time. 

“Dahyun,” you’re telling her again, because she’s just staring at you in awe. The way you’ve been handling her; professional at the surface level, finding a pressure point to the things that she’s been accused of committing, drawing that out of her by any means necessary, until you’ve managed to break her. “Answer me, darling.” 

She comes back to her senses when her body shifts more inward to the wood, resting right at the bending point of her hips, listening to the zip from your pants. The most evil thing she’s done all day: a sly smile breaking across her face, watching you tease the head of your cock along her wet lips. This will be a problem, but a welcome one. You’re hoping that you’ve done your part to the best of your ability. 

“Yes sir,” she answers, shimmying her hips to tease. “I’ll be really good for you. I promise.” 

“I hope so.” you retort, “I can be very convincing.” 

A slip inside, a slow push. It’s electric. Further. Deeper. Filling her cunt up, her walls leisurely stretch around you. The heat alone is euphoric, coming to you in a fast rush. You hold yourself in for as long as possible, but it’s futile; she may have a few screws loose in the head, but you’re not far off the mark as well. 

“God,” she mumurus again, and you drag yourself out slightly. Back in nicely, smoothly into that heat, until Dahyun nods her head in approval. She gasps again when you move past the previous spot your cock was inside her, nearly to the base. 

“Oh, my fucking-” 

A shared gluttal moan parts from your chest and hers, eyes fixated on the sight of your slicked up cock carefully impaling Dahyun, the friction becoming more and more addicting. The muscles in her back start to freeze up along with her clenched hands, fighting against the leather around them. You make it easier for her case, lifting her chest up at the breast, leaning down to seize her lips on yours, holding her steady, cock carving up her walls with every building thrust. 

Nose against her cheek, “This cunt,” you utter, pushing yourself deep as this girl is faltering moans with every hit your hips make with her sore, red ass, “I can’t believe how tight this grips me, god- fucking, no wonder he wanted to keep seeing you in the first place,” and you lean down the line of her back, letting her pussy clench around your cock, feeling the clutch of her walls, all wet and aching for more. 

The thrusting starts to pick up, unrestrained and unrelenting now. You’re not even sure what to do with your hands, alternating between holding at the endpoint of her waist where her hips meet or press her unbelievable thighs together, to make the press around your cock that much better. A premature call to make, in comparison to the other’s that have preceded Dahyun: her pussy takes it in so well, you could bury yourself inside her for what feels like forever. 

“Sir,” she groans out, the sentence being cut off with another slap to her ass, following up with the crash of your hips into hers, holding on to her binded wrists. “Please, please, please-” 

“Please what, hmm?” You can’t really conjure up the proper thoughts to put in conversation, heaving out scattered spells of air with every stroke into her. “You’ve gotta help me out here.” 

“Need more.” It’s a request for sure, and not a vague one. “Please keep fucking me.” 

You do give her more, and nothing less. With every passing second you dive deep into her cunt, the beating in your heart accelerates just that teeny bit faster. The thoughts are out the window at this point, the only thing keeping you from figuratively passing out is the sopping wetness of her cunt every time you pull out and drive back in. The pace gets a bit faster, then you dial it back, watch as her upper body convulses across the desk, mouth hung open for all the moans to be let out, getting louder, more higher, and needier. 

She gasps when you hold yourself inside, thrown off guard with the firm hit you give her, a moment to catch her breath. “Wait, no, fuck, why did you-” 

Dahyun had managed to do something to you that the others couldn’t in this short span of time: break you. Even after all this time, it’s really interesting how the very person you’ve been wanting to see out for an instance like this is the one that’s managed to make you go all out into setting them right. She’s spearheading this thing, and not you. When it should be the other way around. 

A fistful of her hair is grabbed, and her body is raised up, hips flush with hers. “If I hear another question leave your sultry lips, I’ll tape it up so that nobody can hear you screaming down the hallways.” 

She bites her wobbling bottom lip, assuring you that’s exactly what she wants to happen, and it will. Her half-open eyes sees your head go sideways, planting a kiss down her neck, inching your cock deeper into her cunt past the hilt and her body shudders at it. 

“Want me to fuck some sense into you now? Properly? Fuck this pretty little pussy that it’ll make you think right?” 

She nods desperately, “Yes sir. Please.” 

You bend her over across the desk again, hand still tangled into her hair with the other resting at her hips. The pace deliberate at first, savoring the sensation of how her body takes you, parting her folds with every inch of your shaft. She shivers when you tease her still, not going all the way, but making her earn it. 

Now wasn’t the time for easygoing now, the sight of her backside is an eighth wonder of the world to admire, sliding out and dragging your cock back into her, gradually increasing as the additional slaps to her ass again, fucking her deep. You eventually decided that she’s served her punishment long enough, untying the belt at her hands and discarding it somewhere in the office, putting her hands up to the other end of the desk for her to hold on as you mercilessly bury your cock into her. 

“Sir, I can’t keep- fuck!” she cries out, the litany of lovely whines and sounds the more you fill her up. She also takes the liberty of letting you take a breather, moving her hips back, bouncing her ass with you just standing there, watching as her perfect ass does this little ripple effect on the skin, jiggling with an endless movement. 

It was getting all too much, and Dahyun herself was enjoying it as well, smiling with every groan that rips from your throat, hand floating over her hips, piercing your cock roughly back into her again and again, unwilling to yield the remaining bits of pleasure before either you or her reach that point-

“I’m gonna fucking- god, sir, keep going, so close-” she strains, gripping your wrists and tight enough for her to rip them off. 

“Don’t fight me,” you spit, voice leaning towards something primal, “Cum all over this cock.” And she does. 

Your muscles should be spent at this rate, but they hold out long enough as your ears are picking up the endless babbles and whimpers, mixed in with the sloppy strokes of your hips hitting hers. The mind is overloaded with so much, but your hands find rest at her ass again, burying yourself deep. And then it hits you in a flash. 

One firm hit sheathing your cock into her cunt, and you pull out, cumming all over the fine plane of her ass. You’ll need to take a mental image to save for eternity - the way you’re painting in these lovely slashes with your release, all over her ass, her back - because you learn that she looks amazingly good like that. A fine figure, waiting to be defiled and tarnished, and it happens. 

“God, would you look at-” you’re also left in disbelief, the grip around your cock loosening, eyes on leaking pussy lips, she’s hung down, face off to the side, eyes closed, steadily breathing. The words coming out of her mouth are inconceivable, but she’s thankful, praising you, giving thanks. Judging from how content she looks, proves that your hard work is done.

“S-sir,” she tries to say, still left speechless. 

A kiss to the temple of her head, and a ruffle with your hand sliding down to her back. “So, are we satisfied with your conversation?” 

