#new fic that may never see the light of day on ao3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lincolndjarin · 8 months

Text

Every Now and Then - ch. one

[ I Dream of Something Wild ]

pairing : joel miller x f!reader, platonicsoulmate!tommy & f!reader

word count : 6.4k

summary : Joel Miller destroyed you. He loved you, then he left, leaving you in the New York City, QZ. But he's a good southern gentleman, so of course he didn't leave you without a reminder of the time you spent together. Four years later you're living in Jackson, in a lovely little ranch house. (With your reminder.) The last person you want to see is Joel Miller, unfortunately you've never been particularly lucky.

tags/warnings : 18+ mdni, angst, canon typical violence, injury, language, manipulation, joel takes advantage of readers situation, eventual smut, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, she is picked up by joel at one point but i'm a firm believer that he's strong enough to lift any one who may find themselves in the pov of our reader, joel is possessive and controlling, dark!joel miller in a sense?? like he's not really dark now but he's going to be, multiple time lines, not canon compliant, mentions of prostitution, i sorta made up my own timeline, i probs missed tags sorry!!

a/n : i really need to fix my writing schedule so i'm hoping that having a new fic to put my energy into is going to help!! also sorry if this chapter doesn't have much going on i need to set up a lot of stuff but i promise more action in future chapters

ao3 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ main masterlist .𖥔 ݁ ˖ kofi

He crept up on you like the shadows as the sun sets in the west. An all encompassing darkness that blotted out the sun until all that was left was night. He sunk his claws into you so deep that your eyes adjusted to the dark, and you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until you shrunk away from the inevitable sunrise that made him cower away from the dawn as if he never really was big and scary.

And in the light of day you saw him for what he really was.

He was just a man, who was once a boy, who was scared of the dark.

So he made himself big, and terrifying, and he grew so accustomed to the thing he once feared that the very idea of anything else made him recoil.

You feel something akin to pity when you think of him now. That doesn’t mean you forgive him, but when you can stomach it you try to, for the sake of your peace. You’d probably be happier if you could just forgive him.

But you can’t.

So you don’t.

It’s hard when his own blood doesn’t think he’s a good man. Tommy was afraid of him. Terrified at the very thought of his big brother. You can recall several nights where you had woken up to him screaming in the sleeping bag beside you, absolutely petrified of a memory that had inevitably snuck in through the darkness. You never feared him quite like that, but seeing the effect he has on Tommy makes your stomach churn, a painful reminder of your own suffering.

Most of the time it’s easier to just not think of him at all, despite the reminders he’s branded into you forever. You ignore him when he tries to soak back into your very being, but at the end of the day he’s unavoidable. You see him in the dark brown eyes of others, hear him in Tommy’s southern drawl, taste him when you have the occasional sip of whiskey. He tries and tries relentlessly to worm his way back into you, but you never let him. You put up walls and you focus on other things, anything, that isn’t Joel Miller. And even though you can’t forget him entirely you manage to ignore the memory of the man you once loved for several years.

Until one day it’s impossible to keep the thought of him away.

Until he himself makes it impossible.

Then - NEW YORK CITY, QUARANTINE ZONE : 2019

“Stay off of it or you’re going to lose it.”

That’s what the QZ doctor had told you. A couple weeks of bed rest was the most he could offer when you came to him with your broken ankle.

A couple weeks without working is a death sentence.

If you don’t work you won’t be able to afford food. And you don’t have anybody to fall back on, no family, no friends, not even an acquaintance to borrow funds from.

Lose your leg or starve.

As appealing as it sounds, starvation isn’t an option, too painful.

So you have to work. The only issue with that is you’ve been blacklisted, the stupid doctor had you put on a no-shift list. You beg them to let you work, you’ll do anything, but they never budge.

You only have enough ration cards stocked up to make it to the end of the week so you have to consider your other options. You could sell yourself. It certainly isn’t uncommon and the money’s good but it’s too dangerous, especially if you can’t run on your leg. You’ve seen too many people get hurt in that profession to risk it. You don’t have a trade. You’re terrible at sewing, you can’t cook, there isn’t a need for much of anything else and you own nothing valuable.

So there’s only one other option for you.

You steal.

You dress inconspicuously, in your only pair of jeans and a plain shirt, both of which are getting rather tattered at this point but you have nothing else. With your jacket on you pull up your hood and you do the exact thing you aren’t supposed to do, and you walk.

The conditions in the QZ are poor enough that your limp doesn’t stand out. You walk up and down the streets all day, slow and steady, with your head down and you don’t take risks. You don’t take anything big or obvious, just little things. A single ration card peeking out of a pocket, a pocket knife off a vendor's table, stale bread, set away from the good stuff where no one is looking. And you return home each night with your pockets full and your leg aching.

By the end of your second week you’re still barely scraping by but you’re managing. What little ration cards you manage to snatch you use to buy food, but it’s still nothing compared to what you’re used to making. Your ankle feels worse by the day.

You need more.

You need to find a source of income that will let you rest or you’re going to lose your leg, which will leave you in an even worse position. It isn’t until you hear your neighbor slam his door that you come up with an idea.

Your neighbor probably has more cards than he knows what to do with, and he’s always coming and going so he probably wouldn’t even notice if you skimmed a little off the top. Nothing substantial, just enough to keep you going and give your leg time to heal.

The only problem is your neighbors reputation.

You doubt you’d have much of a chance of surviving him if you got caught. Joel Miller was a bit of an urban legend around the QZ. Of course you only knew him as your stoic neighbor, just a guy who didn’t make a lot of noise and came home at strange hours, and sometimes disappeared for days at a time.

But everyone else acted as if he was some kind of Boogey Man. You didn’t see him much in the streets but when you did children ran and people whispered, and while you had no knowledge of how he earned that reputation you knew it probably wasn’t pretty.

So you’d have to be careful.

He’s gone now, you’d heard him stopping down the hall so you decide it couldn’t hurt to take a peek, just scout out the area.

You climb out onto the fire escape, your leg aching as you do, and you use the dull little knife you’d stolen a few days ago to shimmy open his window lock. It slides open pretty easily, he’s probably rather confident that nobody would ever mess with him so he doesn’t seem to have the usual precautions taken to protect his belongings.

Lucky you.

Stepping into the room you wince as you land on your bad leg, stumbling onto the floor, knocking a board loose in the process.

“Shit.” You groan, sitting up quickly, trying to put everything back in its proper place when you catch a glimmer of something under the floor.

A revolver.

You shouldn’t be here. Joel Miller is a dangerous man, you knew that but you did this anyway, you can’t help but feel incredibly stupid as you stare at the weapon. You feel so stupid that you don’t even hear the click of a lock. You don’t even bother with the ration cards you can see peeking out from under the gun, you just want to leave and forget that you ever thought this was a good idea. It’s a struggle, getting back to your feet, your leg is throbbing, begging for a rest you can’t afford to take right now. With a groan you push the window open, eager for this silly idea to be over you try to figure out the best way to go about this. You’re starting to lose feeling in your leg, should you go bad leg first or try to balance on it while shimmying the rest of your body out the window?

You never get to decide what the best course of action is because your head is slammed against the wall, your knees crumple underneath you as you hit the floor, the room spinning as your leg bends at an angle that makes you shriek. You slap your hand over your mouth but it’s far too late for that. He’s been here the whole time. It’s dark but you can still make out the foreboding shape of his figure. The broad shouldered beast that’s glaring down at you, his boot nudging your chin roughly as you bite back a shriek of fear.

“I could report you to FEDRA for this.” The gruff voice whispers into the darkness.

You’re desperate to avoid lockup, you know you’ll die in there, or worse. Although you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen to you either way.

“I- I’ll tell them about your contraband.” You point frantically at the loose floor board. “They’ll lock you up too.” His glare is unwavering as he stares down at you. You’re a little worried that he might just kill you himself, there would be no consequences, no one would be looking for you.

No one would look for you.

The thought makes you shudder and even though you try to stop yourself you feel your eyes beginning to water. You hear footsteps, watching his outline move across the room before you’re shrinking away from the light of a dim lamp in the corner.

“You gotta be real dumb to find yourself in this situation.” He mutters, turning back around to stare at you. His gaze makes you want to cover yourself up, it’s like he can see every single part of you within that icy glare. You’ve never taken the time to really, truly look at him before but you do now, after all this might be your last chance to look at anything at all.

He isn’t a terrible last sight.

Sure, he’s ominous enough to make you want to try and run despite the ache in your calf right now, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. In a rugged, weathered sort of way. He’s older than you thought, gray sprinkled throughout the mess of curls framing his face. What a nice face it is. Soft where it needs to be soft, sharp where it needs to be sharp. He marches back over to you, easily taking the pocket knife from your hand and crouching down in front of you.

“Give me one good reason not to finish you off right now.” He points the blade in the direction of your leg. “Seems like it’d be a mercy at this point.”

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe it would be a mercy to just let him put you out of your misery. Why have you been fighting so hard? You can’t seem to recall a reason other than the fact that that’s what you’re supposed to do. Your mind tells you that you’re supposed to keep fighting but you can’t think of a single driving force. You’re in pain, constantly, you live in a world that wants you dead, and you have no one relying on you.

You don’t have a good reason, other than the fact that surviving is all you know how to do. So you look up at him and you nod. Taking in the sight of the pretty, frightening man one last time before closing your eyes.

It feels good. You feel good, for the first time in a long time, knowing that you won’t hurt anymore. You won’t have to be afraid of someone kicking your door in, you won’t have to worry about where your next meal is going to come from, and you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster. It’s a mercy.

So you close your eyes.

Suddenly grateful for the killer before you, your guardian angel, here to deliver you the peace you didn’t know you needed.

You wait patiently for the sting of a blade or the embrace of his hands around your throat but all you're met with is a sigh. When you finally find the courage to open your eyes he’s sitting on the edge of the bed across from you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just go.” He grumbles, muttering a few other words you don’t catch.

You’re almost disappointed, having accepted this was the end, and now you’re being shoved back into the cold and unforgiving world. You start to get to your feet but your knees buckle under you. You try again, willing your leg to just work but much to your dismay you can’t even straighten out your leg anymore. When you try to move it all you find yourself only able to bend your knee a few inches.

Shit.

You think of the fall you took on the way in and wonder if you finally pushed yourself to the limit. If you go back to the doctor will he remove the entire thing? Maybe you should just ask Joel to finish the job before it comes to that. It would be a kindness, between a quick death here or a slow death starving in your apartment you’ll take the quick way every time. Before you even have a chance to ask he’s on his feet. Maybe his patience has run out and you won’t have to ask at all.

“Let me.” His voice rattles around in your head, so low and commanding that you put up no resistance as he lifts you up under your arms and sets you down on the edge of the bed where he just was. He flips the knife out, going to cut your jeans off of you but you stop him.

“Wait!” He freezes in place, giving you an impatient look. “These are my only jeans, just- just pull them down.” Before you can realize how embarrassing it might be to show your neighbor your faded pink panties, you're already unbuttoning your pants, lifting your hips up so he can pull them down your legs with a roll of his eyes. It’s painful, the feeling of the denim running against your skin but it’s better than not having any pants at all.

Fuck.

It’s been a while since you’ve actually looked at your leg. You’re surprised he was able to get your jeans off with how swollen it is, the flesh bulging around your ankle and now up your calf. The skin is shiny and blotchy with shades of purple and red. The sight of it makes you want to hurl but you manage to swallow the urge, looking away as he pokes at the tender flesh.

“Christ girl, what the hell did you do?” When he grabs your ankle to lift your leg you yelp in pain, making him set your leg back down instinctively.

“I just- it’s just a broken ankle.” You mumble as he gives you an incredulous look.

“Like hell it is.” Something about the sternness of his voice demands your obedience as you nod. “Wanna tell me what really happened?”

“Well I- I fell and-” You struggle to find an excuse to justify how bad you let this get but you come up empty. So you tell the truth. “I fell off a ladder while painting over graffiti during my shift and broke my ankle. The doctor told me to stay off of it and- well, I couldn’t afford not to work so I just… didn’t” You rush through your words, staring anywhere else but into his demanding gaze as you explain yourself.

“So you turned to stealin’.” He says it like the fact it is and you can only bring yourself to nod. “You need antibiotics.” He says just as matter of factly. “You know how much that sort of thing costs?”

A lot.

More than you’d have even if you were working overtime.

He clears his throat and you finally meet his eyes.

His eyes were so dark that day they threatened to swallow you whole. Were they always that dark? Or was it just that day, the first day, when he realized that he had you.

“Look, I don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody. But I can help you.” He had sounded so kind, his hint of a smile had seemed so promising.

“I can’t afford it-”

“You can use alternative methods to pay me back.”

You told him you’d think about it.

And he hadn’t pushed you, he had simply helped you back into your jeans and carried you back to your apartment. He told you he’d check on you tomorrow and see if you had an answer for him.

So when the next day came and you had a fever and your leg was throbbing, demanding your attention you’d been all too eager to accept his help.

And just like that, it was your idea.

It wasn’t his, he was blameless, you asked him to help you. And it didn’t matter who had suggested it first, it mattered who brought it up after.

You had been certain that when he had told you you’d be using alternative methods to pay him back that his intentions were unsavory. And at that point you didn’t really care, you’d made your peace with that. The medicine you needed wasn’t cheap and you could find worse looking men who didn’t take care of themselves the way Joel did.

But he wanted nothing of the sort.

Southern Manners.

All he wanted was for you to take care of his apartment when he was out with his business partner, a woman who didn’t seem to dislike you but certainly didn’t care for you. He told you to take a week to just rest, take the medicine he brought you, eat the food that he fed you, and be good. So you did as he asked. And after a week you could move a bit more, you started spending your days at Joel’s tidying up and organizing while he was gone, it was much easier to stay off your leg for most of the day and he always made sure there was food and books for you while he was gone. And when he returned he would help you hobble back to your place and help you into bed without complaint and with a promise that he’d be back in the morning.

But you still don’t relax around him.

It doesn’t make sense. Even someone who wasn’t known for their cruelty wouldn’t just take a stranger in. You’d like to believe that there’s good in people but you know better than to have that kind of faith. There isn’t enough left of the world to share the remains. Yet Joel does. He doesn’t ask to know you better and he certainly doesn’t tell you about himself yet he shows you more kindness than anyone else in your life has before.

He must like having someone to take care of.

That’s how you explain it to yourself.

You watch him with Tess and it’s clear who’s in charge there, she barely even lets him stitch her up when she returns to the apartment. Joel gets frustrated every time, huffing and pacing around the room before finding some way to tend to you in her place. Icing your leg, or bringing you a new book to read, or feeding you.

It took a few months for your leg to heal, it had been in such bad shape a part of you worried that it might never be the same as it once was.

After the first month of your arrangement Joel told you his knees hurt and he wouldn’t be able to carry you home, you offered to just walk yourself over, your leg didn’t hurt that bad anymore and you were more than capable of walking short distances. But he insisted you stay, told you you could sleep in the bed and he’d take the couch.

But his knees hurt, you couldn’t let him do that.

And you told him you’d take the couch and he told you he wouldn’t feel right making you sleep on the couch with your leg the way it was.

So you told him you’d both just sleep in the bed. It wasn’t a big deal. You trusted him, of course you did, he had an opportunity to exploit you and he didn’t, if he was going to hurt you he would have done it already.

He had acted unsure.

You know now that it was acting.

So you had insisted. You told him it was okay, you told him you felt safe with him.

It was your idea.

Even though it hadn’t been your idea to stay that night.

You had insisted he get in the bed with you.

A fact that he would bring up often in the months to come.

He would still help you to your apartment some nights, but just as often he’d complain about his knees and you’d stay. You got used to his warmth, you got used to waking up in his arms and not talking about it in the morning.

So it made sense when he told you that you should keep your pajamas at his apartment.

