#loving you means to fall in love with loneliness

[resonancewitness]

Loving me, you said, would mean falling in love with loneliness. 

But you should write, you said, your letters help me remember

our beginnings, the curve of your lips, what we are hoping for. 

Across the distance, amidst work travels, under surveillance, 

I want to help you remember. I want to help myself hope. 

I wish I could be in two places at once. I wish I could

steal you away from the mobs, keep you safe and happy, 

hide you selfishly in my sleeve, everyday, forever.

I wish I could, like the magical heroes of old, 

transfer my energy to help you heal.

In the meanwhile, bodies and souls thirst for sweetness, 

carry the ardent flame hidden, deep under the cool façade,

it is not easy to be a passionate youth this season. 

But I don’t wish to free myself from longing for you. 

Waiting for you, worrying that I will be forced to leave 

before you arrive, let me remind you what is that we are missing. 

From my memory and imagination to yours, let these 

blazing images drive you also, as they are driving me, 

marching double time, day and night, keeping the long view, 

running to you with all I have. 

[longagoitwastuesday]

One thing about me is that I will stand by basically every bad deed of my favourite characters fully aware of them being bad deeds. I just don't care

[noxtivagus]

i love love ffxiv sm fr (to the edge)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Angel || LN4

Summary: Kingsday gets a little wild, in honour of Lando’s nose. Warnings: alcohol, injuries, blood WC: 1.7k

Lando wasn’t drunk, but he was by no means sober either. Everyone had warned him the Kingsday event was a marathon not a sprint so he was taking it slow, sipping his rum and coke out of the orange paper cup while the river boat cruised its course.

By midafternoon it was another story completely.

Martin had taken a break and let a playlist continue the party without him on the deck while he went in search of Lando. The British driver had reached the point of being tipsy and fallen into a state of drunkenness where he could no longer block out his intrusive thoughts. Everywhere he looked couples were dancing or making out and he couldn’t help the despair of loneliness that separated him from the fun.

Leaning back on the cushions that covered the bow, Lando looked up to the bright blue sky and wondered why he couldn’t find someone that loved him with the same passion he had. He was always the one to fall harder and knew it was why things didn’t work out long-term.

The half empty cup was stolen from his hand and Lando lolled his head to see Martin drinking it dry. “No more for you, my friend. Smile! It’s Kingsday: the sun is out and the music is loud.”

“Sorry,” Lando sighed, not quite able to muster up a real smile.

“What’s wrong?” Martin dropped onto a cushion beside him and nudged his shoulder until Lando spilled the thoughts he was harbouring.

—

“These heels are killing me,” you complained as they wobbled on the cobblestone. “Can we stop for a minute?”

There were groans from some of the guys in the group but their girlfriends silenced them. You smiled gratefully at your friends but knew they were in just as much pain after hours of drinking in the city for Kingsday. The thought of walking any further to the house party someone had invited everyone to nearly had you calling for a taxi, despite the chances of getting one next to nothing.

“Lennon said there will be tons of single guys at the party. In that dress you will totally pull a 10,” Sarah said as she leaned back against the bridge rail and rolled each ankle to ease the ache.

You laughed at the statement and mirrored her position, careful not to drop the glass you had accidentally stolen from the last bar. “Getting laid isn’t the problem, it’s getting the guy to stick around afterwards.”

“Relationships are overrated,” she said, blowing a kiss to Lennon when he looked her way and raised a brow. “Not ours, baby.”

You sighed longingly as they shared a smile. “I want what you guys have.”

“Well then you better hurry up because the love of your life might just be waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

You rolled your eyes but decided that you would continue the walk barefoot and put your heels back on when you got to the house. Leaning against the rail, you balanced on one foot and reached for your heel just as a drunkard went flying past on his e-bike.

“Ah, shit!” you screamed as you lost your balance, toppling back over the rail and straight towards the murky water below.

—

Martin yawned as he listened to Lando’s long winded explanation for why he was alone and all his friends were in relationships.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was putting you to sleep,” he sassed.

“Well if you want some advice, from someone in a relationship, you’re not helping yourself moping around. For starters, you need to get up,” Martin encouraged as he rose to his feet and offered his friend a hand before the sunlight disappeared, the boat passing under one of the many bridges. “Love isn’t going to just fall into your lap-”

A scream pierced the air before a flurry of orange material crashed onto Lando, both their eyes squinting to readjust to the bright sunlight out of the tunnel.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you realised you were still alive and you looked around to see what had broken your fall. “Holy shit, I am so sorry!”

A stunned man sat beneath you and you reached for his face as you noticed the blood running down his nose. “Oh my god, did I do that? Are you alright? Shit, you probably don’t speak English.”

“He speaks English. It’s getting him to shut up that’s the problem,” a man standing above you said with a laugh. “Lando, mate, snap out of it.”

You started to climb off his lap but his arms tightened around you and he shook his head with a wince. “Don’t move, you might have broken something.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you apologised again.

“Not me, you muppet,” he laughed. “You might have broken something.”

You patted yourself down, straightening your dress back into place at the same time, but everything felt fine. You tested your wrists and ankles too, only to notice you had indeed broken things.

“What’s the damage?” Lando asked.

“Ego mostly,” you admitted sheepishly. “I think I broke my heel on your face.”

“Pretty sure that was your glass,” he said looking at what remained in your hand, the sting of the cut on your palm finally appearing when you noticed the blood on the broken glass. “How bad is it? Am I hideous?”

“You are still a 10,” you giggled after noticing he was devastatingly handsome, even with the cut across his nose. Grabbing the hem of your dress, you gently dabbed the blood away before realising that it was a stupid idea. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”

“Rabies,” his friend joked.

“Speak for yourself, mate,” Lando shot back and while they bickered jokingly you heard your name called from the river bank. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Are you alive?” Lennon shouted as he ran along with the boat.

“Nope, I’ve died and gone to heaven!”

“I’ll let Sarah know!” He grew smaller as he stopped running and the boat continued downstream to some unknown destination.

“That’s my best friend’s boyfriend,” you explained as you patted your bra but found your phone missing. “Can I borrow your phone? I think mine drowned.”

Lando carefully shifted you so he could get to his pocket before settling you back on his lap. The grateful smile you gave him almost made him drop the device and he had to enter his passcode in twice before he got it right.

“Where is this boat heading to?” you asked as the dial tone connected. “Hey, it’s me, calm down, I’m alive.”

“Good, I’ll kill you myself! You gave me a fucking heart attack, woman!” You had to hold the phone away from your ear as she shouted her concern.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m sorry for giving you a heart attack.”

“As you should be! Len said you landed on some guy. Is he hot?”

Your face heated and you knew he had heard the question with the curious look on his face. “Mhmm, very.”

“You should invite him to the party and do a little sexy dance for him!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I kind of…broke his face.”

The silence was damning before you swore you heard her laugh from all the way upstream. “Only you could have the worst luck with men.”

“Trust me, I know all too well. Anyway, they are stopping at the Rose Bridge so I’ll just meet you guys there. Guess my luck isn’t all that bad.”

You ended the call and handed the phone back.

“What party are you going to?” Lando asked as he pocketed it again.

“I don’t know, it’s some house party. There’s a local DJ playing.”

Lando’s smile grew and he pointed to his friend. “Local DJ, ha!”

As it turned out the house party wasn’t actually a party at someone’s house and the DJ wasn’t just locally renowned. Once you were finally introduced to Lando’s friend you found out he was the DJ, Martin Garrix, and Lando was even more famous.

“I can’t afford a lawsuit,” you groaned when you realised you had practically assaulted a celebrity.

“It’s just a scratch,” Lando assured you after Martin found a first aid kick. His poor attempt at wrapping a bandage made Lando look like a mummy so you took the box yourself and found a couple of small butterfly stitches. “Nothing a kiss wouldn’t fix.”

You giggled at his flirty nature you had come to adore in the last hour and if you hadn’t drunk so much liquid courage at the bar you probably wouldn't have been able to lean closer and kiss his cheek. His skin was warm and soft beneath your lips and when you opened your eyes you found his blue eyes staring intently back. “Better?”

He shook his head. “Nope, I think it needs another try.”

“Hmmm, good idea.” You kissed his other cheek and grinned when he pouted. “No? One last try.”

Your fingers delighted in the feel of his soft hair as you combed the curls and dipped your head to his. Your heart rate spiked and you closed your eyes as you kissed his pillow-soft lips teasingly slowly before his hands cupped your face and he deepened the kiss.

You broke away with a small gasp and your eyes were wide with the want for more. It was a look reflected on Lando’s face as he gently stroked your heated cheeks.

“Hey, lovebirds! We’re here,” Martin called as the boat reached the canal edge.

You kicked off your broken heels and Lando frowned before he gave you his, looping his fingers into the straps of your shoes to carry them. You were already wearing his shirt since your dress had his blood on it and you were certain you looked at absolute mess.

“Ready to party, Angel?”

“Angel?”

“What else would I call a beautiful woman who fell from the heavens?” Lando wondered if he was making a mistake and moving to fast like he always did but it was too late, the question was already out there.

“You could call me your girlfriend.” You cringed in an instant. “I mean not tonight, that would be way too quick but-”

Lando cut you off with a kiss and you felt his smile against your lips before he asked, “How about tomorrow?”

[pprodsuga]

never to keep | heeseung

summary: heeseung was always a natural scene stealer, capturing the hearts and attention of those around him. it seemed predestined that he'd pursue a life that would take him beyond the cosmos and leave behind the constellations he once treasured. it's too bad that you were one of them.

warnings: angst and typos, probably.

word count: 8.6K (shorter than previous works, forgive me)

notes: ahahah. this is a therapy piece ... currently dealing with similar themes of a friend prioritizing work and people who don't care for her over people who do, and i feel veryyy conflicted as of late. i, like yn, am not a plaything. why not turn it into a fic. anyway, enjoy and happy reading! x

masterlist + taglist

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

If you love someone, they will always come back to you. 

There’s no logic in love, only strong emotions that make people disregard all they know to chase the feeling of reckless abandon. Love is a wildcard that can catch even the most self-protective person off guard. You’ve read it in stories from childhood fairytales to watching strangers fall in love in your favorite books and television shows growing up. You believe the people who kiss on the screen must surely find an ounce of love, even if only for a brief moment. 

It’s no surprise that you’ve come to love Heeseung the way you do. To love him is to know him, even if he’s too tired to see you on the weekends or too occupied to sit next to you at the lunch period because of his days training to become an idol. What you know at this point in your life is that love is unconditional; supporting your best friend to pursue a dream he’s talked about since he could speak feels right. 

To love somebody doesn’t necessarily mean to devote oneself to the fullest extent, but somehow you feel as though this way of thinking never quite aligned with how you’ve come to love. Heeseung’s parents are a surrogate for your own, especially when it’s just you and your mother in the small, two bedroom apartment that sits on the edge of town and away from the city. They tuck you in at night during holidays and other special occasions when you’ve become too tired to drive back to your home. 

Minjun, Heeseung’s younger sister by four years, warmed up to you quicker than anyone had expected. The fierce girl had a protective streak over her brother once he grew into his height and learned that winking at pretty girls could get them to do whatever he asked of them within reason. Minjun doesn’t recall when she met you for the first time because she was likely too young to remember, but her sweet nature towards you speaks louder than you could’ve ever anticipated. 

Growing up with a single parent as an only child provides enough time to befriend loneliness. There are days spent idly in the apartment waiting for someone to keep you company, often wishing that the house was filled with people to keep the void full and lively. But now, because of the Lee family and how close you’ve become to their two children, it seems as if the idea of a central family is closer than you think. 

Heeseung didn’t expect for you to become a prominent fixture in his life when the two of you were partnered for a science project at the ripe age of thirteen. He’d experienced a growth spurt and acne for the first time simultaneously, growing insecure in himself with every day that passed by. Heeseung hadn’t anticipated you sitting with his family at the dinner table five years later, listening to a mundane story about his mother’s workday at a boring corporate-level position Heeseung doesn’t bother to remember. 

He never thought you’d be cooking with his father in the kitchen upon returning home from his training practices, talking about the art of seasoning as the meal preparations come to a finish. He doesn’t remember when you started coming over without the pretense of coming to see him either. Heeseung surely does not anticipate Minjun waiting for your arrival by the front windows just to insist on being the first person who welcomes you into their home. 

Naturally, Minjun becomes a recognizable face in your life because of how often she spends time with you and Heeseung. The young girl sets up her homework as the two of you begin yours, her schoolbooks significantly lighter than yours but you make conversation anyhow. 

“I think she likes you because you don’t treat her like she’s thirteen,” Heeseung says as he dries the dishes from dinner as you scrub them clean. “She hates it when people baby her.” 

“Sometimes I think I need to watch how I talk to Minjun.”

“No, you don’t. Minjun likes that you talk to her like a friend.”

“That’s what she is, no? A friend?”

“More than me?”

You flick water towards Heeseung. “Yes, if you keep teasing me.” 

“Seriously, though. Thanks for being nice to her. She complains that she’s the youngest out of everybody all the time.”

“I used to be like that.” You close the tap water and hand the last dish to Heeseung. “I hated being at the kids table when everybody else got to be an adult. Minjun’s at the age where she’s aware of it.” 

“God, we sound like her parents, or something.”