Dahyun takes a minute or two, maybe more, to process everything that’s happened just now. She’s still on your desk, and you’re getting right back to it, slipping on your slacks, picking up the tossed belt that you used as a makeshift rope. Your ears pick up on the heavy breathing from her as she slowly gets up, hands giving her support on the desk, dazed and astounded once things start returning back to normal. 

You fix up the rolled up sleeves of your shirt; Dahyun blankly stares out in space, fixing up her dress and placing some of the various items hit in the crossfire back in their right spot, off the floor and somewhere where you’ll fix soon. 

“Dahyun?” you ask again, watching as she starts to make her way out the door. “Overseer.” 

She turns at the title, realizing she left behind a vital piece to her appearance, dipping her head down in embarrassment, but you can already see the blush breaking through her cheeks. Her breathing is also irregular, but it’s a lot calmer than before. 

“Sorry,” she says, squaring her shoulders, a hand taking the heels in yours. “Thank you, for- uhm, the persuasion.” 

An inquisitive look is what you give her. Meeting your gaze, you notice a few stray strands out of place in her hair, take it upon yourself to use the tip of your pinky to move it away from her forehead. Not much is left said between the two of you, probably just small talk or the comfort of silence finally setting in like before. You can’t really seem to get over the wistful constellations behind the lenses in her eyes - and it’s something that you want to study more about. 

“Right,” you tell her, patting her shoulder before guiding her to the doorway, fingers fast to the touchpad and the quick clicks of the deadbolt finally opens it. “I’m happy enough to see you again, without the intent of correcting your little issue.” 

Dahyun nods in agreement, pulling both of her lips inward to force back the smile, but you see right through her. She begins to make her way out, bare feet on the floor, heels in her hand - a solid lasting impression after today.

“Before I forget Dahyun,” you’re calling out again, and she twists her head around to meet your eyes, “Let’s speak again sometime soon okay? My door will be open for you if needed.” 

She squints, smiling a bit to where you see the bottom bits of her teeth. You give her a nod to emphasize your point. “Count on it sir. I guess I’ll be coming around more often, then.” 

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

VARIABLE

《Able to change or be adapted.》

-

After scouring the city for the correct place, with little cash, clothes and phone on hand. You managed to secure a liveable apartment. 

You eye the different small apartments eagerly. Each door is different and still the same plain colors. Finding the correct one, you knock on the door politely. 

“Hi!” Your eye peers through the small door hole. Adjusting the small welcoming basket on your hip. You back away as a familiar male opens the door in surprise.

“Hi..?”

“I'm your new neighbor, (Y/N)! I just moved, thought it'd be nice to drop by and share.”

You hold out the basket, it wasn't an expensive one. But you hoped it would do.

“Lin Ling, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, h-how did you-?”

“The complex owner told me. Said’ you were rarely at the apartments.” You shrug.

“My.. Schedule is a bit, much.”

The door opens more.

“Mind telling me as we eat snacks?” You gesture to the basket as he takes it from you. Letting you inside as the door closes shut, curious chatter between the two of you.

-

“Aww, cute Moon poster!”

“Hey! Shuush!”

He smacks at your arm as you shrug. “She's really… Amazing, honestly.”

You smile thoughtfully at his smitten look. Glancing back at the T.V as Love Recipe played, lips thinning at the image of Nice and Moon seated together like a “couple”.

“I bet she'd like you more than Nice.”

“Wha-!? Now you're just teasing!” He flicks his snack at you angrily. 

“See what I mean? She'd love that!” You laugh, as Lin Ling scoffs. Getting up from your couch as he goes to grab a drink from the fridge.

You eye the screen as the two Heros talk with the host. The smile leaves your face as your phone lights up, showing the date as you sigh.

“Hey, Lin Ling…”

-

Feeling the wind ruffle your clothes, you watch Lin Ling bemoan and curse. The frown on your face deepens as you hear the sound of footsteps coming towards the both of you. Hands twitching, you keep it together as Nice becomes closer in view. 

Nice makes his signature pose to the both of you, his feet becoming closer to the edge.-

“NOW!”

The both of you grab ahold of his cape, pulling him back harshly as his smile disappears.

“Hurry!”

The sound of his manager calls from down below the building's stairs. Without turning to the Hero, you close your eyes and take a deep breath…

Reopening as the scene changes into Lin Lings apartment.

-

Lin Ling walks beside you, tablet in hand as you two discuss the next topic at hand. The streets are rather less busy than usual.

“I told you, this ad is perfect!”

“B-but how will we transfer it-?”

“I can handle it no worr-... ies-.” You pause in your stride, glancing at the vending machine nearby. 

Jogging over, you skid to a halt as you eye the flavorful and flavorless drinks. The shine of the cans dazzling from the glass showcasing them. 

“Want one?”

You ask, digging through your pockets for a few coins as you grin. Lin Ling sighs, clicking at the screen of the tablet as he places it in his bag securely. Tucking it away as he watches you look for the coin slot.

“So… Have you messaged her yet?” You raise a brow at Lin Ling as he blushes. Fiddling with his bags strap as he turns to you with bashful confidence. Nodding with a slight hum as you groan. “Damn, I had a bet with-” You’re interrupted by an angry, confused shriek from the male beside you.

 “-WHAT! You betted on me with those two!? Is that why we still even check up on them!” He knew it wasn’t the reason, but still!

You give Lin Ling a half-hearted shrug of pity.

“Well… It’s more so being houseguests and it came up for fun conversation when you went to grab drinks in the other room.”

“My personal love life has nothing to do with that!” Lin Ling groans, imagining the former Hero and Villain duo smiling smugly at him next time he shows up for a visit.

You pat his shoulder apologetically.

“You and Moon are the winners regardless of the bet.”

“...Thanks. But I’m still gonna tell Moon next time.”

You shiver, trying not to imagine the wrath.

Finding at least a couple of coins, you stick a few in. Tapping at the machine as it beeps at the purchase.

“Crap! I ordered too much!” You pull out two, watching the third one with despair. Passing a can to Lin Ling, he thanks you quietly. 

Grabbing the third can, you wait, holding the cans tighter as you take note of the presence coming closer. Taking a small turn as you head back to Lin Ling side with an excited smile. “Well, at least these are pretty good!” You raise the cans slightly with awe.

Dressed in a black business suit, a man walks closer to the vending machine. Not minding you or Lin Ling as he pulls out a coin from his pocket-

You take a step near him.

“Here.”

Holding out the drink towards him, he pauses, tilting his head to you. His dark circle rim glasses fogged up from the light, his lips quirking up in surprise. 

You could feel the affection spilling out into your veins at his thoughtful look, the grip on the drink becomes looser as you smile at him.

Slowly, his free arm reaches up, taking hold of the tin can as your fingers touch.

A small glimpse of a confident grin on his face as small traces of white glinting on his suit.

You hold in the gasp in your throat.

His own eyes widening at you, the two of you stare at one another more carefully.