It made sense when he got a toothbrush for you to keep in his bathroom cabinet.

It made sense when he told you that he couldn’t find new clothes in your size and you could just wear his.

It made sense when he told you that he and Tess had never been a thing, so you had no reason to feel weird about sleeping in his bed.

And it made sense when he told you that he’d hold onto the keys to your apartment, afterall you wouldn’t want to lose them.

Joel Miller was a glue trap. And you had waded across his sticky surface without a care in the world, never realizing that it was getting harder and harder to move until you were standing still. Until the only way you were going to escape was by biting off your own leg.

You don’t remember when you stopped returning to your own apartment completely, but you know that it happened early on, before you’d even started chewing.

Now - JACKSON, WYOMING : 2023

“Ruth?” You’re gonna be late if you don’t find her soon. The turntable in the corner of the kitchen plays a 3 Doors Down song as you lift the table cloth, searching for the little girl. “We don’t have time to play, we need to get you to school.” You groan, turning to face the boy currently sitting in a highchair he’s just about grown out of. “Do you know where she is?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glaring at him as he shrugs.

Of course he isn’t going to tell. They look out for each other before anyone else, a fact that normally fills you with joy but not when they’re ganging up against you. Thankfully you catch his eye as he shoots a glance at the pantry. Pulling the door open you’re quickly met with the sight of Ruth, giggling on the floor. You pick her up, putting her in her own highchair before setting a plate of fruits down in front of her.

“Eat. We don’t have time to play this morning, young lady.” You poke your fork in her direction as you sit down across from them.

“Eat.” She repeats in a mocking tone, her brother erupting into a fit of giggles at the impression as you sigh. They need to be at the community center in half an hour. You make the job schedules on Friday and you need as much time as possible if you want to finish them in one day. You’re having a hard time focusing on the mess your son is making as he smashes each blueberry down onto the table before popping them into his mouth as you try to schedule your own weekend.

You need to finish all of your work today while the kids are gone so you don’t have to juggle watching them and working later, it shouldn’t be too much of an issue, scheduling should only take a few hours if you really zero in on it. You have dinner with Tommy and Maria tomorrow and you promised to bring dessert so you’ll have to take the kids to the market tonight, which also means you’re going to have to find supplies to barter with before you go.

You have nothing planned on Sunday.

You’ll have to change that.

You hate having nothing to do.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as a blueberry hits you in the forehead. Both twins laugh now as you frown at them.

“Behave or I’ll tell your aunt that you’ve been bad.” Both children look at each other nervously before returning to their breakfast. You were never stern enough with them. You loved them too much, you couldn’t ever bring yourself to yell at them, and it wasn’t like they were troublemakers by any means, they were just kids with a lot of energy in the mornings. And when they did misbehave a small threat of telling Maria was enough to make them stop whatever it was they were doing.

You finish up your own plate and start getting ready to leave as the kids start giggling again to themselves. When their plates are empty you use a wet washcloth to clean their hands and faces before lifting each of them out of their respective seats, letting them run off a bit more energy before you head out. You set all three bags down in front of the door. Yours being the beige over the shoulder bag accompanied by two little backpacks. Ruth’s green canvas bag is covered in mud and other remnants of the yard that she’s brought in with her but Arthur’s purple backpack is kept neat and tidy. You slip into your coat before turning just in time to watch your son dive into the couch, quickly followed by his sister.

“Come on little ducks. Time for school.” You take their jackets off the hook, holding them out to them as they rush over to you, tugging their own coats on before grabbing their bags, once you pull the door open they both rush out into the cool autumn morning, talking to each other in hushed tones. Always secrets with those two. It would probably make you a little worried if these were normal circumstances, the way they don’t let anyone in except each other, with you being the only exception. But the world is a terrifying place, it brings you peace to know that they have each other.

A part of you is certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle just one.

One little person relying on you, all while you’re doing your best to hold it all together? It sounds like a nightmare. It’s better that they have each other. Once you’re standing outside the community center, busy with parents dropping off their children, you kneel down.

“Be good, if you behave today you can go to the market tonight.” The promise of the market has both of them grinning, showing off the teeth they’ve both recently had grow in. “I love you, I’ll see you in a bit.” You hold open your arms, each of them taking their respective sides as they wrap themselves around you. You take your daughter's face in your hands before pressing a kiss to her forehead, repeating the motion with your son. After a few “love you mama’s” they both run into the building, once you’re sure they’re safe inside you head off in the direction of town hall.

You have what you would call the best job in town, despite the fact that no one else seems to want to do it.

Maria understood when you arrived that you needed something that let you work from home if needed, you needed something that kept your mind busy but also gave you time with the kids. So you took care of the parts of Jackson most didn’t think about.

You document all of the citizens, you make the shift schedules, and you make sure everyone has the necessities. You take care of housing, when big hauls from scavenging come in you divide them up among the people who need them. You make the meal schedules for the dining hall, and you make the crop schedules.

You keep Jackson moving.

When you arrived all of this was Maria’s job along with her other duties, when you told her you wanted something engaging and demanding she was more than willing to pass off those duties to you. So now you’ve got to make the schedule. Town hall is nothing more than a house with several desks for people doing work similar to yours but thankfully you’ve been lucky enough to reserve your own office in one of the bedrooms.

Most Friday's Maria visits you for lunch but you know she’s on patrol currently, another perk of this job is knowing where everyone is, all the time.

No surprises.

You hate surprises. (With a few exceptions.)

One of the exceptions is waiting for you in your office, Tommy sits with his legs up on your desk, reading over this past week's schedule.

“You put me on crop harvest way more than anyone else.” He grumbles, tossing your notebook down.

“It’s the end of the season, everyones on crop harvest.” You lean down, kissing his cheek before taking your place across from him, immediately getting to work as he groans.

“Maria gets to go on patrol.”

“Council gets first dibs on patrols during harvest season.” The tip of your favorite pen is dry so you quickly bring it to your mouth, wetting it with your tongue before you start writing out jobs for this upcoming week. The second he sees how many farming related jobs you’re listing he leans back in his chair, groaning and running his fingers through his dark curls.

Today’s his day off. You always gave anyone doing more manual labor three days off instead of two.

“I can get you on one patrol shift but they’re going to need your help with the corn.” You write his name in with the Monday and Tuesday patrol squad, filling in the rest of his week with harvest as he grins.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He drawls. You hate that nickname, you hate that he isn’t the first to give it to you but you never complain, you’d let Tommy get away with murder at this point. It’s the least you can do considering everything he’s given you.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You’re only getting a two-day weekend next week.” You mumble, searching through the list of citizens, trying to pick out the people you know won’t mind the hard work.

“Fine by me.” You have a complicated relationship with that smile of his. You can love it all you want but that doesn’t change the fact that it makes you uneasy, it doesn’t help that you’re starting to see that same smile in your son.

“I was thinking about berry cobbler for tomorrow night.” Molly twisted her ankle last week, make sure she isn’t standing. You put her down for shucking corn, she can sit in the dining hall and work.

“We have a bunch of extra sweet potatoes if you want to make sweet potato pie.” He takes your crop ledger, flipping through it, clearly not reading a thing.

“Ruth hates sweet potatoes.” Marcus insists he’s capable of doing manual labor, his pride won’t let him act his age. You put him down for pushing the wheelbarrows, he won’t have to bend down to pick anything up but hopefully he’ll still feel like he’s doing enough. You’ve told him countless times that at his age he shouldn’t be working so hard but he always insists.

“Shit, forgot about that. Maria might have some apples.”

“I’ll stop by tonight before I take the kids to the market.”

You’re thankful for Tommy.

He keeps your mind busy with conversation while you work, and he’s one of the only people you actually trust. By the time you’re almost done you know you need to go get the kids, with a conflicted glance at the clock you start to gather your things but Tommy beats you to it.

“I’ll go get them, Maria should be home from patrol soon, she’ll want to see them.” He’s already putting his coat on so you stay seated.

“Are you sure?” You already know there’s no reason to argue, he’s stubborn, just like his brother.

“It’s the least I can do to make up for bothering you all day.” He steps around the desk to give you a peck on the cheek before going to leave. “Just come by the house when you’re done, no rush.” And just like that he’s gone.

You make quick work of your remaining duties. Finishing everything within a half an hour before heading out in the direction of the Miller’s farm house on the edge of town. It’s only a few houses away from your ranch house, a fact that you couldn’t be more grateful for, if it weren’t for Tommy and Maria you aren’t sure you’d have been able to handle those first few months of parenthood. Most people in town assumed Tommy must be the father purely based on how much effort he put into taking care of not only them, but you as well. As you make your way up their porch steps and into the living room you’re also reminded of the similarities. You can’t blame people for making assumptions, even Maria thought he was the father. The twins have his eyes, (which by association means that they also have his eyes, but you try not to dwell on that.) Ruth has your nose but Arthur has that Miller curve already starting to show on his little nose. Both little ones are sitting in the big recliner with their uncle as he tries to get them to settle down while he reads to them but the second they see you, both are scrambling out of the chair to hug your legs.

And everything goes exactly how it’s supposed to.

(Of course it does, you plan every day down to the minute.)

You give Tommy the list of things you need along with a few things he can trade them for and he takes the kids down the street to the market as you sit at the kitchen counter, talking to Maria about her patrol. You had all planned to go to the market together but she’d insisted she was tired and you didn’t want her to be here alone so you stayed, helping her cook dinner. And you talked about all the things you knew you would, something cute the kids did, how her patrol went, what things you could put on the dining hall menu in the coming weeks.

It’s all exactly how it should be.

Until she frowns.

“Are you busy Sunday?” You had sensed something was wrong with her but you assumed maybe she was just a little rattled coming off of a three day patrol.

“No, did you need something?” You continue to chop up the sweet potatoes she now planned to use tonight instead of tomorrow.

“We found a couple of strays, I thought maybe we could get them settled in.”

Odd.

Normally finding survivors would be the first thing she mentioned after returning, even stranger is the fact that she’d often waste no time getting them supplies and a home to make their own. But you're not one to question Maria’s judgment.

“Sure, we can do that Sunday morning.” You want to ask questions about it but she’s already changed the subject to doing a clothing drive at the community center so you don’t press. Despite the way the look on her face is bothering you.

It wasn’t fear, or discomfort, or something you could explain away with the excuse of the strays being off putting or violent.

It’s a look of pity.

As if she feels bad for even asking.

It unsettles you enough to leave it be. Making idle chit chat with her until Tommy returns with the twins and you take them home. It unsettles you as you make your own dinner, as you give the twins a bath, and as you help them into their pajamas and read them a story. It never leaves your mind.

“Goodnight Ruthie.” You lean down to kiss her forehead, watching her eyes flutter shut as she continues to fight sleep. Always the stubborn one.

“Night Mama.” You take the stuffed bear from the foot of her bed, tucking it in beside her before quietly standing, walking across the room to your son's bed.

“Goodnight Arthur.” You lean down, kissing both of his rosy cheeks, he doesn’t fight sleep the way his sister does. So similar but so different.

“Goodnight Mama.” His little voice has the same southern drawl you know he’s been picking up from Tommy.

“I love you, little ducks.” You smile at him, turning to see that Ruth is already asleep, you tuck in the blankets around Arthur before leaving, keeping the door cracked open a bit so the light from the kitchen can act as a night light.

God, you're tired.

You’re quick to shower and slip into your own pajamas, crawling into bed with a yawn. You take the book from your nightstand, flipping through until you find where you left off yesterday.

You never really know what’s going on in the books you read, they serve a singular purpose and it isn’t entertainment.

You read until you fall asleep, they’re just a distraction to keep your mind busy with thoughts so he can’t sneak in right before you fall asleep and embed himself in your dreams.

It works.

Your dreams never feature him.

They aren’t good dreams by any means, they’re wild. Often of your journey to Jackson, the fear you felt then. But you’ll take that over Joel any day. Tonight isn’t any different, your sleep is restless as you fight the memories of fighting for survival in those woods, but instead of your usual nightmares of infected hunting you through the trees you’re faced with a sight that somehow makes you even more uneasy than the living dead.

The look on Maria’s face when she told you about the two strays.

support me on kofi!!

a/n : this fic has been bouncing around in my brain for months now and it feels so fucking good to finally start it omfg. sorry if this felt a little slow, i really needed to set a tone and a base for the story, sorry!!

#lincolndjarin #fic : every now and then #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #tlou fic #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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captainkirkk · 3 months

Text

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

midnight sun by merils

Who would win: four men with guns who just happened to get Red Robin to walk into a trap, or one royally-pissed Kryptonian juggernaut?

Yeah, it's not even a contest.

reasons are better than rules by destiny919

"No one will actually explain Father's rules to me," Damian blurts out. "They tell me we don't kill, and killing is wrong, and Father would never do it, but no one ever actually says why! As if repeating the rule is the same as explaining it! As if I am supposed to just know, when I do not!"

Drake is quiet, eyes on something in the distance that Damian cannot see. "Damian, may I tell you a secret?"

Marvel

Thirty Hours by polaroid15

The sun sets. Peter breaks three toes and hits his head hard against concrete. There’s a steadily bleeding wound in his side that he’s staunched with his webbing and tries not to acknowledge it when it burns. He can still walk in a straight line, which is good. He’s starving and tired and cold. It’s been fifteen hours.

Or, Peter doesn't take any breaks during a lengthy fight with the Avengers. The mind-melting fever that follows really should have been expected.

Clone Wars

An Hourglass In Hand by ecarian

“I thought daemons didn’t eat,” Rex noted once, during a celebration feast, as he and Cody watched Boga devour her meal with some fascination. Varactyl she may be, but she was a tiny one. There wasn't much interior space for the truly momentous amount of meat she was ripping into.

Boga daintily rubbed her beak against a folded serviette that looked kind of like a bird, and said, prim, “I can do anything a human can do.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan said mildly, from where he’d been tapping at a datapad. “Shall I save you a portion of these reports then?”

Set My Mind at Ease by Eightbitpale

Marshal Commander Cody - clone commanding officer of the 7th Sky Corps, second in command of the 212th attack battalion and, currently, the proud caretaker of one still-warm lightsaber - was having a very long day.

Actually, fuck that. It had been more than a long day. Long days were Cody’s bread and butter, practically his comfort zone. Marshall Commander Cody ate stim shots for breakfast and every shiny this side of Coruscant knew it. Long days were his bitch.

No, this had been more than a long day. Today had been a bad day.

———

The one where Cody and his general try their best to tell each other that they care. At least they’re trying.

Your Smile In Stone by ecarian

Wooley: can we arrest people for yelling this early?

There were two figures standing at the foot of General Kenobi's statue with their backs to Wooley, an adult with a hood, and a child with light hair. The child was pointing at a puddle of Temple tookas who were curled up in General Kenobi’s lap, lounging in the stone folds of his robes, the bend of his knee.

Wooley: belay that. Child nuisance.

The Goblin Emperor

Sweet Hope by baladric

Maia Drazhar arranges a festival, meets his gay aunt, falls in love with his secretary, and misses his mom through it all.

"In the way of true stories, there was no discernible beginning. Perhaps it had begun that first day, in the shabby receiving room at Edonomee; in the cockpit of the Radiance of Cairado; at the mooring mast of the Untheileneise Court, with that first smile.

The pith of the matter was that Maia Drazhar was wildly, tremulously in love, and love had made fools of much wiser men than he."

In All Its Forms by Anonymous

Before his father ruined everything, Nurevis Chavar only thought to introduce the new emperor to all the most beautiful things life could offer.

When he found himself free from relegation again after his father's death, would the emperor whose friendship he had sought so long ago wish his presence at court? And, if he could return to court, would his emperor wish his friendship again?

