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jetblack4realz · 1 day ago

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the snow before the storm - robb stark

summary - with fresh snow on the ground only days before your family arrives at winterfell, you decide to soak up the last of your childhood with the starks

baratheon!reader who is betrothed to robb already ;)

this very much feels like a start to a series if that's something y'all would be interested in, this is kind of a trial run for me since i've never fully written for him before. let me know!!

word count - 3.8k

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you had spent most of the year in winterfell since you were eight years old. you'd grown up with the starks and snow and cold, and you had to admit that you loved it in comparison to the loud, hot, sticky that was king's landing. you were a princess, and yet you despised the castle.

winterfell's homely build was more your speed, and you loved being able to wake in the morning to fresh fallen snow and hot chocolate in the great hall, running out your door to jon and robb's just down the corridor so you could have snowball fights with theon and the other kids who lived around.

you grew used to playing with boys that when your little brother joffrey got older you started messing around with him as well, which earned great loud laughs from your father and a smack in the arm from your mother.

it was moments like that that made you understand your true love for winterfell and its people.

when sansa and arya and bran and rickon got older you tried to include them in your games with the boys - arya taking to it as jon's shadow and rickon clinging to your arm as yours. you carried the little boy around with you everywhere - eleven years his senior you treated him as your own brother.

the little brother you wish joffrey was.

the little brother you hoped little tommen was, but wasn't around much to see.

so, it was days like this, a few months into your likely last stay with the starks, where the snow on the ground was fresh and the sun in the sky was bright, that you were most excited for - even though at the ripe age of seventeen, you were a supposed-to-be regal, well held, proper lady. proper princess, actually.

but that didn't matter when you were in winterfell. nothing involved with king's landing did.

you dressed quickly, appreciating the lack of maidens coming to wait on you and the silence that accompanied the solitude. you tied your hair back in a half up braid that had become your signature style in the north, and dressed in your black and brown leathers and fur - comfortable and easy to move in, as opposed to the layers upon layers that held up the dresses your mother kept for you at the red keep.

and then you crossed the hall, shivering slightly at the chill, and pushing the first door open without a care in the world. you grabbed a pillow off the floor and chucked it at the boy in the bed with a giggle. "come on, robb. it snowed last night."

the auburn haired boy groaned, pushing the pillow away from his face and rolling over in bed. "it's too bloody early. can't a man get some rest?"

"no," you answered simply, pushing the door shut behind you before you crossed to where he was sprawled lazily on his mattress. you pushed at his shoulder, a small smile on your lips. "we have things we need to get done today, so now's the only time we have to mess around."

he considered your words for a few moments before letting out a huff, turning back over so he was on his back, looking up at you with his beautiful crystal blue eyes.

"and what was it that you had in mind?" he asked.

"take a guess," you said, a laugh on your lips.

he grinned at you, reaching for your waist to pull you on top of him, but you swatted his hand away with a laugh, stumbling and leaning against the mattress away from him.

"robb," you said, your voice trying to be stern but breaking with your laughter.

he rolled his eyes, hand still resting on your waist, thumb rubbing circles into the leather there. "it's a valid guess."

"but, an incorrect one," you told him, shaking your head. "try again. i said there's snow outside, do the math."

he chuckled at you, hand falling from your waist onto the mattress beside him as he stretched onto it again. he glanced sideways at you. "a snowball fight?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin as he raised his brows at you. "really?"

"you have a problem with that?" you asked, matching his sideways smile with a tilt of your head and your hands on your hips.

he propped himself up on his elbows, shaking his head slowly as he looked you over for the first time that morning. his dark curls bounced around his face, messy from sleep. "no, i suppose not. but be warned - i'll be aiming for your pretty face this time."

"you know the rules," you told him as you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips, leaning against the mattress as he tilted to meet you. "no headshots. that's been the rule since we were seven."

he returned your kiss happily, sitting up fully just as you pulled away from him. the sheets pooled around his waist as he grinned. "aye, i remember the rules. no headshots." his hand raised to cup your jaw gently, thumb running over your cheek as his grin grew teasing. "and no puppy eyes to distract me, princess. that's cheating."

"and not in the rulebook," you laughed, pecking his lips again before standing straight and out of his grasp. "i can't promise anything."

"that's not fair!" he objected with a laugh. "you can't just go around using those wide, innocent eyes and expect me to be able to say no to you." he reached out, pinching your side as he shook his head at you. "i swear, those doe eyes are your biggest weapon."

you laughed and dodged another squeeze, stepping back towards the door. "my family sigil is a stag, after all."

he let out a laugh as you moved away, leaning back against his headboard and trying to comb through his messy curls with one hand and failing fantastically.

"alright, consider me warned," he told you as he pulled at a knot on the side of his head. "no more falling for your pretty eyes."

you smiled fondly at him, shaking your head before moving to sit on the mattress beside him and gently push his hands away, working the knot out of his hair carefully. "good," you hummed, "i wouldn't want you to be at a disadvantage." you ran your hands through his hair a couple more times, helping the curls lay more cohesively before finally meeting his eyes.

he couldn't help but stare, a corner of his mouth quirked up as his lips parted. you helping him with his hair was not a new thing by far, but one of the things that always had his heart racing nonetheless.

you met his gaze, holding it with a small smile for several moments before finally standing from his bed again.

"snowball fight," you told him again, nodding once. "you need to get up now. i've got to go get rickon ready before your mother steals him away."

he watched you for a few seconds more before finally nodding, a light laugh on his lips. "yes, alright. you go and get the little wolf." he waved you away as he pushed the blankets off and stood to grab a change of clothes.

you smiled at his nickname for his brother, an image flashing through your mind of a little redheaded toddler with your eyes receiving the same endearment.

"can you wake jon and the others when you're done?" you asked, watching him cross his room, chest bare. "that way we can just meet you in the courtyard."

"yes, love, i know the drill," he answered, shooting a sideways smile your way as he pulled a fresh brown tunic from his wardrobe.

"thank you!" you cheered as you pulled the door open. "see you in a minute."

"bye, love."

you had a bounce in your step as you walked further down the stark hall towards rickon's rooms, his being the smallest and closest to his parents'. seeing robb this early in the morning always put you in a good mood.

you paused at the toddler's door, listening to see if lady catelyn had already risen to wake the boy. when you heard nothing you pushed the heavy wooden door open and snuck inside, crossing the stone floor quickly to kneel beside his bed.

"rickon," you said softly, pushing at his shoulder. "rickon, it's time to wake up now."

he, so like his brother, groaned and rolled over, his back to you as he shook his head. you laughed quietly, rubbing his back gently. "c'mon sweet boy, we only have a few minutes to play before we have to get you to your lessons."

he peeked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed. "play? play what?"

"there's fresh snow on the ground," you told him with a knowing grin.

he sat up instantly, a bright smile on his sweet face. "is everyone already outside?"

"they're all getting outside, so we've got to hurry," you answered. "do you want to pick out your clothes or do you want me to?"

"i'll pick," he told you as he climbed out from under the furs and dashed for his closet before stopping suddenly and running back towards you. you let out a laugh as he hugged you tight around the shoulders. "forgot, sorry! good morning!"

"good morning, rickon," you said, chuckling still as he pulled away from you.

he broke for his wardrobe as you grabbed a pair of fresh wool socks, the thick underclothes that the north required, and his wintercoat from the trunk at the foot of his bed.

the little boy tossed a pair of breeches onto the trunk as you closed it, holding up two different tunics with a furrow between his brows.

"wear the brown one," you told him with a small smile. "robb's wearing a brown one today. you can match."

rickon was all over that idea, throwing the grey one to the floor and turning to take the rest of his clothes from you.

you turned away as he dressed, grabbing his boots by the door instead and waiting patiently on his bed.

"boots now!" he said as he bounced over to you, sticking out one foot. you quickly slid his boots onto his small feet, talking him through the motions of tying the laces before standing and taking the six year old's hand.

"ready?" you asked, but he was already pulling you to the door.

"yup!" he cheered.

the both of you made your way quickly down to the courtyard, spotting the older kids immediately. theon was tiredly walking in just as you and rickon did, rubbing at his eyes and trying to wake up a bit more. the boy at your side released your hand to run to robb, your betrothed scooping him up easily and mumbling a greeting as jon patted the boy's shoulder.

you did a quick headcount and furrowed your brows. "where's sansa?"

"she's not coming," arya huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she rolled her eyes. "she hates fun nowadays, don't you remember?"

you breathed out a laugh, robb, jon, and theon grinning at each other as they shook their heads.

jon ruffled her hair. "not everyone enjoys snowball fights like we do, arya."

"she used to!" the eleven year old objected. "she says she's grown up now and can't play. you four are all older than her and still play!"

"our priorities are a bit different than sansa's," you told her with a teasing smile. "right now i'm pretty sure all she's worried about is becoming a proper lady for my little brother."

the reminder of the royal family's arrival in a few days sent the group into a fit of sighs. winterfell had gone a bit tense as everyone prepared, and sansa had become obsessed with the idea of marrying joffrey, proclaiming her hopes for him to anyone who would listen.

arya rolled her eyes again.

"well, she's being ridiculous," she said.

"yeah, joffrey doesn't sound like someone worth being so obsessed with," robb hummed.

"you haven't even met him," you laughed, coming to a vague defense of your brother.

he raised a brow your direction. "sure, but what you've told us hasn't exactly been wonderful."

"he sounds like a right prick from what you've said," jon chimed in.

bran, the sweet boy he was, knitted his brows. "why does she want to marry him then?"

"because he's a prince," theon explained with a grin. "why do you think all the girls in the north want to be with robb? he's not handsome enough for all that attention alone - girls love a man with a title."

you and jon busted into laughter as robb frowned, arya grinning at your side as rickon giggled at robb's feet.

"i happen to think robb is very pretty," you said, smiling at the man teasingly.

"you have to," arya said. "you're betrothed."

"point still stands," you hummed. "now enough chatter, we have a snowball fight to start. we'll have rickon choose first; whose team do you want to be on, bud?"

he smiled and left robb immediately, grabbing onto your leg as he announced, "yours!"

you grinned at robb who huffed to himself.

"i want yours too!" arya said, shifting closer to your side. she met the eyes of her black-haired older brother. "jon, you're with us."

jon followed instructions, saluting to the girl as he came to your end of the courtyard.

"that leaves robb, bran, and theon," you hummed. it was actually a decent division given the uneven numbers. rickon usually slowed you and jon down during the fight. "everyone remember the rules?"

the group nodded.

"no headshots, no rocks in the snowballs, and no unsportsmanlike aiming," jon recited with a hint of excitement in his voice.

bran and rickon laughed at the last one, remembering that they were the reason that rule had to be implemented.

"perfect. ready, set, go!"

you each ran to the sides of the courtyard, rickon on your heels as you began balling up some snow in your gloved palms. a snowball smashed against the pillar next to you and you yelped, diving to the side behind a snowbank that arya had fled to.

"make us some ammo, rickon," you instructed as jon came dashing to hide next to you all as well.

"ugh," arya huffed as she peeked over the pile of snow. "they're hiding."

"so are we."

"ha, theon!"

the greyjoy man bolted towards you, chucking snowballs the best he could over your makeshift shelter, but was soon pelted with snowballs from you, jon, and arya, rickon building a steady pile behind you all. he dropped his pile of snowballs, protecting his face. "enough, i give up! ease up!"

"you're out!" jon shouted with a grin.

theon rolled his eyes and laughed. "alright, alright."

"how are we going to get robb and bran?" arya asked as theon moved to the side.

you clicked your tongue, spotting the two tufts of curly hair behind the snowdrift opposite you. "a distraction."

a smirk spread across jon's lips. "you'll distract him? and how exactly are you going to do that?" he asked, dry humor dripping from his tone.

"by drawing fire, of course," you answered, frowning at his line of thinking. "arya, go behind them. jon, cover me."

"sir, yes sir," arya said with a wicked grin, watching you as you hopped over the snow pile and began running to the side, drawing robb and bran's fire.

"dumb move, sweetheart!" robb called with a grin, sitting up on his knees as he chucked snowball after snowball your direction.

you yelped, ducking out of the way and trying to get to the side of their snowbank. "i don't know about that, wolf boy!"

you threw a snowball at him - hard, not expecting it to hit him at all.

except it smashed in his face, earning an instant chorus of laughter.

bran stopped throwing, pointing a finger at his older brother as robb stared straight ahead, eyes wide in surprise.

the man wiped the snow off him, mock glaring at you as you laughed harder. "you're out. no headshots."

"technically, that was a faceshot-"

"you're out, little doe, come on now."

"fine, fine," you laughed, walking over to join theon. "sorry, love!"

"oh, now you're sorry?" he asked, raising his brows.

"you'll get her back next time," theon chuckled, elbowing your side as you stood next to him.

you watched as arya circled the courtyard carefully, hiding behind random snowbanks, jon now out in the open trying to pelt his brothers with snow.

"you're going down, snow!" robb called to his brother, pushing up on his knees to chuck one way too close to jon. "it's inevitable!"

"is it?"

arya smashed two snowballs against her brothers' backs, immediately throwing her hands up in the air as you and jon and rickon began cheering.

robb turned with a slack jaw, arya giggling as she stepped away from him. "we win."

"oh, did you now?" he asked, a grin pulling at his lips as he lunged at the young girl, snatching her up around the middle and running into the middle of the courtyard, spinning her around as she screamed.

"let me down, robb!"

"let you down?" he repeated, slowing his spins and walking a few steps towards where rickon was still sat behind your makeshift base. "i'll let you down."

"robb, don't-!"

he dropped her into the snow, earning loud cackles from theon and jon as you shook your head, smiling even as you helped the girl up. she scrambled to her feet, glaring at her brother.

he raised his hands in defense, smiling as he backed away from her. "you said to let you down. i let you down."

"not in the snow!" she exclaimed, but even bran could hear the amusement in her tone as she lunged for him.

which warranted him throwing a snowball at her and landing it square in the back of her head.

a few more rounds of snowball fights ensued after that, the last one ending with robb tossing you in the snow before arya shoved him in to join you. rickon jumped in of his own free will, giggling as he grabbed bunches of snow in his hands.