 You don’t let your eyes stray from his, nor duck away with a tail between your legs. You smile more determinedly at him. Hopeful, maybe even a little worried, yet you don’t sway as the soda fully leaves your grip.

You slowly let your arm back down to your side as the business man now smiles, nodding. “Thanks.” He says politely, moving past you as he walks another direction. 

Lin Ling opens his drink, sipping at it as he realized you hadn't said a word, nor made a movement after the encounter of the suited man. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah.” Your voice squeaks out as Lin Lings almost drops his drink.

He speeds over to your side with utter worry, taking one look at you as he gasps. Taking a step back, he hears the familiar sound of his phone. A special ringtone for the both of you, he glances at his pocket. Before zone-ing back on you, analyzing the situation more.

.

.

.

“..Who was that?” Lin Ling asks, tone becoming lighter as he sips at the drink. A small grin on his face as he takes note of your flusteredness.. A golden opportunity to tease you!

“Hero… X.”

You reply softly, moving a step forward- “PFFFFFTTTTHHHHHHHHH-!!!”

“...”

“U..g..uh…” Lin Ling coughs, wiping at his mouth as the syrupy drink drips down his shirt.

You glance at yourself and frown, the sweet carbonated liquid, mixed with your friends spit dripped over your own shirt.

“G-good joke..!” He laugh was airy as he wheezes.

You grin, walking forward. Tapping at the can, grip becoming tighter as a chuckle leaves you. The two of you laughing about as Lin ling pulls out his phone, another ringtone blaring between the two of you. 

You let out a sigh, glancing at the neon light ads hovering about. A few familiar, while others new, one of them being some ad a amusement park, another of Hero X. His smile full of confidence as the ad plays beside his silhouette. 

“Ah! Moon said we can come by! Though we’d have to bring take-out for entry.” Lin Ling says with a eye roll, his smitten smile betraying the action. Typing back to the other female as he pockets the phone away.

You nod as the two of you talk while heading towards the restaurant.

-

[Aughh! This was made before ep 4! If yall get the easter eggs or parrells let me know! I really wanna write more this series if yall are intrested! Reblogs, comments, art, hearts are always appreciated. Thanks for reading! See you later! I!]

[msschemmenti]

the bravo forum

melissa schemmenti x reader

a/n: the people have spoken— here is my contribution to the melissa schemmenti x reader community based on a crack idea from my notes app. bare with me, this is not edited and probably pretty bad-- but fuck it we ball ig. i also couldn't think of a name for this like at all. my tiktok fyp sort of throttled me into all things reality tv and that sparked this idea. also if you liked this feel free to check out my lisa ann walter masterlist for some of my older stuff.

”So now no one knows if they’re coming back or if they’re gonna pull a New York Housewives and just start over.” Melissa huffed over her shoulder to Barbara. 

“Girlfriend, I told you, I don’t know these people, and I don’t care.”  

Melissa watched as Barb entered the school ahead of her and shook her head. She really shouldn’t be surprised. Her work wife had always been very clear about her feelings when it came to the Housewives. And Melissa had tried to get her hooked. They’d tried every franchise and all she got from Barb was a disgruntled scolding for caring so much about these random women and their woes. Melissa can even recall Barbara advising her to pick up the Bible if she wanted to follow the trials and tribulations of someone she would talk about. 

Melissa wasn’t normally someone who participated in any discussions about the things she enjoyed. She liked what she liked and anyone who didn’t agree with her could kick rocks. But letting Jacob move in had really changed the way she consumed media. She and the history teacher would come home from work, crack open a bottle, and go to town judging the various players in their programs. With him around, discussion became the norm. And now that he’s moved out, she’s sorta missing that community. Not that she’d admit it to anyone. 

She bound into the teacher’s lounge, putting her lunch away and settling in her seat for the news like she did every morning. Jim Gardner was the only man she wanted to start her morning with. Midway through the program, excited voices floated through the swinging door. 

“I’m telling you— they’re married. She won’t say anything but there’s no way they’re just girlfriends.” Both veteran teachers turned their heads at the newcomers with frowns in place. Y/n, the newest edition to the Abbott staff, winced almost instantly under both Barbara and Melissa’s gaze and quickly mimed a zipper over her lips. Barb smiled gratefully and turned back to the television, but Melissa’s eyes lingered a bit longer as they always seemed to do when the younger woman entered the room. And hard as she tried to keep her glare in place— once the teacher went back to her conversation quietly the frown melted into something softer. Almost curious.

Y/n Y/ln was something of a hot-button topic for Melissa. She’d started at the beginning of the school year, taking on the higher-grade English duties upstairs. And everyone seemed to love her. She’d flown in the week before classes started with a bright smile and brownies for the teachers. She’d spent her first month covering recesses and lunch duties for absolutely anyone who asked. And had even worked her way into some after-school clubs. She was everywhere. And after five months at Abbott, she still carried herself with the same level of joy and excitement she’d started with. It was infuriating if you asked Melissa. And Barb had asked her before. It seemed the reasons everyone else gravitated toward the new teacher were the exact reasons Melissa claimed made her dislike her. She was a kiss-ass, a pushover, and far too happy in the morning to not be doing some kind of drug. But every time Barb grilled her about it she never mentioned how distractingly shiny her hair was. Or how expressive her eyes were when she spoke about literally anything. And she all but refused to even think about how her eyes seemed almost glued to her figure whenever they passed each other in the hall during the day. She just couldn’t allow it. And she definitely wasn’t watching this morning as Y/n filled her cup of coffee and then exited the lounge with another teacher to continue her conversation.

Once she’d left the room, Melissa’s attention turned back to the television as if nothing happened. But there was Barbara, lips pursed knowingly and eyebrows set in a challenge. 

“What?” Melissa asked, fighting the blush wanting to crawl up her neck. All Barb gave her in response was a pointed hum that told Melissa all she needed to know. She wasn’t fooling anybody.

-

“I can’t believe this is how you spend your free time. Here I was thinking you were reading Shakespearean Sonnets from three to eight when you actually just cyberbully Housewife fans.” Jacob laughed in disbelief as he leaned against the corner of Y/n’s desk. 

“Okay first of all— Eileen Davidson’s delivery of ‘How dare you?’ after being called a Beast by Kim Richards was very Shakespearean. And secondly, cyberbully is a very strong word. I’m simply engaging in dialogue with my fellow Real Housewives fans. It’s not my fault I’m good at reasoning and evidence. Argumentation was my jam in college.” Y/n explained with a smile. 

“So you’re saying you use your intelligence to cyberbully gay men and old ladies.” 

“How rude, the Bravo-verse is not just for gay men and old ladies. It’s for everyone. I don’t discriminate on the forums— I’m an equal opportunity bully.” 

“Huh, who knew there was such a sinister side to such a sweet woman.” 