You bite back a smile. 

Caring for Heeseung is arguably the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He makes it simple when you receive a text from him hours before you wake up and just before you go to bed despite his busy schedule. You wonder at all how he manages to fit you into his life with all of his dreams and responsibilities, but Heeseung always tells you it’s because there’s room for you. 

Being so close to his family helps internalize the fact that you are a permanent fixture in his life. Mrs. Lee drops off baked goods on Saturday mornings most times because she knows your mother likes to eat a sweet treat with her bitter coffee. Mr. Lee goes out of his way to fix faulty ceiling fans or kitchen drains when he has the time to spare your income. Minjun gives you drawings from her art classes that sit on your refrigerator. Integrating their life within yours feels natural. 

Heeseung has always been somebody you’ve looked up to, poised for success after deciding he loved singing enough to make a career out of it. The eight-year-old boy who loved to choreograph dance numbers to famous songs carries this humble beginning when he talks about what life might look like for him when he’s crossed the threshold that separates his life from now. 

It seemed as though Heeseung’s dream of becoming an idol never seemed too far out of reach, even if he had his moments where he felt like giving up. Things always worked out for him in ways nobody could explain, like moving to a new city because of his mother’s job and making friends within an hour of transferring to a new middle school. Or the time when he’d auditioned to train under a management company and hadn’t heard back from them for weeks–Heeseung prepared to stop giving himself false hope for his future as an idol until the fateful email sat at the top of his inbox, welcoming him to the company. 

Life was always easier on Heeseung than it was for everybody else. 

You don’t see him much between classes because he’s on a special path created for people who are like him. People who are destined to debut as an idol are given certain exemptions to ensure quality education while having enough time to train in all areas of performance art. It took a while for Heeseung to get used to his new life and the new routine set in place for him but you were always there to remind him that this is what he wants more than anything in the world. All of the stress and frustration that comes with change, no matter how brutal or unnerving, will be worth it when he sees his dream to the end. 

You’re a young adult at this point in your life but it feels like you’ve aged beyond your peers because of circumstance. Spending time at the Lee residence when your mom’s at work or visiting her friends prevents you from feeling as lonely as you do in between four white walls that barely feel like home without someone else in it. Growing up quicker than your peers feels like something expected of you. Oftentimes, you wish you could maintain childlike innocence as Heeseung does, dreaming so big and far that everything seems like a possibility if you dreamed hard enough. 

Watching him dance and hearing him sing feels like a reminder that there’s more to life than what you know. Your best friend is your confidant and the person you see yourself in the most. The boys and girls who befriend him because of his good looks and potential stardom don’t matter much to either of you when the promise of lifelong friendship looms in the future. You can’t imagine Heeseung not being in it. 

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit at the dining table over a cup of post-dinner coffee while Minjun scrolls through her phone by the couch with a Netflix show you’ve never heard of on the television. Their soft murmurs have become a familiar background noise. You sit next to Minjun and peer over her shoulder. 

“I like these shoes a lot,” she tells you as she turns the phone for you to see. “All the girls in my grade are wearing these.” 

“Do you like them because you like them or because everyone else does?” 

She frowns. “What’s wrong with liking what other people like?” 

“Nothing, but if you’re going to buy flats just for them to sit in the back of your closet, that doesn’t seem like a good reason to have them.” 

Minjun has approached the age you’re all too familiar with. When you turned thirteen, the impending doom of fitting in hit you like a truck when you realized all of the girls in your grade had expensive clothes while you wore hand-me-downs from your cousins. Your backpack, which you had been using for three years because the straps weren’t broken, felt like a burden to carry when everybody else had pretty satchels. You felt juvenile in your too-worn sneakers and the two pairs of jeans you had sitting in your closet. But you were thirteen and your mother made enough money to make ends meet and put dinner on the table. Clothing and new school materials didn’t matter compared to eating before bed. 

Part of this insecurity has always followed you throughout childhood, especially when you were old enough to be aware of the fact that you were one of the few people in your grade who didn’t have a nuclear family. The kinds of families you’d see on the television didn’t exist in real life because while these programs taught its audiences the value of a good, stable home life, you’d been watching them alone while you waited for your mother to come home from work. There would be no dinner at the table with both of your parents because you knew there would be just her.

Watching Minjun grow up with two parents who dote on her feels bittersweet. It feels like watching a version of what could have been if only your father had chosen to stay in the picture instead of abandoning his family for a promising career in entertainment. Minjun’s petulance often reminds you that you were not privileged enough to have this kind of grace because of how rapidly your circumstances forced you to grow up faster than your peers did. 

There’s a small part of you that envies her life when you think about what yours could have been if he had stayed. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to watch your mother slave away at odd jobs to keep the lights on before finding a good, stable job after years of searching. Maybe you wouldn’t have felt so lonely in your adolescence because he’d take you to ice cream after school. Maybe the hollowness that remains inside of you would have been filled with joy and laughter on the holidays. 

“You’re right,” Minjun sighs, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Seri told me my outfit would’ve looked prettier if I wore these.” 

“People should keep their opinions to themselves.” 

Minjun nods. “Agreed.” 

Heeseung emerges from the kitchen a moment later and sits next to you on the couch. The dip in the cushion and his thigh being pressed against yours isn’t a new phenomenon, but the heat that creeps up your neck can’t be helped when he looks like a model from the corner of your eye. You swallow until your mouth feels dry to keep both Lee siblings from asking why you look like you’re about to explode. 

It’s easy to fall in love with Heeseung. All of the girls fawn over him already, a promising sign that Heeseung will likely be just fine when he debuts as an idol. He’s always been good with people and speaks in a way that makes people root for his success even if it was unintentional to begin with. He’s charming in a way that seems humble. Heeseung has a skill for making you feel like you are the only person in the room when he talks to you. You’re sure it’s why people feel drawn to him and why everybody loves being around Heeseung so much. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. 

Sometimes, you grow envious of how easy it is for Heeseung to get people to like him. Career prospects aside, it’s almost as if he can convince anyone he’s somebody worth being friends with. Cashiers love him because he doesn’t make small talk awkward. He’s not afraid to talk to strangers and strike up a conversation with somebody while waiting for his coffee order. Heeseung is bashful enough to come across as sincere and it seems to reel people in. 

He inspires you in ways that you can’t fathom but simultaneously reminds you that you’ve got no future or prospect. It’s unfair to compare yourself to your best friend, but being in such close proximity where people praise him next to you are constant reminders that your life hasn’t begun and you don’t know if it ever will. Your life feels stagnant compared to his exciting one. While Heeseung spends his days and nights perfecting his dance techniques and vocal skills, you sit in your room and wonder what life would be like if you could touch the moon. 

There are days where you wish you could be as suave and charming as he can be. You feel awkward around people you don’t know and limit yourself to new experiences when it feels too intimidating. You’re not somebody who’s confident enough to start a conversation, let alone with somebody you aren’t familiar with. Where Heeseung excels in the socializing department, you find yourself playing catch-up every time you see him befriend yet another person you aren’t familiar with. It’s a wonder how you two became as close as you are.

Meeting him had been by chance. You knew him from friends of friends and saw him in the hallways between class periods but never had a reason to talk to him until the two of you were partnered for a class project. The newfound partnership felt oddly comfortable from the minute Heeseung introduced himself to you with that same charming smile everyone knows him to have. His wit and humor brewed the perfect potion for you to feel like caring for him as deeply as you do would become inevitable. It wasn’t a bet on if you would fall for him as hard as you did, but when. 

You’re inclined to believe you keep it hidden well. Heeseung is far too oblivious most times to see you as anything other than his best friend. You’ve treated him like a friend far longer than you’ve liked him romantically, so acting as if you don’t have feelings for him is easy when you remind yourself that having him in your life would be better than the alternative. Still, you have moments where you yearn to hold his hand and kiss him before he leaves for practice. 

“Do you want to come to the next showcase this weekend?” Heeseung asks, nudging your side with his elbow. You pry your attention away from Minjun’s phone to look at him. “It’s gonna be a small one in the company theater. There’s going to be a bunch of important people in the industry. Allegedly.” 

“Of course I’ll come, Heeseung. This is you we’re talking about. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

The smile he gives you is blinding. 

“I really appreciate you supporting me, you know that? I don’t say it often, but I should. Thank you for always supporting me.” 

Your heart bursts. 

“I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t do at least that,” you tell him. 

“My parents and Minjun are gonna be there too so you won’t be alone.” He smiles at you like he knew you were worried about who to sit with, let alone if there’s going to be important people that could determine Heeseung’s career. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, an overwhelming feeling of shyness overtaking you. “It’s silly that you have to look out for me all the time.” 

“No, not silly,” he says immediately, pushing his head to your shoulder. You don’t imagine this position is very comfortable for him, but Heeseung seems keen on staying in this position. “We’re kids, Y/N. You don’t need to have your life together. I’ll always look out for you and walk you through it if that’s what you need.” 

You sigh. “You know, one day, you’re going to become so famous that you’ll inevitably be too busy for me.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No I won’t. Who checks up on me every day after practice? Who do I come to when I need to cry? Who do I invite to my home when I’m not even here?”

“Technically, your parents invite me over when you’re not here.” 

Heeseung pinches your thigh. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re not getting rid of me. It’s like, scientifically impossible to separate the two of us.” 

“Thanks, Hee.” You feel him nod against you before he lifts his head from your shoulder. “I just feel like I get in my own head sometimes. You know what you want to do for the rest of your life and I barely know what I want for breakfast tomorrow.” 

“We don’t always have to figure it out. I know saying that feels like bullshit because I’m training to become an idol but I’m serious. There are so many people we know who don’t know what they’re doing with their lives.” 

“It feels like my life could very well be over.”

“You’re being dramatic.” 

You make a face at him. “I know.” 

“You’ll find something for you, okay? You’re barely an adult anyway. You still have college and all of that shit to figure it out.” 

“You’re right.” 

“As always.” 

“Don’t push it, Heeseung.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Mr. and Mrs. Lee drive you to the showcase. They pick you up and the four of you have a quick dinner before heading over to the company’s theater and you feel somewhat like an important industry person when you’re given a badge with ‘VIP’ on it to signify that you’re part of the family and friends entourage. You see a group of people with clipboards and pens at the ready, dressed like they’ve just come from important meetings that determine the futures of each trainee. Perhaps that’s who they are. Some of these well-dressed individuals have younger people standing beside them, presumably assistants or something as such. 

It feels very formal and you’re wondering if the long skirt and long sleeve top you’re wearing is too childish. Everybody who looks important seems to be donning suits or dresses that make them look like they stepped out of a drama show. It doesn’t matter how many times you remind yourself that you’re young and not here to mingle with corporate executives. You still feel like the floor should swallow you whole and spit you out with a new wardrobe that matches everyone else’s. 

Heeseung’s parents chat with a few people they recognize and leave you and Minjun to fend for yourselves (or, rather, it feels that way). The young girl beside you hooks her arm with yours when you’ve been quiet for a moment too long and starts to lead you down the aisles. 

“Everyone in here looks so stuffy,” she whispers. “People working in entertainment should look like they’re having fun.” 

“I feel a little silly in this skirt,” you admit.

“You look great,” Minjun tells you as she bumps your hip with hers. “My mom made me wear this stupid dress that I can barely breathe in.” 

“I happen to think you look very cute, Minnie.” 

“But I don’t want to look cute,” she whines quietly. “I want to look like an adult.” 

“Yeah, well you can look like an adult when you are one. For now, just be happy that somebody finds you cute enough to do things for you.” 

Minjun wants to argue but doesn’t. In the time that she’s known you, there hasn’t been a reason for her to distrust anything you say to her because you’ve never had a reason to lie. It’s why she’s likely to listen to you over her own brother, a fact that Heeseung holds a mild grudge over. 

“I guess you’re right. I can’t even drive. I need people to drive me places.” 

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, driving can be a pain sometimes. Enjoy your youth while you have it, okay?” Minjun rolls her eyes in a way that lets you know she’s joking. Being outwardly affectionate doesn’t seem to run in the Lee sibling genes, but you’d like to think you know them well enough to tell when they’re being genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” 

You try to tell yourself that, too. When everybody finds their seats and when the showcase begins, you’re in awe of how many talented people there are in the room when you hear their incredible vocal abilities and make performing in front of a crowd look easy. It’s easy to spot Heeseung when he’s dancing with a group of people you’ve never seen before. He always looks as if he’s floating on air, moving his body in ways you can’t fathom and he makes learning difficult choreography seem like a walk in the park. You’ve heard him sing before but not to this extent. The steady tone he delivers when he dances amazes you beyond comprehension and Minjun would later swear that she saw stars in your eyes when you watched her brother perform like this for the first time. 

What Heeseung neglected to tell you was that he secured a solo spot after months of impressing his coaches. He performs one of his favorite songs and moves across the stage like he was always meant to be dancing on it. From here, Heeseung looks like a celestial being with the lights cascading down his body. You hold your breath the entire time he sings on that stage and clap the loudest when everybody gives him a standing ovation. You peek to the side to see the same, stuffy executives nodding after his performance and write down things on their clipboards that you can only hope are praises and nothing but. 