#i'm down with covid atm #which is why there are multiple longish fics on here considering i only just posted last week #thank you ao3 for your service #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #the goblin emperor recs #tge recs #sw recs #dc recs #marvel recs

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absurdthirst · 7 months

Text

Can't Fight Cupid {Max Phillips x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: Human Max, sexism in the the workplace, insults, bickering, drinking, sexual harassment, mentions of drugging, drunk sex, impaired decision making but everyone consents, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cream-pie, angst, oral sex (male and female receiving), confessions

Comments: Your morning show co-host, Max Phillips drives you mad. Constantly annoying you and bickering with you. At the Cupid's Ball, the weekend before Valentine's Day, you get a little drunk and do something incredibly stupid. Sleep with him.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Max Phillips MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

You groan, rolling over to slam your hand down on top of your alarm clock.

It reads 3 am.

“Fuck.” You huff, feeling exhausted after staying up late last night to talk to your agent, and you regret it now. There’s no choice to snooze, you need to get up.

Moaning as you force yourself out of your comfy bed, you stumble into the bathroom, turning on the light, and it’s bright enough to make you wince. “God.” You whine, palming your face. Every day, you’re closer to being replaced by some teeny bopper with perky tits and an annoyingly high-pitched voice. You pee and brush your teeth before you start your morning routine. Treadmill. Weights. Protein shake. Shower. Get dressed.

The car pulls up outside your apartment building on time, and you get in to meet your producer, and she starts to ramble about the segments for the show.

You listen to her half-heartedly but stare out of the window. The street lights reflect as they twinkle overnight without anyone but you and a tired few to admire them.

When you arrive at the studio, you’re ushered inside and to your dressing room to get started on the exhausting daily routine of getting ready for TV.

Your makeup artist is putting on your lipstick when there’s a knock on the door.

“Goooood morning Vietnammmmm!” He shouts with enough energy to make you want to punch his stupid face.

“Max.” You huff, turning your head to see him swagger into your dressing room with his designer bespoke suit.

“You ready for the Coleman interview? You sure you’re up to it?” He tuts, leaning over you as he checks out his reflection in the mirror.

“I think if one of us is prepared and able to interview a woman who survived sexual assault at the hands of a powerful man, it’s me. If you did it, she’d be traumatized all over again.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Max snorts, “whatever, princess. Just don’t make us look bad.” He says, and you roll your eyes, “It’s not me who makes us look bad. You’re the one who flirts with anything that has a pulse.”

Your co-host leans in, a smirk on his face as he meets your eyes in the mirror, “I think you’re just jealous that I never flirt with you…off air.” He adds, his eyes narrow slightly, and you push him away from you.

“In your fucking dreams, Phillips.” He chuckles, and you want to slap him, but he has already been in the makeup chair and Shelly would kill you if your handprint ruined her work.

Max chuckles again, slowly backing out of your dressing room, but he turns to look at you and says, “see you on the stage, wifey.” He teases and you growl under your breath.

You and Max are the darlings of morning news. The Daily News Show. You’re the “husband and wife” of daytime TV. You aren’t together. No, fuck no. You are both painfully single, unable to hold down a relationship when the show is your entire life. You live and breathe the news. Max has his liaisons, as detailed in every gossip mag from New York to L.A, but you’re the good girl. You could never get away with what he manages to do. You are held to a higher standard and it’s bullshit. You were called a “slut” when you went out with three men in six months. Max has ten flings - barely a weekend each - and he’s revered as “daytime’s most eligible bachelor.”

You exhale shakily, trying to control your hatred towards Max before you go on air and put on your persona as the loving “TV wife.” You close your eyes and focus until Jimmy, the AD, comes in to tell you that it’s time to get on set. You nod, standing up to make your way through the halls to the set and Max is already sitting at the desk when you arrive. Shelly comes over to dust your face with setting powder and the producers are going over the segments one last time.

“Right, everyone. Thirty seconds to live.” The director announces, headset on, and you swallow harshly, getting yourself in the zone.

“Don’t fuck up.” Max murmurs and you turn your head to glare at him.

“You’re the only fuck up here, Phillips.” You hiss back and he chuckles, “at least I’m getting fucked. How long has it been again…? Last one was…that dude from Fallon?” He reminds you of your ex who was a writer over on The Jimmy Fallon Show.

“Your last one still asleep in your bed?” You spit back, “you even get her name?” You ask and Max frowns.

“Jessica? No, Jamie. No…shit.” He shakes his head and you roll your eyes.

“As we are live in ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…” The director lowers his fingers to be silent and then you straighten up and plaster a smile on your face.

“Good morning and welcome to The Daily News Show.” You introduce yourself with a grin.

“And I’m Max Phillips. It’s three days until Valentine's Day. Are you ready for the day?” Max asks you as per the teleprompter and you chuckle, “is anyone ready? Our friends over at Saks have some ideas for last-minute gifts later on in the show. Max, did you already get my present?” You question him teasingly like the TV wife you are.

“Of course.” He responds like it’s obvious, “I couldn’t not get my gorgeous co-host something special.” He winks and you internally scoff at his slimy smile.

“I guess I’ll have to wait and see what you got me.” You giggle and turn back to look at the camera, “let’s take a look at your morning forecast.”

You go off air while the weatherman takes over and Max leans in, “did you get me a present?” He asks and you snort, “you’re lucky I put up with you.”

Max chuckles, “well, at least we got the Cupid’s Ball tonight.” You groan softly under your breath, having forgotten that was tonight.

You have to go. You need to go. But you desperately want to curl under your duvet with a glass of wine and forget that you will be spending Valentine’s Day alone.

****

You tug on the hem of your skirt as you walk through the hall to the bustling private area of a skyscraper restaurant that overlooks the city where the party is being held. You feel ridiculous in the short red dress your stylist had picked for you, styled with a pair of heels that make you question if they belong in a torture room in the rings of hell. They are insanely uncomfortable and you’re reminded again of why you wish you were back at home curled up on your sofa with a glass of wine watching rom-com movies and shoving chocolate in your mouth. You inhale deeply before you make your way into the room.

Leaning against the bar, Max is already a few drinks in, bored out of his mind and questioning why he has to attend these things. No one wants to talk to him, they want to talk to his morning show personality. The Cupid’s Ball is an annoying reminder that despite his popularity, no one was special in his life. At least no one that he really wanted. Taking a sip of his drink, he nearly chokes when he sees you walk into the room. The blood red dress calls to him and he smirks as he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly across the floor, catcalling you obnoxiously.

You roll your eyes and make a beeline to the bar where Max is, greeting people who are half drunk along the way. “You have one too many or you trying to make me doubt myself in this dress?” You question Max, trying to figure out his motive. You feel itchy in the dress now as his dark eyes trail along your form.

Max chuckles and waggles his brows suggestively. “You did get me a present.” He jokes. “Now put it on the floor where it belongs.” He knows that the network wouldn’t be happy with a sexual harassment lawsuit, but you wouldn’t file one of those. You enjoy cutting him down with scathing retorts too much. “Drink first, fuck later? Or fuck now, drink later?” He asks, offering you his own glass.

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head, “in your fucking dreams, Phillips.” You huff and he chuckles, “if only you knew…”

You shake your head and push his glass away, “knowing you, you probably roofied it.” You call the bartender over and order a Cosmo, wanting to enjoy the evening even if your co-star insists on annoying you to death. “What are you doing hanging by the bar? No pretty interns to harass?”

“Why harass interns when I can harass you?” He gives you a hurt pout and takes his drink back and takes a sip of it to prove that he hasn’t done anything to it. “Besides, if I didn’t bother you, you would think that I was body snatched.” He snorts and looks out over the throng of people filing in.

You snort, “that’s true. I would think you’d been abducted by aliens if you didn’t make my life hell every day.” You thank the bartender for your drink. “To being painfully single because we made our careers our lives.” You toast as you hold your drink towards him.

Max lifts his glass in salute and snorts. “You’ve still got time, sweet cheeks.” He tells you. “You can put those birthing hips to use.” He smirks when you glare at him and shrugs. “What? You don’t want to have rugrats attached to the tit?” His eyes drop to your chest. “Pity.”

Your eyebrows raise, “and you are thinking about reproducing? Good God. The world couldn’t cope with a miniature Max Phillips.” You chuckle and shake your head, “besides…you’re lucky. You could knock up every woman from New York to L.A and you would keep your job. Me? I’d be out the door as soon as I peed on a test.” You take a sip of your drink and shift from one foot to another, unused to this kind of talk directed at you from Max. Usually he’s boasting about his conquests and how much better he looks on camera.

“In the year of our lord, 2024?” Mad huffs and shakes his head. “No. The network would exploit it. Have ‘baby and me’ segments.” In reality, the only way the network would do that is if their hand was forced, but Max isn’t willing to give up his co-host. Despite your attitude towards him off camera, the public loved you two together. “All you’d have to do is announce it on air and tell viewers the special segments to come. A taped sonogram. Let our morning show viewers fall in love with the little brat.”

“The only way they’d do that is if it was our baby and to do that, we’d have to have sex and I know that you prefer them pliable and dumb.” You glance around the room, spotting the producers laughing together and the execs making a short experience before they helicopter out to their mansions.

Max scoffs. “That would never happen.” He agrees, although there’s a frown on his face as he turns back to the bar. “Better that we focus on our careers, right? That will keep us warm when we’re in our nursing homes.” He chuckles. “When we turn forty-five.”

“You’re closer to that than me, old man.” You taunt him, “forty this year. You gonna be able to handle getting older?” You nudge him, knowing that he prides himself on his looks and Devil May care attitude.

He shoots you a dirty look before glancing at the mirror behind the bar. “Don’t look a day over thirty-four.” He huffs before looking at you with a smirk. “Must be all the endorphins from sex.”

You can’t deny that he looks good. He always looks good. Must be the pussy and Botox he gets on the sly. “You gonna come out of my cake at my party like Marilyn Monroe?” Max asks and you shake your head, “no way, Phillips.” You snort and down the rest of your drink, gesturing for the bartender to get you another one. “Didn’t even know you were planning a party.”

He pouts at you again, looking hurt. “If I don’t throw myself a party, who would?” He asks, rolling his eyes. “Not like you would throw me one. You don’t even want to go out for that drink after work like I keep asking you to.”

You huff, turning to face him after you thank the bartender for setting your drink down. “Because it’s just to - to mock me. You don’t like me. I’m not your friend. We act like we like each other on tv but that’s it. I have a face for radio, remember?” You remind him of what he said to you the first day you met five years ago.

Max stares at you for a second and then laughs. Bending over the bar and laughing so hard tears come to his eyes. “You thought I meant that?” He gasps out, looking over at you and laughing again. “Sweetcheeks- that was- I was yanking your fucking chain.” He admits, calming down enough to speak. “You’re fucking gorgeous and you know it. Charming, witty. The whole package.”

You stare at him, shocked at his outburst. He’s flirted with you, especially on screen, but to hear him say he thinks you’re gorgeous…it takes you back. You pick up your drink, taking another gulp. “You gave me a fucking complex. I- I thought I wasn’t good enough.” You hiss at him, “I always thought - well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to go suck up to the execs before they leave. Try to keep my job another year.” You say and pick up your drink, striding over to Mr. Parker, the head of daytime tv.

Max shakes his head, watching your hips sway as you stride away from him. He had never imagined you would have taken him seriously. You always treat him like a joke, so why would you believe that? Of course you’re gorgeous, the network thrived on beautiful people and made it their mission to hire the prettiest talent in the business. Max orders another drink for himself and for you before deciding to join you. A little corporate ass kissing was never a bad move for the career.

You smile as Mr. Parker looks down at your cleavage. It’s not the healthiest dynamic at the network but you let some things slide in the interest of keeping your job. You giggle at his lame joke, trying to act like he’s so clever, when Max comes over and replaces your now empty glass with a new drink. “Ah Phillips, I was just telling your pretty co-anchor here about some changes we will be making to the outfits. I’m thinking we could get away with a couple of inches higher, don’t you?”

Max lifts his brows and pretends to consider it. It’s an insult and everyone here knows it. “Why don’t we have the weather girl in a bikini?” He suggests. “But for our hard hitting stories, I think the length of the dress won’t matter, we’re behind a desk.”

“I was thinking maybe our lady here could be standing up. Presenting in front of the screens like they do on other shows. That way she can show off those stems.” He says and you shake your head, “the whole point of the show is for me to be beside Max. That’s what the viewers like, that’s what they want.” You explain and Mr. Parker hums, “we shall see. I’ll speak to the producers…see what they think.” You nod, offering him a forced smile. You know the producers will have your back on this ridiculous suggestion.

Max glances at you and knows that you are unhappy with the idea and he will back you up. “So what’s your golf game looking like, Paul?” He asks, hoping to steer the conversation on to friendlier topics. “Every time I’m in the weeds, I think of your epic shot.” Paul puffs up proudly and nods, starting to tell Max about his latest game.

You down the rest of your drink and smile at your boss, “excuse me.” You say and make your way back across the event room to the bar, ordering another drink. You shouldn’t drink so much but between all the men in the room that look at you like a piece of meat, you’re ready to get drunk and forget the reality that your time is limited because of your age. They’ll want some twenty year old to take your place soon. You lean against the bar and thank the bartender when he sets another cosmo down. You sigh and turn to pick it up when you feel someone behind you. “Looking gorgeous as ever.” The voice of the foreign correspondent, Jack.

You turn to face him, a stiff smile on your face. “Jack.” You greet him, hating how he leans in even closer. His disgusting cologne wafting over you. He’s always been a little intrusive.

His eyes are dark and his smirk is supposed to be charming, but it comes off as creepy. “What are you doin’ over here by yourself?” He asks. “Rarely ever see you off Phillips’ dick.”

“I’ve never been on his dick. Ever.” You clarify, “I’m just sipping my drink. Enjoying the party.” You hum and take a step back from him.

“Nice to hear. You could be on my dick if you want.” Jack smirks, licking his lower lip and you recoil.

“No. I- I don’t want that.” You say, shaking your head and trying to let him down gently.

“You know, you’d probably move up from the morning show if you weren’t such a stuck up, frigid cunt.” Jack hisses, a scowl on his face, pissed off at being shot by the morning bitch. He is a foreign correspondent, respected and revered. He shoots you a nasty little grin. “Pretty soon your tits won’t be perky enough to keep your job and you’ll be doing the weather in Kalamazoo.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “and I’ll be telling everyone about your unwanted advances to me every single time you’re near me. I will tell HR and get you fired.” You hiss and Jack growls at you, “you’re a fucking bitch.”

You smile, “thank you, Jack.” You remain tall just as Max appears, his hand on your back. “Everything okay here?” He asks and you stiffen slightly, “everything is fine, isn’t it Jack?” You ask the correspondent, who scoffs and walks off.

“What happened?” Max asks, a frown on his face.

“Jack was being an asshole. As per usual.” You huff and turn back towards your drink.

There’s more to it than that, but you will never confide in him. Apparently he can’t even try to pretend to care. He pulls his hand away, and slips it into his pocket. “He’s an old drunk that thinks the weather girl is still picked on a casting couch.” Max snorts. “No means yes to him.” He warns you. “You say I’ll spike your drink, but I wouldn’t put it past that prick.” He scoffs.

You sigh, leaning against the counter, “you’re right. He - I’ve heard stories about the interns and some of the make-up girls.” You confess, rubbing your neck, “you know…you’re not as bad as him. You’re a good man really. I just like seeing that vein pop in your forehead.” You confess, starting to feel giddy from the booze.

Max snorts and rolls his eyes, his own alcohol consumption starting to make his body hum. “You just say that because you have to pretend to like me.” He huffs, sending you a pout before he slides into a grin to cover his hurt feelings. “You think I’m pretty though. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it.”

You scoff, rearing back from him, until you soften and lean closer again. “You are pretty. So pretty.” You confess, reaching out to run your finger down his cheek, “unfair how handsome you are.” You whine slightly, “I don’t have to pretend.” You admit with a whisper.