Y/n shrugged, “I’m multi-dimensional. Anyway, I brought all this up to run my lesson idea by you. We’re doing a unit on dialogue and I really think with some appropriately placed censors we can make it work.” 

“Oh, That’s so engaging! And with so many franchises you can pull from quite a few scenes.” Jacob affirmed excitedly. 

“Exactly. And it gives me an excuse to talk about my favorite show on the job.” 

-

Lunch time came and the teachers found themselves in the lounge chatting idly at their assigned tables. Melissa’s glasses were perched on her nose as she scrolled through an article recounting the last episode. Jacob having leaned back in his chair, caught sight of the headline and instantly brightened. 

“Oh Mel Mel, have I got an opportunity for community for you!” 

Melissa slowly looked at the young man, unimpressed, “No thanks, I got more than enough community already.” 

Jacob sighed at the woman’s lack of enthusiasm but trudged on, sure this opportunity would be up her alley. “Well, I just thought you’d take to the idea of arguing with people anonymously about the Real Housewives. There’s apparently a whole world of people discussing your programs online and from what I’ve heard they need some strong opinions to balance out the nonsense. I just think it might be nice for you to have a space to freely share your questionable takes about these extremely vapid women every week. A community is waiting for you.” 

“Questionable takes? All of my takes are gold like my hatred for Eileen Davidson. That’s a very valid and based take. I’m always right. I don’t need no internet dummies telling me otherwise.”

“Well, when you realize I’m right and you start bullying randos online– I’ll be expecting a thank you.”

Melissa scoffed and watched as Jacob wrote the website down on a sticky note for her. “Huh, I’m sure you will be.” 

-

She really wasn’t planning on looking at the website. She had no reason to. She was completely content to live with her Housewives thoughts. But then the Real Housewives of New York reboot episode was absolutely insane. And she needed to know if she was the only one in complete disbelief at this Puerto Rico trip. She pulled the sticky note from her purse and cautiously typed it in. She would only look at what was being discussed. Just a little peek.

MisterBravo: Am I the only one who HATES Meredith and Heather this season? #RHOSLC

4:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳20 Replies to this post

MeredithApologist: YES! YOU ARE. 

HeathersReciepts: how can you hate the woman who brought us receipts, proof, timelines, screenshots?

Melissa chuckled quietly to herself as she read through the comments on the post. She hated to give Jacob any credit but this might actually be interesting. She continued to scroll until she found a recent post addressing the latest episode of RHONY. 

Bravoholic: Deciding to play devil’s advocate tonight after tonight’s most recent episode. What are our thoughts on the RHONY reboot cast so far? 

11:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳250 Replies to this post

She tapped into the replies and started skimming reactions. Lots of which she thought were stupid but not stupid enough to warrant a response of some kind. That was until she came across a crazy reply.

RepudiatedHousewives: Honestly, the trips just started and Brynn is already acting insane. Talk about a producer plant, am I right?

Now Melissa wasn’t a fan of Brynn but she also was smart enough to acknowledge Erin as a problem as well. Brynn didn’t stir things up all on her own. And also what kind of username is RepudiatedHousewives? Talk about pretentiousness. She couldn’t resist. She just had to respond.

RedHotPhilly11: repudiatedhousewives , you must be as pretentious and stupid as your username if you think Brynn is the only one producing this season. Erin is right there?

Y/n sat up immediately seeing the new reply flash across her screen. Pretentious and stupid? What the hell was this person’s beef? Brynn is a problematic producer plant, that’s just facts. So what if Erin gets wrapped up in her bullshit– she’s still better than Brynn. 

RepudiatedHousewives: RedHotPhilly11– i’m assuming you’ve got your looks going for you if you’re pulling Erin into Brynn’s evil. Erin’s not perfect but Brynn is obviously the bigger issue here. 

RedHotPhilly11: Yes, I’m hot. But that’s all you’re right about.

-

The forum shortly became Melissa’s most visited website. And she and this RepudiatedHousewives character loved going at it.

RHOAAddict: Rumor has it Phaedra Parks will be returning this season…thoughts on cast dynamics?

8:00 AM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Good! She’s kept Atlanta fun!

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Incorrect– Bravo needs to make up with NeNe is they think they can save RHOA. Phaedra is actually a lawsuit waiting to happen. And she’d know, as a lawyer.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: Of course, you have so much to say. 

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Careful RedHotPhilly11, if you keep this up I’ll start thinkin you like me

RHONYLover: Calling all historians, Who’s the biggest villain in RHONY History?

10:00 PM in Real Housewives Board

↳100 Replies to this post

RedHotPhilly11: Aviva Drescher. Only right answer.

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Wrong. It’s Brynn Whitfield. 

↳ RedHotPhilly11: What are you, captain of the Brynn hate club?

↳ RepudiatedHousewives: Hell yeah! She won’t win in my lifetime.

↳ RedHotPhilly11: I feel like I have to admire your persistence but that feels to nice.

-

The morning after the finale episode of the season was a doozy. Both Melissa and Y/n had spent the evening going back and forth on the forum dissecting the drama that unfolded on screen. Other users had tried chiming into their conversation but both RedHotPhilly11 and RepudiatedHousewives refused to engage with anyone other than each other. And that energy seemed to carry into the teacher’s lounge that morning. Melissa was at her seat as usual, nursing her second cup of coffee as the news came to an end. And Y/n burst through the door with a sigh heading straight for the coffee machine. Her entrance obviously caught the attention of the other teachers but she was too busy mentally urging the coffee machine to brew faster to care. 

“Woah, Shakespeare what’s up with you?” Jacob asked, sliding up next to the woman with a frown. “You’re never down here this late.” 

“I had a rather late night so I decided to sleep in for a bit,” Y/n answered pulling the coffee to her chest with a sigh. 

“Oh yes, too busy cyberbullying to get a proper night’s sleep?” The history teacher poked. At his jovial tease, the other teachers seemed to tune in. All eager to learn more about the English teacher. 

“You cyberbully?” Janine asked incredulously from her spot next to Gregory. “That’s so mean, why would you do that?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and glared at Jacob pointedly before addressing Janine, “I do not cyberbully. I merely chat about television online. If people have bad opinions, I feel obligated to correct them.” 

“Oh right, season finale for RHONY was last night. I’m sure you were lighting that little forum up, huh?” 

“You know it. Although I’ve got this one person on the forum who replies to everything I post and we were going back and forth all night. They just know every button to push. Like last night, I was going off about the way Brynn was keke-ing with the producers after causing all that chaos the night before. A literal production plant! And then that RedHotPhilly11 comes in my replies arguing with me about facts! So we were going at it for quite a bit.” At Y/n’s words, Jacob’s eyes turned to Melissa curiously with a smile. Maybe the redhead had taken him up on his recommendation. And at her arched eyebrows and startled expression he was right.