Heeseung’s parents make their way to the front of the stage when the house lights turn on. They talk to people you don’t recognize and you find yourself following them instead of looking like an awkward mess, as everybody else has chosen to stand from their seats and greet the performers that have come out from backstage. 

Your best friend looks magnificent with his makeup and the outfit he last performed in. He looks like a real idol in this light and pride swells within your chest when people applaud him for his incredible performance before he reaches you. His smile turns bigger when he sees you and Minjun approaching him behind his parents and makes his way to engulf you in a hug. 

“You’re here,” he breathes. 

“I’d always said I’d be here for you, didn’t I?”

“I think this was the most important showcase of my life.” 

It would be hard to ignore Heeseung’s arm wrapped around your waist like he’s done it a thousand times before. It’s true that the two of you aren’t strangers to physical touch, but he never lingers on you like he is now. Still, you chalk it up to overflowing happiness and you can sense that Heeseung is genuinely pleased with himself. He isn’t pretending that he performed well like he does when he avoids going home after practice in lieu of spending time with you in your mother’s apartment. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” Minjun praises. 

“Language,” Heeseung chides, removing his arm from your waist to pinch her cheek. “Thank you for coming too. Where are eomma and appa?” 

Minjun points to where they are. “I think they were waiting for you to come out and started talking to the coaches.” 

“We should make our way there.” 

“You should,” you tell him, pushing Heeesung towards his parents. “I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

“Nonsense.” Heeseung shakes his head and grabs your wrist as best as he can with multiple bodies trying to squeeze past the three of you. 

When Heeseung pulls you away, you’re sure to grab onto Minjun’s hand so she doesn’t get lost in a sea of people either. Mr. and Mrs. Lee beam when they see their son approaching and Heeseung drops your wrist in favor of being smothered with affection by his parents. You can tell he feels embarrassed to be doted on in front of his peers because of how his ears are turning red, but you sit back and laugh with Minjun when she points it out loud. 

You let them talk and watch as people clad in business attire approach Heeseung and his parents. You're not sure if Heeseung knows them or not but he smiles and shakes their hands, going so far as to bow to their assistants as well. He talks to them like he’s been in this business for decades, making people laugh and remaining as humble as ever when people praise his performance skill. You’re not sure how Heeseung handles all of this attention and praise at the same time, or even what it must feel like to be talented enough to have people approach you. 

As you observe everybody else, it’s clear that Heeseung is the star of tonight’s showcase. The other performers did a fantastic job as well, but something about your best friend draws executives to him, and you’re sure everyone who hasn’t spoken to Heeseung is waiting for their turn. It feels exhausting to watch people socialize. You can only guess how exhausted Heeseung might be. 

Minjun joins her parents a little while later at their request, leaving you alone for the time being. You pull your phone out and text your mom that you’re still at the showcase and will let her know when Mr. and Mrs. Lee drive you back to the apartment. You use this as an excuse to look busy, replying to a few friends that you didn’t have time to respond to before coming to the showcase. But those conversations are dry and leave you without a distraction. 

“Y/N, come here!” 

Heeseung calls your name and your head snaps to where he’s standing. He beckons you over with a wave and you awkwardly waddle to where he’s standing. His family aren’t with him and you wonder just how long you’ve been looking at your phone for. 

“This is my best friend, Y/N,” Heeseung says as he pulls you closer to him. “Y/N, meet Kim Namjoon. He’s the president and founder of Big Hit.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.” The bow is almost automatic and you’re sure to put on a good first impression to help any reputation Heeseung has with Namjoon. You bow at an angle that’s deeper than a common greeting but just shy of ninety-degrees. 

Namjoon returns in kind. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Heeseung’s a talented one, isn’t he?” 

“He’s the best at what he does,” you say earnestly. “I’ve never seen anybody work as hard as him in my entire life. Pardon if I’m overstepping, but I think Big Hit is incredibly lucky to have him.” 

He laughs at your politeness. “I feel the same. It’s not every day you come across someone who’s skilled at, well, everything.” 

“You know, when Heeseung and I were younger, we had this ongoing joke that he could master anything on the first try. I think it’s what makes him special, you know?”

“Guys, please don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Heeseung whines. His cheeks are red but both you and Namjoon laugh in good fun.

“There’s a reason why I chose Heeseung to be tonight’s soloist,” Namjoon informs. “This showcase is meant for people in the industry and if I’m being honest with you, I think you’ll be getting good remakes on your review.” 

Heeseung beams. “Wow…I don’t know what to say.”

“He says ‘thank you,’” you answer for him. “I can’t imagine what training must be like but I do know that all of it has paid off. Thank you for giving Heeseung a chance to prove himself.” 

There’s a glint in Namjoon’s eye. 

“Have you ever considered working in publicity?” Namjoon asks you. 

“No, why do you ask?”

“I think you’d have a real talent for it.” Namjoon says it in a way that feels too casual for a showcase, especially if he’s the one in charge of the company Heeseung is training under. “You speak well for Heeseung.” 

“Oh…thank you.” 

He turns to Heeseung and claps him on the back. “There’s more to being an idol than training and performing. You need people who know you and know the business. It’s important to make your career thrive because you can be the most talented person in the world, but if you don’t have the right people around you, none of that will matter.” 

Heeseung nods. “Y/N’s always been my champion.” 

“I can see.” Namjoon smiles at you. “Entertainment is not for the faint of heart and there’s more to it than being photographed. You need to be in the right places at the right time and know the right people who can get you there. That’s what publicity does for you. Y/N’s already doing it and she’s not working in entertainment yet.” 

Somehow, his words feel comforting. “I haven’t thought about what I want to do with my life but that seems like something I could do.” 

“It’s important work. Heeseung can perform the shit out of his solo but it doesn’t mean anything if he has nowhere to perform it.” 

Namjoon smiles at the both of you before his name is being called from behind him. 

“Great job on your solo, Heeseung.” He turns to you. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He bows once more to the both of you before departing. 

“I feel like I’m buzzing,” Heeseung says as he puts an arm loosely around you. “It was like I was the only person in the room when I was performing, you know? The dance with the other guys was amazing and all of that but I feel like I was on another level when it was just me up there.” 

“You were incredible, Hee. I mean that. I don’t know a single person more talented than you.” 

Heeseung smiles down at you. 

“You know, it means a lot that you come to see me. Sometimes I wonder if people talk to me because they know I’m training to become an idol but you never make me feel like that. It feels natural and genuine. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, thanks.” 

You push him away from you, a giddy smile tugging on the edge of your lips. Heeseung is affectionate but less so in his vocabulary, choosing to tease you because it’s his way of letting you know he cares for you. Hearing him be so open and vulnerable tugs at your heartstrings and it makes you feel like you could achieve anything. 

“I’ll always be here for you, remember? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung’s life changes for the better after the night of the showcase when Namjoon tells him he’s secured a debut spot underneath their brand new label, Belift. Happiness flows within the Lee household and you’re nearly in tears when you realize all your best friend has worked for has finally paid off. 

But with it comes uncertainty and your fears are slowly becoming a reality when Heeseung stops talking to you as frequently as he used to. 

It comes with the job and you’re more than aware of how much Heeseung has on his plate between preparing for his debut and trying to fit in with the industry. You can’t imagine what life must be like for him now that his dream is just a few weeks away of becoming a reality but part of you wonders if it’s too difficult for him to keep you hanging on a leash. 

He calls his parents and Minjun as often as he gets. You know because Minjun swings by your mother’s apartment with Mrs. Lee on Saturday mornings to drop off baked goods, updating you on the latest she’s heard from her older brother. You try your best to quell your jealousy because they’re his family after all, but part of you feels like you have a right to call yourself his family too after all he said to you during the night of the showcase and all you’ve done for him. 

You’re sure Mr. and Mrs. Lee can sense it too. Heeseung no longer lives at home, having moved into his own dorm in the heart of Seoul, thirty minutes from you. You aren’t a stranger to their household without his presence but you’ve gradually stopped coming by unless Minjun calls you from Mrs. Lee’s phone to ask you to hang out. 

Texts and calls slowly diminish with his new line of work. You went from hearing from him every day to every other day, to nothing at all.

Seeing the blue delivered messages without any indication that he’s acknowledged you, makes you feel like a second priority. But you don’t know if you get the right to feel like this when you know how busy he is and the weight of his debut. Heeseung’s got one shot to make a good first impression and the last thing you want is to distract him from achieving his childhood dream of being a successful idol. 

Still, the silence stings.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows you’re waiting on him and ignores the pit in the bottom of his stomach that tells him to text you back. 

His new life has changed in ways he couldn’t fathom. When Namjoon told him the news about his debut and all of the details surrounding it, Heeseung felt as if the weight of the world was no longer a burden for him to carry, and that all he has ever wanted would eventually come to fruition. His new friends, namely the three guys around his age who have trained to become musicians, are people he gets along with more than he thought he would. Heeseung’s newfound excitement about the next chapter of his life takes him to new heights and he finds himself spending more time with Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon as they prepare for the debut showcase. 

Heeseung knows you’re waiting for him back at home but it’s so hard to focus on you when he’s wrapped up in his new life. Making time to see you is hard enough as it is and he knows you’re as patient as can be. In the years he’s been friends with you, Heeseung knows that your resilience knows no bounds and all that you’ve experienced in your lifetime has built the strong-willed, confident person he knows you to be. 

But his new life gets him caught up in the feeling of the present success. The three guys have known each other far longer than Heeseung has known them, only greeting each other in passing since all four of them were training in different areas of performance art. It wasn’t until they were living together that Heeseung started befriending them beyond practice and rehearsals. Jake’s the one who includes Heeseung the most on group outings or spending time playing video games in the living room. His entire life he’s been alone or with just you, seldom having a group of guys who just gets him. 

Heeseung tucks away the nagging feeling in the back of his head when he and Jay are preparing a meal for the four of them when he sees a text from you. 

hey hee, are you busy right now? it’s been a while since we hung out and i thought it would be nice to go get boba, or something. my treat !! <3

He shoves his phone in his back pocket before Jay can notice him staring at the screen. The message goes unanswered for the rest of the night as he basks in the company of his friends-slash-coworkers, the thought of getting boba with you far removed from his mind. Playing video games and getting to know the people he’ll likely be working with for the foreseeable future takes precedent. It’s what Heeseung keeps telling himself. 

After a while, the guilt no longer eats him alive. You’re busy focusing on graduating and preparing to attend university in the fall while he’s made his debut with his newfound best friends. It’s no surprise to anyone that Heeseung’s fanbase grows at a nearly alarming rate after he makes his debut. He grows popular with each day that passes and it feels like Heeseung has become the face of the newest generation overnight. 

He’ll wonder what you’re up to from time to time and let you know how he’s doing. Heeseung first sends a text to apologize, lying about not seeing your text sooner and that he’d love to get boba with you when he has the time. You tell him not to worry because you know he’s busy. He texts you pictures of his first performance and scenic pictures of the cities he visits because of his travel and promotion schedule. You update him on the end of the school year and how your mother is dealing with you moving away for college. 

The texts become sparse as the two of you resume your separate lives and Heeseung doesn’t realize that you don’t text him until the day of your graduation–the day that he was supposed to graduate if he hadn’t deferred to the trainee program–wishing him well and that you’re thinking of him. You send a video of yourself pulling your tassel over the graduation cap and he feels nothing for the lost time when he’s on his way to promote his first album overseas.

It’s for my career, he tells himself when he realizes how much time has passed since he thought of you. I’m doing what’s best for me and everybody else needs to get used to it.

It isn’t until Heeseung is permitted a few days off that he comes home per his parents’ request. He doesn’t tell them that he’s a bit homesick even though his dorm is a thirty minute drive, but it feels oceans away when his days are packed from morning until night. He tells his parents about his travels and what kinds of food he’s been eating when he’s overseas. Heeseung gifts Minjun all of the trinkets and souvenirs he bought from his time promoting his album, and what his future holds for him when he returns to his life as an idol. Mr. and Mrs. Lee applaud their son’s hard work, yet they can’t help but feel like there’s a piece of a puzzle missing because you aren’t here to celebrate with them. 

You make a visit at Minjun’s request. When you arrive, you’re stunned to learn that Heeseung is back at home and only has the evening until he needs to return to work. Heeseung can see the disappointment that festers in your eyes and the way your shoulder droops as you smile at him for his family’s sake, although he knows it’s false bravado because your grin doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

 He leads you upstairs to his bedroom when Mr. Lee insists that the two of you spend some time together after not having seen each other in ages. It feels awkward to be in his childhood bedroom with the door just slightly ajar at this moment, but it isn’t anything completely new.

What is new, however, is seeing that you’ve dyed your hair a different color and that you’ve gotten your ears pierced.

“You look good,” he says, lifting his hand to toy with the end of your hair. “It matches your skin tone nicely.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Did you do it recently? It looks fresh.” 

You don’t note that Heeseung also has a different hair color than his natural jet black. 

“Two weeks ago. My cousin did it for me.” 

He nods. “Nice. It looks good. I see that you’re wearing necklaces too.” 

“Yeah. I decided it was time to stop being a child and get it over with.”

“You know, you don’t have to do things if you don’t want to.” You throw a pointed look at Heeseung and it’s an expression he’s unfamiliar with. 

“I know. But I like earrings and that’s why I wanted to get them pierced.” 