"alright children! time to clean up and get to breakfast, there's much to be done today."

you and robb sat up, everyone staring over your shoulder at lady catelyn standing in the entryway with a gentle smile.

arya and bran were the first to follow instructions, followed by theon and jon, both of whom avoided her gaze, and soon it was just you, robb, and rickon left sprawled in the snow.

you grunted, pushing yourself up to stand and grab rickon, the little boy wrapping his arms around your neck to keep himself in your arms. you smiled at him. "aren't you glad i woke you up this morning?"

"yes," he admitted with a small smile. "can we do it again tomorrow?"

"we'll see what the snow looks like," you hummed before your tone dropped to a whisper and you grinned at him. "but probably yes."

he matched your grin before you set him on his feet, letting him run after his siblings towards the dining hall. you turned back to the snow pile, eyes fondly resting on robb. "do you need help too?"

"it'd be appreciated," he answered with a teasing grin, holding his hands out.

you rolled your eyes but obliged, holding his hands tightly and tugging him up to his feet. it was almost instinct, the way his hands fell to your waist and tried to pull you closer, but you pushed him away, opting instead to take his hand to approach his mother. you offered lady catelyn a smile.

"you all sure had fun this morning," she hummed with a distinct fondness in her tone.

"nothing better than fresh snow to start the week," you answered, which earned a gentle laugh.

"nothing better," she agreed.

robb grinned, squeezing your hand. "especially when it's used to pummel my face."

"he's just mad he lost," you told his mother, shaking your head with a laugh.

"i am not mad!"

"of course you're not, dear," catelyn said, meeting your eyes with a smile that matched yours. she stepped to the side, making way for you both to escape down the hall. "get something to eat, you two. there's a lot of work to be done today."

"has father called for me?" robb asked.

"yes, you, jon, and theon will be assisting him today," she answered with a short nod. she looked to you. "you and i will continue preparing for your family's arrival."

"yes, my lady," you said.

she smiled fondly, nodding again. "your highness."

however awkward it was for you to hear the title, you were appreciative of her dismissal, robb pulling you away and down the hall.

he chuckled next to you. "don't look so surprised."

"she never calls me that," you told him, brows furrowed. "no one here does."

"well, maybe she's still doing it while she can. everyone knows as soon as we're married you're taking the title of 'lady' instead," he answered, grinning. "though sansa can't believe you're giving 'princess' up."

"lady of winterfell is much more appealing," you said with a light laugh. "less expectation. less awkward formality."

"more me," he joked, earning another laugh.

"yes," you hummed, squeezing his hand as you leaned into his side, grinning up at him. "more you."

"arguably the best part," he continued.

"arguably," you agreed as he slowed his steps, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you glanced over his shoulder at the messed up courtyard, your smile softening. "i'm going to miss this."

he followed your eyes, a soft sigh slipping through his lips. "it'll be back soon enough."

you knew what he meant. you'd talked about it a lot.

you get married at the end of the week, and then you'll be expected to have children. eventually, those curly headed pups will be playing in the courtyard throwing snowballs at one another just as you and the stark children and theon had.

"it'll be different," you told him, shaking your head.

your family with robb instead of the whole family.

ned could still be in king's landing at that point as hand to the king, but perhaps he'd be home with his wife. rickon and bran would likely stay. theon as well. but, sansa and arya will be married off in a few years, sansa in king's landing with your idiot brother and arya who knows where. and jon would be at the wall, cloaked in black surrounded by men who weren't his brothers, though he called them so.

"it'll be ours," was his answer, another kiss pressed to your temple.

you looked up at him, smiling softly. "yeah, i suppose that's worth it."

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thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

#robb stark x reader #robb stark #richard madden #richard madden x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #winterfell #house stark #a song of ice and fire

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obvithe-bestsoph · 3 days ago

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Hiiii I was the one asking for the Pedri big brother fic. I somehow couldn't reply to your message, but to answer your question I don't mind if it's a second episode of a hug from home or a totally new fic. I'll leave it up to you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Ps: Love your writing ❤️😍

a ghost in a house full of people.

masterlist requests word count: 6.6k

a/n: very similar vibes to my fic a hug from home. if you enjoyed that! genre: mostly angsty then comfort. this ended up way longer than i originally expected lol. warnings: reader has not the best mental health. mentions of periods. forgetful/slightly neglectful family. they're all kind of accidental dicks until the end. one swear word i think.

summary: caught between games and family chaos, you write your loneliness in a journal that your brother discovers, forcing everyone to face what they've been accidentally ignoring all along.

You start writing things down in May.

Not poems. Not secrets. Just facts. Dates. Moments. Things that happened. Things no one else noticed.

It starts with the skirt. That awful pale blue one you have to wear for school, the one that definitely wasn’t designed with dignity in mind. You bleed through it on the ride home. Hoodie tied around your waist. Bag held in front. You pretend it doesn’t matter. You text your best friend a meme and don’t tell her what just happened.

At home, the house is quiet. Mamá and Papá are in Valencia for Pedri’s match. Fer’s out. You put the skirt in the laundry basket under your hoodie and run the machine before anyone gets home. No one asks why. No one even realizes you did laundry.

That night, you take a cheap notebook from your schoolbag, one of those spiral-bound ones you bought for chemistry and forgot about, and write:

May 3rd – my period started. hid the skirt in my closet. mamá gone.

That’s it. You don’t even know why you do it. You’re not trying to keep a diary. You don’t write in full sentences. You just… log it.

Like it happened. Like it mattered. Like someone saw.

It becomes a habit. The house stays quiet most of the time. There’s a match in Bilbao. A press event in Madrid. A midweek flight to Sevilla. Mamá goes to all of them now. Papá too. They always send photos. Sometimes videos.

“Look, he waved!” “Look at this goal!” “So proud of our boy 💙❤️”

You double-tap. You comment sometimes. You don’t tell them about the things happening back here.

May 7th – made dinner. didn’t tell anyone it was the first time i didn’t burn it.May 22nd – failed my maths test. told them i got a C. actually got a D.June 1st – got called pretty by someone i liked. didn’t say it back.

It’s not all sad. Some of it’s funny. Some of it’s nothing. But they’re yours. The small, sharp, quiet moments.

And no one else seems to notice any of them.

You eat a lot of meals standing up in the kitchen now.

When Mamá is home, she’s in rush-mode, reheating leftovers or asking if you’ve eaten already, even when the answer’s clearly no. Papá is always planning their next trip. Next flight. Next stadium. “Maybe we’ll do San Sebastián next time, eh? Could be a weekend thing.”

You nod, even when they’re not talking to you. You stir soup. Put two slices of bread on a plate. Pretend you don’t care that it’s just you at the table.

You don’t resent Pedri for it. You can’t. He worked hard. He deserves it. But sometimes, late at night, when the house is dark and you’re brushing your teeth with the fan on to cover the silence, you wonder what it would be like to have a family that didn’t orbit around him. Just for one week. One day. One dinner.

You brush until your gums hurt. You don’t write that one down.

School ends, and the days blur.

You stay up late watching random TV shows on mute. You go through your old clothes and make a bag for donation. You walk to the store and buy a face mask and a bag of crisps with your own money.

You text Mamá to say you’re okay.

She replies five hours later with:

“Hope you’re okay!!”

You are. Technically. You write:

June 22nd – mamá texted. didn’t ask why i was quiet. i was not okay.

You don’t reread the pages. You just add to them.

Sometimes Fer comes home.

When he does, it’s chaos - loud music, video calls on speaker, people coming in and out. He ruffles your hair and calls you “pequeña” even though you’ve asked him not to. He asks how school’s going but never listens past the first answer. He calls you “bossy” when you ask him to clean up after himself.

He’s still your brother. You still love him. But it feels like you’re auditioning for his attention now, waving from across the room and hoping he looks up.

You write:

June 26th – fer called me sensitive. again.

You try to talk to someone once.

It’s your friend Marina. You’re on FaceTime, and she’s talking about some boy who got her name wrong on purpose. You’re only half-listening when you say, “I think I’m sad a lot and I don’t know why.”

She blinks. “What?”

You shake your head. “Never mind.”

She doesn’t ask again.

You hang up early. Put on music. Stare at the ceiling. Write:

June 27th – tried to say it out loud. didn’t work.

You start bringing the journal everywhere. Not because you need it, but because it feels like a tether. Something real. Something that belongs to you and only you.

You don’t have locks on your door. But you figure no one cares enough to snoop.

Your bed’s always made. Your grades are mostly fine. You don’t slam doors or break rules. You’re not dramatic.

You just… drift.

And no one seems to notice you’re floating.

You wake up late the next day. No one notices. No one texts.

There’s a note on the kitchen counter in Mamá’s handwriting. The kind she always writes in a rush, all caps with too many exclamation marks.

GONE TO BARCELONA FOR A FEW DAYS!! PEDRI’S GOT MEDIA STUFF, MAYBE STAYING FOR THE WEEKEND!!! LEFT MONEY IN THE JAR 💋

You read it twice. You don’t react.

There’s a twenty folded under the salt. You grab it, put it in your hoodie pocket, and drink juice straight from the bottle. No one’s here to tell you not to.

You keep thinking maybe you’ll cry. But you don’t. You just… move.

That afternoon, you walk to the park with a notebook in your backpack and your earbuds in, even though you’re not playing anything. You sit on the grass in the shade and people-watch.

There’s a girl your age showing her mum something on her phone, giggling. Her mum throws her head back laughing like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard all day. You look away.

You open the journal. Flip to a blank page.

Then stop.

You stare at the last entry for a while.

June 27th – tried to say it out loud. didn’t work.

You underline it. Not hard. Just once. Just to make it feel real again.

That night, you make pasta. Too much, but you plate it anyway, like maybe someone will walk in and say, “Smells good, is there any for me?”

They don’t.

You eat on the couch. You watch two episodes of a show you don’t really like. You scroll TikTok and like things without watching. You turn your phone off without replying to anyone.

You fall asleep in your clothes. Dreamless.

The next morning, the house is still empty. You sit on the edge of your bed and look at the notebook on your desk.

It’s not hidden anymore. You stopped bothering.

You almost reach for it. Almost write:

June 30th – started to forget what being full feels like. not food. just… full.

But you don’t.

You think if you write that one down, it might become too real.

So you don’t write anything.

You pull the covers back over your head. And for the first time in weeks, you let yourself feel lonely on purpose.

You wake up to Nilo’s cold nose nudging your hand. The black lab’s tail thumps against the bedframe like a drumroll. It’s Christmas break. For once, everyone is home. Mamá is in the kitchen humming, Papá’s unpacking bags by the door, Fer is scrolling on his phone, and Pedri’s half-dressed in Barça gear, trying to untangle headphones.

The house smells like cinnamon and pine needles. You like that smell. It’s sharp but soft at the same time, like everything is both fresh and familiar.

You stay under the covers longer than usual, listening to the noise. Nilo snorts and settles by your feet. You reach down and scratch behind his ears. He leans into you.

Breakfast is a chaotic blur. Mamá insists on making too many pancakes and burning some of them anyway. Papá laughs as he juggles opening presents and telling stories about his work trip to Barcelona. Fer complains that the Wi-Fi is slow and drags everyone into a heated FIFA debate. Pedri laughs too loud, teasing Fer about a missed goal, and Nilo jumps up, barking like he wants in on the game.

You sit mostly quiet at the kitchen table, nibbling on a burnt corner of a pancake, the sticky syrup sliding down your fingers. You watch everyone but don’t really join in. You text Marina a selfie with a forced smile, and she replies with a string of emojis and a “looking good!” but you don’t feel like answering back.

Later, Pedri comes over and sits beside you on the couch. He’s scrolling through his phone, showing you videos of his latest match. You watch the screen, nodding, but your mind drifts to the empty spot on your desk where the journal usually sits. You didn’t bring it out today.

Fer leans in from the other side and tosses a cushion at you, making you jump. “C’mon, you gotta get in the game,” he says with that half-smile that means he’s trying to be nice but also annoying.

You laugh softly but shake your head. “Not today.”

Mamá calls from the kitchen, “Who wants hot chocolate?” Her voice is warm and thick with tiredness. You get up, Nilo following close behind.

You pour the hot chocolate slowly, watching the steam curl upward. It’s sweet and comforting, but there’s a tightness in your chest that the sugar can’t fix.

You sit back down, cup in hands, and glance at the family again. They’re loud, messy, and alive. And you wonder if they can see you here. Not just in the room, but really see you.

You take out your phone and open the journal app, the one where you sometimes type when you don’t want anyone to see the notebook. Your fingers hover over the keys but don’t type. You close it.

Nilo nudges your hand again.

You pet him, a little smile slipping through. It’s not much, but it’s something.

The living room is chaos by afternoon.

There’s wrapping paper everywhere, bits of tinsel stuck to Nilo’s fur, and an opened box of Ferrero Rocher slowly being emptied from every side. Fer’s lounging on the floor in a hoodie that’s technically Pedri’s. Mamá’s trying to get everyone to pose for a photo. Papá’s telling Pedri to take it seriously for once.

You smile when the camera’s on you. Tilt your head, give the nice daughter grin. And then it clicks, and you’re off the hook again.

Pedri grabs Nilo around the middle and lifts him for the next picture. The dog wiggles like a toddler, tongue lolling out, and Fer yells, “Caption that: Pedri and his only real teammate.” Everyone laughs. The camera flashes.

You step away. Quietly. No one notices.

You walk to the kitchen and rinse your mug. Your fingers are sticky from the chocolate, and you scrub harder than necessary. You don’t know why it bothers you that no one asked where you went. But it does.

You lean against the counter and scroll through your camera roll. Selfies. Food. A blurry pic of the tree you took last week when the house was empty and dark, just the lights on. You scroll further back. More photos no one else saw. A birthday cupcake you bought for yourself last month. Your report card screenshot. A mirror selfie in the bathroom before school when you actually felt pretty. Just for a second.

“Hey, there you are.”

You don’t jump, but you do slip your phone back into your hoodie pocket fast.