“Wait a minute, you’re Repugnant Housewives?” Melissa’s hard voice piped in. 

Y/n’s eyes widened in confusion, “Um no, I’m Repudiatedhousewives. How do you even know that?” 

“Cause I’m the one pushing your buttons.”

”You’re RedHotPhilly11?” Y/n tilted her head in shock but that didn’t last long before a knowing smirk settled on her face. “Huh, now that I’m saying that out loud I’m not that surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa challenged, ready for another fight. Offline.

“You are hot.” Y/n shrugged easily. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze at her admission but she stood tall in her words and leveled Melissa with a knowing gaze. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our very first argument. Where you very boldly called my username pretentious and stupid.”

“Right right, and you said the only thing I had going for me was my looks,” Melissa smirked. 

“And your only reply was that you’re hot. Again, can’t argue with facts.” Y/n snickered. “Wow, I can’t believe that of all the people on that forum we’ve been sparing with each other for the last 5 weeks. I didn’t even know you watched the housewives.” 

“Who are you kidding, I’ve been watching longer than you’ve been alive kid.” 

“Doubtful, I think I came out of the womb watching that franchise.” Y/n pushed up from her place at the counter to walk closer to Melissa’s table. 

“Ah what do you know? You probably can’t even remember the original RHONY cast before this godawful reboot.” Melissa goaded, rising from her chair to look Y/n in the eyes. 

“Wanna bet?” Y/n said and just as the women were closing the charged distance between them, Barbara reached up to pull Melissa back. 

“Alright ladies, I think that’s enough fun for the morning. Why don’t we save this energy for your little chatroom, hm?” 

Melissa shrugged and took her seat again working to push her irritation down. But as assessed her body– it wasn’t irritation she found. And Y/n found herself fighting the unexpected but familiar heat that a bossy beautiful woman could inspire within her. They both slinked back to their corners and everyone in the lounge exchanged curious looks over their heads. Not much later the school bell rang, and almost everyone dispersed. Except Y/n and Melissa. They eyed each other cautiously before Melissa broke the silence. 

“Reunion part one, next week, my place. Bring wine.” 

“Roger that, Red. Maybe we can tag team some poor souls while we’re at it.” 

Melissa grinned at the prospect and nodded before heading out the door, “Now you’re speaking my language.”

Let’s just assume they’re still trying to get out of Bravo Forum jail.

[heavenbarnes]

okay hear me out— softness and gentle topics aside, how would older bf!simon go about discussing his mom & Tommy? would it ever occur? Would it be a vulnerable and gentle discussion with sins laid on the table or would it be like pulling teeth— panic attack arises and the words are spewing.

at first I’d have headcanoned it that maybe we innocently question the clinginess but I’m not so sure anymore; feels like that would just be second nature for the two.

i’ve never ventured into this topic because it’s literally so devastating that i almost considered writing it out of canon for him- but it’s time 🫶🏼 (massive tw for family loss)

the day older bf!simon tells you about his family, it’s at breakfast.

he’d made the food and you’d made the coffee, both expertly passing each other in your kitchen until you’d settled at the table.

when he told you, you had toast hanging out your mouth.

“pardon?”

“i had a family”

you weren’t really talking about anything in particular, so you made quick mental work of skimming over your conversation until you found where this was coming from.

sunny outside, nice day, should go to the farmers market, get groceries, it’ll be crowded, family day-

i had a family

had.

oh.

your heart had start to speed up in your chest and part of you was scared simon’s military precision hearing would be able to tell.

judging by the look on his face, distant, quiet- he couldn’t hear the thrumming against your sternum.

you were thankful, it meant he kept speaking.

“my mum and my brother, tommy- he had a missus too and a kid”

had.

oh god.

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze drifted out the window and onto the birds that were floating over the fruit tree in the backyard.

you couldn’t say there was much of you to look at, a hardline of your mouth and eyes that were willing themselves not to water.

“they weren’t in a good way- but i helped them get better”

the corners of your lips quirked reflexively but it fell away just as quickly, unable to escape the voice in the back of your head that kept saying the same thing.

had.

why is every thing in the past tense?

probably for the same reason this is the first time you’re hearing this story. when is the right time to get to this part?

the moment he cuts the rope, lets you down from where he’s had you hanging- you wish you could react in any other way.

instead, your mouth hangs open while your hand does its best to cover it.

the toast goes cold, so does the coffee.

the tears break through of their own accord.

and he still won’t look at you.

“oh, simon”

your mind races in a way you’ve never felt before, thoughts you’d never had before rising to the surface.

first, you want to hurt someone, anyone- whoever you can blame for doing this to simon.

(you quickly realise he’s probably already done that)

second, you want to take him by the shoulders and tell him that this was never his fault.

that there was nothing he did or could’ve done to deserve this.

and you’re sure that there’s layers to his job and things he’s done and seen that’d make him think that cannot be true.

but you don’t care- there is no human alive that could ever deserve what you’ve just been told.

you don’t care.

you love him.

third, you start to make sense of some of simon’s behaviours.

the way he calls your name when you’re at the other end of the house, just to know where you are.

the way you can turn around at any given moment and find him closer than your shadow.

the way he calls you on deployment only to hear you tell him you love him and you’re still home waiting.

the way he cannot exist without a hand on you, without knowing where you are, without knowing you’re still his.

and there you go again, wanting to hurt whoever put him in this position.

grateful to be able to love him how he needs but angry- blind rage in knowing what he went through to get to this point.

it’s why you’re out of your seat and wrapping your arms around his shoulders the minute you hear even a sniff.

you let him ruin your shirt with tears as strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so close into him you wouldn’t be at all surprised if the particles shifted just enough for you to become one.

as if you weren’t already.

you’d never, never ever, questioned simon’s ever present need to be close. you’d come to accept it, enjoy it, miss it when he was gone.

it was never overbearing, never out of line, always right when you needed it.

reminding you that he was there.

that he loved you.

that he needed you.

just as much as you needed him.

and god, did he need to be needed.

did he need you to pass him the pickle jar (even when you could open it just fine)

did he need you to make him take the rubbish out (when you could do it yourself)

did he need you to call him when the car was making a funny sound (when you knew it was the fan belt)

did you need him to pull you into his lap at the end of a long day and rest his lips against the crown of your head as he rubbed slow circles into your back.

like you were doing for him now.