Heeseung wipes his hand on his pants at the awkward tension in the room. He knows he’s to blame. His schedule and priorities have pulled him away from you and the life he’s built prior to debuting, but can anyone blame him? Can anyone blame him for not being able to balance his life when he’s been given the keys to a new empire? 

“Well, it was nice seeing you.” You throw a cheap smile in his direction and motion to open the door until Heeseung grabs your wrist, causing you to turn around. 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “You have an early day tomorrow.” 

Heeseung sharks his head. “It’s fine. I don’t have to be back in Seoul until ten anyway. I’ve missed you and I want to spend time with you before I absolutely have to fall asleep.” 

You scoff. “That’s real funny, Heeseung. You missed me but all of my texts and calls go unanswered.”

He frowns. “You know that I’m busy most days.” 

“And nights?” 

“I’m with the guys back at the dorm.” 

You poke your cheek with your tongue. 

“See, I would know all of this if you bothered to talk to me at all but it sees that your new life is treating you just fine.” 

You make another move to leave his room but he closes the door, startling you with the loud noise. He apologizes quietly and uses his body to block you from leaving for the time being. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy between promotion and rehearsal that it’s hard to keep track of who I keep up with and who I don’t.” 

“You’re talking to me like I’ve never seen you cry before,” you say with a disappointed sigh. “You act like I’m somebody you once knew in a past life.” 

“Not true. You’re my best friend.” 

“Best friends would bother to talk to each other. You know that, right? I don’t exist just so you can pick and choose when you need somebody to talk to. It makes me feel like you don’t actually care about me, Heeseung. It makes me feel like you’ve ever cared about our friendship unless you needed a shoulder to cry on and I was the first person who would listen to you.”

“That’s not true. I’m just busy.”

“I get that, I really do. But it’s been months, Heeseung. I know that I can’t have your attention all the time and I know I can’t see you as often as I did. But would it kill you to let me know you’re alive? The only time I hear about you is when other people talk about you or when I see you on billboards. That doesn’t feel like a friendship to me.”

His fists ball at his side and his frustration surfaces. Heeseung is frustrated at everyone–himself for being unable to say ‘no’ to his new friends, you for expecting so much of him, and his company for keeping him as busy as he is. But he doesn’t know how to communicate that, not when you’re standing in front of him, looking like he’s the villain in your life when he feels like he’s not. 

“Well that’s life, Y/N,” Heeseung settles. “Sometimes we need to learn when to prioritize things over others.” 

You laugh humorlessly. “Is that the hill you’re going to die on? You’re too busy to send a simple text back or let me know that you’re, I don’t know, okay?”

“You can’t be a priority all the time.”

“I know that. I’m not asking you to drop everything for me just because I called you. I’m asking you to treat me like somebody you care about, Heeseung. Is that too much to ask?” 

The anger Heeseung feels within him feels misplaced, but your inability to hear him about makes him even angrier. It’s unfair for you to demand such things of him when he’s pursuing everything he’s ever dreamed of.

“Yes, it is too much to ask,” Heeseung bites back. “You don’t understand the gravity of what I do for a living and it’s hard to appreciate it when you’re breathing down my neck. God, when did you become such a clingy person, Y/N? The world doesn’t revolve around you and I don’t owe you shit just because you can’t handle that I’m busier than you are.” 

“You’re kidding me, right?” 

“I’m being dead serious.” Heeseung steps away from the door. “You of all people know how badly I want this and now it’s like you’re not letting me enjoy what I’ve worked for. What kind of friend does that make you?” 

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can catch them. His need to be the victim in an uncertain period of his life causes him to misdirect his frustration with adapting to his new life and the proof is written all over your face. 

“Y/N, I didn’t mean–”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Just don’t.”

Frozen, Heeseung watches you open his door with such force that it nearly slams into him. He’s quick on his feet to follow you downstairs where he sees his family looking perplexed when you’ve opened the front door without saying goodbye. 

“Y/N, I didn’t mean it!” Heesueng yells when you’ve crossed the threshold of his household. “Please come back inside.”

“You made it very clear that I have no place in your new life. Congratulations, I hope you’re happy.” 

You walk away while the deep feelings of disappointment and uncertainty settles in Heeseung’s chest. He walks back inside and closes the door behind him to see Minjun and his parents in a deep stupor, trying to make sense of the scene that has just unfolded before them. 

“What happened?” Mrs. Lee asks. 

“Y/N and I…” his voice cracks. “I don’t think we’re friends anymore.” 

The room is silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Minjun says without a smile. 

Heeseung wants to tell her that she’s wrong and whatever conversation they must’ve heard was a product of two friends having their first serious argument. Heeseung’s own frustrations towards his new life is something he doesn’t talk about often because he’s worked so hard to become the person he is, and it would be ungrateful to complain about what he has yearned for his entire life. It bottled up so much that hearing you accuse him of being a poor friend caused him to unravel and say things he doesn’t mean. 

Mrs. Lee beats him to speaking.

“Don’t say that, Minjun.” 

The young girl remains quiet and refuses to meet Heeseung’s eye.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

In the few years that follow, you resist rolling your eyes when you see Heeseung’s face in magazine ads and billboards across the city. Life takes you to university where you spend the next four years deciding on the rest of your life before you settle on something everybody said you’d be good at. 

Graduation approaches far sooner than you’d like and it becomes bittersweet when you see the Lee family, sans Heeseung, in the stadium next to your mom, who are all equally shedding tears as your name is called. Heeseung being absent feels hollow, like another reminder that people choose to leave your life without a moment’s notice but for the sake of keeping up appearances, you smile at the camera when you accept your diploma. 

It’s not a surprise to you when you find yourself working in entertainment like Kim Namjoon said you could all those years ago. 

A job is a job, but he was right when he told you this would be something you’d excel at. Day in and day out, your responsibilities differ as you begin working at Hybe, formerly Big Hit, to manage the profiles and public appearances of idols and other public figures alike. 

Heeseung doesn’t hear from you much. His parents update him on your coursework and send him photos of you at graduation. He cries every so often when he feels the urge to call you and tell you about his day, but doesn’t know whether he has the right to do that anymore. The years in his position has taught him what true life balance is, especially with the media and paparazzi taking an interest in his personal life. 

It feels so exhausting to have nobody you can depend on. These days, it’s just him and the three boys he met at the beginning of his career. Heeseung’s popularity has grown so much that he can’t tell up from down. It drowns him in a way he never anticipated and the politics of fame and the industry wasn’t something he accounted for when he began dreaming about a career in the performance space. 

Perhaps it’s why he spends his days feeling listless, like he’s got no real potential after achieving his dream. He knows his managers worry for his health and that the other trainees in the building can sense something has been off for a while. Maybe it’s why he roams the halls with headphones on to drown out the noise that’s become his everyday life, with talks of meetings and promotions and everything Heeseung wishes to get away from, if for only one day.

When Heeseung bumps into somebody on his way out of the company elevator, his first instinct is to lean down to collect the papers that have fallen haphazardly on the floor. He pushes his headphones until they rest around his neck and stands to hand them back to the person he bumped into. Only, he feels his body freeze when he sees who it is. 

Like Heeseung has always believed, if you really love someone, they will always come back to you. 

“Y/N?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ 

potential part two ft. the rest of enha … this was a therapy piece lol

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ 

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @baevsxii @lillotus17 @syzavxy @mrmld @nikilvrfvr @luvyev @notevenheretbh1 @wvnkoi @seungiesgf @kgneptun @judeduartewannabe @iheartjayke @wonsbubble @ilyjxdz @foggysfrog @oddracha @haechansbbg @tobiosbbyghorl @ryunjin0 @sharksandminhos @jungwoneez @alex-is-sleeping @minjaexvz @woninluv @engeneeee-168 @friendlyuser57 @moony-mari @trdhgg @sleepyhoon @sunghoonsgfreal @i02hoonz @riksaes @021894s @zeeloveshee @jwnghyuns @vhuteryh @cloudiesblog @awsome209 @fleurixzs @xiaoderrrr @marshwatz @aeripark0703 @bambangan @papichulomacy .

apologies to all tumblr wouldn't tag. :)

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

previous | next

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[die-rosastrasse]

I have romanticized my life to such an extreme point, I feel like I'm living in some sort of unattainable fairytale. It's blissful and full of wonders, but I sometimes experience loneliness, being so away from the world of other people, feeling like they don't want to open up and show any sign of excitement, of love. I live in a perfect bubble that is pink and heart-shaped and I'm fine with it. I'm constantly surprised that people aren't falling to their knees and screaming with joy at every flower, tree, poem, painting, the way the golden sunrays light up the forest, the colors of the clouds, the sounds of summer evening. And honestly, why don't you? What's in your world that's so powerful, it made you indifferent to the beautiful things that surround you all the time? If your reality means any less delight, any less everyday ecstasies, I'm choosing my handmade fairytale and I'm going to live in it until I die with hymns on my lips.

[emmasbrain]

Miscommunication (the fun kind)

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: slight alcohol consumption? i think that’s all, nothing NSFW in this one

Synopsis: Your good friend Penelope sees you in a bar and begs you to sit with her and her work friends. You realise you like one. She also realises you like one. She however, thinks you like the wrong one.

The moment Penelope spotted you, she gasped. “Oh my god!” You spun round on your seat on the bar towards her running over to you in unrunnable heels, a brilliant smile gracing her face and a surprised one falling to yours as you saw each other.

“Penelope?” You hopped off your bar stool and pulled her into a hug. “It’s been too long darlin’. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in years.” You gushed, definitely over exaggerating your circumstances.

“Didn’t we go for coffee last Thursday?” She giggles, and you see the familiar glint in her eye that she only got after a couple of margaritas.

“Like I said, years!” You giggled right back, and she held your hands, leaning in towards you more.

“Who are you here with?” She questioned, looking around.

You shrugged casually, “I came with some girls from work, but they all left with guys and I decided to drink my loneliness away… Except I haven’t actually had a drink yet because I’ve been sitting here debating whether I really want to drink alone.” Your words, though holding a little weight, came out with a laugh and a self deprecating sigh.

Penelope gave you a look, and you knew she was brewing something. “What if… you come sit with us?” Before you can ask questions or protest, she continues, “You know I’ve always wanted to introduce you to the team, which is who I’m here with, and it would be good for you too ‘cus it means you can drink not on your own.” She gives you puppy dog eyes, and clasps her hands together waiting for your answer.

You relent, deciding the sooner you had an interaction with her FBI friends the sooner it was over. You had heard some things, and they seemed lovely, but they were her friends and you had the feeling you wouldn’t be very welcome with your job as a journalist. “Okay fine, but you can’t mention my job. I don’t want them to hate me on the first impression.”

“It’s okay they know, I told them ages ago about what you do. Alright you stay here, I’ll go tell them and then I can introduce you.” She was practically buzzing, so excited you could see it in the air around her. She shuffled away happily, and came back to drag you over a moment later.

As you approached the group, she introduced you in order of where they sat around the table. “That’s JJ, Derek, David, Hotch, Emily, and Spencer. Everybody, this is my friend Y/N.” She smiles all big and goofy and then scrunches up her face in disappointment. “There’s no chairs left.”

You take this as an opportunity. “Well, I suppose that means I should g-“

“Here, you can have mine. I’ll grab one from over there.” Spencer quickly finds a solution, standing to walk over to an unused table and fetch another chair. You follow him with your eyes as he lifts it over. Doctor Spencer Reid. Penelope had mentioned the man on multiple occasions. Ever the problem solver, you gathered from her ramblings on the things he would do and say.

Penelope sits in the chair between JJ and Derek, and the latter lets his arm rest on Penelope’s shoulders. As you sit down in Spencer’s sacrificed chair, he pulls another one in between you and JJ, and you both awkwardly smile at each other before you look down to your hands in your lap. “Thank you.” You whisper to him.

“What for?” He whispers back.

“The chair.” You mumble, and he nods.

“It’s no problem.”

“Okay, I say we get some drinks. How bout it, pretty girl?” Derek's words snap you from your awkwardness, and you smile, realising he’s given you a nickname already.

“I am in dire need of a beer.” You reply, and Emily looks at you from your right.

“Beer, huh? I woulda coined you for a vodka redbull kinda girl. All for the thrills.” She looks at you with a smirk and you shake your head with a giggle.

“I’m normally a whiskey kinda girl actually, I get that from my parents. I only very rarely drink vodka, it just makes me want to make out with people.” The embarrassment soaks in the moment the words come out of your mouth and you realise you’ve just told a group of behavioural analysts that vodka makes you horny.

“Alcohol oftentimes does have the effect of making you sexually confident and can heighten feelings of affection and make you more open to try things sexually. One could assume that your specific set of hormones are just more affected by the chemicals in vodka in comparison to other alcohols.” Spencer pulls his lips into a straight line, and you giggle at his readily available information. Penelope wasn’t joking.

“Thanks, Doc.” You bump his shoulder, and he looks a little confused but mumbles a “No problem” anyway. As he looks away towards Derek and Penelope, you take the chance to study his features discreetly. The angle of his jaw perfectly contrasts the softness of his eyes, the honey brown colour almost sparkling within the dim lighting of the bar. His cheeks are tinged pink from the currently inaudible teasing from Derek, and there’s a little smile on his lips that you could almost envision yourself kissing.