He shivers at your touch and leans into it the drinks clouding his judgment and making him speak before thinking about it. “You think I’m unfair?” He huffs. “I have to constantly hide the fucking hard on I’ve got around you.” He pouts. “Do you know how fucking distracting your perfume is? You don’t need perfume for tv, and when you’re near me, all I can smell is you and imagine….”

The booze doesn’t let you question the validity of his confession. You decide to revel in it and you lean in towards him, “imagine…?” You question, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

“Imagine you.” Max is too wrapped up in his confession to realize he shouldn’t say this to you. Shouldn’t say this at all. “Head between your thighs, tasting you, making you moan my name so sweetly before I slide inside you.” He pants breathlessly, cock twitching in his pants. “Watching you cum because of me, because of the way I touch you.”

You can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips at the thought. “Maxwell Phillips.” You gasp, your stomach twisting with arousal as you soak the lace panties you’re wearing. You glance around and are grateful that no one notices when you grab Max’s hand and drag him through the crowd and out into the hallway. “I want you to fuck me, Max.” You beg him breathlessly, grabbing onto his tie to pull him into the nearest empty room, a function room with tables and chairs.

“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and he’s not hesitant, he’s shocked as shit. But the way you are dragging him closer makes every caution sign in his mind filter away as you eagerly press your lips to his as you continue to back into the dimly lit room. “Fuck.” He moans, pressing against you when your ass hits a table and his hands are cradling your hips, helping you up onto it as your tongue slides into his mouth.

You don’t think about the consequences of this. Deciding to just feel for once, you groan as Max slides his tongue against yours and his hands explore your body. You moan echoes in the empty room as he kisses your jaw and he settles between your thighs as you open them for him.

He turns greedy. Hands filling themselves with your flesh, groaning into your mouth at the taste of the liquor from your tongue. The pure sense of you. The heat of your skin makes him twitch and groan again when he presses two fingers to the damp core of your lace panties.

You whimper, “please Max” into his jaw as he rubs your clit through the lace. He doesn’t deny you as he slides his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties and presses his manicured fingers against the bundle of nerves. “Oh God.” You moan, sliding your hands down his chest to fumble with his belt, trying to undo the stupidly expensive buckle until you can finally reach in and pull his hard cock out of his equally expensive pants. “Fucking hell.” You curse as you wrap your fingers around the girth.

He chuckles, kissing along your jaw.

“Try hiding that all the time.” He jokes, breaking off into a groan when you squeeze him firmly and start to stroke his cock. “Fuck, baby.” He whines, hips jerking forward into your grip and he twists his wrist to press his thumb against your clit while starting to work two fingers inside you.

You pant as he pushes two thick digits into you. You hate to admit it but you’ve imagined his hands on you, inside of you, many times during segments where the camera is off of you. You jerk his cock, swiping your thumb over the head to gather the pre-cum that has gathered there. “I need - I need you to - oh shit.” You moan when he curls his fingers just right inside of you.

“That what you needed?” He groans, biting along your neck gently while he’s trying not to get too excited. Your cunt is so tight and he doesn’t want to cum too quickly when he finally gets to fuck you. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight. My cock is gonna feel so good inside you.” He moans, kissing along your chest and nudging his nose between your breasts as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Yes. Oh shit. Max. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me-” You cut yourself off with a squeal as you clamp down around his fingers. Your grip on his cock loosening as your orgasm hits you and you pant his name into his hair as he licks along the top of your breast. “Fuck me.” You beg, “need you inside of me, Phillips.”

He doesn’t even consider birth control, he’s listened to the segments where you’ve talked about your own choice and knows you well enough to know you don’t have anything. His fingers are soaked and he pulls them out with a groan of your name. Batting your hands away to wrap around his cock and soak it with your juices.

You spread your legs wider and watch him as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing inside of you with a low groan. “Oh God, Max.” You whine, throwing your head back as he pushes into you and stretches you out.

He hisses as your tight walls surround him. You’re so much tighter and hotter than he ever imagined and he imagined it a lot. Slowly bottoming out and groaning your name again as he tries to keep from cumming. “Holy shit babe.”

You slide your hands under his bespoke jacket, clawing at his back as he twitches inside of you. "I need you to move." You plead. You'll think back to this moment later and cringe at how needy you sound but for right now, you need him to fuck you like you've secretly wanted him to since you started working together.

“Fuck.” Max can’t resist you. One hand planted on the table beside your head and he draws his hips back to plunge into you again. Enjoying the sharp gasp you give him and craving more as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. Starting to thrust into you with harsh, sharp slaps of his hips that rock the table while you cling to him and writhe underneath him.

You slide your tongue against his as he rocks into you. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could hear you. The music is faint from the function room where your work event is being held but you don’t care, too busy focusing on Max and the way he’s thrusting into you like his life depends on it. “Fuck, this is - it’s so good, baby.” You whine and wrap your legs around him, your heels falling to the floor.

Max grunts, agreeing completely as he bites his lip. “So- fuck- so good.” He groans your name again and bites down on your lip hungrily. “Baby, fuck, you’re so tight. How- fuck, you’re so good.”

"Ke-Kegals." You reveal breathlessly, "gotta - gotta keep fit to stay on TV." You whimper when he hits deep and you lift your hips up to meet his thrusts. "Keep going, Phillips, don't you dare stop." You demand when his pace stutters.

“So demanding.” He huffs, flashing you a grin as he nods. Taking a deep breath and rocking his hips harder. “Fuck, it’s your fault. So fucking tight.”

You shake your head, closing your eyes, "you're so fucking thick, Max. God, I don't - no wonder you have so many damn flings." You pant and he drops his hips just right to make you gasp when he hits something devastating.

He chuckles breathlessly, not even bothering to admit that he doesn’t have as many flings as he might have led you to believe. You would never think he was telling you the truth. “You’re tight.”

“Shit, Max. I- I’m gonna- just like that. Keep going like that.” You demand and groan when he keeps hitting that spot. “That’s it baby. Oh shit. Max!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock as he makes you cum hard. Harder than you have for longer than you’d ever care to admit.

“Thaaaaaaat’s it.” He groans, eyes nearly rolling back and he has to put more effort into fucking you from how hard you squeeze hum. “That’s fucking it. Cream all over me baby.” He groans. “Soak my cock with that pretty cunt.”

His words would usually make you cringe if you weren’t practically shaking beneath him as he makes you cum. “Oh God. It’s so good. So good. I want - want you to cum.” You plead, pressing your heels into his ass to push him impossibly deeper inside of you.

“Gonna - fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He pants out breathlessly, sweat rolling down his forehead but he ignores it. Too lost in the sensation of your cunt. “Fuck, fuck you’re so fucking wet, baby.” He praises. “Gonna cum, fuck, fuck-“ he lets out a strangled groan of your name when his hips stutter and he thrusts deep one last time, painting your walls with ropes of cum.

Moaning in delight as he fills you up, you caress his back under his jacket, and tilt your head up to kiss along his jaw. “Not too bad, Phillips.” You tease breathlessly as he rocks himself through his orgasm.

He huffs out a chuckle and shakes his head, rocking slowly as he pumps every spurt of cum into you. “Not too bad yourself.” He grunts, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more before he starts to pull out of you to watch his cum drip. “Now that’s a pretty sight.” He hums, delighted to see his cum leaking out of your cunt.

You roll your eyes and sit up, standing on shaking legs to pick up your panties. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You’re gonna go back in there and act like this didn’t happen. We have to act like this didn’t happen, you understand?” You ask him, your eyes wide and pleading. If everyone knew you and Max had sex, you’d be branded a slut and he’d be revered for conquering you.

Max’s plan to ask you if you want to get out of here dies on his tongue and he adopts an easy grin. “No problem, sweet cheeks.” He chuckles and looks away from you as he tucks his cock back into his pants. “Can’t have anyone thinking that something happened. Might keep me from getting lucky with that new intern tonight.” He lies and starts to straighten his tie and smooth down his vest. Once he feels like he can look at you and not show you how upset he is, he tosses you a wink. “Thanks for the sex, baby.” He hums as he turns around and whistles while strolling out of the empty room.

You watch him walk out and you swallow harshly, ignoring the way your eyes sting with tears. It’s not his fault that you gave in and now you wonder what will happen to your working relationship. You let your guard slip. You can’t let that happen again. Walking out of the room on shaky legs, you make your way back into your work event, grabbing your clutch from the side and you don’t say another word as you swiftly exit the party, ignoring Max’s stare as his cum settles in your panties while you quickly leave before anyone notices what happened.

Sighing softly as you walk out of the party, Max wonders why you let him touch you. Was it a drunken mistake? A calculated ploy to get him fired for misconduct? He frowns as he turns back to the bar and motions for the bartender. He will pretend like it never happened and see if you do the same.

The weekend passes and you freak out about sleeping with Max. It’s changed everything. You don’t know if you’re going to be able to look him in the eye as your car travels to the studio. The producer calls your name, bringing you out of your thoughts and all you can do is nod. You have no idea what they were saying but soon, you’re entering the building and making your way up to the floor for the show. “Good morning.” Your intern, Natalie, greets you with your morning coffee and you thank her. Praying you don’t see Max until you get on set, you settle into your chair to review the segments and wait for the make-up and hair artists.

Max rolls his shoulders back and purposefully changes his step to one that is lighthearted and full of energy. “How are we doing this gorgeous morning?” He asks as he steps into the hair and makeup room, seeing you already in your chair and he hates how his heart pangs because he didn’t hear from you at all. Not that it’s surprising, just disappointing. “Everyone have a good weekend? Mine was amazing.” He boasts, waggling his brows playfully. “Didn’t get out of the bed, if you know what I mean.” He lies, knowing he spent the weekend depressed and wondering what the fuck happened Friday night.

He breezes by you and settles down into his own chair, pulling out the eye mask he carries with him with the serum that costs an arm and a leg, the promise of less wrinkles meaning he will pay any price. “Need some more rest.”

You swallow harshly, keeping your eyes on the script. The ghost of his touch has haunted you all weekend and you don’t know how to feel about his nonchalant attitude to you and the artists in the room. You wonder who took up his bed after you, your stomach twisting at the idea of it being that young new intern that seems eager to please. You turn to look at him when he places the eye mask on his face and your expression is one of heartbreak and longing - at least that’s what the make-up and hair stylists will say later when they gossip over coffee. “Busy weekend?” You ask eventually, trying to sound lighthearted.

“Yep.” He pops the p and sighs with a nostalgia that is solely for you and the night he got to touch you. “You? How was your weekend? Anything fun and new?” He asks, tilting his head up and removing the mask now that his stylist is here. His eyes focus on you with a serious gaze.

You can’t tell him you sat around all weekend having a crisis about what happened between you. “Oh, I was busy. I went out. Had dinner. Some drinks.” You say vaguely, “had a late night on Saturday so spent most of Sunday in bed.” You smirk, forcing yourself to give the impression that you weren’t alone.

“Ohhhh ho! Someone got lucky!” Max plasters a cocky look on his face and waggles his brows even though he’s pissed you fled and apparently went to fuck someone else. “Was it good? Bet it was good, but I would have been better, sweet cheeks.” He teases like he normally would have, but the words taste slightly bitter.

“In your dreams, Phillips.” You spit half heartedly, not wanting to elaborate on your lie as you hate the fact that he’s ruined everyone else for you. You’ve never cum so fast and so hard. Most men finish before you can and then won’t even help you get off. You’ve never felt that kind of electricity. The artist's exchange looks behind you as you and Max are distracted by your own turbulent thoughts. “Besides, sounds like you were warm and cozy in your bed with a new floozy.”

“You know how it is.” Max shrugs carelessly. “Friday night plans fell through so I had to improvise.” He stares at you for a moment longer before turning his attention to the hair stylist. “Can you make my hair extra shiny this morning, babe?” He asks, dropping his eyes to his hair and reaching up to fix a hair out of place. “Want to look my best for the cameras.”

You huff, shaking your head, “always the same. Always wanting the spotlight and - and always being so goddamn selfish.” You growl at him, batting the brush away from your face as you stand up and mutter about needing the bathroom before you rush out of the room. You hate that Max doesn’t even seem to remember that you had sex on Friday night. You were just another notch on his belt.

Max’s eyes follow you out of the room and the frown on his face isn’t even registering to him, although it’s being noticed by the other people in the room. Their glances to each other pointed and the hairstylist finally answers him. “Sure, Max. No problem.” She hums, running her fingers through his hair and Max sighs. “Just do whatever.”

You stare into the mirror in the bathroom, preparing yourself to head back out there and act like nothing is wrong. One drunken night with Max and your world is spinning out of control. You’ve worked so hard, focused on your career, and now you feel like you’re losing it all because you can’t stop thinking about how he felt, how he smelt, how he sounded. His moan of your name seems to play on a loop in your head and it’s driving you crazy. Hands shaking, you gather yourself as you head back into the make up room, glad to see Max is gone as you get ready to go on air.

Sitting behind the desk, Max tries to shake off the feeling that you are upset at him. You are the one who had left. Fled the party after begging him to fuck you. He’s kind of pissed off about it now. Setting him up to look like an asshole. He shuffles through the notes for the upcoming show and clears his throat, trying to get the smell of you out of his mind, his cock refusing to soften.

You spritz on your perfume, just to torture Max after what he told you, and you step onto the set to sit down at the desk next to Max. The team comes over to adjust your mic and you pick up your notes.

As soon as you sit down, a cloud of your perfume settles over him and makes Max groan. His cock twitching in his pants and he drops his head into his hand. “Max. You good?” The producer calls out from beside the camera man and he has to lift his head and pretend he’s not incredibly turned on.

“All good, just remembered I didn’t turn off the coffee maker this morning.” He lies.

You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows raised, and you think that the groan is in annoyance at having to sit next to you. “I should’ve called in sick.” You mutter and shake your head before the AD announces the countdown to live. When you are counted down to one, you plaster a smile on your face and straighten your back, eager to do a good job even if inside, you’re angry and confused at Max and his reaction like Friday night was nothing.

“Good morning and welcome to the Daily New Show.” Max tries to keep himself even more energetic than normal to make up for his turbulent feelings. “I hope everyone is having a fabulous Monday morning and we’ve got an impressive show for you today. As you know, it is Valentine’s Day so I hope you’re all prepared. I know I am.” He chuckles and turns towards you and introduces you as his lovely co-host. “Did you like those chocolates I put in your room this morning?”

You know Max didn’t put anything in your room but you play along, “of course. I’ll be enjoying some of those with my coffee later. Did you get my present?” You tease him playfully on camera, knowing you didn’t get him anything either but you want to make the viewers think you and him are the best of friends.

“No…” his eyes widen playfully and he tosses you a grin. “Whaddya get me?” He asks, knowing you didn’t get him anything. “Hopefully something good, because I’m worth it.” He winks at the camera and chuckles, knowing that you would not be thinking the same thing.

You shake your head, "you'll have to wait and find out. I'm sure you're gonna love it." You promise with a grin and turn back towards the camera. "Talking of gifts, let's go to Katie who has some last minute gift ideas for those who need something for the one they love." You smile at the camera and slump when they count you out. "Chocolates." You scoff, "you've never even gotten me a coffee."

Max rolls his eyes and snorts. “And? Not like you’ve ever given me anything either? Maybe looks of disgust, but I don’t count those, sweet cheeks.” The sad thing is, he had bought you some chocolates, the first year you were on air for your birthday, but you hand said you wanted no reminders of getting older so he hadn’t given them to you. “Only another fifty-six minutes in my company, you’ll survive.”

You sigh and sit up straight, unsure of what to say. You hate that you’ve reverted back to your old bickering, knowing that this won’t get you anywhere after what happened on Friday. You’re confused about how you feel. You wanted to ask him to come home with you after you slept together but you know you’d put your job on the line if something went wrong and Max would always be looking for the next best thing.