“simon, i just need you to know- i’m not going anywhere”

you made it to the farmer’s market, eventually. it was crowded, meaning simon’s arm never let your waist.

not that you mind.

not that you ever mind.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 14 – The One Where They Call It Chaotic but We Call it Predictable

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Yes, I am fully aware my entries have been sparse of late, and, no, I am not planning to stop my general Lukola ramblings any time soon. In fact, once I run out of material, I’ll probably dabble with fan fiction because, meh, why the hell not? Any ways, the reason for my slight absence is that I’ve had a special guest staying at my house – one by the name of “Dad.” Yes, that dapper gentleman has been roosting on my porch for the past few weeks (because that’s the only place I allow him to smoke), drinking an ungodly amount of Coca-Cola and holding my shih tzu like she’s a human baby. He did pry himself away long enough to be my date to see “Wicked” (he loved it, by the way). Oh, and he was obliged to my incessant babblings about Lukola. In fact, he even opened my mind to a few theories of his own and made me laugh hysterically at his reaction to the Jakolas.

It has always been my intention to delve into a certain section of our timeline – the part where Luke seemingly ran off into the Summertime Sunset with his friend group, which included Antonia. That period in time is the cavity of my Lukola table puzzle. The left side isn’t connecting to the right side because there’s this gaping hole in the center called Hot Boy Fucking Summer! Before June 12, things made sense to me. Even with the muck we find ourselves in now, just about everything after July 30 has made sense to me. So, of course, Hot Boy Summer was a topic of discussion with my dad. Actually, it was an “all afternoon” one.

I originally presented the Before, During, and After of Hot Boy Summer in chronological order to my dad only to get blasted with, “Stop doing that shit!” after I mentioned “Bless the Telephone.” His gripe was that – like the Claddagh ring – I had failed to disclose to him information that may alter his opinion about the event for which we were theorizing. Specifically, if I knew that the Claddagh ring preceded June 12 and I knew Nicola’s aptly named “Chaos Week” followed July 30, then disclosing those details to him before asking him to theorize about what happened in between those two dates (i.e., Hot Boy Summer) was necessary and even critical to his final opinion.

I don’t believe there is much explaining to do on the front-end of Hot Boy Summer – at least not to my well-versed Lukolas. We presumably all watched the same World Tour (including that trip over to Galway so Luke could meet Nicola’s mother) and I’ve already discussed the Claddagh ring in Entry 6 of my blog. That leaves us with the tail-end of Luke’s summertime jaunt, which steers us into Chaos Week. For those of you who thought I was going to discuss Hot Boy Summer in this entry, I’m sorry – this one is dedicated to that erratic period of Nicola blowing her war horn, beckoning all Lukolas within a worldwide radius of London to commence at her feet. And, commence we did!

Have you ever heard of “chaos theory?” Broadly speaking, it’s the idea that small changes can result in major changes over time – like cause and effect. That’s kind of how I’ve looked back at Chaos Week. We’d spent most of the summer on one bummer of a vacation, with Luke and Nicola (presumably) spending time apart from one another. Sure, we’d had few fireworks explode here and there with pap pictures, and we saw JVN enter the ring as the fan favorite best friend but, on the surface, Hot Boy Summer was, well, rather static. It had carried on with a monotonous “blip…blip…blip…” until suddenly our radar detected a quiet but distinct “blip-blip,” which didn’t register in any of our minds until we had a torpedo coming straight for us!

I don’t believe we can attribute Chaos Week solely to Nicola. Yes, yes, I know, Nicola’s online presence in early to mid-August was chaotic, hence the name “Chaos Week.” But, I do not believe Nicola started Chaos Week. She sure as shit drove it home but, in my opinion, it wasn’t her actions that set everything in motion. Nicola wasn’t the “blip-blip;” she was the torpedo.

So, what was the “blip-blip?”

Luke returning to London – alone – on August 2, of course.

The friend group, which had included Antonia, was nowhere in sight.

Hot Boy Summer had come to an end (I imagine this to be the reason Nicola started blowing her war horn).

In my opinion, Luke’s return set everything else into motion. He was that second pendulum that caused the first one to spiral out of control.

But, we ate that shit up, didn’t we? Yeah, we sure did, and we loved every day of Chaos Week. What’s funny to me is that everyone remembers bits and pieces of Chaos Week, but they never seem to get it in the right order (how chaotic, right?). This happened, then that happened. No, no, that happened first. No, this happened first. The only way to really look at Chaos Week is to give order to the disorder. And, we’re going to do that via a very generic captain’s log, so…

Welcome aboard!

Mission: Chaos Week

Origin: Somewhere in Mayfair.

Destination: Happily Ever After.

Time of Departure: Fuck, I don’t know. When did you board this ship?

Expected Time of Arrival: Hopefully before we all wither up and die.

Log Entries:

August 2. Luke returned to London alone. Yeah, yeah, I know, I already told you that, but I had to add this:

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August 4. Nicola decided to wake us all up from our somber summer with a plate of French toast. Umm, okay, that’s fucking random. I’m going back to bed – but wait, didn’t Luke say brunch was his “fav meal of the day?” Yeah, I swear I have that polaroid around here somewhere.

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August 7. Luke – after being absent on social media for what seemed like a lifetime – suddenly popped into his Instagram stories to post some delightfully cute Bridgerton Bloopers. The entire fandom rejoiced at Luke’s return to social media! And, let’s be honest, we only cared about the bloopers with Luke and Nicola. Hmm, Luke always has this intriguing, yet subtle way of surprising us. Did you hear that?

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August 7. Shortly after Luke posted his Bridgerton Bloopers, Nicola swooped in and dropped a very loud Wordle anvil on her Instagram stories. <clang!> Was she clocking people for making fake social media accounts using her name? Did she really solve the Wordle in two? Actually, most of us ignored that part of the post entirely and went straight to Mr. Google to ask, “What does ‘anvil’ mean? Okay, how about in the Urban Dictionary?” You know you did, too! In all seriousness, though, when this first dropped, I considered whether she was directing the “anvil” at Luke. After all, let’s face it, Nicola was the one who promoted Bridgerton post-Papsmear while Luke disappeared from the limelight. It’s only natural that she might be a bit peeved at him suddenly promoting Bridgerton. However, in hindsight, I believe this to be nothing more than Nicola calling out the person making fake social media accounts under her name. During this time, there seemed to be an influx of fake social media accounts using Nicola and Luke’s names (Luke would address this same topic on his Instagram stories on August 24). And, as fun as it would be to theorize that the “anvil” was directed at someone (other than Luke, of course), it was, in fact, the Wordle for August 6. That said, I do believe that “Wordle” has become synonymous with “Luke” at this point. So, I’ll give you that.

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August 8. JVN reposted their “[w]hen you catch someone trying to sneak a pic but you were born for these moments” to his Instagram grid. Did you think JVN wasn’t going to be included in Chaos Week?! They produced some of their best shit during this time! Any ways, Nicola liked this grid post, which confirmed my belief that Antonia played some part in the Italy pap pictures (for a full explanation on this, read “Entry 11 – The One About the Heart of the Ocean”). Thanks for the recap, JVN, although most Lukolas probably didn’t need to a reminder as to why they disliked Antonia.