Derek breaks you out of your head a second time. “Hey pretty girl, you wanna go get those drinks now?” He flashes you a grin and you smile, nodding.

“Yea let’s do it. Does everyone know what they want?” As you’re trying to split everyone’s orders between you and Derek, Penelope gives you a look that says “do you have the hots for my friend?” and you give her a look back that says “maybe..” she gasps and the whole table turns to look at her, making her realise that she’d turned the conversation into an out loud one now.

“You know what? Us girls can handle those drinks, Derek. Why don’t you have a seat.” She drags you up to the bar and orders quickly before she forgets, and then whips round to face you.

“You like him. I saw it on your face. You like him!!” She whisper shouts and you glance back to Derek and Spencer hunched over the table chatting. You smile.

“Look at him! Of course I like him, who wouldn’t like him? He’s simultaneously cute and hot and I swear men aren’t supposed to work like that.” You whisper shout back at her, and her smiles sadly.

“I wish I could set you up, but he’s taken. And his girlfriend is amazing so I can’t even be mad about it.” She sighs, and you slightly deflate.

“Oh man, I can’t believe the first time in years that I actually want a guy he’s taken. Just my luck, I suppose.” You laugh, and grab the drinks that have been sat on the bar. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” You shrug your shoulders and head back over to the table with her, handing everyone their drinks and sitting back next to Spencer to sip your own.

After an hour or so, conversation was going a tad dry, and you decided to use an old icebreaker your college roommate had taught you to get things flowing again. “Okay, one after the other I want everyone to tell the group something embarrassing. It can be anything, as long as it’s about you.” Everyone nods in agreement, and Derek starts.

“There was this one time I was flirting with a girl while I was out with my mom. Now that was my first mistake, my mom comes over and starts talkin to this girl askin if she’s my girlfriend. I said momma I’ve only just met her, and she said ‘well then you better hurry up, this girl is far too beautiful for you to pass up’. Before I could even speak, the girl says ‘I think you’re too beautiful to pass up’. She was talkin to my mom! And I just thought hey maybe she’s just tryna get on moms good side, you know? You win over mom, you win over me. But then she spent 10 minutes flirting with my mother until I had to drag her away. My mom will not stop bringing it up just to mock me.”

Spencer cracked up beside you at the story, and you couldn't help laughing a little with him.

Penelope pipes in, “Tell them when this happened.” He grimaces.

“Last year.” He barely says it loud enough to hear, but you all catch it and it sends you all into a fit of laughter.

Rossi reminisces about the time he proposed to one of his ex wives, and she said no. In public. Then later in the day said yes, telling him she just wanted to embarrass him the way his public proposal had embarrassed her.

Hotch talks of the time he finished work early and decided to pick up Jack from school. The teacher had asked him if he was Jack’s grandfather, and he had to explain that he most definitely was not.

“I once hugged my friend from behind to tell her goodbye at a party. It wasn’t my friend.” Is all Emily gives for details. She grimaces at the sheer memory of it, and you can’t help the little smile that graces your lips.

“My turn then?” You question the group, and they nod. “I probably should’ve used this time to think of what I was gonna say. Well I suppose I’ll use the only one that’s currently present in my mind,” You turn to face Spencer, “I was gonna ask you out before Penelope had to drag me away and tell me you were taken. Which was slightly embarrassing for me in the moment, but as I’m saying this I realise I’ve just embarrassed myself even more.” You nod through your internal pain at how stupid you felt, and took a deep breath before trying to move on. Spencer looked too taken aback to let that happen.

“You were gonna ask me out? And Penelope told you I was in a relationship? Why would she do that?” He looks plain confused now, and you mirror his expression.

“I never told you Spencer was in a relationship. I told you Derek was in a relationship, because I thought he was the friend you said you liked! Wait. So when you said he was hot you meant Spencer?” Now even Penelope looked confused, although not exactly for the same reason you were.

“Yes! Of course I meant Spencer! No offence Derek, you’re lovely but you’re not my type.” You rushed, giving him a sheepish smile.

“And I am?” Spencer speaks again.

“Pretty much yea.” The smile he gives you at your words makes you look away nervously.

“So what you mean is that if you hadn’t been told I was taken I could have went on a date with you?” He’s looking inquisitively at your face now, tracing for signs of a lie as he waits for you to respond.

“You still could go on a date with me.” You suggest, with a little shrug and a smile that reaches your eyes.

“I’d like that.” He nods, slightly enthusiastic but trying to play it cool.

“Me too.” You nod with him. “I should probably be heading home, I have work I still need to catch up on. But I could give you my number and you could take me to your favourite place or something. Somewhere I can get to know you just from looking around.” You suggest, gathering your things and scribbling your number down on a spare napkin.

“That sounds good- great. That sounds great.” His eyes are filled with a mixture of excitement and something else you’re not sure about, but the look on his face makes you smile.

“Call me then.” You nod finally, getting up to leave. You give everyone their goodbyes, hugging them all lightly and giving Spencer a little wave.

Over the next few days the anticipation of his call is almost overwhelming. And when your phone begins to ring, an unfamiliar number popping up on the screen, you bite your nail before clicking the answer button. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

A/N: I don’t actually really like this, but it’s fine. I wanna do a part two, someone tell me to do a part two plsplsplspls. (May rewrite this once i’m not jet lagged and cramming it between studying but idk)

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 2

Alpha!Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Part 1 here

You’re deep in sleep when a loud bang wakes you.

Bolting up with a gasp, your heart pounds in your chest for a few minutes. You’re not sure what the noise was- a door slamming shut, or maybe something falling in the apartment above you, but the echo of it in your head keeps you awake for a while, hating that your anxiety doesn’t let you sleep.

.

You go to another dry cleaners, you do your best to avoid going out. You go to work, and back home for a couple of weeks, worried that someone will find you and scold you for what you’ve done.

You think about being scolded by him, you doubt you’d be able to last a moment in his presence.

After you’d ensured the safe delivery of the coat, did you finally research the owner.

William Russo, his stoic, borderline angry expression staring back at you through your computer screen had only made you aroused all over again.

This, this was the Alpha with a scent so magnetic, you couldn’t resist it.

He was rich, a CEO, and you could only look around your threadbare apartment and sigh sadly, there was nothing you could offer him that would interest him.

So, you try to move on with your life, work hard so you can afford to buy alleviators for your next heat, and stay away from alphas that would no doubt hurt you.

The art museum was a big comfort. On a Friday evening, when it was at its emptiest, you’d go in, and stare at all the paintings. You’d study the brushstrokes till your eyes burned, items like Starry Night, and Street Light were beautiful works that always made you dare to dream of a life better than the one you were in. Today however, The Lovers was the one that kept you most occupied.

Two people, with white cloths over their heads as they lean into each other, kissing.  Hidden from each other’s sight, you wonder if the painting only holds its romance because of the seemingly anonymity of the subjects. If the mystery was removed, would there be more love, or less?

It was kind of how you felt right now, pained, searching for something that you weren’t familiar with. An alpha, to call your own.

None of the alphas you’d met had ever been right for you. There was an entitlement written into them, the belief that your station was lesser, so you were supposed to submit. Alphas constantly lived with that air of superiority surrounding them, and they were easily upset when you did not give them what they wanted. 

The alphas you dated were wrong to think that submission was something freely given, in reality, it had to be earned.

You wondered if the alpha on your mind would ask nicely.

Probably not. It was a good thing he existed only in your fantasies.

.

Your omega privilege means you get to stay a little after closing. You smile gratefully in the security guard’s direction when he comes to escort you out.

“We’ve got a new piece coming in tomorrow. You won’t be able to stay late anymore, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You smile in delight.

“Do you know which one it is?” You ask.

“Not really, not much of an art guy, but it’s a big deal, really expensive.”

You nod, enthusiastically.

“Well, I can’t wait.” You reply, wishing the beta a good night when you finally reach the exit, pulling your jacket tighter around you to protect from the cold.

.

Not for the first time in his life, he feels the loneliness. 

It’s only that he’s never felt it quite like this. Usually, people just didn’t want him, his mother gave him up when he was a baby, and he’d never really understood why. Through his life, people had assumed he’d present as a beta, because he’d been a scrawny kid. Things had only gotten worse when at ten, his alpha denomination had shown through.

Then, everyone had wanted a piece of him, an opportunity to say that they’d fought an alpha and won, uncaring of his age and size- the world had forced him to become ruthless very quickly.

He’d let the world’s rejection shape him, and he’d only realised that when he’d met Frank.

Frank had made him understand, that alphas were not supposed to be cruel, but rather the very definition of safety and security.

He'd tried his best to ignore the hollow feeling inside of him, and that had worked.

At least, it had, up until he'd smelled that stupid coat.

Now, it was like someone had taken a piece of him and ran off with it, ripped a carefully placed bandage off and left him with an open wound. He could feel the absence, like if it was a whole other person in the room.

He wanted his omega.

It was all he’d thought about now, as he pressed the coat to his nose every night, struggling to catch her fading scent, he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep again when the scent fully faded.

He keeps going, maybe he even pushes himself harder, his work distracts him, helps him keep a clear head.

He’d even accepted a job to secure artwork for the museum, even though his specialty was protecting people, and Frank was usually the man that handled asset protection.

He’s following closely behind The Scream when he stops dead in his tracks.

One of his employees tosses him a confused glance, but he ignores it as he takes a deep inhale. 

He’d know that vanilla scent anywhere, the smell of apples mixed in and his heart gives an eager kick.

Surely not-

He turns his head, sees a painting of two lovers hiding from each other, kissing through a shroud of white cloth. He studies it for a moment, his mind racing at speeds he can’t fathom.

When the painting gets too far ahead, he turns and resumes his stride, thinking about all the ways he can do his best to get what he wants.

.

He gets permission to access the security footage of the museum.

Who’s really going to deny an alpha anyway?

Billy finds her, or at least the back of her head, and he can’t help the excitement that after weeks of searching, he’s managed to get lucky and obtain a lead on her.

He talks to the security guard that walked her out. With a sleepy voice over the phone, the man tells him that she’s a frequent visitor to the museum on Fridays, and she doesn’t cause any trouble so he lets her stay a little after closing.

“She just likes looking at the pieces, and I can’t be mean to an omega as shy as her.”

Billy’s mouth twitches upward, amused at the biological imprint inside everyone to protect omegas. The men who’d done her a favour to deliver his coat had said near the same thing.

It had made him fond, of a sweet girl, that would no doubt be spooked if he showed up at her home unannounced. Even if he now had the means to trace her back to her home, he couldn’t take the risk. He had to play this right.

.

When you hear Edvard Munch’s The Scream is on display, you vibrate with excitement. Instead of going the opening week, you wait till your usual time the next Friday, when hopefully there’s much less of a crowd to contend with.

It’s not completely empty, but you’re okay with the sparse crowd, you smile, tiptoeing to peek over shoulders so that you can catch a sight of it before you’re at the front.

You love everything about it, the colour and the expressionism of it, you wonder how much the paint has faded over time. The little paragraph beside the painting describes an infinite scream, a universal anxiety, and you think you can almost feel that as you stare at it, the idea that you’re being watched sending a nervous thrill down your spine.

When you move away from the painting however, the feeling lingers. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to shake the feeling, you don’t understand how a painting can have such an effect.

To clear your head, you find an impressionist nearby, Monet’s reflections of clouds on a lily pond, and you stand in front of it, letting out a long sigh.

When the distinct smell of bergamot hits you, you stiffen. 

Your heart squeezes into your throat, and you try to look around as casually as possible, betas turn to look at you as they scent your distress in the air. 

Did you feel like you were being watched- because you were actually being watched?

You take in another breath, and this time, you’re sure.

Cracked pepper, citrus- 

The alpha was here.

Someone says your name behind you, and you turn in fright.

There he was. Dressed down in casual clothes, trying to blend in with the people around him- as if an alpha as handsome as him ever could.

Billy Russo was devastatingly gorgeous up close.

But you were fucked.

Your eyes widen and you take a step back, knowing that this was definitely about stealing his coat. He would no doubt try to make you pay for cleaning- or worse yet- a new coat entirely.

Your body flushes with fear as you back away from him on shaky legs.

His head tilts as he watches you go, dark eyes caught on your retreating form.

“Don’t run, omega.” He says easily, taking a single stride as you back away, his presence looming over you, igniting something in your stomach like a match being struck.

You make a small sound in the back of your throat, and you do exactly what he says not to.

You run.

Well, not exactly.

More like a quick walk, looking back to see if he follows, you beeline for the bathroom, hoping to hide in there for a moment.

You groan, splashing your face with water, internally grumbling over what you've gotten yourself into.

You should have never grabbed that stupid coat with your stupid omega senses always searching for the right alpha. What did you think? That just because he’d had an amazing scent meant that he wanted to take care of you? 

No, he was probably going to scold you, and force you to pay him back, and you couldn’t afford three thousand for a coat. 

Your throat tightens in panic, your body flushes with fear.

You couldn’t think too much on what he would do if he caught you, all you needed to focus on right now, was getting away.

So you take a deep breath and you shed your jacket, tucking it under your arm and stepping out of the bathroom behind someone. 

There’s not a lot of people, but luckily you know the museum, and you take the most secluded paths that you doubt anyone unfamiliar to the museum would know of.