Pedri’s barefoot, leaning on the doorway with a cup in hand. Nilo pads in beside him, tail going steady like a metronome.

“Thought we lost you.”

“I was just rinsing my cup.”

“You’ve been gone, like, twenty minutes.”

You shrug.

He walks to the fridge. Opens it. Closes it again. You watch him, unsure if he’s about to say something else or just go back to the others.

But he just refills his glass, nods at you, and disappears down the hall with Nilo trailing after him.

You stay a moment longer, blinking at the fridge like it might say something instead.

Eventually, you go upstairs. You tell Mamá you’re tired, and she kisses your forehead like that makes up for everything. Maybe it does. You don’t know anymore.

Your room feels too quiet with all the noise downstairs. Like you’re holding your breath up here while the rest of the house breathes normally.

You sit at your desk and look at the notebook. You flip it open.

You write:

December 23rd – i was in the kitchen. pedri said he thought they lost me. no one was looking. i don’t know what’s worse – that he said it like a joke or that he meant it.

You underline meant it twice.

Nilo scratches at the hallway door a few minutes later, probably out of habit. You hear Fer yell at him to chill out. You don't answer either of them.

You flip the page. Keep writing.

December 10th – got my first 90% in physics. printed it. left it on the table. papá moved it to wipe crumbs. didn’t ask what it was.December 14th – mar told me i look thinner. not in a nice way.December 17th – christmas assembly. didn’t tell anyone i was singing. they wouldn’t have come anyway.

You close the notebook.

Your throat feels tight. Not crying-tight. Just pressure, like holding something in your mouth too long and it starts to ache.

You pull your sleeves down over your hands and sit on the edge of the bed. The lights from outside your window blink red and white. You can hear laughter from downstairs - Mamá, probably. Fer and Papá arguing about who cheated at charades.

You used to love nights like this. Before it started feeling like you were fading out of them.

You curl under your blanket. Pull it over your head.

You think: maybe tomorrow someone will ask how school’s going.

You think: maybe tomorrow they’ll notice I’m not laughing.

You think: maybe tomorrow I’ll stop needing them to.

But you don’t write any of that down.

Not yet.

The house is dim when he wanders upstairs.

Fer’s crashed on the couch mid-video game, controller still in hand. Mamá and Papá fell asleep halfway through a holiday movie. Nilo’s curled up under the dining table, paws twitching every so often like he’s dreaming of chasing birds.

Pedri’s phone is dead. His charger, the long white one with the frayed edge that always works better than yours, is missing again. He sighs and heads toward your room, fully expecting to find it plugged into your desk like always.

He knocks once. No answer. The light under your door is off.

You must already be asleep.

He pushes the door open slowly, careful not to wake you.

Your desk is a mess of pens and paper and one of those candles you’re technically not supposed to have in the house. Your blanket is pulled all the way over your head like it usually is when you’re trying to disappear.

He smiles a little. He doesn’t mean to be nosy. He’s just looking for the charger. He spots it, half tucked under a notebook near the edge of the desk.

He grabs the cord.

Then pauses.

The notebook shifts slightly. Opens just enough for him to glimpse his own name written in the corner of a page.

He shouldn’t read it.

He knows that.

But the way it’s written, not in a heading, not even in a sentence, just his name in lowercase at the edge of the margin, makes something uneasy curl in his stomach.

He flips it open.

Just one page.

Then another.

And another.

His mouth goes dry.

There’s no decoration. No doodles. Just simple lines. Fragments. Dates.

may 3rd – my period started. hid the skirt in my closet. mamá gone.june 1st – got called pretty by someone i liked. didn’t say it back.june 14th – got an A+ on my english paper. left it on the counter. no one noticed.november 6th – pedri was home. didn’t ask how i was. didn’t notice i cried in the bathroom.

He keeps reading.

Not fast. Not slowly either. Like someone walking barefoot over glass, every step careful, and somehow still hurting.

Your name is never written once.

Just “i.” Lowercase. Quiet.

Like you wanted to vanish even from your own story.

He swallows hard and shuts the notebook. Gently. Like it might shatter if he uses too much force.

He unplugs the charger. Stares at the wall for a second too long.

You shift under the blanket, mumbling something in your sleep.

He turns around and leaves the room without a sound.

The notebook stays exactly where it was.

But something in him doesn’t.

It takes him ten minutes to come back.

He paces the hallway for a bit first, barefoot and quiet, like he’s afraid the floor might tell on him. Nilo watches from the stairs with his head tilted, sensing something’s off but not sure what.

Pedri’s heart’s still racing. Not fast like a match. Not adrenaline. Just heavy. Like everything he just read is pressing against his chest, page after page after page.

He waits until he hears Fer snore downstairs. Mamá coughs once in her sleep, then silence.

Your room is still dark.

He pushes the door open again, slower this time, even though it’s already wide enough. The moonlight spills through the window just enough for him to see you haven’t moved. Still curled under your blanket, back to the wall. Still small.

He doesn’t look at you long. He doesn’t want to risk waking you.

He crosses the room in two quiet steps and picks up the notebook. He holds it like it’s fragile. It feels heavier than it did ten minutes ago.

He leaves just as fast.

Door shut. Hall crossed. Bedroom door closed.

He sits on the edge of his bed and opens it again.

Not to the first page this time.

He flips through randomly, stopping every few entries.

october 1st – got ghosted. never told anyone i liked him anyway.october 3rd – dinner alone again. they were at the match in madrid. left a plate in the fridge.october 9th – fer forgot my birthday card. mamá said it’s okay, he’s busy. i said it was okay too. it wasn’t.

He closes his eyes and exhales.

He remembers that week. He’d been exhausted from training. Mamá and Papá had flown out for the game and asked if you needed anything. You’d said no. Of course you said no.

He flips another few pages.

november 23rd – told marina i think something’s wrong with me. i think she thought i was joking.december 2nd – watched my old dance video. don’t know when i stopped wanting to do that.december 5th – feel like a ghost in a full house.

He rubs a hand over his mouth.

He didn’t know. No - he didn’t ask.

And it’s not like he never cared. He does care. He just… assumed you’d come to him if something was wrong. Like you used to. When you were little. When he brought you stickers from training and you used to draw on his arms in marker. When he mattered to you in a way that felt obvious.

But he hasn’t made it easy for you to come to him lately. He’s been gone. Distracted. Caught up in everything else.

He flips to the most recent page.

december 23rd – i was in the kitchen. pedri said he thought they lost me. no one was looking. i don’t know what’s worse – that he said it like a joke or that he meant it.

His throat burns.

He sets the notebook down on his bed. Runs a hand over his face. He doesn’t cry, not yet. He just feels it. In the way his stomach tightens. In the way his fingers curl against the sheets.

He looks at the door like maybe it’ll give him a solution.

But it doesn’t.

The room stays quiet.

He stays awake long after midnight, sitting on the edge of the bed with your notebook in his lap.

He reads every single page.

Not fast. Not slowly. Just enough to finally listen.

He sneaks the notebook back into your room and goes to bed.

The morning comes slow.

Pedri doesn’t sleep much, just lays there with your notebook still on his nightstand, spine dented from being held too tightly. He gets up early, throws on a hoodie, pulls the hood low. Says something about grabbing milk.

No one really hears him.

It’s cold outside, but not freezing. That perfect winter air that’s all bite and no breath. He walks the long way to the shop, hands in his pockets, head down, trying not to think. Failing completely.

The shop’s mostly empty, just the usual corner clutter, a radio playing reggaetón too loud, and a woman with a screaming toddler by the bread.

Pedri grabs the milk. Starts to head for the counter.

And then-

“Pedri?”

He turns.

It’s Marina.

Hair braided, phone in one hand, coat dusted with glitter. She’s surprised to see him. Not starstruck, she’s been around the house since you were in primary school, but surprised. Like he doesn’t belong in this context, hoodie and all.

“Hey,” he says, awkwardly. “Didn’t expect to see you.”

“Me neither.” She laughs lightly. “Milk run?”

“Something like that.”

There’s a beat. He should just say goodbye.

But he doesn’t.

“Hey… uh-” he scratches the back of his neck. “You and my sister. You’re close, right?”

Marina blinks. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just…” He hesitates. Looks down at the milk like it might help him find the words. “Have you noticed anything off with her lately?”

She tenses. Not visibly. But Pedri’s watching now. He sees it.

“I mean,” he adds quickly, “I know she’s quiet, but… I read something. I think something’s wrong. I just don’t know what.”

Marina shifts her weight.

“She doesn’t tell me much anymore,” she admits, softer. “Not about real stuff.”

Pedri nods. “Same.”

Another pause. Then:

“She told me once she thinks she’s too much. That people don’t want to hear her problems. She always shrugs it off. But I think she really believes it.”

Pedri’s throat tightens.

“She said that?” he asks.

Marina looks at him, expression serious now. “Pedri, she thinks no one’s listening. That she’s invisible in her own house.”

He swallows hard. The milk feels heavy in his hand.

“She’s not invisible,” he says quietly.

Marina raises an eyebrow. “Then prove it.”

Pedri can’t answer.

Not yet.

He just thanks her, pays, and walks home, a conversation waiting for him, and a hundred things finally starting to make sense.

You notice it the second you wake up.

The notebook’s been moved.

You keep it tucked sideways under your bed, pushed back between a loose floorboard and the wall. But this morning it’s closer. The corner sticks out. You feel it before you even see it.

You sit up slowly. Stare.

Your stomach turns.

You pull it out, flip through it fast, fingers trembling. Every page is there. Uncreased. Unmarked. But you know. You know.

Someone read it.

No, he read it.

Because the charger you borrowed? It’s sitting on your desk. Perfectly wrapped. Like it was placed there carefully.

Your heart hammers.

You shove the notebook back. Don’t say anything. Not at breakfast. Not at lunch. Not when Fer asks if you’re feeling sick because you’re quiet. Not when Mamá calls you mi cielo and tells you you’re glowing.

You just keep moving. You don’t know what else to do.

But Pedri watches you all day. Not obvious. Not heavy. Just… different. Like he’s seeing you properly for the first time.

You know the knock is coming before it happens.

It’s been building all day, in the way Pedri watched you over breakfast, in how his laugh never really hit full volume, in how he walked past your room three separate times and didn’t say a word.

And then finally: rap-rap-rap.

You almost don’t answer.

You almost pretend to be asleep or gone or something in between.

But then you hear him shift his weight, like he’s about to walk away, and it stings in a way that shouldn’t.

“Come in.”

The door creaks open. Pedri steps inside, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. He looks tired. Not just physically. There’s something in the way he moves, careful, uncertain, like he’s expecting you to throw him out before he even speaks.

“Can I…?” he motions toward the bed.

You don’t say yes, but you don’t say no either.

He sits. Perches, more like. Like if he breathes too hard, he’ll knock something over.

You don’t look at him.

He doesn’t speak right away.

“I read it,” he says.

You blink, eyes fixed on the smudge of nail polish on your thumb. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You finished it, though.”

That lands hard.

He shifts. “Yeah.”

Silence.

You count your breaths. Try to keep them even. Try not to shake with the rage and embarrassment building under your skin.

“It was private.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you keep reading?”

His voice is so quiet. “Because I couldn’t stop.”

You clench your jaw.

He goes on anyway. “Because I didn’t know it was this bad. I didn’t know how invisible you felt. I thought-”

“You thought I was fine.”

“Yeah.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Of course you did.”

Pedri flinches.

“You know what’s crazy?” you ask, still not looking at him. “You read every single thing I’ve been too scared to say out loud. And even now, sitting here, you still don’t really see me.”

“I do-”

“No, you don’t. You feel bad. That’s not the same.”

He falls silent again.

You wipe your sleeve across your cheek when the burn behind your eyes gets too sharp. You’re not crying for him. You’re not.

“Do you know what it feels like to watch our whole family fly around you like planets?” you ask. “To be the one thing that doesn’t orbit anyone? To go to bed in an empty house and wake up in an empty house and still be expected to smile because at least you’re part of the picture?”

His breathing changes. Sharper. Shaky.

“Do you know what it’s like to sit in a room full of people you love and still feel like a ghost?”

Pedri doesn’t answer.

You finally look at him.

He looks gutted.

Good.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know,” you say. “But that doesn’t fix it.”

He nods. Looks down at his hands.

You let the silence stretch.

“I needed you,” you say finally. “For a long time. And you didn’t even know.”

Pedri’s voice breaks when he says, “I wish I’d seen it sooner.”

You shrug. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“Of course it matters.”

“No,” you say, more tired than angry now. “You can’t un-lose years.”

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Because he knows you’re right.

You pull your knees to your chest.

He gets up, slowly.

Stands in your doorway, like he wants to say something else, something better.

But he doesn’t.

He just nods once.

And leaves.

It’s quiet in the house again.

Papá and Fer left just after lunch, heading to visit some friend of Papá’s out in the next town over. Something about a new vineyard and free wine. You stayed in your room. Said you were tired. No one pushed you.

Pedri watched you walk down the hall and shut your door without looking back.

He didn’t eat much after that.

Mamá’s in the kitchen now, humming to herself while peeling oranges, soft flamenco guitar playing from the speaker she keeps on top of the fridge. It should feel peaceful.

But Pedri’s shaking.

He leans against the doorframe, watching her hands move. He opens his mouth once, twice, nothing comes out. Then-

“Mamá.”

She turns. “¿Sí, mi amor?”

He swallows.

And breaks.

“I messed up.”

Her hands still. The orange peel dangles in a spiral from her fingers. She gives him that look, the one that’s half concern, half calculation, like she’s trying to work out if he’s hurt, or in trouble, or both.

“What’s happened?”

Pedri doesn’t sit. He paces once, rubs his palms against his jeans, exhales hard.

“She’s not okay,” he says. “My sister. She’s not okay.”

Mamá frowns. “What do you mean? She seemed fine yesterday.”

“She’s not.”

“Pedri-”

“I read her notebook.”

Rosie’s eyebrows lift. “You what?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was looking for my charger and I saw it and- Mamá, I didn’t know. I didn’t know she felt like this.”

“Felt like what?”

He stops pacing. Looks straight at her.

“Alone.”

The word hits the tile like a dropped glass.