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August 9. Nicola posted the Scrabble board to her Instagram stories. Whoa, hold up, Jakolas! Yeah, we know Jake played Scrabble with Nicola and – guess what – we Lukolas don’t care. I mean, I’ll even throw the Jakolas a small scrap of meat and say that Jake could (emphasis on could) have helpedNicola with the Scrabble board. Why am I being so charitable? Because that just makes me more confident Jake has always supported Lukola. You will not convince me (or probably any Lukola) that this Scrabble board was directed at anyone else but Antonia. In my opinion, there are only two things in this picture that matter – the central word “HEYA,” or “HEY A,” and the Guinness coaster. In fact, if I had been playing on the opposite side of this Scrabble board, I would have challenged this word. That alone says exactly what it needs to say. This is not to dissuade you from theorizing on every other word on that board, though. I’m simply saying I do not need any other evidence to persuade myself into believing the board was directed at Antonia. Now, if you want to take the two corner words and speculate that Nicola was having “SEX” with “DAD,” go right ahead – I won’t argue with you.

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August 10. Nicola posted to her Instagram grid the now-deleted birthday greeting to her friend, Camilla. The caption read, “…Remember the time paparazzi took a picture of us and to protect me you grabbed my face?” If that’s not an indirect jab at Luke’s friend group, I’m not sure what it is because it sure as hell doesn’t scream, “Happy Birthday,” to me.

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August 11. Nicola decided to get out her blow torch and light every beacon fire she could find starting in Bowral and ending in London by posting the “Drink Your Milk” shirt to her Instagram stories. You could practically hear her rallying every last Lukola still standing: “Rise, Lukolas, rise!” In fact, I think some even rose from the dead that day! What was the crisis? Well, only that the “Drink Your Milk” shirt was exactly like the one Luke was seen wearing on or about June 22. Now, now, this was a charity promoted by Jonathan Bailey so it’s entirely possible Nicola was gifted her own shirt. But, guess what? The Lukolas didn’t give a shit! They deep dived into reflections on sunglasses and creases in t-shirt sleeves! And, no, I’m not speculating on that hot mess (if you’re interested in learning more, I promise you there’s plenty of TikToks for that). In truth, it never mattered to me whether the shirt belonged to Luke or not. What mattered was the perception that it was Luke’s shirt. It blew up the Internet and I would stand by my belief that, if the fandom’s perception of something was detrimentally incorrect, Nicola (or Luke) would have corrected it. Nicola did not correct this. And, no, Jakolas, don’t even talk to me about that scrap of green blanket in that picture. I don’t care if Jake played Scrabble with (presumably) Nicola at some point over the summer while sitting outside on a goddamn green blanket. The “Drink Your Milk” post was not a secret coded message to Jake. I would stand on a hill and argue that all afternoon. Why? Because – again – Nicola did not correct the “Luke’s shirt” narrative. She let the fandom run with it. In fact, we all got our own blow torches that day. Mine’s turquoise and engraved with my initials.

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August 12. JVN posted a “Special announcement” to their Instagram grid. Right about now, you might be, like, “What the fuck does this have to do with Chaos Week?” I told you, JVN has this way of slipping shit into to their posts that make you do a double take – usually a day later while you’re daydreaming during your drive to the office. This was one of those posts. The announcement was: “I’ve been waiting for this announcement until after the Paris Olympics had finished, as to not take away from the incredible success of USA Gymnastics…@teamusa has been following my journey and growth as a gymnast and showed up at my house to personally invite me to train to be a potential member of their 2028 team. While I hate taking a slot away from 2028 potentials like @simonebiles & @stephen_nedoroscik (as it appears quite obvious I’ll make whichever team I attempt to)…” What made this post stick out is that it is, in fact, bullshit. As in, it is a completely made-up story. Team USA did not visit JVN at their house; they’re not joining the USA gymnastics team. It’s not even that funny, to be honest. So, what was the point of it? It’s confusing as fuck when you read it at face value; however, when you drop it into the Lukola timeline, I’m convinced it alludes to something bigger. On August 11, we had Nicola posting the “Drink Your Milk” shirt – which sent the fandom into believing Nicola was wearing Luke’s shirt and that Luke’s reflection was in her sunglasses. On August 13, the day after this post, a torpedo was launched at us (warning, warning, anyone got a phone I can use?). When you look at this post as the middle piece connecting Nicola’s August 11 and August 13 posts, I believe it tells a story. Let me rewrite it for you but imagine it now coming from Nicola’s perspective: “I’ve been waiting for this announcement until after the Paris Olympics Hot Boy Summer had finished, as to not take away from the incredible success of USA Gymnastics Luke’s friend group, which included Antonia…Luke @teamusa has been following my journey and growth as a gymnast and showed up at my house to personally invite me to train to be a potential member of their 2028 team [choose your own adventure on this one]. While I hate taking a slot away from 2028 potentials like @simonebiles Antonia & @stephen_nedoroscik Rory (as it appears quite obvious I’ll make whichever team [“girlfriend” or best friend] I attempt to)…” Huh, at the very least, this post is starting to get the side-eye from you, isn’t it?

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August 13. Oh, my God! My hair is on fucking fire!!! Nicola dumped “Bless the [Goddamn] Telephone” on her Instagram stories. Whose voice is nice to hear again? What is she trying to say?! Maybe nothing. No, it’s something. “It’s nice, the way you say my name; not very fast or slow, just soft and low; the same as when you tell me how you feel; I feel the same way, too; I’m very much in love with you. I’m very much in love with you.” I don’t need to elaborate any further on this post. It speaks for itself. Chaos Week had officially launched its massive torpedo (full of firecrackers and pinata candy) and the entire Lukola fandom was hysterical – in the best way possible. However, I will interrupt this happy moment with – Jakolas, please don’t start trying to link this song to Jake because Jack Rooke used it in an episode of “Big Boys.” Yes, we are aware Jake played a minor role in that show as a love interest to the main character, Jack. Again, Nicola did not shut down the fandom’s perception that the song was for Luke. Sorry, not sorry, Jakolas. If any part of Chaos Week was for Jake, I believe Nicola would have shut the entire thing down after realizing the fandom was associating everything with Luke.

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August 15. After giving the fandom 48 hours to process “Bless the Telephone,” Nicola posted to her Instagram grid, “Very demure, very mindful.” In my opinion, Nicola was acknowledging that her recent posts (ahem, “Bless the Telephone”) were intentional, and she was aware of how they were being taken by the fandom (ahem, that they were for Luke).

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August 15. JVN posted to their TikTok account “Slick Back Bun.” Hands down a fan favorite moment with JVN. “Sometimes I just need a very demure slick back bun…I don’t do my slick back bun like all the other girls. Here I’ll show you how to do it…I’m just going to take the hair and twist it around itself, so I just have a little cinnamon roll bun…” Do I need to elaborate on this one? Seriously, do I? Slick back bun – Antonia – yeah, okay, got it, we’re still going knives out on Antonia. If you haven’t watched this, it is still on JVN’s TikTok and Instagram grid. It was clever how “demure” JVN and Nicola were being that day.