You sigh happily when you see the exit door in sight, making large meaningful steps, looking back every now and then. Behind you is empty, and you think that you might have actually lost him.

It sends a pang of sadness through you, but you shake your head to shove it away.

You look back once more when you push your way through the exit doors, making sure the path behind you is clear of any six foot alphas.

And you walk right into him.

You’re not sure it is at first, but his size and smell give it away. Your face is pressed securely to his chest, and his hands come up to grip your upper arms firmly.

You raise your head in panic, trying to wrench back from him.

“Relax omega, you’re not in any trouble, I promise.” He says, something in his voice that makes his words sound believable.

You whine in distress.

“Please, I’m sorry, I can’t afford to replace your coat. I shouldn’t have taken it.” You plead, voice wobbling with the struggle to speak under duress.

“Shh, little one, I’m not here to ask you for money.”

His words don’t register in your head, and you begin to cry. Thick swells of tears fall from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t pay.” You struggle out in a tiny voice.

He grunts, his hands move to cup your face, your tears spilling onto his fingers instead.

“Omega.” He says meaningfully.

The command in his tone makes you look up at him, brain going quiet, the power of his voice catching your attention easily. His stern expression softens.

“I’m not here to make you pay for anything, and I promise you’re not in any trouble.”

You make a little sniffle.

“ ‘M not?” You ask weakly.

The corner of his mouth curves up.

“No, I just want to talk.” 

“Talk?” You repeat dumbly.

His thumbs trace over your cheekbones gently, a soft tingling sensation swims in your head and settles at the top of your spine. Your eyelids flutter as you watch him nod.

“I’ve been searching for you for weeks, omega, since you left me that coat drenched in your sweet scent, I haven’t had a clear thought since.”

You gulp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t be sorry just-” He squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s looking for the right words, “Have dinner with me. Tonight. My treat.”

You take a deep breath, eyes widening.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

He lets out a swift breath, you worry that you might be aggravating him.

“What aren’t you sure about? Your safety?”

You feel your heart pick up its pace beneath your ribcage, tormenting your body with the feeling of panic.

You reach up, cupping his hands in yours and peeling them off your cheeks. 

“Alphas are… notorious for getting angry when they don’t get their way.” You reply anxiously, your hands uncurling from his, filled with so much trepidation. 

“I understand, but give me a chance to prove myself. There’s something between us, omega, you just have to open yourself up to it.”

You blink, stomach flipping as you debate your options.

You eye him warily, too afraid to say no, too scared of how he would react.

You take another step back, and his face looks pained, his body tense.

You shake your head, scared, taking another cautious step away.

“Please don’t run.” He says softly, it makes you pause.

Maybe… maybe a chance wouldn’t be so bad.

“What about lunch tomorrow?” Somewhere bright and public that would make you feel safer about being around him.

He lets out a slow breath.

“Lunch is great. Where?”

You think for a moment.

“We can meet right here, there’s a place not far from here with nice sandwiches.”

He inclines his head.

“Sandwiches are great.”

You give him a soft smile of amusement, still a little unsure.

“Okay, we’ll meet here tomorrow? Around 12?”

He nods, digging into his pockets for a moment before pulling a card out and extending it to you.

You blink, a little cautious, reaching for the obsidian coloured paper in his hand. You study the raised silver lettering, his name, his job title, his company.

“The one on the left is my cell. Let me know when you get here. If you want, we can look around the museum too.”

Something flips in your chest at the thought. You wonder what he thought of The Scream.

“No,” You mumble, shaking your head, “The museum is packed on a Saturday. I hate crowds.”

He nods in understanding.

“No crowds then, maybe we can take a walk in the park.”

“Maybe.” You reply, still a little unsure of this entire scenario.

“You're safe, Omega, I promise.”

You offer a sad smile.

“That's what they all say.”

.

He was going to kill every Alpha that had ever made you feel unsafe.

He sits in his car, after you'd denied his offer to at least take you home. 

Your scent fades where he'd touched you, his body demanding more. Apples, so fucking sweet his mouth waters. 

Halfway to his home, a text comes in from you, shyly informing him that you'd made it home.

He'd asked, wanted to make sure that you were safe as the late evening had turned to night.

He keeps it simple, types out a small message to put you at ease.

Thank you. Sweet dreams

.

.

.

A/N: Pretty sure y'all are gonna hate this. Sorry.

Also, just asking for more without leaving any kind of feedback makes me feel kinda used 😅

[candy-heart-brew]

I've seen some fans theorize that the lyrics to "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" tie into Frank's developing relationship with Eddie, potentially foreshadowing a grisly end for a favorite mailman. The lyrics are incredibly emotional and poor Frank sounds like he's fighting back tears during this entire record, making it feel like there's something more going on under the surface. While it's entirely possible that this is meant to foreshadow Frank and Eddie eventually being separated, I think the song's symbolism could be pointing to a different direction...

I touched a bit on this in a different post but to summarize: the attitude that Frank displays during "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" is completely at odds to his reaction to Eddie at the party. During BaBaG he's sad but resigned to fate, he knows that hibernation is inevitable but takes a bit of comfort in the knowledge that it's only temporary and that his loneliness will only last through winter. So, he does his best to power through, keep his personal feelings out of it, and assure his little friends that he'll be alright.

By contrast, his reaction to Eddie's behavior at the party is one of panic and confusion. He doesn't understand what's happening to Eddie or why he's suddenly gone unresponsive, he just knows that he isn't acting like himself at all and he can't accept that. He refuses to leave Eddie alone even after being ignored, continuing to push until he gets a response, at which point he immediately realizes something is wrong and tries to push further, only stopping when Eddie leaves. At this point in the story they don't appear to be especially close but Frank's terrified reaction speaks volumes about his true feelings for Eddie. And if this is how he reacts to him being quieter than usual, I can't imagine that he'd be much calmer or more composed in the event of losing Eddie altogether. IMO, he's far more likely to get angry and demand answers rather than wax poetic. So while "Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight" could potentially foreshadow Eddie's fate, Frank's subdued reaction makes me question that interpretation. I do think there's a deeper meaning to BaBaG, that Frank is singing about something other than bugs, just not Eddie. But then who? Well, as we found out in this last update, bugs are not the only creatures in the neighborhood that hibernate...

Think about it for a moment- Julie is going to be gone for months, leaving Frank all alone without his best friend. Who's going to invite him to games now? Who's going to listen to him about his interests and laugh at his jokes? Who's going to bake gelatin monstrosities with him? Julie is practically his other half so to lose her for months on end must be very difficult for him! He knows that she can't help it and he doesn't blame her but that hardly makes it any easier. All he can really do now is just push that sadness down, wish her goodnight, and wait for her to return.

Under this interpretation, certain lyrics in BaBaG take on a different meaning to me. Lines like "I know it's for the best, I can't keep you," or "I'll be the first to tell you, you just can't stay," could imply an oncoming rift between the two of them. The recent updates have implied that Frank and Julie were written to be a couple and were perceived as such in-universe. We don't yet know how the two of them felt about that but we do know that they were very close to the point of doing basically everything together! But now Frank is falling in love with someone else, someone who may very well come to eclipse Julie in terms of importance to him. No matter how much he loves her, no matter how much they might want to stay together, there are some things you just can't fight and this play-relationship they have can't last forever...

But that's just my interpretation!

[aibloomie]

THINGS THEY DO WHEN THEY LOVE YOU

✧ featuring — venti, diluc, kaeya, albedo, childe, zhongli, xiao, kazuha, thoma, itto, and gorou x gn!reader

I desperately wanted to add sumeru characters to this but </3 I simply do not know enough about them so maybe in the future. this was my first time writing for some characters so I hope they aren't too occ. it's 1 am i will now be going to sleep 😭 or trying

venti lulls you to sleep with his melodious words every chance he gets. he is not fond of routines, but this act is one that he wishes to never avoid. he smiles when he catches wind of your drowsy self, and takes it as his cue to guide you to bed. his voice is quiet so as to not alarm you, so quiet that only you would be able to hear it even if the room were rowdy and full of people. it is a gesture reserved only for you, as his voice is usually loud when he is with other people. when you are away and unable to see him, memories of his honey dripping tunes are your exit ticket into a sweet and peaceful slumber with visions of your one and only lover.

diluc does not hide his growing and everlasting attachment to you. he has a tendency to discard items that he no longer needs or uses, but he is unable to fall into that habit when it comes to you. instead, every gift you give him is displayed on his shelves, or some place in his residence that is visible. he cleans the shelves and gifts every day so that his valuable possessions are not tainted with dust. he even places some of them in the bar (behind glass or in a place none of his customers would dare to touch) and his heart flutters every time he glances at the gifts. his regular customers are used to him zoning out with a sweet smile on his face whenever he does so. you are his soft spot, and he makes it very known to you and the entire town without even meaning to be so obvious about it. he would gladly keep and store everything you give him  </3

kaeya finds himself reaching out to you whenever you turn your back on him. before you, he was in a pit of loneliness and you pulled him out of it. because of that, his main comfort is spending quality time with you. so whenever you try rolling out of bed you are met with kaeya's longing gaze, and an arm that extends in an effort to pull you back in—yet he never actually touches you unless you willingly come back to him. and when you do, his arms will wrap around you and he'll place gentles kisses down your neck, and he manages to whisper against your skin, "can you stay for a while longer, love?"

albedo would drop all his work and cast aside his progress on any research for you. the minute you express you crave his touch or attention, he will immediately grant it to you, all of his thoughts would turn to you and you alone. he once believed that relationships were too demanding, but is constantly proved wrong when he's with you because he's filled with so much happiness when offered the chance to give you his love and attend to your every need. 

childe tells his entire family about you through letters before they even meet you in person. so the first time you come to his house, his siblings are all over you and they already know your name. childe goes beet red and bashfully pulls his siblings off of you before introducing all of them. and his mom !! she made an entire grand meal for you with all your favorite food (that childe mentioned to her a long time ago) because her son is head over heels for you and she wants to treat you right.

zhongli tries his best to spoil you, despite not being the most financially responsible. he wants you to have the best there is, and wants you to get a taste of the finest products in liyue. he likes setting up beautiful dates, in which your favorite flowers decorate the table. he has your favorite floral scent as an essence so all of your senses are satisfied. your favorite cuisine will always be set on the table, along with wine (or a non-alcoholic drink if you prefer) so the two of you can talk the moonlit night away.

xiao cannot help but indulge himself when it comes to his curiosities with you. a relationship with him takes patience, he needs time to sort his feelings out and be okay with the urges he has when it comes to you. it'll take him a while to be comfortable with rubbing his thumb against your hand when his fingers are interlaced with yours. but through such actions, he is showing you that he treasures you. he gets flustered when he pulls you closer to him as the two of you kiss, because his body acts before his mind and he cannot fathom that he has the ability to desire such a thing. 

kazuha has notebooks after notebooks filled with poems and portions of writings about his longing for you. most are sweet and loving, describing you as if you were more fascinating and eye-catching than the unknowns of the ocean and space combined. he thinks of you as the calming sounds of leaves blowing through the air after a storm, one that puts his soul at home. he quite simply cannot drive you away from consuming his each and every thought, nor does he want to. he is a bit bashful when you find the poems, watching as your eyes oh so carefully read each word he has written about you. his cheeks are rosy and he is unable to stutter even a sentence out because those notebooks reflect all of his heartfelt feelings for you, some of which he is not brave enough to voice aloud.

thoma finds himself copying your mannerisms and phrases without even intending to. he's around you so often that he cannot help but start humming the same songs you always do, or even laugh the same way as you. he'll pick up on some of your catchphrases and become flustered at the realization. he carries a part of you no matter where he is <3

itto has no limit when it comes to verbally expressing his adoration for you. his sentences are filled with compliments for you, and they revolve around each and every aspect of you; your clothes, personality, appearance, humor, hobbies, interests, habits, and the list goes on and on. he doesn't allow any insecurities to run free in your mind, because he is constantly reminding you of how amazing you are. he enjoys competitions, but admits that you are the only person who could beat him at anything <3

gorou cannot contain his feelings around you, no matter how hard he tries to. you are his lover, yet he seems to have never left the crushing phase. his cheeks still get adorned with a lovely shade of red whenever you inch closer to him and kiss him. he is left speechless whenever you make eye contact with him, even more when you tease him about being so easy to fluster. he still tries to look his best for you, and gets a little embarrassed when you see his messy bed hair. and of course, his wagging tail whenever he so much as thinks about you is a dead give away on how infatuated he is with you.