Max sighs softly when you don’t say anything and rolls his shoulders back as the countdown to the cameras being back on you starts. He should just forget Friday ever happened, it’s obvious that you regret it. “Thank you, Katie. Hopefully all the men out there without a plan can get it together and not disappoint their ladies, right?” He asks you, turning his head to look at you seriously. “Although I’m more of a romantic dinner at home, myself. Candlelight, soft music, bottle of wine.” He shrugs. “Nothing like a homemade carbonara.” It’s scripted, but true. He did prefer evenings in.

You offer him a nod and a smile, “sounds like my kind of romantic night in, Max.” You wink and continue with the prompter. It’s hard to ignore the way he stares at you sometimes. The intensity in his look has you shifting in your chair and when you are countered out, you immediately stand up and remove your mic, making your way into your dressing room. It’s impossible to forget the way he felt inside of you, the way he sounded. You can’t forget him and it’s torturing you. You wipe your forehead and place your hands on your hips as the door opens and you turn to see Max standing there. “I can’t do this anymore.” You admit, “I can’t sit next to you every day and act like nothing happened between us.”

“You?” He snorts and shakes his head. “You are the one that left. Walked away without a word and you didn’t call me. So how am I supposed to know what you want? You want me to quit? Too bad.” He scoffs. “You will just have to deal.” He’s pissed off now. Pissed that it meant so little to you and now you want him gone so you don’t have to live with your mistake.

“I- I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about how you sounded. How you felt. I- it’s torturing me.” You choke, “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I thought it was for the best and I figured you would act like it didn’t happen and go back to your one night stands but - shit, Phillips. I fucking hate you for getting under my skin like this.” You hiss at him, pissed at yourself as well.

“I don’t have a lot of one night stands.” Max admits, shaking his head when you scoff. “You were- you don’t fucking see it?” He asks, lunging forward and pressing into your dressing room so the door closes and grabs your neck to drag you closer to kiss. “You don’t see that I’m crazy about you?” He hisses before he kisses you feverishly.

Your eyes widen at first contact until your brain stops working and you relax into him. Letting him kiss you, his fingers digging into the back of your neck, and you moan into his mouth until your senses return. You push him away, "stop. We - we can't do this. If it goes wrong. It will go wrong and then our careers - we can't do this, Max."

“Goddamn you.” Max hisses, stepping back and his eyes are filled with nothing but hurt. “You only give a damn about yourself and you’re fucking toying with me.” He clenches his jaw and turns around. “Happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He spits, storming out of the room, humiliated that he put himself on the line again and you are rejecting him.

You stare at him as he slams the door behind him, your lips tingling from the kiss and your hands shake as you touch them as if trying to erase his kiss from your skin. It doesn’t work. You feel your eyes sting as you grab your things and change into your leggings and hoodie before you head home. Your head is aching and you try to think about the reasons why it would be wrong to give Max a chance.

Max berates himself the entire way back to his apartment. Hating how he had admitted to you that he doesn’t have flings. Knowing that you would just use it against him. His phone contacts land on his agent and he wonders if he should call him. Let him know what’s going on in case you decide to go for the throat and in the end, he can’t do it. He will quietly put in for evening anchor and let you have the morning show. It’s what you want anyway.

You bite your lower lip as you stand outside of Max’s building, the doorman recognising you and sending you up. You thank him and fiddle with the bag in your hand, the present you bought for the man you’ve secretly been in love with for years. You ring the doorbell and wait for Max to answer the door.

Max had changed from the suit he had worn to comfortable sweats and a t-shirt, figuring he would spend the rest of the day wallowing in self pity and order DoorDash for dinner since he was all alone for yet another Valentine’s Day. Groaning when the doorbell peels, he wonders if it’s the lady from the third floor who loves to come give her his opinion on the show. She’s old and her husband died last year, so he tries not to shoo her away too quickly, but he’s not in the mood for company. Dragging himself off the couch he opens the door to find you standing there, no make up and in leggings, looking more beautiful than you deserve. “What do you want?” He demands.

You stare at him, unused to seeing him in relaxed clothing, he looks younger. You sigh and shift from one foot to the other. “I was wrong. To push you away. I can’t - I can’t keep denying myself the chance to be happy because I am terrified that everything I have worked for will go up in flames. I have been in love with you since we started working together and that day I saw you speak to that old lady when we did the segment on Alzheimer’s and you were so sweet and kind. I had never seen you like that before, and it made me realize that I had fallen in love with you, but I kept that hidden because I was scared. I was fucking terrified Max, that you would reject me because you have the world at your feet and can have any woman you want, what would make me special enough for you to love me? then you kept mentioning all your flings and I knew that I would never get the chance to be with you. I didn’t want to risk everything but Friday, I put everything on the line and then realized that everything could go wrong and I got scared. I got so fucking scared and I am so sorry that I acted like nothing happened when all I want is to have you again and again until you send me away.”

Max stares at you, digesting the verbal book you’ve just thrown at him and he drops his shoulders. “Do you want to come in?” He asks, unsure if you are planning on running away again or if you want to actually talk. He opens the door wider and none of the normally sarcastic comments come out of his mouth, unable to put on a front any more.

You deflate, nodding as you step into his apartment, and you admire the decor. Masculine but warm and you know he probably paid an interior designer to help him out. He shuts the door behind you and you fiddle with the bag in your hand. “I’m sorry to just show up.” You murmur, glancing around his apartment.

“Not like I had plans tonight.” Max shrugs it off and sighs. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, tea, tequila?” He swallows and rocks his jaw before you can even answer. “Why did you leave? Did you regret it?”

You stare at him, wondering if he heard everything you said. “Did you not- I left because I was scared you’d reject me. That I was just a conquest and you’d go back to your flings. I didn’t want to ruin our careers by getting messy emotions involved. Because - because I was a coward.”

“But you aren’t a coward.” Max argues, frowning fiercely at the idea. “You’re fucking amazing. Powerful, confident, a real ball buster when you have to be. You push boundaries and demand respect - and earn it.” He tells you. “You’re gorgeous, smart, kind of funny, brilliant at reading an audience and you have so much compassion. But one thing you are not….is a coward.”

His words make your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. “I was - I am scared. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of reaching for you, for something that could ruin me. In every way in life. I love you, Max, and that night…I broke. I couldn’t hold back from what I wanted anymore and I was an asshole to run away. I don’t want to run anymore. I know what I want. I know how I feel.”

“I thought I had you that night.” Max admits quietly, your words scaring him slightly and making him wish this had happened years ago. “I thought I finally got what I had wanted for so long.” He sends you a small grin. “Was going to ask if you wanted to leave the party. Go get dinner that night.”

You shake your head, tears stinging in your eyes a little. “I shouldn’t have - God, I was an idiot. I should’ve stayed. I’m sorry.” You confess and he stares at you again. “I- I can go. I just wanted to give you your gift.” You say, handing him the bag.

“You- you got me something?” He asks, taking the bag and then reaching for your arm as you try to turn away. “Wait.” He begs quietly. “Don’t run away again.”

You don’t move, looking down at his hand on your arm, and you nod, turning towards him again. “I want you to open it.” You say, “and read the note.” You tell him and he nods, setting the bag down on the counter.

The box is one that he recognizes and he shoots you a confused look. “I don’t-“ he starts but you shake your head. “Read the note.” You repeat and he nods, diving back into the bag to pull out a red envelope.

You watch him open the envelope. You had them write on the note “to the one I adore” and you hope he doesn’t reject you. You wanted to show him how you feel, to show him that you know him. Even down to his dream watch.

“I don’t- I can’t believe you bought this.” He admits, looking up at you and looks at you with amazement. “It’s the exact watch I’ve been wanting.” He admits. “I just could never justify buying it for myself. How did you-?”

“Saved up. I got a bonus when I resigned my contract. Got myself a purse and I only made it this far because of you…wanted to say thank you for being there for me every day.” You tell him shyly, “I wanted to show you how I felt without actually telling you.”

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head and sets the card down before he steps closer to you. “I can’t believe you.” He reaches up and caresses your cheek. “I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.”

You shake your head against his palm, “it’s fine. I didn’t know when I would give you this. I’ve had it for a while. Trying to summon up the courage to tell you how I felt, to not be terrified.” You bite your lip as his dark eyes burn into yours.

“You shouldn’t have been terrified.” Max scoffs quietly. “I’ve not actually slept with anyone in months, nearly a year.” He admits. “Too busy being hung up on my co-worker.”

You lean into his palm and reach out to caress his cheeks with your hands. “Gladys the cleaner?” You tease and he chuckles, “damn. How did you know?” He asks and you giggle, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. “Please don’t break my heart.” You plead, “because it’s yours.”

“I sat home all weekend and sulked because you left.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I don’t want something casual. If we do this, I want it to be a real relationship. Dates in, dates out in town, sleepovers and being disgusting together.” He smirks at you. “Everything.”

“People already think we are fucking. The unofficially married couple of daytime tv. I don’t see why we can’t make it official? I want to be disgusting with you, Phillips.” You grin, “I want everything with you.”

“Yeah?” Max grins back at you and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. “You know what we didn’t do Friday?” He asks teasingly. “I didn’t see how fucking hard you can cum on my tongue.”

You whimper, your hands sliding down to caress his neck and his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You can find out if you want? I want to see how much you cum down my throat too.” You murmur, sliding your hand lower until you’re rubbing his semi through his sweats. “I gotta say, I love you in casual wear.”

“Yeah?” He groans quietly, hardening under your touch. “I think I love you in leggings. You like it for the easier access?” He twitches when you squeeze him and pant softly. “Baby. I- fuck, can I touch you?” He begs, a gentleman despite his bragging. “Please let me touch you.”

“I think I’ll have to kill you if you don’t touch me, Phillips.” You demand playfully, reaching into his sweats to pull his hard cock out. “God, I didn’t get a good look and - no wonder you’re so damn cocky.” You groan and let go of him to spit in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his girth.

Max would chuckle, but he’s too busy diving under your shirt to cup your tits. “Want you naked this time.” He moans, rocking his hips into your hand. “Touch you everywhere. Fuck, baby, I- should I eat you out first, have you sit on my face or kneel between those pretty thighs?” The good thing about getting up so fucking early is that it’s not even noon yet, he’s got the rest of the day to spend with you if you don’t run away again.

You whimper when he squeezes your tits over your bra. "Fuck, Max. However you want me. I am yours." You promise, "just touch me." You plead, pressing your thighs together to get some friction.

Max leans in and bites your jaw. “Come on, baby.” He coos, excited to touch you properly. “Want to show you my bedroom.” He teases. “Give you the full Max Phillips tour.”

You would normally roll your eyes but right now, you desperately need him. The ghost of his touch has been on your mind since Friday and you need it, you need him. He guides you into his bedroom and it's clean, the bed is made. “I like your style, Phillips.” You smile at him as he lets go of your hand so he can pull your shirt over your head.

“Can’t sleep in a messy room.” He admits, although he tosses your shirt to the floor with a grin. “But I will happily leave your clothes on the floor allllllll night.” He promises, unhooking your bra with two fingers before dragging it down so he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples.

You gasp and arch your chest into his mouth, your hand quickly finding purchase in his hair. “Shit Max.” You whine when he bites down and you love it, you love how he seems so hungry for you.

Max growls against your skin, loving how you start to tug on his hair. His hands tug down at your leggings before he pulls away to push you down onto his bigger than needed bed. Grinning when you bounce slightly and he goes back to attacking your pants. “Fuck.”

You help him by kicking them off and his fingers are hooking into your panties, dragging them down your legs. “Fuck baby. I need you.” You beg, dripping wet for him and his hair is not gelled, falling into his face and your heart clenches at the grin on his face as he crawls up your body.

“You’ve got me.” He promises, stopping to nip, lick and kiss different places on your body. Stopping and staring at you with a serious expression on his face. “You’re beautiful.” He murmurs softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours.

You slide your hands down to caress his back as his tongue slides into your mouth. His cock is heavy against your thigh and you grab his shirt in your hands, wanting to see more of him. “Take this off.” You demand, tugging on his shirt.

He chuckles, pushing onto his knees to comply. “So pushy,” he teases, grinning as he tosses it away and starts to tug his sweats down over his ass. “I like it. Order me around baby, tell me to lick your pussy until you cream in my face.”

You giggle at the enthusiastic look on his face. “Want you to lick my pussy until I soak your face.” You demand, grabbing his face to drag him down between your thighs, maybe pulling on his hair a little too hard but his resounding groan tells you he likes it.

Max loves when a woman is demanding, taking what she wants because he also loves to do the same. A true switch when it comes to the bedroom. “Fuck, you have such a pretty pussy.” He groans when he sees your wet folds. “So tight too.” He tells you before he lunges forward to bury his tongue inside you.

Your cry echoes in his large bedroom and you moan his name, your hips immediately thrusting up into his mouth as he slides his tongue through your folds. “Holy shit, Max.” You throw your head back as he sucks on your clit.

He chuckles against your clit, sliding a hand between your thighs and he starts to rub your entrance to gather your slick before curling two fingers inside you. Loving how quickly you clench down on them as he licks at your nerves expertly.

His fingers and his tongue are magic. No wonder he has the reputation he has when it's so damn good. You whimper and lift your leg onto his shoulder so his fingers push deeper. "Holy - holy shit." You choke when he curls them just right and his breath washes over your clit.

“That’s it, baby,” Max coos, completely obsessed with the way you whimper his name. “Be a good girl and cum for me. Cum all over my fingers and face, pretty girl.” He keeps curling his fingers and sucks your clit back into his mouth as he watches you intently, wanting to witness the moment you cum.

"Oh shit. Shit. Just- fuck - just like that." You whine as he sucks your clit like those stupid caramels he unwraps between segments. You can't deny him as he curls his fingers just right and you cum, clamping down on his thick digits.

You’re louder than that Friday, of course you are. You are in a private bedroom where you won’t be discovered if you scream his name. Plus, this orgasm is completely centered around you, Max continues to pump his fingers and suck in your clit to work you through it. Greedy for your sounds and the way you soak his fingers.

When it becomes too much, you push him away, gasping his name, and you grab his shoulder, dragging him up your body. "I wanna-" You don't voice your desires as you shift to push him back on the bed, shifting to kneel between his legs. "God." You murmur as you wrap your fingers around his cock.

"Baby. You don't-" His protest dies on his lips as you lean forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” Max hisses in pleasure as your mouth takes his cock. Twitching and groaning your name when he feels you swallow around him. “Never-never thought I’d see this.” He admits breathlessly. “But I love the view.”

Your eyes crinkle as you smile around his dick, taking him deeper, and you love the way his jaw drops. "You are gorgeous." He murmurs and you slide your hand along his chest, caressing his skin as you start to bob your head.

It’s quite possibly the best fucking blowjob he’s ever had. Not sure if it’s because you are so eager to blow him, or that it’s just you, but you have him breathless and gripping the duvet quickly. “Baby, baby, you are so good. You’re gonna make me cum and I can’t do that right now.” He whines after you swallow around him again.

You reluctantly pull off of his cock, moving fast to straddle his thighs and you shuffle closer, sitting up until you can grip his cock and notch him at your entrance. You look into those dark eyes and sink slowly down onto him.

“Shiiiiiiiiiit.” Max grabs your hips but he doesn’t try to control you, just hanging on while your walls surround him. “Can we do the show just like this?” He pants out, “you sitting on my cock? Fuck, baby.”

“We’d either get no viewers or a ton of viewers for daytime tv.” You giggle, caressing his chest and you lean in to kiss his neck. “You feel so good inside of me, Max.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you lift your hips until you’re sinking back down onto him.

Max blows out a loud breath, sliding his hands up and down your back. “I’m trying not to blow my load here, sweet cheeks. Don’t mistake that. Fuck, you feel so amazing. Like a fucking glove.”