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August 16. Nicola posted another song to her Instagram stories. This time it was Clairo’s “Juna.” It was not just a sweet, romantic song; it was full on sexy. “You make me wanna try on feminine; you make me wanna go buy a new dress; you make me wanna slip off a new dress…With you, there’s no pretending.” Alright, alright, enough! Wait – no, no – come back! I didn’t mean it! Please, please bring back your music to Instagram, Nicola!

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At this point, in my opinion, Chaos Week ended; however, I’m going to reference one more log entry mainly because, if I don’t, it will get overlooked in the small gap between Chaos Week and when the Jakolas enter the picture on August 25 (see “Entry 8 – The One About the Adjacent of Convenience” for that side show).

August 22. Nicola posted the picture of Luke and herself from Bridgerton Season 3 to her Instagram grid. And, no, I do not consider this to be a “Polin” picture. The picture appeared to be an alternative version of the polaroid Nicola carried with her throughout the World Tour. She captioned the post, “I thought I’d already shared this but I hadn’t so here you go now it’s all yours.” She also shared this in her stories and captioned that “with the lovliest pal a gal could have” and tagged Luke’s crotch. The story would disappear after 24 hours, but the post itself is still on Nicola’s Instagram grid. This post can be taken in several ways, depending on your mood. Was she friendzoning Luke because she used the word “pal” in her Instagram story? No, I don’t think she was. The “lov[e]liest pal?” That’s about as confusing as their “unique relationship.” Was she telling the fandom to support Luke because she supported Luke (i.e., stop hating on him)? Yeah, probably. Was she telling the fandom that she thought she’d already made it very clear that everything she had been posting was about Luke? Yes, I believe this to be the most reasonable answer, especially when you consider her previous posts. The reality is, that man fills a hefty chunk of her Instagram grid – and not dressed like Colin Bridgerton. But, I also believe that this post may have been a preemptive strike against the narrative that would surface three days later on August 25. It’s entirely possible Nicola knew that the pap pictures of Jake at the festival would be released by DeuxMoi (after all, it took DeuxMois over a week to release them), and Nicola was reminding fans that her narrative involved Luke. Note, that Nicola would repeat this in October when she and Luke simultaneously posted their “Polin” picture to their Instagram stories, which was followed a few days later by DeuxMoi dropping pap pictures of Nicola and Jake.

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Oh, a few honorable mentions post-August 22: (a) Nicola posted a picture from her Stylist Magazine photoshoot – the one from the back seat of a car (i.e., the “modern day carriage”) on August 23; (b) Luke posted about how he only had an Instagram account on August 24; and (c) JVN posted his “two finger” hair straightening demo on TikTok on August 25 (yes, I only listed these honorable mentions to get to JVN’s “two finger” demo because that was some laugh-out-loud funny shit – and it’s literally on the heels of Nicola’s “modern day carriage”).

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August 25. What in the hot fucking kittens is that? Well, thank God, it’s not an iceberg this time. Whoa, they didn’t just pull that Non-Player Character from that group of guys and name a ship after him, did they? Hahaha, dumbasses. Oh, shit! It’s coming straight for us!

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End Log.

Well, how was Chaos Week? Did you have a good time? I’m honestly friggin’ exhausted. Seriously, even just writing all that down was exhausting. Like, my brain is fried. Oh, yeah, feel free to ignore that part at the end of our log. That shit happens every time the Lukolas are given a bit of fun. You’ll get used to it.

I took you on this excursion through Chaos Week today because I believe it is important to develop an opinion about what happened before and after Hot Boy Summer, especially if we’re going to theorize on it at a later point. And, as I mentioned earlier, the before played out in front of our eyes and the after, well, if we have the information available, why not peek in its direction? It’s almost like reading a book from back to front.

There are three things that happened during Chaos Week that have kept my feet firmly planted on the USS Lukola. One, Nicola wearing the “Drink Your Milk” shirt, alluding to the still uncorrected perception that it was Luke’s shirt. Two, “Bless the Telephone.” We started Hot Boy Summer with The Frames singing, “I’m gonna wait for you…” and ended it with Labi Siffre answering, “It’s nice to hear your voice again…” And, three, Nicola posting “Very demure, very mindful,” confirming – in my opinion – that she was very conscious of what her posts were telling the fandom – i.e., that they were for Luke.

But, as I was sitting here typing out my thoughts about Chaos Week, I found myself – oh, no, word vomit! – annoyed.

Yes, annoyed.

It’s not Chaos Week itself that has left me feeling annoyed. That was one hell of a “Bridgerton Ride.” It’s that Chaos Week set in motion this predictable pattern which solidified my opinion that “Lukolas can’t have nice things.” Seriously, we can’t have nice things because something always comes in and fucks it up.

You know how I mentioned at the beginning of this post that Luke’s return to London was the “blip-blip” that led to Chaos Week? Luke was the “cause” and Chaos Week was the “effect.” Well, Chaos Week was the “blip-blip” that led to the current state of the fandom. We now have three ships – the Lukola, the Jakola, and the Lutonia – sailing the Fandom Sea, and every time the Lukola finds itself flying high, it gets hijacked by one or both of those motherfucking side ships.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Somewhere in this hot mess, the chaos that originated from Nicola’s August social media spree found order! In fact, we’ve fallen into such a predictable pattern of events that the ebb and flow of the sideshow antics barely “blip” our radar these days. When bullshit starts bullshitting, I just breathe a deep sigh of unadulterated annoyance and think, “I’m so over this shit.” Honestly, I’m getting the vibe that many of us are over this shit. We’re not playing Scrabble anymore. We’re playing that never-ending game of Risk.

Sometimes I wonder if the fandom would have been better off if Chaos Week had never happened. That Pandora’s Box had never been opened and that the fandom had simply allowed the USS Lukola to sail off into the sunset. But, then I think about the people I have met along the way. The Ones that have made me laugh until my stomach hurts. The Ones with whom I’ve gone so far down a rabbit hole we’ve come out on the other side as different people. The Ones that I’ve rescued from the riptide. And, the Ones that have stopped me from rowing my dinghy to shore (because, yes, I’ve had rough days, too). You all know who you are.

So, I find myself putting up with the day-to-day humdrum of the Life of a Lukola, chatting with the people I now consider my friends, and waiting.

Waiting for something different to happen. A disruption to the current cycle. A new kind of chaos – preferably, the kind that mortally wounds the Jakola and Lutonia love triangles and finally allows the Lukolas to have (and keep) nice things.

But, in the meantime, I am still sitting here – listening for that quiet but distinct sound – but also contemplating knocking the Risk board off the table.

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