[magnetic-rose]

i see “beelzebub and gabriel only cared about each other and that’s why they ran away” and i think that’s valid but also, beelzebub and gabriel had never been cared FOR in their 6000 year existence and i think that counts for a lot. they were created to do god’s will, and then were put into these leadership roles where they spent the next 6000 years waiting to command a war. they didn’t make friends (which makes sense when everyone around you is a work subordinate), they didn’t have families, they didn’t have people to check up on them, want to hang out with them, spend time with them, gift them things, comfort them etc. they existed solely for the cause.

so of course they ran away together. 6000 years of loneliness and they didn’t even realize that’s what it was until they met each other. “no one has ever given me anything before” gabriel says and it’s the most emotional and vulnerable we’ve ever seen him. beelzebub is hard and mean and cruel to everyone else because that’s been their eternal role, but with gabriel they’re soft, giving, caring.

so is it about selfishness? partly, yeah. gabriel and beelzebub did not really live lives that gave them the opportunity to care for anything but themselves and god’s/satan’s will. so any being who was raised that way and then stagnated for 6000 years in that mindset would naturally be selfish. but their love for each other? they fell for each other because they could be selfless around each other. gabriel made a jukebox play beelzebub’s favorite song without expecting anything in return. beelzebub gave gabriel the fly because they wanted to, not because they needed to. their meetings weren’t beneficial to them. it was literally to be in each other’s company.

i mean, gabriel was willing to fall to be with beelzebub and beelzebub was willing to give up being duke of hell if it meant gabriel was safe and with them. that’s very selfless of both of them.

[theminecraftbee]

task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

[sh1-n0bu]

what punishment do you think suits for blade bcus he won't come home to me?

♡︎ 𝙥𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 ♡︎

characters: sub!blade x gn!dom!reader

warnings: slapping, edging, squirting, mentions of handjob, bondage, degrading, dacryphilia, begging, mentions of cock slapping, masochist bladie, forced self praise and praise, slight fluff and angst if you squint, reader’s a bit mean but it’s deserved😤 also ig this is a bit of a self aware AU as well???? yeah, ig u guys could read it as a self aware AU if ur into it

notes: sorry for replying too fast anon. my period is making me horknee😔 this is more like a headcannon of what i think would be a perfect punishment for blade

DEGRADING

listen listen listen, i know this may sound a bit weird but blade hates being degraded when with you. there’s a reason why he gives off wet, pathetic, soggy cat that’s abandoned at the side of the street vibes and because of that, blade loves to be praised instead. especially since you're his lover, his darling, his sweetheart, his one and only and the only one he would do absolutely anything and everything for without even thinking. because of that, blade wants to be praised. he wants to be a good boy for you, he wants to be your sweet baby, not your dirty slut. he thinks you’re being so mean to him :((

SLAPPING

now this can be taken in many concepts. he could be begging on his knees in front of you, hands clinging to the fabrics of your clothes as hazy, teary red eyes stare at you. chewed on lips spurring out apologies after apologies like a broken record. you could slap him across the face to make him shut up, its fine since blade can handle it. besides he’s a bit of a masochist as well so he would definitely let out a whimper and rub his thighs together to get some relief on his poor hardened cock

but if it's in other places such as slapping his ass as a form of punishment, slapping his thighs until the skin is all red and sensitive or even his hard cock leaking pre all over his stomach — either way, blade would be turned into a brainless sweetheart in no time. tears falling from his eyes as he begs for you to just touch him!! touch him properly please? he’s a good boy. he’ll be a good boy, he even promises!

EDGING

blade loves being overstimulated. its one of his favorite kinks. whether it be cumming over and over and over by your hand stroking his angry cock, fingering his ass and creating filthy squelching sounds or into your mouth or hell, even riding your thighs! he loves to be close to you, after years of loneliness and isolation, blade craves intimacy. he craves that close contact, to feel the warmth of your bare skin touching his own. even better when he’s crying and sobbing from cumming into your hand for the nth time that night, blabbering drunken shit as he squirts again. but when its taken away???? when he’s so close to reaching his high and stumbling over the edge, when his hard cock is ready to paint your hands with his sticky liquid and you take it away from him????? getting your hand off of his cock and leaving him aching and whining, desperately chasing after your hand with sobbing pleas? blade thinks you’re being real mean to him :((( please just let him cum, let him cum even on the sheets if you want! he won’t soil your hand, he just wants to cum so bad and his poor cock hurts so much :((

BONDAGE

this one is almost all of the time paired with the edging one. as i've said before, blade craves intimacy, he loves being close to you physically. he loves you so fucking much, way too much to the point it hurts to even be away from you even for a little bit. there's a reason why blade chose to be close to you, a reason why he decided to open up his heart to someone else again to give another shot at life and because of that he loves you and trust you so much. you're literally the reason he realized perhaps living wouldn't be so bad after all because he has you by his side, he can go another day, another month, another year, another life-time if it means he would get to spend every waking and even sleeping moment beside you. blade loves to be physically close to you so when you take it away from him, when you tie his hands behind his back or even tie his wrists up to the bedframe, he's doing everything to break those stupid cuffs or ropes. he wants to feel you!! it doesn't even have to be in the sexual way, it can just be in a literal way. holding hands, his palm flat against your back, feeling your skin, being reminded of your warmth. but if you take it away, he's a mess. but don't worry everything is consensual of courses, and you always make sure to take care of him and the bruises afterwards. one of the most effective ways to punish him, me thinks

honorary mention: FORCED SELF PRAISE

it might come of as a bit off or out of place since i did mention that one of the suited punishments for blade would be degrading and praise is the absolute opposite for that but hEAR ME OUT!!!! blade is self conscious of his body. and i meant his scars specifically. he finds them hideous, like how can someone like you could ever find him pretty or gorgeous or all those words you praise him with? he finds it ridiculous. his body is nothing but just a meaningless weapon by now, covered with scars and phantom pains that don't go away and yet you find it so beautiful. you even make sure to make him understand that he is indeed beautiful as you place kisses on each and every last one of the scars that he bears

now this!!!! is where the forced self praise comes in. it doesn't even have to be sexual or as a form of punishment. you could just be doing your everyday ritual of praising the ever loving shit out of him with blade sitting all pretty with a cute red dusting his cheeks. he would always weakly try to refuse your praises, saying that he wasn't the most handsome man in the galaxy and that was why he was wanted and instead always offering logical answers. just accept the damn praise blade >:(((( this is where it comes in. you can softly coax him to say self assuring things. it can start out small like "i did a good job on the mission the other day", "i make a delicious pancake this morning", "i always how to make hot chocolate to cheer up my beloved" and it can range to the things that he insistently denies. make him say that he's pretty, that he's gorgeous, that his hair is long and elegant, that he's an amazing lover, how he was wanted across all galaxies because he was just so charming and dashing and amazi - okay, now his brain is way too fried with the compliments and in his desperation, he's shutting you up with a kiss. he's so adorable :333

[screamingwailing]

Jealous/Aggressive!König x Reader Fic

CW: possessive!König, afab reader, oral (giving and receiving), aggressive unprotected sex, p in v action

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König is usually so kind and patient with you, so careful not to scare you or make you feel unsafe with his massive frame and dominating presence. He’s aware of how intimidating he can be, he normally strives for it, lives off the feeling of instilling fear. It’s how he’s so good at his job.

But…he isn't like that with you, never with you.

When he’s with you, Colonel König fades away, he just becomes yours. He can melt away from the blood, the death, the carnage. You’re his sanctuary. 

So when he comes back after a long mission and he sees you still up, playing a game with one of those fucking friends of yours - friends that he can hear are men - he snaps and loses it.

With your headphones on you don’t even hear him open the door, don’t see him stalk into the room, jealousy and spite in his eyes.

All he wanted when he came home was to unwind into you, to turn into the person he only ever was and could be with you, and some random nobody was in the way of that. He couldn’t have that. 

Without so much as a sound, he quickly turns you around in your chair, ripping your headset off, and muffling your frightened sounds with his massive hand. For the first time, you looked at him with fear. Why did he love it so?

Standing over you, hand covering your mouth and most of your face, gripping your head with a strength and force not familiar to you, you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. Gone is the man you fell in love with, in front of you was a monster no different from any other man on the battlefield. 

He glares down at you with a fiery vengeance. “I’m home meine Kleines.” 

Your head desperately moves, trying to escape his grasp, König gently tuts at you. 

“Ah-ah, meine Liebe. What do you think you are doing? Did you not miss me?” His voice practically came out in a hiss, sneer under his mask.

You look up at him, a pleading look in your tear-filled gaze. You did, you missed him more than anything. Why else would you stay up all night playing games with people you barely cared to remember the names of? Why else would you have a constant stream of distractions? The loneliness in absence of your king was all-consuming. But this wasn’t him, surely. Your König would never hurt you, never scare you like this.

He brings his other hand up to his masked face, signaling you to be quiet. You nod as much as he allows. Satisfied by your obedience, he slowly shifts the hand covering your mouth to instead firmly grab your chin and cheeks, his thumb and forefinger wrapping around you with a dull pain.

 “Doll, why is it that when your king came home to you, you weren’t waiting in bed? Did my absence mean nothing to you? Were you off trying to find someone new?” At this, the grip around you tightens, causing you to wince, tears falling down his fingers.

Seeing you wince, König falters for just a moment, his grip loosening just enough to allow you to speak. 

“N-no! I-…I would never! Please, why are you being like this, what did I do wrong?” 

Wrong answer. As if possessed, König’s eyes darken and grow cold once more. “Lügen! You lie, little mouse.”

He looms over you, rage and turmoil in his gaze. Desperate to get through to him, your voice becomes shrill with desperation. “I’m not lying, I promise! Please, you’re hurting me, let go!” 

König considers this for a moment, then cocks his head to the side, his eyes almost glowing red from the light of your computer. “Nein, I will not let go of you again. It seems I need to remind you who you belong to.” 

You gulp, your fear tingling with arousal. Regardless of his fearsome state, you can’t help but feel your body react to his words, your legs squirming together. König’s eyes flick towards the movement, not missing your reaction. 

Voice filled with an almost childlike mirth, he chuckles at this. “Ah, it seems your body remembers, even if its treacherous owner strays.”

He leans towards your head, breathing your scent in deeply. “I have missed you, so, meine Liebe. If only you had stayed good for me…if only I were enough for you.” 

Your eyes meet his, his mask still covering a majority of his expression. You don’t understand, he was his normal affectionate self when he had left for his most recent mission. You can feel your pulse rapidly beating in your throat, but still, you can’t help but notice the pain in his eyes. And even more obvious than this, the protruding bulge in his tactical pants. You’re afraid…you’re afraid but…it’s still König. You’d trust him with your life. You sharply inhale through your nose, closing your eyes momentarily, then exhaling and meeting his gaze once more. You’re no longer afraid. 

His massive hand is still gripping your face tightly, but he notices the change in your demeanor and steps back in confusion. You gently reach out, as if scared to frighten him. Your much smaller hand wraps around his wrist, pulling his hand back up to your throat. 

“I missed you too, König. More than you could ever know. You know you’re the only one for me. You’re my everything.” Your eyes look up at him with pure adoration, bordering on obsession. 

König looks at you, conflicted, before his eyes harden once more. He steps forwards, his hand tightening around your throat. “Prove it to me. Prove to me that I am the only one for you.” 

He lets go of your throat, instead guiding your head towards his straining bulge. Without wasting a moment, you lunge forward, as if starved. In a way, you were; it had been so long since your king had been home with you. You make sure to lock eyes with him as your teeth close around his zipper, pulling it down agonizingly slow. He groans in anticipation, his fingers sliding through your hair. He impatiently tugs, urging you on. Wanting to please, you kiss him through his boxers, suckling and gently biting along his shaft through the fabric. 

“Enough teasing, Liebe. I want your mouth around me” He grits out, his pupils blown out in arousal. 

Your heart rate increases again, this time in anticipation, as you tug his clothing down. His cock bounces up against his stomach and you almost moan at the sight. Without wasting any time, you engulf his tip between your lips, making sure to wrap your tongue around at the same time. He hisses in surprise, his cock already starting to leak in your mouth. You suck harder on his tip, savoring the taste of him. You lock eyes as you take him deeper, tears already forming from the stretch in your mouth. His head falls back for a moment, lost in pleasure, before gripping your hair tighter. 

“Deeper” he growls out. It’s not a request, it’s an order, and you’re more than happy to comply. 

Taking him deeper, you gag around him. He’s so fucking big, you can barely continue. You wrap your hands around his thick shaft, making sure to pump whatever you can’t fit in your mouth. Your drool drips down him, mixing with his precum. You moan around him, bobbing your head faster, trying to take him as deep as you can.

“Scheiße, that’s it. Such a good little whore for me. God, have I missed this mouth.” 

König looks down on you, shoving your head down further as his eyes roll back in pleasure. You gag around him, tears streaming down your face. You aren’t used to him manhandling you like this, but you can’t deny what it does to you. You feel the heat between your legs, the growing wet spot in your underwear only getting worse with each passing moment. Something about the utter possession and loss of control makes you crazy, your mouth bobbing faster, drool dripping all the way down to König’s heavy balls. 

Looking up at him with your tear streaked cheeks and red eyes, König can’t help but groan at the sight, his balls tightening. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to his release, especially since it’s been so long since he last felt you. 

König’s grip on your hair grows painful as he lets out a low moan. “Kleines, take it for me. I’m going to cum down your throat. You’ll be such a good whore and swallow it all for me, ja?” 

You hum your approval around him, groaning in anticipation. The vibration sends him over the edge and you feel hot liquid spurt down your throat. As promised, you do your best to swallow every drop, your mind hazing with the taste and overwhelming sensation of König all around you. Despite your best efforts, you begin to choke, his cum seemingly never ending. He pulls your head back, finishing his climax on your face. You look up at him with a look of utter bliss, eyes clouded in lust, cum dripping down your face and down your chin. 