You moan, loving the way he twitches inside of you. “All yours. Yours baby.” You promise and lean in to kiss him softly before you start to rock your hips, taking him deep inside of you every time you sink down onto his cock. He’s so deep and you aren’t in a rush for this to be over.

The pace is slower than before and Max groans every time you rock your hips. “Fuck baby.” He whispers, turning his head to kiss along your neck. Loving how you are slowly unraveling him.

You rock back onto him, caressing his neck and sliding your fingers through his hair. “God, I love you.” You murmur, shifting to press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks.

His breath catches, hearing you say it like that for the first time. “I love you too, baby.” He promises, lifting up to kiss you thoroughly. His hand slides up to your neck and he drags you closer, loving how your tits press against his chest and he slides his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

You savor the kiss, moaning into his mouth, and you whimper his name as he kisses along your jaw. You bounce on his cock a little faster, wanting him to cum for you. “Fuck, baby. I- I want you to fill me up.” You murmur, nudging your nose against his.

“Shiiiit.” Max hisses. “That is so fucking sexy.” He admits with a breathless laugh. Watching your tits bounce and he reaches back to slap your ass.

You groan as he helps you bounce harder on his cock. “Fuck baby. Yes. Yes! Just like that. Oh God. You’re hitting just right.” You ramble, lost in the sensations as he rocks you on his cock and the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit.

Max chuckles at how desperate you sound, how greedily your cunt clenches around him. Groaning as he rocks you harder and plants his feet to thrust into you. “Want you to cum.” He grunts. “On my cock this time.”

You whimper, "gonna - oh God. Ma- Max. Oh fuck. Maxxxx." You squeal. clamping down on his cock and you cry out as he thrusts up at the right angle and sends you over the edge, making you shake against him as you orgasm.

Max chokes out your name, wrapping his arms around you and starting to thrust up into you wildly. Letting his own desires overtake the sedate pace and chase his own orgasm now that you’ve cum.

You let him thrust up into you, making you moan as he extends your climax. “Baby. I need - I want you to cum for me.” You beg, kissing his neck, and you end up biting his earlobe. “Cum for me, Max.”

“Ohhh shit.” You biting him throws him over the edge. Squeezing you tight, he rocks his hips up to bury himself inside you. Groaning as his spurts of cum paint your walls.

You caress his neck, running your finger through his hair as you kiss all over his face. His fingers dig into your flesh but you don’t care, loving how he feels surrounding you. “I love you, Phillips.” You murmur, enjoying how he feels surrounding you. “I’m sorry I ran away.” You murmur, knowing you aren’t running now.

“I love you too.” Max hums softly. “If you run this time, I’m coming after you. I don’t give a damn who knows it.” His arms loosen slightly and he looks into your eyes when you lean back. “Will you go to dinner with me? Not tonight, because we couldn’t get reservations anywhere, but I want to take you out properly.”

You nod, unable to say no to him and you lean in to kiss him again. “I’m not running away. I want the world to know about us. It’s - I’ve been thinking, this could make our career. The TV husband and wife that become husband and wife.” You tease and Max’s eyes widen.

“Marriage? Slow your roll baby.” He says and you giggle, rolling your eyes. “I’m joking. I want to marry you. Shit, I’ve never said that to anyone. I want you baby. I’m in this for the long haul.” He promises and you nod, leaning in to kiss him.

“Mrs Max Phillips has a ring to it.” You murmur and he chuckles, “who says I wouldn’t take your last name? I’m a modern man.” He winks at you and you snort, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. You don’t know why you’ve been running from your feelings and now that you are here with Max, you’ll never run again. He’s now your home.

****

“It’s that time of year again.” Max grins into the camera as the red light reappears. “Valentine’s Day. The day where men either panic as they figure out to impress their partners or prepare to take the next step.” He clears his throat as he looks over at you. His girlfriend of a year, even though the public was still guessing at how serious the relationship was. There had been plenty of photos of dinners out and cozily walking around town together. While you weren’t discreet, you both decided to be mum about the status of your relationship. Especially after a closed door meeting with the producers. Everyone at the station knew, and that was all that mattered. “Tell me, Valentine’s Day proposal, tacky or romantic?” He asks you. “I personally think romantic if done right, but what do you think?”

You hum, not picking up his reasoning for the question when it's on the teleprompter. "I think...if it's done right, it's romantic. If it's a 'shut up ring' then it's tacky." You explain, turning back to the prompter. "So today, we have a big surprise. Someone is going to be getting engaged on the show." You grin, still not suspicious as the producers told you about a guy who was going to surprise his girlfriend. "Look at Max." You read the teleprompter and frown, turning to see Max out of his chair. "What are you doing?"

“Baby, honey, sweet cheeks, I don’t think there’s anything tacky about the way that I feel about you.” Max tells you as he takes your hand and kneels down in front of you. “I couldn’t think of any place more romantic than the place I met you, the place I fell in love with your laugh, your heart, your brain and everything that makes up my partner at work.” He smiles at the shocked look on your face. “I wanted to propose today, since one year ago, we finally confessed how we felt and it’s been a magical year. So now I just have one little question.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring box. “Will you be my partner in life? Marry me, darling, be my wife please?”

Your eyes widen and you glance around at the crew who are grinning at you and Max. You inhale shakily, tears stinging in your eyes as the man you love kneels in front of you. "Baby. I - yes. A million times, yes!" You squeal and shift to kneel down in front of him, cupping his cheeks to kiss him without even caring about the ring, you're more excited to marry the man you love.

Grinning against your lips, Max knows that you’ve just made history, a morning show host proposing to his co-host on live tv. It will be the talk of the town. He doesn’t care about that or what the executives think. All he cares about is that Valentine’s Day is the day you became an official couple, the day you agreed to marry him, and next year - you’ll get married on Valentine’s Day. He will make sure that every Valentine’s Day you spend with him will be one to remember.

#pedro pascal #max phillips #max philips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips smut #max phillips imagine #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips fic #human!max phillips

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 1 year

Note

Hello it’s me again! It’s been a while, I hope you’ve been doing okay. I recently have been reading through a lot of angst to comfort and I have an idea for a request!

May I request an Ike fic where reader is a liver in NIJISANJI and has a crush on Ike but knows they have no chance with him. Then one day reader accidentally spills their feelings to Ike and Ike comforts them after hearing about readers feelings?

I hope you’re not tired of me requesting Ike fics (ily him to much) and I hope you have a good day/night! <3

-🖋️

stars above your skin

oh 🖋 we're really in it now

how long have i had this request in my inbox? early march? and now exactly one day after blue light dropped, i give you a ~19.5k word ike fic. much love and effort has gone into this one, only seconded by the massive amounts of brainrot.

so yeah, i'm not tired of ike requests. i'm literally a quilldren that writes fanfic. this is the opposite of a problem

in fact this might be one of my favorite things i've written... the second half is such a good bedtime story for me...!

this is going to get NASTY to read on tumblr—as in my site is lagging so hard just typing these a/n notes. so i'm going to remind you all that not only is liking/reblogging recommended to keep track of this fic, but also that i have an ao3 account (same name as url but without dashsince it's much more accessible than tumblr for long fic. i recommend reading on tumblr if you can because of some formatting but to each their own!

here’s a funny story about this fic. i was working on it while a bunch of people sat behind me, you see, and one of my greatest irrational fears is that people sitting behind me will be able to see my laptop screen and laugh at what i’m writing…! and with these requests i usually title them the fandom name and my name, and a short phrase about the request, and this one was “workplace romance”, and i just got so afraid right then and there i changed it to the first thing i could think of, based off a clip i saw of pomu, selen, aia and doppio…!! and that’s why the wip doc is titled “nijisanji 4402 - pliskin”, and why i will always refer to this fic as "pliskin" much more than the actual title

by the way here’s a cover of iris that was pretty fitting for this fic. you’ll know when to play it. enjoy

tags: hurt/comfort, reader is a niji vtuber, gender neutral reader, off-collab, mutual pining, misunderstandings, fluff, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, cuddling, everyone in niji is your wingman, implied uki/ren if you squint but it’s mostly because uki will flirt with 80% of the men in this company

cameos: aia amare, alban knox, mika melatika, nina kosaka, ren zotto, uki violeta, vox akuma, fulgur ovid (mentioned)

⚠️ drinking/alcohol (unspecified if reader drinks alcohol)

⚠️ horror/gore mentions (non-detailed), out of context outlast spoilers i guess?

author's commentary here (spoilers) ↣

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There are dozens of these videos on YouTube, and never have you come across the same one twice. You would know. You have a bad habit of clicking on them.

After all, they’re labeled with your name on them, and right next to it, Ike Eveland. You are smart enough to recognize it’s not worth your time and just another compilation of the same moments and fans trying to make a mountain out of a molehill, but your heart says otherwise. To be fair, the compilations were a much more recent development than the one you hid under lock and key.

When you first joined Nijisanji, some of your senpais sent you messages full of greetings and offers to help you get on your feet as a streamer. Ike was one of those senpais, and whenever you popped into voice calls just to hang out, he was easy to talk to, like an old friend. Naturally, a fast friendship formed, and when you debuted, he was one of the first people you collabed with- and the one with the best reception. Your new fans (‘Bookworms,’ they called themselves, after your name Reader) loved how well your humor bounced off each other, and when weeks passed and you announced another collab on your schedule with Ike, your Bookworms rejoiced.

Even when you weren’t working, you would still talk to him. He told you about his homeland in the past and his novels, both released and unpublished. He was a storyteller even when he was talking about something as minute as making a sandwich, and whenever you brought up your past and interests, he was an excellent listener. You had your differences, but he always knew what questions to ask so he could understand you better, and you loved the opportunity to ramble.

It had been nearly three months since you debuted, and four if you count the day you were officially hired and began to build yourself as a streamer. Whenever you look at the endlessly long text history between you and Ike, you have to wonder: is it normal to feel so connected to someone you’ve only known for three-maybe-four months?

You’re not an idiot. You aren’t about to say Ike is the most important thing in the world to you, but he gets pretty damn close. That terrifies you. You shouldn’t be so attached to someone you barely know.

But then again, you trust Ike. He’s opened up to you about things he would never say to others, and he keeps your secrets buried in the grave. You’ve lost count of how much advice he’s given you, but you’ve never forgotten a single one, and whenever you feel lost about something you know you can count on him to help you out.

You grimace, sip out of your drinking glass, and press ‘play’ on the next compilation.

A cute intro plays with the clipper’s name. Above it are the words Pen and Paper, surrounded by puffy pink hearts.

That was the duo name between you and Ike, but "ship name" was more accurate among fanwork.

You weren’t exactly unaware about it. Weeks ago, you were surfing Twitter and the site’s algorithm granted you your introduction into Pen and Paper. This was shortly after your first collab with Ike, and after you established your shipping rules with your audience (“I’m fine with anything, as long as the other liver is okay with it!”, you proclaimed, totally oblivious to how soon that would blow up in your face). The fanartist posted a messy black-and-white sketch, but you could make out the pattern of Ike’s scarf wrapped around you and him at the same time, forcing your bodies into close proximity with averted eyes and dusty blushes.

You appreciated the fanartist’s passion and skill, but the thought of you and Ike as an item sunk in your chest like you swallowed a rock. You swiped past. You went back to your scrolling, found some good thumbnails, and retweeted some cute solo fanart, but before the week ended, you made a private account with a fake name and staked out the tags for Pen and Paper to follow that fanartist.

Damn fanartist. You tried to deny it, and told yourself that you followed their art because you liked the style. But their account was full of ship art, and when Twitter gave you similar users that all worked under the hashtag, you had to face facts. If you wanted to look at it optimistically, at least you figured it out early on before anything had the chance to sour while you were still blissfully ignorant of yourself; even then, that doesn’t make it any harder than it already is.

Besides all the texts, the meetings, the schedules and events, and then including the streams and collabs and the art and the fandom…

“Why?” You ask out loud in the silence of your room. “Why did I have to fall for my coworker?”

And with audiences of over hundreds of people watching you fall for him, nonetheless!

It’s irritating. You have a job that keeps you motivated to work hard. It’s given you a dedicated fanbase, rare opportunities, and coworkers you all recognize as your friends. Really, finding someone to care for because of it should be a blessing, but it’s such a headache. What if your fanbases get jealous, or even worse, outright hate it? Would you be able to keep up a relationship when you and Ike are dedicated to your careers and streams? Why are you even thinking like this? You scold yourself. There’s no way this would ever work out. It’s all fantasy and smoke and mirrors, because fandoms love love. Shipping is never a reflection of the streamers, just the characters you play. You’re delusional if you think your stupid crush could actually go anywhere.

But fandoms love love. The only comfort you have is being able to pretend something could happen. The ship art is a lie, and so are the fanfics, and the clippers that tag their videos as Pen and Paper are just here for a possibility that never could happen.

The compilation is full of little hints and teases, and if you were being honest with yourself, most of it was more like two friends getting along than actual flirting. But you didn’t trust yourself to see your clumsiness for what it is when Ike’s little laughs are like music to your ears.

Damage control, you tell yourself. It’s like studying how you play your favorite games. You can pinpoint where you stumble and leave yourself open for attack in Apex, Smash, even Crab Game, and then amend those mistakes the next time you pick up the game. Real life should be no different. Just stop acting so dorky all the time by finding moments of dork in your VODs and avoid them next time you talk to Ike.

This clip was from your second collab with Ike. Captions floated along the bottom of the screen. Ike's captions were in his signature blue.

IKE: You know, there’s a lot of content about us two as a duo.

READER: They call us Pen and Paper, right?

IKE: Yeah, my art tag is flooded with art of the both of us.

READER: Oh my God, look at the chat. Mine’s full of people saying they love us together.

IKE: Aww, thanks, Quilldren! I’m happy I can play with Reader too.

READER: Thank you, Bookworms; thank you, Quilldren. Hey, there’s a lot more overlap than I expected.

IKE: They’re like Bookdren.

READER: Or Quillworms.

IKE: Quillworms, that sounds way better. They’re like our children.

READER: www

IKE: www

Never fucking mind about acting so dorky all the time. You kick yourself for bringing up Pen and Paper, and your giggly laugh. You hate it. A neon sign above your head that says “SIMP” would be less obvious than that stupid schoolkid laugh.

But Ike’s laughter is music, back in the moment and now as you revisit it, and his model’s eyes squint with a wide smile.

He really is an amazing man. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you’d think he’s perfect. But you’ve seen him in moments of vulnerability, the parts of himself that never shows through on stream and even rarer among his friends. Through it all he manages to keep going, and you admire him so much for sticking to his guns even when he’s expressed all his doubts about himself. The fact that he trusts you enough to let his guard down only adds to how honored you are to know him, and at the same time, the fact that there’s so much trust between you two just makes you feel worse for having a crush on him. You hate keeping secrets like this when you let Ike read you like an open book for everything else, and even just wishing you were something more to him feels like a betrayal of all that trust. You wish you could just be satisfied to know him.

The compilation continues. The next clip is a totsu Fall Guys collab hosted by Fulgur Ovid that you and Ike joined in on. Fuuchan got eliminated early in the match, and spectated on you while the other livers ran around Roll On with players tugging them this way and that.

You moved around the rotating levels at the perfect sweet spot between two rings, and balanced at the top of the roll as the slime level slowly rose.

A longer wall approached, so you shuffled from one level to another, but another player grabbed your bean avatar and dragged you along to the wall even as you yelled out in panic on Discord. You smashed your keys to struggle, but they had an advantage, and it was clear the wall would push you down to the slime for an impending elimination.

That is, until a familiar Miku bean grabbed the other side of your avatar, and pulled the other way towards the ring that would save your life. Resigned, your attacker backed off and barely dodged out of the way while Ike’s Miku bean brought you back to safety.

The other two livers in the game were too noisy to notice you. Fuuchan was commentating every move you made, and when Ike saved you, he said, “Ike coming in clutch, let’s fucking go.”