“She writes everything down,” Pedri goes on, voice low, like if he says it too loud it’ll echo. “All the things we’ve missed. The stuff she didn’t tell us. It’s- Mamá, she thinks we don’t care.”

Rosie’s face tightens. “That’s not true.”

“I know it’s not. We know it’s not. But she doesn’t. Not really.”

He sits down hard at the kitchen table. Runs both hands through his hair.

“She wrote about bleeding through her school uniform and doing the laundry herself so no one would find out. About getting awards and hiding them. About singing in the Christmas assembly and not inviting us because she knew we wouldn’t be there.”

Mamá’s face goes pale. She sinks into the chair across from him.

“She thinks she’s invisible. In this house. In this family. And she’s right, Mamá. We didn’t see her.”

Rosie presses her hand to her mouth.

“She thinks I only notice her when something’s wrong,” Pedri says. “And she’s right about that too.”

“I… I didn’t know she felt that way.”

“She told Marina she didn’t think anyone wanted to hear her problems. That she didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Rosie’s hand trembles.

“I read her words, Mamá. She was screaming in lowercase.”

That’s what finally cracks it.

Rosie pushes her chair back and covers her face with both hands. She doesn’t sob, not like in the movies, but her shoulders shake.

“I thought we were doing enough,” she says, voice thick. “I thought being proud of you and Fer… I thought if we were happy, she would be too.”

“I think we left her behind without meaning to.”

Rosie wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

Pedri doesn’t answer.

They both know the reason.

Because she did. Just not with her mouth.

Pedri leans forward.

“I want to fix it,” he says. “But I don’t know how.”

Rosie nods, still blinking fast. “We will. We have to.”

“She doesn’t want us to fix it for her. She just wants us to see her.”

Mamá nods again. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Pedri exhales. Sits back. Feels like his ribs might finally loosen.

But there’s still that ache behind everything.

Because seeing her now doesn’t change the fact that no one saw her then.

You only came down because you were hungry.

Not for food, really, just something. Some kind of feeling. Some kind of noise. The silence in your room was starting to feel like drowning.

But then you walk into the kitchen and stop cold.

Mamá’s got her hands pressed over her eyes. Pedri hunched forward at the table, face pale, mouth tight, like he’s holding something back and losing the battle. There’s a half-peeled orange between them. The smell is sharp. Sickly sweet.

They both look up at the same time.

You don’t say anything. You just stand there in your hoodie and socks, frozen like the child they forgot they had.

Pedri opens his mouth. Closes it.

Mamá speaks first. Her voice cracks on your name.

You swallow. “Is this about me?”

No one answers.

So you ask again, louder this time. “Is this about me?”

“Yes,” Pedri says, without hesitation. “All of it.”

You laugh, but it’s ugly. A sound made of disbelief and exhaustion. “You wait until I’m practically a stranger to figure out I’m in the room.”

Mamá steps toward you, but you take a step back.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t come near me and pretend this is new. I’ve been like this. For months. Years.”

Her voice shakes. “We didn’t know-”

“Because you didn’t look.”

That lands.

Hard.

Pedri covers his face with both hands. Mamá sits down again, shakily, like her legs won’t hold her weight.

“I got my first period and washed it out alone,” you say, voice trembling. “I sang in a school assembly and watched other people’s parents clap for me. I won an award and left it on the counter and no one said a thing. I grew up while you were watching Pedri play football.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, fast and hot. You don’t wipe them.

“I needed someone,” you whisper. “And you were always gone. Or tired. Or proud of someone else.”

Mamá’s crying now. Fully. Her shoulders are shaking. She reaches for you again, but you flinch, and it breaks her in half.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know you were hurting. I didn’t know-”

“You didn’t want to.”

The words are cruel, but they’re true.

Pedri stands, eyes glossy. “Please don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you snap. “You got everything. The cheers, the trips, the dinners out, the plane tickets, the framed shirts, the texts that said ‘we’re so proud of you.’ What did I get? A cold kitchen and a plate in the fridge.”

He walks closer. Not too close. Just close enough that you feel it.

“I read what you wrote,” he says. “And I can’t unread it. I’ve never felt like a worse brother.”

You stare at him.

Good.

“Everything in there,” he continues, “was a punch to the gut. But I needed it. I needed it. Because you were screaming so quietly and I still managed not to hear you.”

He looks at you like he’s drowning.

“You don’t have to forgive me. But I need you to know: I’m listening now. I see you now.”

You blink, and the tears fall harder.

Mamá stands too, voice shaking. “You deserved better than what we gave you. You deserved parents who noticed. I don’t know how to fix that yet, but I swear to God, I’m not letting this go.”

You stand there for a moment, chest heaving, heart so loud in your ears you can barely think.

Then you whisper, “It’s too late to go back.”

Pedri nods. “I know.”

“But maybe,” you add, barely breathing the words, “it’s not too late to start again.”

He looks at you like that one sentence just gave him air for the first time in days.

Mamá sobs behind her hand.

You walk forward.

You don’t hug them.

But you sit at the table. Pick up the half-peeled orange. Break off a piece. Eat it.

And that’s enough.

For now.

The kitchen is warm from the late afternoon sun slipping through the window, casting long gold stripes across the table. The oranges Mamá peeled are gone now, their scent lingering faintly in the air.

You sit at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with your fingertips. Pedri is beside you, quiet, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at you every few seconds. Mamá is nearby, clearing the dishes slowly, her movements deliberate but gentle. None of you speak. Not yet.

The silence feels different now - not heavy or sharp, but expectant, like the calm before the first step.

You break it, voice soft but steady.

“Can we… try to do better?”

Pedri looks up, meeting your eyes.

Mamá sets a plate down and sits beside you, wiping her hands on a towel.

“We will,” she says, voice small but certain.

The words float between you all, fragile promises without a map.

You shift in your seat. “I don’t want us to pretend it never happened. I don’t want us to act like everything’s fixed because it’s not.”

Pedri nods slowly. “I don’t want that either. I want to actually see you. Not just the quiet version or the angry one. All of you.”

You blink, surprised by the tenderness in his voice. “I want that too.”

Mamá’s eyes soften. “Maybe we start with small things. Little check-ins. Dinner together without distractions. No phones, no screens.”

You think about the last dinner you actually had like that, months ago, maybe longer.

“I’d like that,” you say.

Pedri smiles faintly, and for the first time in a long time, it feels real. Not forced or shaky, but honest.

“You know,” he says, “I was so scared that if I asked how you were, you’d just say you were fine and close off.”

You laugh, low and tired. “Yeah, I’m good at that.”

“Maybe we just have to keep asking,” he says, “even when you say you’re fine.”

You look at Mamá.

She reaches out, squeezing your hand gently.

“We’re not going to be perfect,” she admits. “But we’re going to try. For you.”

You feel something warm rise in your chest. A crack in the armor you’ve worn for so long.

“It’s not about being perfect,” you say. “It’s about being here.”

The sun slips lower, bathing the room in soft orange light. Nilo pads in, tail wagging, nudges your hand with his nose.

You reach down to pet him, feeling a little lighter than before.

Pedri leans back, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see,” he says quietly.

You look at him.

“It’s okay,” you reply, voice breaking just a little. “But don’t wait so long next time.”

He nods.

Mamá smiles through tears.

The three of you sit there for a while, no grand gestures, no big speeches, just breathing the same air, sharing the same space.

And in that quiet, imperfect moment, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, things can be different.

Days pass, and the house feels a little less empty.

Dinners happen more often, sometimes with laughter breaking through the silence.

Pedri starts asking about your day, small questions, no pressure, just checking in.

Mamá leaves notes in your lunchbox, little reminders that someone’s thinking of you.

Fer notices too. He’s still distant sometimes, but when he does walk by, he gives you a nod or a smile.

It’s not perfect. Some days, the old feelings crawl back in, heavy and unwelcome.

But now you know you’re not alone.

One evening, you catch Pedri practicing his shots in the backyard.

You stand at the door, watching.

He sees you.

Smiles.

“You watching or waiting for me to miss?” he teases.

You laugh, the sound light, almost free.

“Maybe a little of both.”

He kicks the ball toward you gently.

You catch it, feeling the connection, not just to the ball, but to him, to your family, to something you thought you’d lost.

And as you stand there, the sky darkening with stars, you realize healing isn’t a destination.

It’s the small steps forward.

Together.

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez fic #pedri fic #obvithebestsoph!pedri #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri x reader #fc barcelona #fanfiction #football #football fic #culer #PG8

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witheringwidgetwrites · 1 day ago

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Hi☺️🌸 TW for this request: loneliness, angst, depression.

You are 100% allowed to not take this request and if you choose to do so, I would totally understand ❤️

Can we please get a series or even a one shot on how each of the Obey me! brothers (separately or together or maybe a mixture of both) would react to an mc that's just so use to not having any friends or anyone that particularly cares about what they're up to or what's on their mind/how they feel (on top of also being bullied)? An mc with a loneliness that runs so deep that that they end up constantly feeling abandoned and forgotten. For whom none of the friends that they've had in the past ever cared to maintain a relationship with them, which really aggravated their pre-existing rejection sensitive dysphoria (AuDHD). And this mc cares so much and put so much love into their relationships with others. This mc loves hard and was told throughout their life, that that was bad. And no matter what they do, people always end up leaving them or making them feel like they're not good enough - sometimes because of circumstances, sometimes because people (the friends) think they're "too much" or "weird", sometimes because they (the friends) genuinely just don't care. Because that's how insignificant MC is.

I want to read about an mc who gets surprised when (one of) the brothers decide to sit with them while they're doing something mundane, like homework or studying or colouring (idk i love colouring). And an mc who sleeps holding a pillow or with the pillow against their back, so that they can feel less alone. And can we see the brothers react to all of it? Why would they care about what MC is doing? Do they need something? Is something wrong?

Sorry, I know it's a lot and I really didn't mean to info/trauma dump on you🙏🏽 I just really want to read something that makes me feel seen and represented. Because I'm speaking from experience, unfortunately. And can we also make the mc gender neutral, if that's okay with you?

Even if you don't end up taking my request, thank you for taking the time to read it🙏🏽 I really appreciate it ❤️💖

Okay friend, I am picking one brother for this, and I picked Mammon! Unfortunately I so deeply understand this ask, as someone who has BPD. I desperately need soul crushing devotion and love in my life. Anyway.

So, how would Mammon react to a lonely MC?

I think at first, Mammon would brush off some habits of yours as weird-human-traits until he puts the pieces together. I think the first time it clicks, is the first time he REALLY eats lunch with you, of his own volition. He usually does, not JUST because he's your watchdog, but because ehe does enjoy it. And then, one afternoon he sits with you after not doing so for a few days, and the genuine surprise when you turn your head is a little baffling to him! Your smile lights up a little more than usual, and he notices the sparkle in your eyes. He knows by now that he's smitten, but today is the day he pieces together how lonely you seem.

From then on, he prods a little. Not gently, but gentle for him. Either way, whether you're forthcoming or not, he chooses to push a little more. More sleepovers, more time together, even if it's. most of your time. You'll be able to notice how his comments about humans seem to slip off his tongue more quietly for a while, and then they seemingly disappear almost all together. He does really notice and take these things to heart, especially for you. When you seem more isolated, or even when he's just busy, you'll find that the little crows seem to gather around you during lunch or homework time, and sometimes you'll get a little pebble!

#obey me mammon x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #om! mammon

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makxmaa · 2 days ago

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Akane-banashi Analysis: Rebellion, Art, and Humanity

I’ve been thinking about this since last week.

Hikaru and Karashi are basically the opposite of Akane now.

But before explaining why, let’s go back to who inspired the title of this analysis, and the character who also teaches us one of the most important themes in this manga and in art in general.

Kiroku is the opposite of his master: he’s a rebel. Miroku was someone deeply attached to the classics and the traditional ways of rakugo. Kiroku stood for everything opposite to that. His master hated the 'stains' that, according to him, ruined his pure and classical vision of rakugo. But Kiroku embraced imperfection because it brings out the most genuine side of a person.

When Kiroku says 'your art is your humanity,' he means that art — no matter what medium you use to express it — is a mix of many things: your age, your feelings at that moment, the context you live in, your personal experiences, and more.

Humanity, for Kiroku at that moment, showed itself in his free art, without the constraints of a script or traditional storytelling. But it also lived in the love his apprentices gave him—in the time they spent together playing guitar, spinning tops, eating yakisoba…

Instead than betraying himself and his humanity, Kiroku chooses to rebel against his master and gives his successor, Issho, a chance to shine. Before being expelled.

There’s also Taizen, who’s tormented by the idea that it was his fault his friend got expelled. Later on, his master threatens him to make sure Akane doesn’t get promoted

Thanks to Shinta, who talks to him, Taizen is able to free himself from his torment.

When Akane finishes her performance, it’s Taizen’s turn; at first, he hesitates, remembers what his master told him, and struggles, until he remembers Akane’s performance — genuine art full of humanity.

That pushes him to rebel and stay true to his own art

Another character who rebels is Maikeru, but unlike Kiroku and Taizen, who rebel against a figure of authority (their master), he rebels against himself and the audience.

Since his brother was expelled, Maikeru’s been carrying a pain he hides behind his cheerful, playful side. He can’t get past it and now he’s taken on the role of being the big brother for everyone. Ever since, he’s put others first, pushing his art and his own feelings aside just to give the audience what they want to see.

Until, during his exam, that changes: he rebels against himself and the audience. This is HIS story, nobody else’s. From it comes his humanity, the real feelings he’d been holding back all this time—the sadness for not going to his brother’s exam to support him, the sadness knowing he won’t step on stage again or learn more from him.

Let’s go back to Hikaru and KarashI. Both of them are rebels — they’ve gone against their parents, who are authority figures.

We can see how Karashi’s dad keeps calling him non-stop, after rejecting better opportunities, and how Karashi himself tells Hikaru that they’re the same — that they both made a stupid decision. Prioritizing work that truly fulfills them instead of a job that just gives them money and a comfortable life.

Hikaru rebelled against his mom, who just doesn’t get why he’s wasting his time on rakugo instead of focusing on his voice acting career.