“My god, look at you, Schatz. So perfect for me, such a good little cumslut. Gutes Mädchen.” König’s voice is gravelly from the pleasure, praise spilling from his lips like a prayer. 

His strong arms lift you up as he carries you to your bedroom. Completely cumdrunk, you don’t even notice until you feel him throw you onto the bed. Like a predator stalking his prey, König’s massive frame draws closer, the bed creaking under his weight. He grips your thighs strong enough to bruise as he spreads them. He lifts his mask up just enough to show his chiseled jaw and scarred lips, his long tongue tracing his near fang-like canines as he takes in the delicious sight of you before him. 

“Meine Kleine, you did so well for me. Let me reward you” König practically purrs out, before he lifts your legs upwards as he dives towards your heat. 

Still cumdrunk, you moan at the sudden pleasure, your mind further clouding with König’s skilled tongue at work. You feel him expertly work you, his tongue pushing deep within you as he thumbs your clit. He groans against you and you can feel his grin against your cunt. His nose presses against your clit as he pushes his tongue in deeper, adding a finger to further your pleasure. You feel his finger push up against the spot that makes you see stars as his tongue slips out of you and over your sensitive clit. You scream out, unable to stop your cries. This only spurs him on more, König positively ravenous for you, drinking in every noise you make. He noisily laps around your clit, sensing your oversensitivity, as he adds a second thick finger. You whine at the stretch, wanting more while also adjusting to the intrusion. 

“P-please, König! I need you, please, please-” you beg for him, watching his breath quicken in response. 

König pulls away from your dripping pussy to shush you,“Shh, patience, Schatz. All in due time.” 

You whine in response, attempting to buck your hips against his face. He holds your legs tighter, squeezing them and pulling them more firmly while pushing you against the bed. You can’t help but twitch in response, loving how easily he can maneuver you. One hand is enough to hold you down while the other brutally fucks into your heat, relentlessly thrusting his fingers in and out of you, palm slapping against your clit as he laps around your folds. You can feel your climax building, keening and squirming in his grasp. A silent scream escapes your lips as you feel König wrap his mouth around your sensitive nub, sucking your clit while still working your soaking cunt. 

“There it is, Schatz, let go for your King. Show me that you belong to me, that you will only cum for me.” 

Your release rips through you violently, your vision going white as your entire body lifts and shakes, trembling through the powerful orgasm. König continues to roughly finger you through it, torturing you with his continuous ministrations. He smirks down at you as you attempt to squirm away. 

“Now, now, Liebe. You didn’t think I would be satisfied with just that, did you? I know you can cum again for me.” 

König latches his mouth around you once again, his fingers rhythmically abusing your sensitive insides, pumping them against your spot over and over. You scream as another orgasm is ripped from you, tears once again streaming down your face. Panting from the overexertion, your legs quake and twitch. 

“Gutes Mädchen, such a good slut for me” König looks at you smugly, pride and confidence clearly showing in his eyes. 

Still between your legs, you feel something hot against your entrance. König continues to grip your legs tightly, looking at you with a new glint in his eyes: a look of predation, of total need and lust. You shudder, another wave of arousal hitting your already exhausted body. 

“Are you ready, meine Liebe?” König looms over you, a toothy grin set on his face as he pushes inside you. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes back as you’re entirely filled, the stretch of König’s fingers nothing in comparison to his monstrous cock. Long and girthy, he fills you like no one else, reminding you with each thrust just who you belong to. As he pounds into you, your throat becomes raw with broken sobs and moans. He fucks you like an animal, all need and desire, carnal nearly to the point of pain. König folds you in half with his massive frame, tantalizing moans and grunts coming from above you as he fucks you faster. 

You can tell he’s about to cum, to completely fill you inside and mark you as his. As his orgasm approaches his thrusts become erratic and impatient, sounds of skin slapping against skin and dueted moans filling the otherwise quiet bedroom. You’re about to cum for a third time, this time with him. 

As König’s orgasm tears through him he lunges his mouth forward, attacking your throat with his sharp canines. Practically growling around your throat, he marks you both inside and out, painting your insides with his cum while he draws blood on your throat. 

He collapses on top of you for a moment before slowly rising and looking at your fucked-out expression. As if the spell on him finally dissipated, König calms for the first time since his arrival. He gently strokes your sweaty hair from your face, kissing your forehead. He collapses back against your chest, clinging to your form tightly. “I..I’m sorry, meine Liebe. When I was in the field you were all I thought of. Every day, I only thought of returning to you. To come home to you speaking to another, I couldn’t bear it.” 

You sigh softly before looking at him with a soft smile before saying the words you’ve been practicing in secret, “Du bist mein ein und alles, König”.  

His eyes widen at this, then soften and close once more, finally content and at peace with his love. No more words need to be exchanged, you both understand what you mean to one another. Finally, you could rest with your König. 

hello meowdy! this is my first fic, pls b kind ;;

[mysaintkitten]

I fully forgot I had this .. so here’s a little something for y’all lol

prompt: Jonathan calls you up after having a few drinks

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+ MDNI), mentions of alcohol/intoxication, brief mentions of suicide, subby-ish Jonathan, phone sex, come eating

*not proofread & old as hell*

you’re abruptly awoken by the phone ringing. through squinted eyes, you peak at the clock sitting on top of your nightstand.

1:03 am flashes at you. who’s calling at this hour? you drag your body out of bed and trudge your way over to the living room where your home phone resides. once there, you drop to the couch and grab the phone, putting it up to your ear.

“hello?” you groan, you hear a small snicker on the other end.

“hiii babyyy!” they respond, clearly a little tipsy, you immediately recognize the voice.

it’s jonathan, your close friend, who had recently got placed into a psyche ward after attempting to kill himself. you hadn’t heard from him since he had told you the news. now here he is, ringing your phone at 1 am, while simultaneously dropping a “baby” bomb on you.

“jonathan?” you blurted, feeling yourself become a bit more awake, “what are you doing? why are you up? how do you even have access to a phone right now?”

he sighs into the phone, “me and toby sn- toby’s m’pal .. by the way .. we snuck out ‘n had a few drinks ..” his mumbles, “now ‘m allllll alone ..” he whines, dragging out the all to emphasize his loneliness, “oh ‘n about the phone .. since i’ve been so good they gave me a landline, cordless too, i mean they couldn’t give me a cord ‘cause i might wrap it around my neck, but it’s nifty!”

you roll your eyes. of course he’d do some shit like this. if it was any other friend, you would’ve told them bluntly that you’re not in the mood to talk, but jonathan was an exception right now. he was in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, and his comment about wrapping the cord around his neck grounded you back into reality. you decided to chat with him for a while.

“is that so?” you reply, “how’d the night go?”

“fun!” he bubbled, “oh m’god .. me and toby .. my friend .. we saw this piss drunk guy fall in the street!” he giggles while recounting the incident. you giggle with him, not so much at the story, but at the fact that he felt the need to reiterate that he has a friend named toby.

“that sound very funny, jon, but shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

he whines, “‘m not tired! plus i’ve been thinking about you .. that’s why i called .. wanted to hear your voice ..”

oh?

“why’d you wanna hear my voice? you miss me that much?” you joke, relaxing more into the couch. he hums, “jus’ like how it sounds ..”

“well. you woke me up, and i don’t think i’ll be able to go back to sleep, so you’re welcome to listen to my voice for a while.” you chuckle softly, not thinking too heavily about his intentions. he’s drunk, after all.

“hmm ..” he mumbles in approval, “can you jus’ talk? tell me about your day, love ..”

your brows furrow a bit at the request, but you oblige.

“i didn’t do too much .. just showered .. picked up a bit .. it was nice though.”

he groans quietly at you mentioning showering.

“mmh .. wards got no nice soaps .. i like how your soaps smell. always smellin’ so good ..” he murmurs, through the phone you can hear some minor rustling, but you assume it’s just jonathan drunkenly tossing and turning.

you laugh at his odd compliment, “you think i smell nice?”

“oh, i think a lot of you s’nice, darling.” he assures, his breathing becoming heavier

“what else about me is nice, jonathan?” you ask, thinking he’ll say something corny like your humour or your personality.

“that face f’yours .. gorgeous ..” he giggles and huffs, “‘n that body .. maybe it’s ’cause ‘m all alone .. ‘n a bit tipsy .. but i can’t stop thinkin’ about touchin’ you ..”

oh.

you’re not too sure what to say. you’ve been friends with jonathan for years, you would have never assumed that he wanted you that way. jonathan was very attractive, and you’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him in a sexual way before.

“jonathan ..” you reply calmly, “i think you’re just drunk and confused, how about we talk more tomorrow? you can call me when-“

he whines, “no, baby, ‘m sorry .. i’ve just wanted you .. for so long ..” he hums as his breathing becomes louder, “‘n now .. just your voice got me s’hard ..”

you pause, listening to jonathan, you still hear the shuffling and his breathing. occasionally he whines a few times, is he touching himself?

“jon, are you .. getting off right now?”

he chuckles, “s’hard .. mmh .. thought i might faint.”

you hate to admit it, but hearing jonathan’s neediness got you a little worked up. knowing he was hard just from your voice ignited some interesting feelings from within you.

as your mind is racing, jonathan speaks, “if i w’s there .. would y’touch me?”

your heart begins to pound, his words have become more direct. he’s not just rambling about how he feels, he wants to know how you feel. you slip one of your hands into your panties, feeling how slick you’ve become from jonathan’s words. you might as well get yourself off as well.

instead of answering, you flip the question. “i’m wondering what you’d do if i was there.” you laugh breathily as you gently rub your clit. jonathan whines into the phone, “god, baby, s’filthy. y’don’t even wanna know ..”

“tell me. i want to hear it.” you pry as you become more aroused, hearing jonathan moan weakly at his own thoughts.

“mmh .. wanna eat your cunt .. make y’come at least once on m’face ..” he groans, “wanna fuck you. raw. make y’shake ‘n cry from my cock. wanna make that cunt feel so so good.”

jesus. really didn’t take much convincing for him to spill his thoughts. you bite your lip at his words, hearing his fantasies made you blush embarrassingly hard.

“hm .. yeah?” you moan into the phone, rubbing your clit at a quicker pace

“‘n i wanna eat you again after my cocks been ‘nside you .. lick up our come ..” jonathan gasps, through the phone you can hear him fisting his now slick cock. “then i wanna kiss you when m’done ..” he adds, chuckling a bit.

“god ..” you sigh, “you are filthy.”

you’re finding it difficult to hold back your moans, you almost want jonathan to hear them at this point.

“you .. you got me all wet, jon ..” you admit a bit awkwardly, you’ve never had phone sex before, but you don’t think jonathan will notice.

he whimpers “are y’touching yourself, baby?”

“yeah .. yeah i am ..” you purr, sliding a finger inside yourself and moaning softly as you plunge it in and out.

“jesus, fuck ..” he huffs, “you rubbin’ your clit? or fingering yourself?”

“i’m doing both .. switchin’ every now and then ..” you coo, adding a second finger inside. you hiss slightly at the change, but your cunt quickly adapts and accepts the second finger.

“mmh!” jonathan moans, “s’hot, knowing you’ve got y’fingers all over that pussy .. you sensitive, baby?”

he’s really into calling you baby. although it feels foreign, you’re not opposed to it at all.

“yeah .. a bit ..” you chuckle breathlessly as you remove your slick fingers out and bring them back to your clit.

“oh, fuck ..” he whimpers loudly, “baby, baby, ‘m not gonna last- m’sorry ..”

you could tell from jonathan’s tone and desperate little whimpers that he was close, he didn’t need to tell you, but it’s kind of nice that he at least let you know.

“that’s okay, come jon. show me how good it feels.” you purr. he can’t physically show you, but he can verbalize it, and he does.

“mmf- fuck, baby, ‘m comin’-“ he moans loudly, you’re worried other people in the ward might hear him.

“that’s it, come on yourself jon, good boy.” you encourage, you’re almost surprised that you called him a good boy, you never expected that to slip out.

his moans dwindle into small little whimpers as he rides out the orgasm, huffing quietly once he’s come down.

“‘m all messy, baby ..” he giggles,

“poor thing, you gonna clean yourself up?” you hum to tease.

“mhm .. nice ‘n clean ..” he mumbles as you hear him making small sucking and licking noises,

“jon, are you licking up your come?” you nearly chuckle at him,

“well no one’s ‘ere to do it for me ..” he whines, continuing to lick away his come.

“jesus. dirty, dirty boy.” you scold playfully, toying with your clit again.

“‘m a dirty boy ..” he repeats while yawning, “dirty boy.”

“you tired?” you ask softly,

“mmh, yeah, little bit ..” he mumbles,

“how about you get some sleep and we talk more tomorrow, all right?”

“mmh.. but i wanna talk ..” he groans,

you laugh weakly at his determination, “i’ll be here tomorrow. trust me. get some sleep. we can talk when you’re more awake and sober.”

“fine .. g’night baby. sweet dreams.” he gives in, yawning again

“sleep well, jonathan.” you close before hanging up. as you place the phone down, you’re left with silence and your thoughts. you decide you might as well get yourself off, and you do, you come in your pants to the thought of jonathan’s whimpers and moans. then, you clean yourself off before heading back to bed.

—

Not to jinx myself … but I am currently writing. Send me good energy yall please