Your recorded self didn’t hear him at all, though. You swooned, “Ike, my hero!”

Meanwhile in the present, you wanted to puke. You meant for that to sound like an over-the-top joke, but you crush is getting so serious that it sounds less like a bit and more like how you gush about him in private.

At least Fuuchan’s audio was louder than everyone else, since he was the host, and the other two livers were preoccupied with their own game to notice your lovey-dovey tone and how Ike laughed music at you. It was bad enough clippers transcribed your words in captions, but you weren’t sure how you would handle it if those three picked up on you and your dumb crush. The less that know about your workplace romance, the better.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“Reader,” Aia coos. Even with audio only, you could tell her eyes were sparkling. “You didn’t tell me you had a workplace romance!”

Well, so much for that plan. You froze over. “Who told you that?”

Mika answers way too quickly. “It’s Alban’s fault.”

“Fuck off, Mika, you brought it up first!”

“You said it though!”

Man, you were already starting to regret joining VC today. You finished your offline work a lot faster than expected, so when you realized that three of your close friends in the company were all online in VC together while Alban privately streamed a rhythm game, you figured you would join the call while you prepared dinner.

But if that was your greeting, you needed to mentally prepare for the wild interrogation you were about to experience. At least Aia, despite her love for drama, knew how to navigate these sorts of things delicately. And you don’t mean to call Mika and Alban bad friends—they were the exact opposite, in fact—but they were much nosier than Aia ever came across.

“Okay, but Reader just asked who leaked it, and didn’t deny it,” Aia says. “So that means it must be true!”

Scratch that. Aia is the worst out of all of them.

“I hate you guys. No hello or anything, just gossip about my love life,” you lament.

She gasps, and if her eyes were sparkling before, then roses bloomed around her as she spoke. “It’s love?”

Mika shrieks like a banshee. “Oh hell no, you’re in love and you didn’t tell us?!”

“It’s not love. It’s nothing!”

“Nah-uh, Reader, no running away from it, we know,” Alban says. “Better to just get it all out in the open than pretend like nothing’s up.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to snoop.”

“I’m being serious. Keeping stuff bottled up deteriorates you, especially when love’s involved.” He missed a note. “Shit. And yeah, okay, I want some gossip, but I have a point and you know it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, I blew a full combo just to say that!”

“Can I add? In case you forgot, Reader, we’re all in the same company,” Mika says. “Sure, I might be in a different branch, but who knows? Maybe we can help.”

“And fuck you too.” You sigh in defeat. As vitriolic as your shared humor was, these three were still some of your best friends, and you know they don’t mean any harm. “Ugh, I hate this. This is confidential information. Like, CIA levels of confidential. If I tell you guys, you can’t tell a single soul about it. Understand?”

The three all chime in agreement. And unfortunately, you trust them. You take advantage of your coworkers swearing themselves to secrecy to hype yourself up and just rip off the band-aid. “It’s Ike.”

“We know.”

“What the hell do you mean, you know?!”

“It’s obvious,” Aia says. Your heart hammers in your chest. Then she sputters for a moment, like she realized she might’ve hit a soft spot. “Well, you have to focus on it to see it, but once you see it, it’s hard to ignore. You two go well together.”

Alban pitches in. “Agreed. I’m not even gonna be subtle about it, you and Ike have great chemistry. I’m happy for you two.”

“Okay, I guess.” Your eyes drift away from your prepared ingredients to the corner of your kitchen. “But I don’t know. Are you sure? Because I feel like I always act like an idiot whenever I’m around him. And I doubt he’d ever feel the same way.”

“Wait.” Aia pauses. “You’re… not dating?”

“No. Just a crush. Not love, not dating, nothing. And it’s never going to be anything more than that because it’s just a big stupid crush on my coworker, who doesn’t even live close enough to visit, and this is all a recipe for disaster.”

She doesn’t say anything about that. Actually, none of them do. Even Alban pressed pause on his game, and the Discord stream went motionless as your words sunk in.

Mika is the one to break the silence. “You’re shitting me.”

“That’s the truth. Happy?”

“No, like, you’re shitting me, there’s no way.”

“Mikaaa.” Alban drags out her name as he scolds her.

“Hey, I’m just saying, that’s crazy, especially since—“

“Don’t tell Reader that!”

“Tell me what?”

“We thought you were already a thing. You know, dating, in a relationship, whatever,” Mika clarifies. It hits you like a punch to the gut. “Or at least that you had something going on, and kept it secret so it wouldn’t be awkward for everyone else to work with you two. Which, by the way, we’re all chill with, so if, hypothetically, you decided to hypothetically go for it, we would hypothetically cheer you on and set off hypothetical fireworks. I’d rent a food truck.”

Alban resumes his game. “Yeah, what she said. Go get that hypothetical novelist bussy.”

“Don’t hypothetically talk about my brother like that.”

“You’re sure this is okay?” You ask. “Mika, I know you and Ike are close. This isn’t going to make anything weird, is it?”

“You’re fine, Reader. If I had problems, I would’ve cornered you and threatened you over text ages ago when I figured it out.”

“That’s another thing. How did you guys know?”

Aia pipes up first. “I know I said it was obvious, but I think that’s just because we know each other since we’re good friends. You two just go together, you know? It’s hard to explain, but whenever Reader and Ike-senpai are in the same room you think, ‘those two would be cute,’ and then you realize they are cute, right there in the moment. And you talk a lot faster on stream whenever you’re both on the same page. Almost as fast as me.”

“Plus, it’s really common to see both of you on VC at the same time, and you’re always happy whenever he shows up,” Mika affirms. “Alban says whenever one of you enters the call the other is soon to follow.”

“It’s true. You talk fast whenever you talk to him on VC too, not just stream. And your laugh kind of changes?”

“Dammit, I knew my laugh was my tell. This sucks. This seriously sucks.”

“It might not be all that bad,” Mika says. “Who knows, maybe things might end up better than you expect. You should tell him.”

“No way,” you fire back. “There no way he’d actually reciprocate. And I know you guys are fine with me asking, but Ike himself is just going to reject me, and it’s going to be awkward, and literally everyone in the company who has ever talked to us will be able to tell something’s up.”

“They won’t be weird,” Aia insists. “We won’t, either, and Ike-senpai is a good guy. Even if it doesn’t work out, he wouldn’t leave you out to dry like that.”

“You don’t know. None of you have ever been in this situation.”

“That’s true, but there’s always a chance.”

“If you ask me, it sounds more like you’re afraid of what you think would happen instead of what rationally would,” Alban says. He’s still laser-focused on his game. “I dunno. If you’re really set on getting over it, then go ahead and ignore it, but that’s just going to eat at you for who knows how long before your crush starts to fade.”

“Well, I didn’t ask.”

“Fine. Forget I said anything.”

You regret the acidic tone in your voice the second you said it, but Alban was off in his own world of music. He’d tell you if he had a problem with how you spoke to him, but you still feel gross about your knee-jerk reaction.

You’re just… defensive. Yep, that’s the word. Whenever you’re this interested in someone, you put your walls up and protect yourself from letting anyone worm through and hit a weak point.

Aia hums like an analyst. “Just keep it in mind, Reader. Not everything is out to get you.”

You know your friends just wanted the best for you, but things just aren’t as simple as they’d like to imagine it. It’s none of their business, anyways. It was pure coincidence that they figured out your thoughts on Ike, and that means none of them have any real authority to advise you on your love life.

“I think we’re done talking about this,” you assert.

“Well, you heard ‘em. Pack it up, show’s over.” Mika changed the subject. “Hey, did you guys know if you try to break open a freshly boiled egg, it explodes?”

Alban slams his hands on his keyboard so loudly that you hear the switches over his noise suppression. The stream goes from a string of Awesome! notes to nothing but misses as he abandons the game. “YES. Yes, actually, I DO know.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“MEAT! WANTS MEAT! WANTS MEAT! MEAT!”

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

The stream is to the birds. Fuck that noise. Godspeed to the Bookworms, they’ll need it, but not nearly as much as you.

When you were settling on a schedule, the last undecided spot for the week was Friday’s stream. That simply wouldn’t do. Friday nights kick off the weekend, and the break from school and work is prime time for a wide audience, so pretty much everyone in Nijisanji reserves their juiciest streams for the weekend. You’re no exception.

…Except for the fact that you didn’t have a clue about what to do for Friday’s stream. One Twitter poll and conveniently timed Steam sale later, you published your schedule with a game your fans voted on: Outlast.

You walked in knowing it would be a horror game, and you figured it would be fine. After all, you’ve played games from Chilla’s Art before, and a few quirky indie psychological releases here and there. You wouldn’t call yourself a stone-faced horror lover that can keep a straight face at anything, but aside from a few creepy moments in those game, you’ve kept your cool relatively well.

Outlast threw all that out the window. You realized almost immediately that you had no idea how to handle the primal fear of the chase.

Footsteps pound against a metal floor. You plead for help in the emptiness of your home as you smash the controls, as if that would make your character move the cabinet over the door any faster. Screams resonate in tune between you and the chained man in the room with you, and all the while, the howling of your pursuer grows louder and louder as he gets closer.

You finally uncover the door and dash through. Tremors run though all your thoughts while your heart beats overtime.

You still haven’t gotten used to all the jumpscares, even though you’re at the edge of your seat and ready to start running yourself. A fork in the road approaches, and when you start off one direction, you’re greeted by a bloodied man in the distance. “AAAHH!”

Faster than light, you slam the key to the other hall and book it. You spot a new storage container to shove in front of the door just in time for text to appear on the screen: Look for pushable objects to block doors.

“No shit, why wouldn’t you tell me that before, oh my God, aaaaah!” The screams—from both the voice actors and your own cries—grate against your eardrums while chase music thunders in-between the gasps for air.

As you grab the container and start to push, you mash the pause button. When the menu appears, you lean back in your chair and run your hands over your face. Your model pouts cutely while the real you whimpers. The mic barely picks it up.

You take a breath before groaning in fear and pain. “Guys. I don’t think I can do this…” Another groan as you trail off. “This game is so much. Give me a second.”

As you raise yourself back from your chair, it’s with a slump forward. Your chat is full of headpat emotes and hearts in your color, along with some quick words of courage. A few are recommending you take a break. “Thanks, Bookworms. I’m so afraid, but I’m committed and I don’t want to just leave it here.”

Your eyes flutter closed as you take a sip of water to clear your head. The cold drink startles you out of the dingy asylum atmosphere, but the screaming still lingers between your ears. “You know what? Who else is online right now? Maybe I need someone in VC to hold me to this.”

The emojis in chat slowly patter out as your viewers go back to text. Looks like most of your Bookworms like the idea of calling someone else while you stream the game. Some of their messages catch your eye.

gatamiizuus: you can call ike :ReaderHeadpat:

messXed-up!: ike!!

lunasmortas: what about ike?

A few more chats mention Ike, and while usually you’d be irritated they mentioned another liver out of the blue, your shoulders still relax at the sight of his name. “Wait, Ike? Is Ike here?”

You scroll back in the chat history, and search for any mod messages. Sure enough, barely a minute ago while you were still being chased:

Ike Eveland 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : GANBARE!

You cling onto that message like a lifeline. Ike is familiar. Ike is comforting. And most importantly, Ike would never call you a pussy.

Chat floods over with his name while you check the official Nijisanji Discord server. Almost everyone in Nijisanji sets their status to offline by default, and Ike is one of them, but you still scan through the member list anyways, praying a little green indicator will light up by his icon.

His status doesn’t change, but before you can even click on his profile, your Direct Messages tab gains a notification. He just messaged you.

Ike Eveland: Watching your stream right now

Ike Eveland: Are you okay?

You exhale. Ike is the most dependable guy you know, even when it’s pure coincidence he was watching your stream while you freaked out.

With your heart still in your throat, you respond.

Me: uuuuuuugh i guess

Me: the game is really scary

Me: i don’t want to cancel the stream but i don’t think i can play it by myself 😭

Ike Eveland: 🫂 | 🫂 1 |

Ike Eveland: Would you feel better if I called you?

Me: i was just about to ask | 👌 1 |

Me: you don’t have to if you don’t want to tho!! i don’t want to be a nuisance lol

Ike Eveland: Don’t worry I offered to!

Ike Eveland started a voice call.

“Ikeee!” The second the call starts, all your restraint goes forgotten. “Ike, I was so scared!”

You babble on about everything you’ve endured up to this point: the gore, the grime, and the patients in the asylum that hunt you like animals.

“I’m here, it’s alright now,” he assures you. “I’m here, okay? Take your time, you’re safe.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m relieved. But it was so scary.” You sink and bury yourself in the collar of your shirt. “You’ve streamed this before, and kept a cool head the entire time, right? How do you do it?”

“Well, it wasn’t my first time playing, for starters. Everyone gets freaked out at first. It’s a horror game, Reader, it’s okay to react to it. I remember the first time I played it, it scared me so bad I had to quit after half an hour.” He giggles a bit at himself. The sound is comforting. “That was a few years ago. I think I had nightmares about it, until I realized I needed to know the rest of the story. ”

Your voice is small. “That was really brave of you.”

“I avoided it for days. I doubt that’s brave.”

“It’s braver than calling someone just to get the guts to play the game.”

“Hey, don’t put my friend Reader down just to bring me up.” He keeps his tone light to let you know you’re allowed to smile. “Being able to face your fears is plenty on its own, and you shouldn’t be devaluing that. How long have you been at it?”

“A little over two hours?” You glance at the stream monitor, and ignore the chat as much as you can. You still register the hearts in your color and his signature blue. “I don’t know. I did a lot of pausing, too, so it’s probably less than that…”

“But you were still able to stream for that long. Remember, I could only play for thirty minutes during my first time! You’re stronger than you think you are.”

You avert your eyes from your stream setup. You feel painfully seen, but the chat is nothing to you. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Then I’ll be here to remind you. Is that okay?”

“I’d like that.” You return to the screen, and in the darkness of the blurred labyrinth, you see your reflection stare back. Your hair is disheveled from how you kept thrashing around in reaction to the game and your shoulders are high with tension, but only now did you realize how the corners of your lips rose after the call started. Ike really got to you. “Thank you, Ike, you’re so considerate. I appreciate you a lot. You’re a really good guy.”

He chuckles slowly, soft like a blanket. Your shoulders ease. Ike’s words are just as soft, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s nervous too. “Haha, um. Yeah. Thank you?” He doesn’t take compliments well, but they’re true, and you hope he knows it as well as you do. He clears his throat. “Ahem. Um, how are you feeling?”

“Not great, but better. I want to try again.”

“You’ve got this, Reader, you can do it.” Ike is still quiet, but enthusiastic. “You can do it!”

You go shaky. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.”

But you still press Return To Game.

And when you scream barely five seconds later, Ike is still calm, and you hone in on his voice as you persevere.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Just as you go to bed, you realize that you basically just made a fool of yourself in front of your crush by getting scared at a game he’s already conquered.

You slam a pillow over your face and groan.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Ike lands an all-out attack just in time to check the chat and the swarm of viewers that just joined. “Oh, Reader! Thank you for the raid, it’s good to see you! Welcome, everybody.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : take care of my bookworms for me? i’m getting milk

“Of course. They’re our Quillworms, after all.” You go fuzzy. He remembered the fan name! “Have a good break, Reader! Rest well.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 👍

It was the end of the week, and the stream you just finished was the last on your schedule. You announced a few days ago that you would take a break for a little more than two weeks so you could catch up on offline work as well as rest, and the Bookworms sent you off with a lot of love. It’ll be hard for some of your diehard fans, but you’re sure they’ll manage. You have a feeling it’ll be easier than they expect.

“Speaking of breaks, I haven’t finished my schedule yet. I think I’ll wait a day or two to post it.” The stream cracks in red and black as Ike’s party in Persona 5 Royal clobbers the enemy Shadows. Monsters bleed out behind the protagonist’s cocky smirk. “I’ll be offline for the next two days, so I’ll have some time to think about it.”