They don’t just rebel against an authority figure—their parents—but also against the art of rakugo itself.

Let’s talk about Hikaru first. According to the critic himself, Hikaru’s rakugo completely breaks away from the traditional foundations of Edo-style rakugo.

As for Karashi’s art, although we haven’t yet seen how it has evolved, we can tell it’s still following the path of his first performance at the Karaku Cup. His most recent act was described as rakugo that’s anything but classical.

But what does that even matter? Who cares about being a “stain”? What really counts is being true to yourself, your art, and your humanity. All art changes, why would rakugo be any different?

Both Hikaru and Karashi follow Kiroku’s philosophy.

That’s why I say Akane is the opposite of Hikaru and Karashi, at least the Akane she is now.

Akane hasn’t rebelled against anyone because no one’s ever tried to hold her back from being herself. In fact, in her early days as a zenza, her story is all about searching for her identity, both as a rakugoka and as a person (her humanity).

At the Ikken competition, Akane hits her catharsis, where she finally steps out of her father’s shadow and becomes her true self.

Also, Shiguma, following his master’s example, gives his apprentices the freedom to be whatever kind of rakugoka they want. He even chooses tasks that fit their style and help highlight their strengths.

That’s why his apprentices are so diverse and different from each other, even from Shiguma himself. He doesn’t change who they are, but helps them shine in what they do best.

When Akane moves on from Shiguma and comes under Issho’s guidance, it’s the first time she faces a situation where her art—and her humanity—are at risk.

Voluntarily, and pushed by Issho, she starts losing her style, and with it, a key part of herself.

Unlike Shiguma, Issho doesn’t respect her individuality—he pushes her to move away from who she is and the art that’s truly hers.

On the other hand, Shōmei himself warns her: you will lose your freedom. She wouldn’t just lose a part of her art, but also a part of what makes it genuine.

And that’s the difference. Like Kiroku said, “If I betray my art, I betray my humanity.” But in Shōmei’s case, Akane isn’t betraying herself, since it’s a choice she’s made consciously.

When Akane interacts with Issho at the hospital, she sees him as a demon and is scared. Suenaga even uses the shinigami story to paint Issho like the real shinigami (in that story, if the shinigami stood in front of a sick person, they would be healed in the same position in which Issho was).Over time, she stops being scared, but she still holds some resentment toward him.

In fact, Issho doesn’t care about that resentment; he uses it to his advantage to keep Akane motivated, so she can achieve what he couldn’t: complete his master’s story.

Akane is now cornered. Issho is the only one who can help her reach her goal, even if it hurts her and she doesn’t want to accept it. She can’t rebel against him. Issho knows this very well, and that’s why he provokes her.

Akane has no choice but to sacrifice a part of her art, and with it, a bit of her humanity.

Like what happened recently, when Issho told her not to make the audience laugh—even though making people laugh is a core part of Akane’s art, and who she really is. Akane is happy, smiley, and funny. Taking that away from her is like taking away a big piece of her personality and who she is.

Moue and Suenaga do an amazing job capturing all of this on this double-page spread.

(Let’s analyze it a bit)

The first panel is a close-up of Issho, staring right at Akane, who’s sitting down — like she always does. Then there’s a panel that highlights a text box saying: “No laughing.” In the next panel, there’s a wide shot. Issho stands tall and imposing, creating a stark contrast with Akane. He dominates the scene, while Akane remains seated on the floor, clearly at a visual and emotional disadvantage.

Now let’s focus on the text box on the left.It’s placed right next to Akane and at her level;it extends beyond its panel and spills into the one below, where we see a super close-up of Akane looking shocked..This isn’t accidental: visually, it shows how Issho’s words — his order — invade Akane’s space, and symbolically, a part of her identity as rakugoka.

There is a moment when Issho, in a moment of honesty during an argument with Akane, says that his predecessor’s art was simply a coincidence between his nin and the standards he had.

Like I said before, Kiroku was a rebel who went against his own master; he was someone who stayed true to himself. I believe the main thing to master Shiguma’s art is to follow and understand the philosophy he lived by. hat’s why the current Shiguma was allowed to learn it.

I don’t think it’ll happen now, but I’m hoping a future Akane will rebel against Issho.

#The most dificult part of this whole analysis was choosing the titler #akane banashi #akanebanalysis #yapping as always

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leslie057 · 2 years ago

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miniature. he was miniature.

and when he turned ten he shot a rabbit and cried ALL WEEK. thats a seven day cry. is that not the worst thing youve ever heard.

#i hate it i hate it so much #to make matters worse hes like the best son you could ask for?#like what #stranger things #jonathan byers #text #imagine this is your kid and hes literally an angel and so lovey dovey and quiet and calm and adorable and-#and he- he talks about going to COLLEGE when hes 6 because he is so miniature but he has aspirations #big aspirations and his eyes are so bright and his hearts huge like his hearts the size of texas and he takes SUCH good care of bby brother #and yet??#you dont love him and you force him to hunt and kill which is the one thing he can barely bring himself to do #because hes that much of an animal lover and has that soft a heart #like i know we’ve known all this since s1 but im just devastated all over again #this is throttlegainwells fault and i didnt even finish their new fic yet because im working my way through it slowly #but its still their fault!

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dee-in-the-box · 1 year ago

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having. Thoughts on BS!Dee and how a major theme of her character in the au is that she is Quite Literally living in Jack's shadow after he died, but she doesn't even mind it.

if anything, she's proud that she's become similar to him. even if it's not in the greatest ways. like, imagine that:

you've unconsciously become so similar to a dead man, one who's death effectively knocked over the dominoes of you becoming like this, that when everyone else looks at you, all they can see when they look at you is the spitting image of him staring them in the face.

#dsaf au #dsaf #brother's shadow au #dee kennedy #i'm Very Normal about BS!Dee 😊 (< lying)#might do some art about this idea later #like a repeated thing that Dee is told by various different people in this au is the phrase:#'You remind me a lot of your brother/You're turning out like Jack/You're just like your brother.'#(with those all being said by Dave Peter (pre-death) and Henry respectively)#and what's Dee's response almost every time?#'I'll take that as a compliment.'#she loved Jack. she was close to him and losing him Crushed her. to make matters worse (thanks to Henry) she basically got gaslit for years #-into believing she never witnessed his death. she spent years wondering if she had lost it.#of course she'd take any comparisons to a man she practically idolized as a compliment #like don't get me wrong: she loves Peter too and his death also screwed her up really bad. but like. She Directly Witnessed Jack's Murder #y'know. the guy who took care of her. the guy who tried his best given the circumstances. Her Older Brother.#she also spent more time around Jack when she was younger. she and Jack also had that kind of bond #just. AAAAAAA BS!DEE!!! MY BELOVED!!

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hobimo · 1 year ago

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this is so nerdcore but if you grew up on a diet of anime there's a certain way conflict is resolved in anime that's so specific that you find yourself searching for it in every other media you ever watch. and then you finally find an anime you really enjoy and you keep watching episodes and its Perfect and reaches your resonant frequency turning your miserable organs inside out and then you can never ever experience it for the first time ever again. also its because of this that its so glaringly obvious when a fic author has never watched an anime ever

#this is about trigun stampede if you even care #take me back.... 2023. take me backkkkkk #i need to watch it for the first time again. ill be even worse this time i promise #dude watching tristamp for the first time after not being a real weeb for years and just having your brain remade in 12 episodes....#watch trigun stampde. i dont care if you hate it. its for me #the manga..... i cant even talk about it.#i thought fma:b was the perfect media and while i still kind of agree #trigun is perfect TO ME #i refuse to see any flaws. its perfect. its about guilt and love and fear and surviving despite it all.#you are always worth being saved no matter how bad you are or what sins youve committed #i took my brothers hand and ran back through time your memories falling off our shoulders like coats etc etc #grips you. TRIGUN. TRIGUN TRIGUN TRIGUN TRIGUN #sorry. im better now #i have an anime blog to separate my mental illness but im in my trigun thoughts again tonight and had to spread the disease thanks

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bfpierce · 10 months ago

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#life is hell btw.#like sorry I’m being miserable this is a fandom blog lol but like #accepting my brother is alive but I’ll never really get to be with him again has been rough idk #and that’s just the latest thing there’s so much going on right now i don’t even know where to begin #i guess the thing is that with my brother he’s the only person in my family who likes me #like he’s the only one who really cares about me and tells me that and shows me that #no one else really likes me because I’m weird and hard to be around and stuff but my brother loves me #and he’s been struggling for years we both have but he’s had addiction problems and helping him has been hard but he was doing so well #and it’s hard to explain but it gets to a point where you can’t force help on them yknow #so you just have to resort to mourning while they’re still alive #I’m sorry i know that’s evil but there’s only so much i can do and I’ve done it all #I’ve been mourning him for years and now I’m mourning again #and i just feel awful #and i know it’s selfish to think this but my birthday is next week and it’s like he’s the only one who spends the day with me #my family will always have dinner with me and stuff but my brother knows i have no friends and it makes me sad being alone on my birthday #and he’s ALWAYS made an effort to be there on my birthday and spend the day with me no matter what #and now he’s in jail and will be in prison probably for the rest of my life #idk and really this is just one of many catastrophic things going on in my life i just need a break #and my breaks are immersing myself into my books and shows and movies #so thank you everyone for all the work you’ve been producing lately i know ot sounds silly but getting to come home and read your guys fics #and look at all of your art or even just reading your posts takes away so much of my stress and feeling of impending doom and helplessness #idk i just wanted to say I appreciate you all so much #please like if you read this though i can’t really talk about this stuff with anyone i just need to be heard

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lvl1l1 · 3 months ago

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LaDS LI’s when your child tells you to “Shut up”

pairings: Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Xavier x F!Reader(separate)

genre: crack

a/n: dead trend i know 😔 has probably been done but it’s time to push my lads children name agenda!

Caleb

Caleb was sitting on the floor of the living room, playing with your six year old daughter, Elysia.

While you were plotting with your 12 year old son in his room.

Eden wasn’t old enough to be on social media, you however, were and you loved nothing more than to stress your husband out.

When you told your son, that you two would get into a faux argument and he was supposed to tell you to “shut up” at the climax of it, he was hesitant.

“But I don’t want to say that to you, mom…”

he had nervously said.

You ruffled his hair, smiling at your sweet boy,

“Aw, sweetheart don’t worry about it. It’s not like you’re saying it maliciously. It’ll be fine this once, just so we can see what your dad is gonna do, okay?”

Still unsure, your 12 year old slowly nodded.

He truly was a carbon copy of Caleb, especially when he looked up so bashfully at you.

“Alright, Eden, ready?”

Your son hummed, leaning into your touch before storming out the door, ready to start the scene.

“I told you, I’ll do it later, mom!”

He slammed the door shut, with you still in the room, the commotion catching Caleb’s attention.

You pushed open the door and followed the tween,

“And I’m telling you to do it now. Drop the attitude and get on with it.”

The boy groaned loudly and dramatically turned around, you made a mental note to treat him to something sweet later for his level of commitment.

You felt Caleb’s eyes on the two of you and it took you a lot to not start laughing.

“I don’t care, I’ll clean up whenever I feel like it, it’s my room!”

“Doesn’t matter! It looks like a bomb exploded in there-“

Caleb finally spoke up, noticing the rising tension,

“Hey, you two, how about-“

before he could finish what he was gonna say, your son perfectly cut in,

“Just shut up mom! Stop telling me what to do!”

Your eyes widened slightly, even though you told him to say it, it was still weird to hear you usually kind and quiet boy raise his voice like that.

You also noticed how Caleb suddenly went silent again, you looked over at your husband and were taken aback by his serious expression.

He immediately got up and you could tell, he was back in Colonel mode.

Your daughter looked at her brother, snickering.

“What makes you think you could talk to your mother like that?”

His voice was cold, missing the usually warmth it had while talking to his children.

He walked over to you two, you and your son frozen in place.

“I don’t remember raising you to be a brat with an attitude. You’ll speak to your mother with respect. Apologise.”

You decided that was enough and stepped between them, placing a hand on Caleb’s chest.

“It’s okay, honey. I told him to say that.”

Caleb looked back and forth between Eden and you, the boy shooting his father a nervous grin before rushing to sit beside his sister, who immediately went to hit him with her doll.

“You just love stressing me out, don’t you pips?”

He sighed, pulling you closer.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him.

“Seriously, I was about to teach him a lesson.”

You heard your son nervously chuckle from the living room and you winked at him.

“As if my sweet boy would ever speak to me like that willingly.”

Caleb just shook his head and walked you over to your children.

“Even if she put you up to this, Eden. You should’ve insisted that you wouldn’t do it. As punishment, you and your sister will stay over at your uncle Gideon’s tonight.”

Eden and Elysia blinked up at him, almost looking like twins,

“…how’s that a punishment?”

Caleb smirked, pulling you down to sit next to the two,

“Oh, the punishment isn’t for you. I’ll have a nice, long talk with your mother tonight.”

He ignored the incredulous look you shot him and laughed at the confusion on your children’s faces.

Rafayel

Your 14 year old son was just as eccentric and animated as his father, so once you suggested doing that trend you’d seen on tiktok, he jumped.

You two stood just outside of the kitchen Rafayel was sitting in, sketching away on his block.

Dorian whispered quietly,

“Just remember that I love you, mom. I don’t mean anything I’m about to say!”

While you thought that was sweet, you still wondered what kind of act he was about to put on, needing that kind of disclaimer.

He cleared his throat and winked at you,

“Mom, why can’t you just let me be for once?! Seriously, I can’t do anything around here!”

He pushed open the kitchen door, walking in and opening the fridge with more force than necessary.

Rafayel instantly looked up, frowning.

You took a second to collect yourself and walked in after your son.

“Dorian, you’re way too young to be out that late. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Dorian looked up exasperatedly, giving his father a look as if to say, isn’t she crazy?

“You can’t be serious! Dad, tell her she’s overreacting.”

He crossed his arms, looking at his father expectantly.

Rafayel opened his mouth, getting ready to step in, when you followed up again,

“I’m right here, Dorian. You don’t need to involved your father. If you have something to say, say it to me.”

Rafayel blinked at you, not entirely sure if he should say something now.

His inner conflict quickly came to an end when his son interrupted his train of thought,

“Oh my gosh, shut up, mom! I wasn’t talking to you.”

Before you could say anything else, Rafayel loudly closed his art block, shooting his son the nastiest glance.

“Alright, you do not speak to my wife like that.”

Dorian, much like his father, never knowing when to give up, turned back to his father in shock,

“but dad-“

As soon as he saw his father’s expression he closed his mouth.

“Keep this up and I’ll throw you into the sea. You can play with some sharks and fend for yourself.”

At that, Dorian’s eyes widened, he quickly hid behind you, not wanting to face his father’s wrath.

You just smiled up at your husband, feeling giddy at how he was so quick to defend you.

“Before you turn our son into shark food, I put him up to this.”

Rafayel’s face immediately fell, putting his head into his hands.

“What’s wrong with you.”

You faked offence and put your hand over your heart,

“Whaaat, I wanted to find out if my big, strong husband would defend me from my mean son.”

“First of all, ew, second, hey!”

Your son exclaimed, still hiding behind you.

Rafayel looked at you two, trying to look mad but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his eyes.

“I can’t believe I have to put up with you two.”

You rolled your eyes at that,

“Honestly, we should sign Dorian up for acting. That was some impressive improv!”

Hands on your hips, you turned around, looking at your son.

He beamed up at that, as Rafayel scoffed from where he was seated.

“Oh, please, he’s far more talented at real art.”

“Dad, what’s your beef with actors?”

“They know what they did.”

Your son looked at you in confusion and you just shrugged.

Zayne

You were dying to see what your usually stoic husband was going to do, if you got into a fight with your daughters.

You roped your 17 and 15 year old in by showing them the videos you had seen.

They were just as curious as you and while your younger daughter, Willow, was a bit more uncertain, considering she was much more like your husband, avoiding conflict as much as possible, Dawn, was able to convince her.

You went over what they should say with them and once they were ready, you waited for the perfect opening.

Once Zayne had finished up his work for the day, finally coming out of his office, you called him over for dinner.

You texted your daughters to get ready, as your husband came and sat down at the kitchen table.

You placed the plate full of food infront of him, he murmured a quiet thank you, before you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, mentally apologising for what was about to go down.

You called your daughters once,

“Dawn, Willow, dinner!”

No answer, just as you had told them.

You and Zayne shared a look and it took a lot in you to not start grinning.

You placed the girls plates on the table before trying again,

“Dawn! Willow! Don’t make me repeat myself!”

A beat of silence,

“Wait!”

“Gimme a minute!”

They yelled far louder than appropriate, just as you had instructed them.

Zayne’s brows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest in pretend anger.

“Girls, don’t make me come up th-“

and just as you had expected,

“Mom, shut up!

“Shut up!”

Came in unison.

Zayne dropped his arms by his sides, stunned.

You turned around, far too enthusiastic but Zayne was too caught up to notice.

You send him a look, as if to make sure he heard the same thing you just did.

He pushed his chair back and got up, and for the first time in a while you heard him raise his voice,

“You two come down here, right now.”

There was a trace of urgency in his voice but you could tell how mad he was.

His brows were furrowed and his arms crossed.

You could instantly hear the sound of footsteps rushing downstairs.

The girls came running into the kitchen, immediately halting in their movements as soon as they saw the look on their father’s face.

Dawn’s mouth made an ‘O’ shape but no sound came out and Willow looked at you, making a grimace.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, to not show how you were kind of enjoying your husband acting like this.

Before either of the girls could explain, he gave them a disappointed look.

You could feel the temperature in the room dropping, chills settling in.

“I can’t believe you two would ever even think of speaking to the woman who raised you like this.”

Stepping in to safe your girls from the lecture they were about to be served instead of dinner, you put your hands on Zayne’s shoulders, massaging him slightly,

“Zaynie, how mad would you be if I told you, I put them up to this?”

Zayne paused, slowly turning to face you.

You put on your best puppy eyes, trying to win him over. No such luck.

“You will be the death of me.”

He rubbed his temple and glanced back over at his daughters,

“I just hope you two know, that I felt levels of disappointment unreachable for others.”

Dawn let out a nervous chortle and Willow gave her a judging stare,

“Well, good thing we’d never actually speak to our lovely mommy like that!”

Zayne nodded, turning back to you.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

He whispered dangerously to you, you blinked in surprise,

“Now, can I please have a normal family dinner with all of my girls? With no unnecessarily rude language?”

Your daughters giggled and smiled respectively, skipping to the table and sitting down.

Zayne wrapped an arm around your waist and lead you to the table.

You might be in danger.

Sylus

Sylus loved his twin sons, he couldn’t be prouder of them and he was also proud of the two of you for figuring out how to be good parents, even with your upbringings.

When the two boys were born, everyone expected Sylus to raise them strictly, preparing them for a life in the shadows, wanting them to follow in his footsteps, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He raised them with gentleness and kindness, warmth and love, giving them everything they could ever ask for.

You had to step up and be the strict parent more often than not but you simply couldn’t mind, when you saw how Sylus looked at his sons with all the love in the world.

They’ve grown up to be empathetic and loving teenagers, incredibly emotionally intelligent for a pair of 15 year olds.

So, when you approached one of them with your silly idea, he immediately felt unsure.

“Mom, I don’t want to disrespect you, like, ever!”

Zeno had said with such sincerity, you almost felt bad for dragging him into this.

Keyword, almost.

“Zeno, it’ll be funny! I won’t take it personally, I know you’d never actually mean it.”

You tried to reassure him but he just wouldn’t budge.

You were thinking of ways to bribe him, when you suddenly got an idea,

While both of the twins looked exactly like their father, Zeno was more like Sylus, in the sense that he had the same exact soft spots his father had for you, in other words; Zeno was way more of a mama’s boy than Jaden, so you tried pulling on his heartstrings,

“Come onnnn, baby. Please? For your mom? It’ll be so much fun!”

You could see Zeno’s resolve falter and once he let out a defeated sigh, you knew you got him.

“Great, sweetheart, thank you so much!”

You could tell the idea was stressing him out, not because he was scared of what Sylus would do, but because he would never wanna speak to his mom like that!!! Even if it’s just for a joke!!!!

You cooed at him for being as cute as he was, before dragging him downstairs and giving him another round of encouragement.

“Alright, don’t break character and just say everything we went over, got it?”

Zeno nodded slowly, getting ready.

Zeno walked into the living room with quick steps, avoiding eye contact with Sylus and Jaden, who were sitting on the couch together.

“Come back here! I wasn’t done talking to you, Zeno.”

You called after him, not walking into the room just yet.

“Drop it already, mom! I’m done having this conversation.”

Jaden quirked a brow at his brother, staring at him judgingly, and Sylus silently observed what was unfolding before him.

“Zeno, if you won’t go, don’t ask to go out with your friends either. You can’t just do whatever you want.”

The 15 year old was mentally preparing himself, he turned towards you, ignoring his brother’s and father’s gazes.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything, mom?!”

He slightly raised his voice and you stopped in your tracks, looking at him in shock, patting yourself on the back in your mind for your awesome acting.

“Dude,”

Jaden started, Sylus still watching with hooded eyes,

“Zeno, I’m not joking around with you. You have to deal with the consequences of your choices.”

You stopped Jaden and expectantly looked at Zeno,

“Can you just shut up. Holy shit.”

He mentally winced and turned around to storm out of the room, before he could take even a step black and red tendrils surrounded him, spinning him back around and keeping him in place.

His brother was looking at him like he had grown a second head and he blinked up at his father, who had gotten up.

Sylus walked towards you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him.

“I have no idea who you’re talking to like this right now but I’m damn sure it can’t be my wife.”

Zeno was scrambling to come up with something to say, as his knees buckled and he fell, luckily he felt his father soften the fall with his evol.

Sylus tsk’d and looked at his son disapprovingly,

“I don’t remember raising you to have no manners, boy.”

before things could escalate further, you wrapped your arms around your husband.

“Let him off the hook, I coaxed him into playing along.”

Zeno felt his father’s evol immediately let off and he quickly got up, pressing his palms together,

“I’m sorry, mom! I shouldn’t have agreed regardless. Forgive me, father.”

You smiled at him and shook your head,

“You’re so cute! You have no idea how much convincing it took me to get him to agree.”

You finished, looking up at Sylus like this was no big deal.

A pillow hit Zeno hard and he looked at his brother, who was staring right back, unimpressed.

Sylus just smirked down at you,

“You’re being a bad influence, sweetie.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, as he placed his hand on your lower back, pushing you out of the room.

As you two left, Sylus turned around, looking at both of his sons,

“I hope this served as a valuable lesson to you both.”

With that, he walked out to follow you.

Jaden went to throw another pillow at his brother,

“You’re an idiot.”

Xavier

Unfortunately for you, all your children are relatively young, getting an 8 year old to tell his mom to shut up, might not be the best idea; but that wasn’t going to stop you!

You just had to see how Xavier, Mr. Expressionless himself, would react.

As you instructed Xavier to put your youngest daughter to bed, you scrambled to explain how this was gonna go down to your oldest child, Elio, one more time,

“And after I say that, you’ll tell me to shut up, okay? Only this once.”

Elio nodded, while his other sister, Cassiopeia, sitting next to him, shook her head,

“Mommy, that’s mean! I don’t want him to say that to you.”

You smiled at your sweet daughter and kissed her on the forehead,

“It’s okay, Cassie. This is an exception! We’re doing this to see how daddy’s gonna react.”

She hummed and glared at her brother, before hugging you tightly,

“Why don’t you go join Celeste? But don’t tell your father about this, okay baby?”

She nodded and jumped off her brother’s bed before skipping out of the room.

You checked in with Elio one last time, the boy looking serious, as he accepted this as a mission.

“I’ll do my best, captain mommy.”

You bit back a laugh, before nodding at him seriously.

He got off his bed and acted like he was sneaking into the kitchen, Xavier leaving his daughter’s room just in time to see him.

Before he could say anything, your voice came through,

“Elio, go brush your teeth and go to bed!”

At first the 8 year old didn’t answer, as you called out his name again, he loudly went,

“SHUT UP.”

You walked out of his room, immediately making eye contact with Xavier, who looked at you in utter surprise.

You saw his eye twitch slightly, his brows being barely drawn together and something, almost looking like a scowl, found its way to his lips.

He walked into the kitchen with heavy steps,

“Where did you learn to talk like that?”

You quickly followed behind, seeing your son stare at his father expressionless, not answering.

Xavier inhaled quietly, you were starting to feel bad for working him up like this, especially so close to bed time. The shock probably getting rid of his sleepiness.

“You don’t speak to the woman who birthed you like this.”

At that, Elio cocked his head to the side,

“huhh?”

And you quickly put an end to this before Xavier started explaining how babies are made out of spite.

“Great job, hunter Elio. Mission accomplished!”

At that, Elio’s eyes lit up and he nodded, happily,

“I’ll go brush teeth…”

With that, he ran off.

Xavier turned around and looked at you in betrayal,

“Why would you tell him to speak to you like that?”

He asked calmly, but the dark look in his eyes gave him away.

You embraced him, hugging his waist and leaning your head into his chest,

“Let’s just say curiosity got the best of me~”

The look Xavier gave you would’ve had anyone else shaking, you just giggled and intertwined your fingers with his,

“We should check up on all the kids!”

Xavier sighed quietly, following you,

“Don’t think I won’t get my revenge, once all the kids are asleep.”

3K notes · View notes

saymio · 6 months ago

Text

Silent Obsession

Pairing: Hwang In-ho (the front man) x Fem!reader

Summary: your husband was missing, and all you did for days was stay at home crying your eyes out...waiting for your dearest husband to come home. this was until inho had decided to come give you a little visit while you were all alone and vulnerable.

Warning: dead dove: do not eat, noncon, degradation, light bdsm, manipulation, In-ho is obsessed with you, rough sex, mentioned age gap (20 years), cheating (not rlly), there might be more but I'm too lazy to write it.

A/N: not proof read. this takes place during s1. (most/all of the beginning contains junho x reader content)

7.2k Words

...

it was 2015, just a few days ago your boyfriend junho had invited you to meet his family on the day of his brothers birthday. his brother was turning 40 and they were hosting a small party, just a few people... and your boyfriend thought this would be a great time to invite you to meet his mom and brother. he was ecstatic at the thought, he really wanted his family to get to know you since last year he had met yours. and he was really serious about you... but it would be an understatement to say you were nervous. hell, you were scared. you wanted to leave a good impression on his family, this was the man you wanted to marry. if his mom didnt approve of you what could you say? she was wrong? that her opinion didn't matter? these thoughts swarmed your head for hours every day....

junho was driving the two of you from your small shared apartment to his moms place. you were sitting in the passenger seat as you stared out the window of the car, you were shaking... not from the cold but from the anxiousness you were brimming with. your fingers tapped against the interior of the car, your nails making a clicking sound every time they touched the material. "are you cold y/n? I told you itd be cold today..you should've worn a bigger jacket" junho glanced at you for a second before staring back at the road and sighing. he hated when this happened, when youd be so insistent in not 'ruining' your outfit that you wouldn't pay attention to whether you'd be cold or not. this always happens! ..but he always wears a jacket for you. because he knows you'll end up shivering from the cold gusts of wind and he cant stand the thought of you suffering from the freezing temperatures. you let out a small chuckle, it was barely over a whisper but junho heard you loud and clear. "why're you laughing.." he frowned a little, not because he's upset or mad at you but just because you werent taking the situation that seriously. "what if you catch a cold? at least think about me when you dress this way..you know I hate when you're in pain.." the last part of his sentence was soft and quiet, as if he was murmuring to himself..making sure you wouldn't hear him. "stop worrying so much babe...I'm not cold or anything.. just a little jittery, its my first time meeting your family after all." you giggled at his genuine worry for you, he was such a drama queen. making these small actions seem so much more serious then they were..but its something that made you love junho. how kind and protecting he was of the people he cared about. "nervous? you don't have to be nervous y/n...I'm sure they'll love you." junho's right hand made its way to your left hand. holding it tight before giving you a soft gentle smile. his ability to sooth you with just his smile had to be studied, he truly was an angel on earth to you, like he had a halo on his head 24/7. you leaned forward a little and left a quick peck on his cheek, quickly leaning back down to your seat and looking away from him. but at the corner of junhos eyes he could see how red you've gotten...he thought it was adorable. how the two of youve been dating for 2 years but you still got flustered over small kisses. you were so innocent and kind, the exact woman he needed in his life...

but little did junho know, he was right. his family did love you..especially his brother.

you had arrived at his mothers house, .. your nerves were spiking, how should you introduce yourself? what if the cake you made was still raw? what if inho doesn't like his present? these thoughts ran through your head as you two waited for someone to open the door. your finger nails tapping against the box the cake you had made was in. the sound deafening you as you just wanted the damn door to open already. you really just hoped youd make a good impression... after what felt like an eternity the door opened, behind to door revealed the birthday boy himself, Hwang In-ho. junho just shook his hand before you bowed at him slightly before shaking his hand and introducing himself briefly. "happy birthday In-ho, my names y/n" In-ho just nodded coldly at you, if the harsh winds outside didn't freeze you his stares did. he stepped aside, allowing the two of you in. he lead the both of you up the apartment complex stairs, your heels making a loud click sound echo though the staircase with every step you took. after only a bit of walking up stairs you had reached the door to where the party was being hosted.. . . when junho had told you itd be a 'party' you expected a family gathering with like 15 people, but upon arrival you quickly realized..it was truly just him, his brother and mom celebrating inho's birthday today. you were pleasantly surprised, you hated large groups of people..it made you skittish and always super nervous. so just 3 other people being there calmed your nerves down, alot. the apartment was small and cozy, very homey and nice. his mother had made a mini feast with delicious foods and decorated the place with a few balloons and banners. it was a seemingly wholesome sight of a mother doing something nice for her sons special day, it made your heart warm up inside your chest as you took a seat at the table. "hi honey, what's your name?" junho's mother grabbed one of your hands, cupping it with the both of hers. you felt yourself blush and smile, you had barely even been inside yet his mother was being so kind already. her soft gentle voice, and kind soft eyes. it was everything that's junho was. "y/n, what about you miss?" you were trying your best to be as polite as possible, you didn't want to tip her off and cause her to hate you.. but you felt kind of uncomfortable.. inho..he was staring at you alot. and it was like he wasnt trying to hide it, his dark eyes piecing into your soul. as if he were looking for the innocence inside of you... to take it away from you. the entire day just led to you getting more and more uncomfortable. you weren't able to stare into his eyes because you felt if you did he would just jump onto you not giving a shit about his mother and brother being there too. "y/n, what would you say if your favorite thing about junho?" inho spoke, his deep voice sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.. this entire atmosphere..it was odd. but it was like only you caught onto it. you stared at inho before turning to junho...he was blushing. he tried keeping a stoic face but you could tell he was getting flustered before you even spoke. his ears tinted in a light pink an so was his neck. "ah.. well his kindness..I think its the main reason I fell in love...he's very kind and soft spoken to people. at least until they do something wrong..but either way he's an angel." a gentle smile took over your face, you stared at junho and then at inho to continue your sentence..it was obvious you were head over heels for this man.. "he's just a very likable man." inho smiled at you, not speaking a word but it was like his face said them all for you. but they weren't the words you'd expect a caring older brother to say, it was more like a .. 'wow how nice.' but in a sarcastic tone.. his mother on the other hand.. "aww how sweet! young love, its so beautiful." she clasped her hands together before grabbing your forearm and staring up at you with twinkling eyes, it was like she was already envisioning your wedding and family with junho. "promise me you'll take care of my son, okay?"

it was a little past 10pm by now, everyone had eaten a slice of cake and junho's mother adored it. junho was right, his mom did love you. she was already talking about marriage and how she wouldnt be surprised if you made the wedding cake because the one you had brought today was "just too delicious!" you laughed and giggled at her antics, your face flushed in embarrassment. you turned to look at inho, who was staring at you intensely. your happiness almost instantly vanished as you shuffled in your chair. maybe he was upset you hadn't given him his gift yet...that should do it!! maybe he'd stop once you did. "a- inho, I brought you a gift." his eyes widened and it had seemed like he just heard life changing news, maybe he really was just sulking over a present..it was kind of cute. you grabbed your bag from your feet next to you and shuffled around until you found a yellow box, you pushed it towards inho and smiled. your tried your best to give a genuine, heartfelt smile even though you felt uncomfortable with all his glances and stares. he smiled at you, this time it seemed a little less fake...but still not genuine. he opened the box, it was a watch. a very beautiful one. it was shimmering under the dinning room light, a light white silver with simple but detailed engravings on the band of the watch. it was beautiful and it definitely wasn't the cheapest, you don't remember how much it was exactly since you had bought it the same day junho had told you about his brothers birthday..but you knew it was enough to make you wince at the receipt. "I left the receipt folded under the cloth Incase it isn't to your li-" you were cut off by inhos voice, it was calm, not as cold as it was before..it was rather soothing even.. "no. its perfect." he put the watch on, adjusting it so it fit his wrist perfectly. you felt your lips creep into a wide smile, you were so glad this day was going perfectly. "wow, that's such a pretty watch! it must've costed you a lot." their mother interrupted the two of you, staring at the watch that sat on inhos wrist and then at you. "inho, say thank you! be polite." she hit the back of his head harshly, as if she were scolding a little kid... you laughed at the scene, mothers truly see their children as their babies forever. "no- its okay miss don't wo-" it seemed like today was full of interruptions and cut offs as inho did just it again. "thank you y/n, I appreciate it a lot." his face was blank again, no readable expression was there.. but based off his passed reactions..you felt he was being sincere. . . . "thank you miss, thank you inho." you bowed at the both of them while you stood at the front door with junho, showing your gratitude for their kindness and patience with you and your boyfriend. "of course honey, please come back any time you want." junho's mother grabbed your hand one more time, inho nodded along with her. he wasn't a man of many words but it seemed his scary demeanor had vanished. maybe it was never even there and you were just nervous..either way you were glad you didn't leave the house with a weird feeling about your boyfriends brother. juho's mother then shoo'd the two of you away, telling you it was late and you shouldn't stay up so late at such a young age... you felt happy. a warm feeling sat in your heart and stomach, it was like you had just found your second family.

time skip (5 years)

there you sat in the police station, its been days since youve last seen your husband. you were sobbing into the palm of your hands, the salty liquid dripped onto your long dress as you drained ever drop of water from your body. you were terrified. what happened to him?? where was he?? what had he gotten into? you were devastated to say the least, you explained with a shaky and quaky voice that your husband had just told you he was off to investigate his brothers vanishment and would be back by the night..like always! so when you woke up and he wasn't there you just felt dread. you texted him and texted him all day to no response. when he didn't come back for the second day you reported him missing. you reported this story to the police about 9 times already, everyday since you reported him missing you came to the police station for any clues or help..an obviously everyday they told you the same thing...that they had nothing. the only reason they didn't push you off to the side when you came in was well..because your husband worked for them. he was a police officer under them, it'd feel disrespectful to you and junho if they just told you to give up hope on finding your husband. maybe you'd stop after another week or two..you'd realize whatever fate inho had found was the same junho ended to aswell... and not only that but you were pretty, kind and in obvious distress over your husband. they'd feel like they just kicked a sick puppy in the stomach if they told you to go away. so every day, at 8am you come in. usually in a pretty sundress but your state of mind isn't as pretty. your eye bags were prominent and you seemed to constantly be in a state of dissociation.... "you promise there's nothing? please double check! please..I need my husband back. you don't understand" your words were exasperated and rushed, you wanted answers, your husband, closure, anything! your breaths were getting heavy as you reached your delicate hand to the tissue box on the desk infront of you. you felt yourself breaking down, more and more, every. day. the police officer let out a breathy sigh, he was trying his very best to not tell you off. to tell you to go back to your home and cry there or something. to stop wasting his time every single fucking day.. but he couldn't. and he wouldn't. not when your state was some of the worst he's seen in his years of being an officer. "listen ma'am, there seems to be a dead end a-" you slammed your hand onto the table, one still holding the now damp tissue as you started to cry harder. you shook your head violently, indicating a very obvious no...or in this case obvious denial. "no. there..there isn't a dead end. he's alive and he needs your help!! please..please keep searching i-i'll.." you started to dig into your purse, the same one junho had gifted you for your 5th anniversary not long before this whole ordeal. when you felt what you were looking for you snatched it out your bag, like it was grabbing it, stealing it from your grasp. "h-here..d-dont stop searching please. I'll give you this..p-please.." in between words you started to cry more, tears streaming down your cheeks and dripping off your skin. your head was lowered and you were looking at your lap. you didn't want to stop looking for him. you wouldn't stop until you knew he was safe. "ma'am...you don't have to give me money for doing my job." he slid the stack of money that you had taken from your purse back to you and shook his head in disapproval. "listen.. sigh we're trying our best okay? we arent just laying around doing nothing, he was our coworker and we want to find him as much as you do.." he looked away from your depressing state, you were catching your breath and shaking, your fists were curled into balls. it was clear, even though he was an officer that he didn't want to find junho nearly as much as you did..he didn't think it would even be possible to. "just..take a break. you're overwhelming yourself and it isn't good for you. junho is strong and you know this, so just believe in him and his ability to live..."

the officer opened a drawer that was next to his seat, it was a little pile of candies.. he grabbed a handful and handed you a few. with a shaky hand you took the candies, your eyes were red and puffy. it was painfully obvious that you had just broken down in tears. you didnt want to speak but it was obvious by the way you acted, that all you wanted right now was for your husband to come back into your embrace. "if you want I can step out and let you calm down." the officer stares at you, awaiting the answer that would leave your lips. "no..its okay.. i-...whatever. thank you, I will take a break to calm down and compose myself. please have a good day." you mumbled the first few words, like a scared child who had just gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar and is now making up an excuse. you let out a loud sigh before you stood up from your chair, rubbing your tired, sore eyes before fixing your hair and grabbing your bag. you turned around right as you were in front of the office door, you bowed at the officer to show your gratitude as you proceeded to touch the cold metal handle of the door and creaked it open. with a click of the door closing you were walking away from the room you had just broken down in.

there you were, sitting on the edge of the bed you and your husband shared. it felt cold every time you sunk your body into the soft mattress..cold and empty. you weren't used to this, you were used to your husband coming home from work and giving you a kiss. slipping into the soft blankets together as you worked as heaters for each other's bodies. you didn't like this. you didn't want this. you flopped your upper torso onto the bed, causing it to make a squeaking sound to the sudden pressure. your legs were dangling off the side of the bed as you stared up into the ceiling. the world around you felt hazy, like everything that surrounded your body was just an empty void of nothingness. the world was meaningless without junho. you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier...until they had finally closed shut.

knock... knock... knock you jolted up from your bed, who was here at this time? it's like 2am... you stared at the closed bedroom door, thinking about if it was a good idea to open the doorm. you're a young woman alone at her house at 2am...what if it was a sex trafficker trying to kidnap and rape you!!?? knock... knock... knock the loud but slow knocks echoed throughout the house, the knocks took a 3 second pause inbetween..it was so creepy.. it made your skin crawl.. bu...what if...what if the police have clues about junho and came to talk to you about it they heard of it!! or..what if junho had finally come home..... these thoughts rand through your head, you were scared of what might be behind of that door. but not scared enough to not open it. you slowly got up from your bed, making it squeak under the pressure of your body. your soft slippers made a swooshing sound against the wooden floors as you shuffled your way to the front door... knock... knock.... knock there it was...the knocking. you couldn't help but feel this dry lump from in your throat, but you had to do it...you needed to make sure... if it was some stranger you'd just slam the door on them and go and hide in a closet or something.. your swallowed the lump in your throat and placed your palm on the cold metal of the handle, unlocking it with a small click and turning it clockwise so that it opened the door.. you didn't open it alot, just enough to see who was on the other side. your eyes stared at the dark soulless eyes In front of you, it was a random man. you had no idea why he was here or what he wanted..but he looked very familiar..maybe he was an off duty cop that just wanted to check up on you..? "h-hello..? how can I help you..." your voice was small and quiet, barely above a whisper as you used the door as some kind of shield from the strange man. "yes. you can." you stared up at the man with confused puppy dog eyes, what did that even mean?? you furrowed your eyebrows and squinted your eyes as you stared at him..you were about to close the door on the strange man until something clicked inside of you. you recognized where he was from.. "inho?! w-what? what are you.." your judgmental facial expression quickly changed into one of shook and worry, was he here to see junho? how would you break the news that his brother was now missing too?? you raised your small hand to your mouth, covering it in shock..you didn't even know what to do....what should you say..? your eyes started to water and tear up, you were reminded of the harsh reality junho was in..he was seriously missing and now the person he went missing looking for was In front of you...it seemed like everyone was just against you. mocking the disappearance of your husband. "what...are you doing here? a-are you here for junho..he's.." you let out choked sighs after every other word, taking your hands from your mouth to your entire face. you were a crying mess In front of a man you barely knew, it was so embarrassing. you were so pathetic and sad. everyone's been telling you to just get over it but here you are, sobbing for what felt like the 6th time today. a loud sigh snapped you out of your saddened state,, but...it wasn't a sigh of disapproval or frustration...it was like a sigh of...desire. like he was getting off to the sight your sobbing, scared and fragile body. "you're doing this on purpose, you have to be." you stared up at inho with confusion. you eyebrow was raised, as if asking him what the fuck he meant by that. before you could even mutter a word he pushed you, really harshly. you went flying back into your home, head hitting the hard wood. you felt yourself getting dizzier and dizzier for a few seconds...you felt like you couldn't move, speak or even see anymore...your head was spinning and alarms were ringing from the inside of your head..until you were passed out.

you woke up... you were sitting in the middle of the dining room, it seemed like someone had moved the table and other chairs out the way as it was literally only you. you and the chair you were sitting on. the room was barely lit up, you could only see some of your surroundings due to the singular light that was on. the ligh that bulb was right on top of you..it felt like you were about to get interrogated for murder,,you were terrified. for you wanted to scream, cry and just run away from what was happening. but you couldn't. your ankles were tied onto the legs of the chair. your arms and torso were bounded to the chair itself with a thick rope., it was digging into your skin hard..it hurt. alot.. you wanted to squirm around and get yourself free but you knew you'd just end up knocking the chair down and you'd be stuck in an awkward position..you tried to start screaming but you couldnt, you were confused..it was like your mouth was glued shut.....your eyes darted around the room, looking for anyone, anything to help you. it took you a second for you to put the pieces together but.. once you did you realized.. your mouth was duck taped shut. you didn't know what to do, you were overwhelmed and you just wanted your husband back to you. you closed your eyes shut as warm salty tears fell from your eyes. your eyes just couldn't catch a break, could they? they were tired and sore. even when you werent sleepy it hurt to open and close the..a result of crying for days.. you just wanted to feel happiness again. but clearly that wasn't going to happen soon. was your fate going to be the same as your husbands? were his kidnappers after you to sew your mouth shut?? you didn't want to die..at least not because you got closure.. "you shouldn't cry Infront of me. its a bad idea. I have a thing for little girls that look pretty when they cry." your head jumped forward, looking at the figure that had stepped out the shadows surrounding you.. your eyes widened, remembering that inho had been the one that knocked you over and caused you to black out. the same man that had gone missing 5 years ago, the same man that your brother went missing looking for.. what was he doing here? was he here to kill you? to keep you silent? to assault you? thoughts rand through your head as he took large, slow steps towards you. as if he was mocking your frightened state. he reached his right hand out towards you, your eyes landed on the silver watch he was wearing. it seemed so similar to the one you had gifted all those years ago..but no way he would still be wearing it, right? before you could even process another thought his hand gripped at your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to literally stare up at him. the roughness of his grip made you wince in pain..he didn't come here with intentions of being nice and if you didn't realize that person you definitely realized that now. you tried to scream and kick your feet, you knew the tape and rope would stop your attempts and make them useless but you still tried. your screams just came out as diluted, muffled noises. the tape had stopped you from making any loud noises... the chair under your only shook a little but it wasn't enough to lighten the grip inho had on your hair. his dark, soulless eyes stared you down. they were like black orbs, nothing behind them. he grinned at you, like he was watching a cartoon and a character had did something funny. he was laughing at you. he thought this was funny. "you look so stupid, you do know that the tape will just silence all your screams, right? or are you too young and dumb to understand that yet." he tilted his head at you and gave you a mockingly confused expression. he was having the time of his fucking life while you were here, scared for your damn life. you glared at him, trying to intimidate him..doing anything to scare him...trying to find the little humanity in him that feels sympathy was clearly never going to happen. so you had to try another approach..even if it wasn't going to work either... and your suspicions were right ..

he just smiled at you, another mockingly fake smile... he released his hand from the grip he had on your hair and pinched your cheeks, just as roughly as he did with your hair. leaving a red mark when he let go... it was like he was treating you like you were a pouting child, stomping your feet because your mom didn't let you buy the comically huge lollipop you really wanted. "youre not scary sweetie." the pet name made you want to throw up in your mouth. he knew well you were his sister in law but here he was, calling you pet names with his disgusting voice. " you know..ive had my eyes on you since i met you...you're just so gorgeous..and delicate." he took a short but slow walk around u and stopped to stand behind you. his cold hands reached to your face and covered your eyes. you couldn't see anything but you knew he was leaned up in your ear...you could feel his hot breath making you unnervingly uncomfortable. "I just wanna ruin you." your breathe hitched in your throat, he was going to rape you. you know it, you had to fight back, you had to. you couldn't let a man that wasn't your husband put his dick inside you. inho took his cold hands away from your face and walked back in front of you. you glanced down at his crotch and...there was a bulge...he was getting off to your scared shape. he truly was an emotionless sadist.. he held up his index finger to your covered lips. "shh. make any noise and I wont think twice about killing you and your husband." your eyes widened as you heard the last part...that meant your husband was alive..and he knew where he was. you nodded slowly, complying with his words. he ripped the piece of tape off your mouth, causing you to let out a yelp in pain. you stared at him with a frightened face, you realized you had just made a loud sound...you didn't want to die you didn't..you didn't want your husband to die! "I said. be quiet." the truth with inho was, he had already killed your husband..at least he thought he did. only a day ago did he shot junho, causing him to fall off the side of the island...he probably drowned and is floating lifeless in the sea right now.. but you didnt need to know that...and it was clear you weren't even aware. your mouth was shut and you tried to silence your heavy rapid breathing....you really did love your husband..he wanted to steal that love from junhos grasp. he leaned down, his face was now perfectly aligned with yours... you wanted to say something, you wanted to scream and cry but if you did he'd kill you...you knew he would... his left hand started to rub your cheek, it was gentle and warm but it just made you hate it even more...his fake kindness. you hated it. his lips connected with yours, at first it seemed like he was trying to be gentle but it was obvious he had quickly gotten bored of it before he got rough. your teeth were clashing with each other as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. exploring every inch of it before he started to nip at your lips...he was aggressive and messy. everything junho wasn't.. this wasn't the kind of kiss you wanted or craved. you felt like your eyes were sewn shut the way you refused to open them, you didn't want to stare at inho. you just wanted this to end..maybe once it did you'd finally have your husband back. after what felt like hours of making out he has finally took his chapped lips off of your soft ones. a string of saliva connected the two of you as he caught his breath. you opened your eyes to stare at him, they were watery..your tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you caught your breath. to inho you eyes were like glass marbles...and he wanted to shatter them into pieces. you took deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. if you were calm it wouldn't be as bad. you read this inside your mind over and over and over again. you just prayed he would use you quickly and then leave... "you know, that day..the day where junho has brought you to our mothers house for my birthday.." his eyes wandered away from you, as if he were recalling the day in exact detail, scene by scene...

his eyes snapped back to yours, holding intense eye contact until he continued his sentence... "when I asked you what you loved most about junho you told me you loved his kindness. you said he was a soft person..an angel in your eyes." he crouched down, staring at you with intense eyes. his sharp features were like daggers, stabbing one by one into your heart. "you told me you loved something about him that I lacked. I'm not a kind person. and right now..you probably think I'm the devil instead of an angel like my brother.." he smiled at you, it was a cold, fake smile. if you touched his face right now it'd probably be ice cold.. "thats how I knew someone like you would never willingly be with a man like me.. but it's okay, I'll just force myself onto you." you started to cry, the salty liquid streamed down from your cheeks to your chin. your eyes were red and puffy, you didn't know what to do. you didn't want to be with this man, you didn't want this. inhos left head reached to your face, this time he squeezed the both of your cheeks so that your lips were puckered at him. "got it, princess?" he leaned in to kiss you again, this time he went aggressive right away. forcing his tongue into your mouth, some of your tears dripped onto his mouth. letting him taste the saltiness of your sadness. and it was delicious.

there you sat, he had freed your ankles from the restraints on the chair. nipping and licking at your clit. you hated this, you couldn't stop crying. you felt disgusting, a man that wasn't your husband was licking and eating your pussy out. why would you let this happen? at this point death felt better than breaking your husbands heart. you lets out cries and soft no's as he slurped your juices. you hated that it felt good, you hated that he knew what he was doing. your moans and mewls filled the room, followed with wet sloppy sounds of spit and cum mixed together. he's been eating you out for what felt like hours, you've probably came like 3 times already. you were getting tired..your legs were shaky, trying to close in on themselves but inhos arms kept them wide open for you. "p-please stop. I don't like thi-this...ah...please..let me go already..please.." you were begging with him, your eyes were shaky, your face was flushed and your lips were wet from his aggressive kisses. god. the scene of you begging for him to stop as he abused your clit was one he wanted engraved in his mind forever. he let go of your pussy with a loud pop, your juices and his spit was all over his mouth and chin. he looked like a wild animal that had just eaten his prey alive. with his sleeve he wiped off the liquid on his face. 'ruining' his all black jacket. "you want me to stop but your cum is all over my face and lips. you want me to stop but you keep moaning. just admit you're a slut for me." you close your eyes shut, shaking your head viciously, you don't want him. you don't want this. you just want your husband to be safe. that's all you want... inho scoffs at you, as if you were lying to his face. maybe he truly did believe you wanted this..that you wanted him.. but you knew it wasn't true, you knew that you loved junho and that you werent fighting back back because you just wanted him back.. you'd break down in tears in his arms once he comes home, you'll explain it when he's home. he'd understand..right..? you were lost in your thoughts, but reality snapped you out of them.. 2 long fingers were inside of your core, curling and pumping in and out... it hurt so much. it was nothing like you were used to, slow paced and gentle..no..it was fast and rough. you let out a cry, you were in so much pain it made you want to go insane. the rope that was still tied around your arms and waist dug into your skin, burning you as you struggled under the restraints..trying to find a way out. it felt like inhos was trying to split you in half, the rough skin on his finger pads only made it worse. but ofcoourse it had to feel good, because he knew what he was doing. even if it was messy, even if it was rough, even if you didn't like it..he knew how to make a woman feel good past all the pain. he tilted his head up towards you, his dark almond eyes burned holes into yours. "you gonna cum?" instead of a question, it felt like a demand. demanding you to answer yes, scaring you into saying yes.. but you didn't say yes, you said no. you shook your head and mouthed no to inho, not daring to say it out loud..and it obviously made him upset. he sneered at you before grabbing is free hand and pinching your clit before speeding the pace of his fingers. this was something you've never felt before, the pleasure finally overshadowed the pain and it felt like he had just forced your orgasm out of your body. your cum coated his digits, leaving a slightly milky white color on them.. you were catching your breath, it was hard to breath..the pain, anxiety and fear were catching up to you...you felt your throat slowly closing on you..you felt like you couldn't even breath enough air to supply your lungs are this point.. you were so caught up in your own world that you didn't even realize how he was pressing against the bulge that was begging to be freed from his trousers..he stared at you with bleak eyes, there was nothing behind them...nothing but desire and want..you were scared witless of what he would do to your poor body next. and whatever it was, you didn't want it

the bed was creaking under you, the same bed you and juho slept in everyday... you legs were pressing onto your stomach, the skin rubbing against each other. inho was slamming his cock in and out of you.. touching spots you didn't even know could be reached before this. you felt horrible for feeling so good. but you didn't want this. you were a crying moaning mess. your nails were digging onto his hands, the ones that were pressing you down. you were begging for him to stop, you didn't want this..you felt like you were being forced into this. with the life of your husband on the line.. inho let go of your left thigh and reached to your neck. his freezing hand sending shivers through your body as he started to choke you whilst pounding in and out of you..destroying your gummy insides. he lowered his face to you and scoffed, you looked so pathetic. crying and sobbing acting like you weren't enjoying his fat cock. why wouldn't you just admit you liked it for once? "acting like youre the victim while my cocks deep inside of you. is this all women do? complain about everything..just admit you like it. I wont tell." you felt so degrading. you were getting fucked by a man you barely knew on the bed your missing husband and you slept on every day at somepoint. using his life against you and now he's blaming you? was it really your fault? could you have just turned him away and still gotten junho back? was that an option that you weren't told about? you started crying, your weak arms pushing against his chest with no avail. you just wanted it to stop, you were in pain and now you're being told its your fault you're in this situation. you can never win. you began to sob louder, begging him to let you go, louder and louder until you were wailing like a stupid baby. your hand grasped at the tight grip he had on your neck, then to his chest to push him away again. "shut up." he snarled before taking off his hand from your neck, he had left a bruise from how hard he was gripping...with the same hand he harshly slapped you. shutting your cries up quickly. a red spot started to quickly form, your skin was now irritated in what felt like every place on your body.. "you're such a slut. taking the dick of a man 20 years older than you on the very bed your husband would sleep on. do you not feel ashamed? hmm?" he hummed at you, waiting for your reply. but you didn't even mutter a word, nothing. you decided you'll just take it with no noise, if you stay quiet up maybe it'll end faster?.. it should...shouldn't it..you were trying to comfort yourself in your head.. "you can keep trying to tell yourself otherwise but youre nothing but a dirty cheater. taking dick like a good girl. this probably isn't the first time youve done this huh?" he laughed at your now soulless face, he was right when he said he wanted to ruin you. he was doing that, and it got worse with every second that passed. "ffuck I'm close. you better cum or else I'll js' keep on using you until you do." you started to tear up, your clit twitching and your hole began to clench around his cock. you felt good, but terrible at the same time..you doubted he was cumming because he thought you felt good though, it was a factor but it was probably your shape that made him so horny. you were sad, in pain...tired... he got off to it so bad. you let out quiet pants and moans, indicating to inho that you were close too. he started to get sloppy, his pace getting even faster as the wet slapping sound of skin filled your ears to the brim. you felt your clit pulsating, begging for release...once you came you'd be free..you'd be...you'd be....be.. "a-aa.. fuck fuck fuckfck fuck! ouOUGH~" you let out loud, filthy moans. probably for the first time that night, instead of your cries it was your moans and whimpers that the room was now brimming with. inho loved the sound of your noises, your cries, moans, everything. God it made him so horny...once he felt you cum all over his cock he let his go through as well. fucking his orgasm into you deeper, and deeper with a loud groan..

he kept moving slowly, fucking you through your orgasm as your breathes calmed down.. "I want to ruin every inch of kindness and hope for humanity you have left in you. you're so perfect. perfect to corrupt.." his hand raised to your cheek and started to rub it 'lovingly'. you had a feeling he wasn't going to let you go like he had told you he would.

...

Another not: I FINALLY FINISHED YAY took me like all day again but ....yay!! I hope u guys liked it. I'm pretty proud of it but idk if its ooc or not... but SMASH THE LIKE BUTTON N HIT SUBSCRIBE 4 MORE..!!!!!!!

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

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celiababy · 6 months ago

Text

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow.

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare at you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.

#joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us hbo #smut #one shot #drabble #tlou fanfiction

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