Ike mashes through the battle results, and sets back off into exploring the palace. His stream fades into background noise as you get back to the task at hand.

You sent a few messages to some of your other coworkers regarding your break. Next was finishing some paperwork for management, and reaching out to others that needed access to the files. Sure, your time off was for offline work, but the work you had to get done would only take an afternoon at most. You wanted to meet even the far-off deadlines as soon as possible so you could be properly free for the rest of your vacation.

By the time you finished your paperwork, your coworkers were able to respond to you. A group chat full of other livers had a new response every minute about the next two weeks, and Aia sent you a QR code that would let you save some time and money on your flight.

Ike ended yet another super-long P5R stream just a few minutes after you grabbed all your luggage, got to the airport, and made it to your terminal. You had some time to kill, but you were sick of the headphones over your ears.

Not to mention, you were waiting for the fans to catch up on the real reason why you were on break.

Curiously, you log into your private Twitter—you don’t plan to interact with anything but you’re always paranoid about your online presence—and start searching for the code words fans think Vtubers have no idea about. Symbols replace letters and names morph into sounds while emojis speak volumes.

The Stargazers don’t mention it at all. That’s to be expected, after all. Their oshi goes on break often, so nothing seems too out of the ordinary. Besides, you wouldn’t put it past them to have even more intricate subtweets than what you’re looking for.

Only a few of Nina’s Honeybunnies put the pieces together at first, but then you check Quilldren subtweets. As it turns out, when Ike mentioned he’d be taking a few days off, a few of his fans noticed how Nina was going to be offline at the same time, and a smaller fraction of those compared how Mika had yet to release a schedule.

Underneath your face mask, you smile. With the career being dependent on both anonymity and your voice, you wore a nondescript black mask through the entire airport in case someone recognized you, just as well as to hide the tiny giggle that always bubbles up whenever you watch your fans scramble around theorizing. They don’t have all the pieces, after all. None of the Aiadmirers nor the Renvaders even considered it.

They’ll figure it out in time nonetheless. Uki and Nina are close to landing, and Aia was the first to disembark her plane. The rest of your friends are set to arrive after you, and besides, Vox should be ending his last stream of the week right now. You’re sure the Kindred will start plotting in the next hour, provided their oshi didn’t give them too big of a hint about his plans for the next week as he’s known to do.

You board your plane and settle into your seat, ready to nap the flight away. You’ll need the rest, after all. It’s about time you join an off-collab.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Nina doesn’t even get the chance to look away from her phone before she gets a rush of replies on her first voice tweet.

She doesn’t bother to read them anyways. She’s too busy howling out the lyrics to “Wannabe.”

It’ll be hard to discern all the voices. Ike’s high range is always easy to pick out, but Vox blends in as a bass, and you can always hear Mika’s grin through her singing. Ren and Aia are the furthest from the phone, and as loud as they sing, they’re still drowned out along with you, Uki, and Nina herself.

Mika chooses the wrong time to look around the karaoke booth. While Aia sings passionately about what she wants (what she really, really wants), her body language crumples and rises like an electrocuted high school theater kid. The ghost has a hiccuping, sweeping laugh that overpowers half of the singers, and then Aia snorts at herself when Mika covers her mouth, which gets Vox to snort even louder, and before you know it, it’s just Uki and Nina doing their damndest not to break. Even then, Nina’s voice wavers along to the Spice Girls as she resists a laugh, and Uki’s eyes are squeezed shut smiling.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The bar stool slides out from the counter so quietly that you wonder if the Airbnb owner knew just how handy it would be for a house full of streamers on vacation. You lean forward while Mika tells a story about how she, Aia, Ren and you went out for a coffee run, and crossed paths with some teenagers with matching Iluna keychains on their backpacks.

Speaking of Iluna, their represents sat together on the couch. Aia set her plate and fork on the coffee table, not a single pool of sauce left over from the pasta dinner Vox and Uki prepared together. Somehow Ren made enough room in his luggage to bring along a teal ukulele, and idly strums along. Uki sits between Ren and the armrest, swirling the last of his pasta between his fork.

Across from them, Vox and Nina took ownership of two plush chairs that could only fit one person each. Each chair was next to a corner table, and they stacked their plates on top of one another to make room for a jug of orange juice and two cocktail glasses. Ike took a bottle of rum and poured it into his soda, then slid it back to the corner table before pulling up the bar stool next to you.

“It was like, one of them had a clear phone case and held it out to show the others a video,” Mika says. She perched on top of the counter itself, next to her travel microphone and the second-nastiest kitchen stream setup you’ve ever seen. She was no Scarle, but so many wires stretched across the island and along the way that it was just easier for her to climb onto the polished granite to keep an eye on the chat. “Smack-dab in the center was a PNG of Vox. And then a bunch of tinier Voxes around it. And here’s how you know it’s bad, you could see the color of the phone itself through the case because it’s clear, right? It was red. Red! That’s commitment!”

“I’m telling you, Mika, there’s no way they got a red phone just because of Vox,” Aia says. “That’s got to be a coincidence.”

Vox hums into his glass. “No, they absolutely did. You mean to tell me your fans don’t spoil you rotten and buy new phones just because they’re your color?”

“My color is white, Vox, like every phone ever is my color!”

“Still, I’ve never seen Aia go so quiet so fast.” Ren’s ukulele twangs as he grins. His fangs were just as prominent in real life. “It was awesome.”

“It was scary, but funny,” you say. “We saw the Vox case and the Iluna keychains, and all of us just went silent. And we all had masks, too, so it was like, one moment you could hear Ren’s fuckboy laugh, and the second we saw the case, we all put up our masks and went quieter than the grave.”

Ren palms the neck of the ukulele and mutes the chord in mock offense. “Hey! I’m not a fuckboy!”

“Didn’t say you were, but if you want to out yourself like that, be my guest. They’d chop off your horns and sell them like Kyo.”

“One of them had an Aster keychain.” Ren bitterly resumes playing. Uki sets his plate on the table and drapes himself over the alien’s shoulder as he opened up his phone to check the off-collab’s live tag. The stream was supposed to be a live Q&A, but was so easy to talk to everyone that the questions often turned into conversation before someone remembered the stream. “If Aia or I said anything, we’d be fucked.”

“Imagine how fucked we would’ve been if Vox woke up in time to go with us,” you say.

Ike snickers. “Is it bad that I would’ve paid money to see that?”

The two Luxiem members get into a playful argument over who would win in a fight: all the effort Nijisanji and its employees put into protecting their privacy, or one silly phone case. Ren’s riffing turns into a simple rendition of “Iris” and Nina hums along from across the living room. The ukulele is slow and unique enough to not be mistaken for the original, but you wonder if those two would be able to avoid copyright entirely.

Nonetheless, the vibe is comfortable. You’re miles away from home, but in a room with some of your closest friends in the world, it’s like you never left. Truthfully, it’s more like you’ve finally found your place. The music just feels right, like it was written for this moment, and Aia leans back into the couch while Nina sways in her seat to the jaunty little ukulele. Ren looks as cheery as his instrument sounds, especially with a peaceful Uki nuzzled up to him.

While Ike and Vox go at it, Mika props her chin up with both hands and watches them like a reality TV show. There’s a glint in Vox’s eyes as Ike drums up a snide response, the only sane man to the demon’s goofiness. He brings his rum and coke to his lips like punctuation, a silent so, what? hidden in the boozy soda.

Vox knows how to run his mouth, and he launches into one of his patented anecdotes. While all eyes are on the demon and the chat hones in on his voice, you focus on how Ike tilts his head up to drink. His neck stretches out from the collar of his black band tee, and with each sip, his Adam’s apple bobs.

You’ve always thought he was good-looking on stream, but he’s gorgeous in person, all long lines and graceful features, and cameras can’t capture the tiny little freckles drizzled down the back of his neck. You didn’t even know he had freckles. It was only after you saw him for the first time that you noticed pale, reddish dots all over his nose and cheeks, fading out by his temples and the arch of his lips. Spending the day walking around in the sun from place to place revealed more whenever the wind flicked his jacket collar out right. They scatter at his nape, right below the blue tips of his hair, and meet one another further down his back, or so you’d presume. Without the jacket, you can catch marks spread out along his arms with distance between one another, and his shirt sleeve starts right where the freckles cluster together. You can only imagine how far down they go.

You avert your eyes. You can’t think about what’s under the shirt when you’re sitting right next to him, and certainly not while on stream, even if chat can’t see you check him out!

Unfortunately, the side opposite of Ike is the one with Ren and Uki. Those two are idyllic. Without a care in the world, it seems. You envy how easily Uki can act on what he wants, even if you know he doesn’t see Ren like how you see Ike. Ren doesn’t mind it at all, either. He literally lives by the rhythm of his own ukulele.

Ike lowers his drink with his eyes closed, as if it would make the refreshing feeling last longer. His eyelashes are the same ashen color as his hair. Gold gleams between his ears and on the chain of his glasses.

Possessed by the music, and distracted by the rambling, you become one with the background and lean along Ike’s arm.

It’s an indulgent dip into the waters, but shallow compared to all you feel for him. Ever since you met Ike in person it’s been easier to control yourself around him, and if anything, you’re reminded that this is the man you’ve gotten the closest to in both career and friendship. The only barrier between your cheek and his body is his shirt sleeve, but your arm rests against his forearm, right where the freckles taper off. There’s no resistance at all as you make yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm.

But you hold yourself back. Even though the off-collab made you feel gutsier than before, you think that you’d pass out if you tried anything else. Besides, you feel so at peace against his arm, but too afraid to look up and see his reaction.

The blend of peace and fear churns in your heart as it dawns on you: you were wrong to call this a crush. It runs far deeper than you could’ve imagined.

Vox says something with finality. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, but the words go unregistered. As he spoke, his eyes drifted around with his body language, but he snaps to look at Ike expectantly. You swear his smirk gets a little more mischievous as he does.

The air stills, even though you know eyes aren’t on you, just the man you lean on. It stays frozen as Ike waits to respond. You still don’t have the heart to look up at him and break your selfish, unrequited fantasy.

You just want to stay here, unresisted.

Ike deadpans. “Anyways.”

Just like that, the moment is over, and Mika laughing at Vox striking out clears the air around you. But Vox’s eyes fall to you for just a split second as he moves in his seat. Frost settles down your back at the thought that he knows, but there’s a solid chance he hasn’t connected the dots. You pray he hasn’t.

Then you see Fox Mom herself right behind him, and she shoots you a shit-eating grin with a hand over her heart and a glass in the other.

No doubt about it. You’re screwed.

The frost turns to glaciers and burns into hot shame all at once. You love Nina, you really do, and you’d always consider her a good friend before coworker. However, she’s known for fishing around for any crumb of fanservice, and she gets straight to the point whenever she eggs it on, not to mention how she loves to tease her kids on just about anything. You are never going to hear the end of this if she can help it.

You really don’t know what you expected. It feels like everyone’s staring at you, even the chat. You can’t help but feel bitter. How come Uki can flirt with as many guys as he wants, you wonder, but I can’t even touch Ike without getting eyed up?

You know the answer, but it doesn’t do anything to help the bitterness and the embarrassment, and how much you want to hide. On instinct, you take advantage of the warmth and nestle yourself deeper into Ike to hide your face, just in time as he curls his head above yours.

Nina makes a sound kind of like a fork stuck in the garbage disposal for the briefest of moments before smashing her lips together and bringing her glass to her mouth like a mute button. As if you didn’t feel seen enough.

“Find any other questions, Uki-senpai?” Aia’s nose is buried in her phone, and God, you could kiss her for changing the subject. As much as she poked fun about you about Ike, she was still a total angel and a ride-or-die all at once.

“Oh, I have questions,” Uki says. Luckily, he’s graceful enough to leave it at that. “Twitter wants to know first impressions for everyone that hasn’t off-collabed before.”

Ren speaks. “I think the only person I’ve done an off-collab with before is Nina, so is it cool if I go first?”

Aia gestures for him to go on. She’s still stuck on her phone as he continues.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, but you ignore it. Then again and again and again, and when you finally check it, you understand why. When Aia, Mika and Alban first heard you spill your feelings for Ike, they made a group chat dedicated to wingmanning—or at least, that’s what they pitched it as. They tease you more than anything else, and as irritating as it gets… you have to admit, it’s nice to confide in them, and nice to know they wouldn’t hold it against you.

Anyways, Alban’s going apeshit.

Group Chat: 💙 PENANDPAPER REAL 2K4EVER 💕 (4 Members)

Aia Amare: image.png | 📌 2 |

Alban Knox: AKDHSLSJDKSHSA

Alban Knox: AASDFSDF

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: HAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAA AAAAAAA KYAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: 💕💕💕💙💕💙💕💙💙💙💕💙💕💕💙

Alban Knox: 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

Alban Knox: HOW ARE YOU GUYSS NOT LOSING YUOR MINDSA BOUT THIS

Aia Amare: I AM

Me: omfg did you seriously get a picture of us

Alban Knox: WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGGGG DONT CHDCK THIS GC | 👆 1 |

Me: wtf did you expect you’re spamming

Alban Knox: YOU AR ELITERALLY CUDDLNG GO FOCUS ON THAY JOT US

Me: we are not cuddling

Alban Knox: YOU ARE

Aia Amare: YOU ARE

Mika Melatika pinned a message. | 🖕 1 |

Me: mika wth you too? 😭

Mika Melatika: image.png

Me: did you srsly take a selfie with us in the background

Mika Melatika: YES this needs to be immortalized

Me: you people suck | 🥰 3 |

Alban Knox: GET THAT NOVELIST BUSSY!!!!

Aia Amare: As if you aren’t about to save that picture yourself~

Alban Knox: NOVELUSSY!!!!!!!!!

Fuck, she got you there. You cast a pointed look at the angelic maiden herself, or at least as pointed as you can be with a man you’re scared to love wrapped around you. She looks as satisfied as a cat pushing a glass off a counter.

You set your phone on ‘do not disturb’ and placed it behind you on the counter with a huff.

“Reader, honey, how about you?” Nina leans forward, half-lidded and as sultry as ever. She swirled her drink around in its glass. “It’s your first off-collab ever, right? I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh, well, um.” Your brain struggles to catch up. “First impressions, right…”

Aia slips you a thumbs up. You’re going to rip her a new one after this. Her, and Mika, and definitely Nina; this is the most subtle Nina’s ever been but you can tell she’s fishing for an answer here. You can take your friends figuring it out, embarrassing as it is, but you are not about to expose yourself to thousands of live viewers.

“It’s kind of crazy actually meeting up with everyone,” you start. “I’ve known them for so long, but all online, and being able to match the voice to the face in real life, I don’t think I can actually describe it. It’s kind of surreal, but it feels so nice to just talk to them in person. Aia, Nina and Uki were the first people I met up with, and man, those three are a sight. I know everyone says it, but Uki is absolutely the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Nina and Aia are really pretty, too. Hey, Aiadmirers, did you know when your oshi laughs, she looks just as cute as she sounds?”

Aia yells. “Reader, shut up!”

“Then stop being so cute all the time, you dork!”

“I’m not a dork! I’m cool!”

You resume, satisfied with your revenge. “Mika and Vox are both really chill. They’re kind of quiet, so if you’re just walking by, you’d think they’re two normal people just going about their days. But whenever we talk it’s always something insane. Vox sounds like a dignified gentleman and Mika is kind of like that cool girl that you want to be friends with, but if you actually pay attention, Mika’s showing Vox a picture of her insides during surgery while he’s reciting something about the Bite of ‘87. And Ren is probably one of the most straightforward people you’ll ever see. He’s so optimistic, and really expressive, too, even though most of the expressions are all different types of smiles.”

“What’s your impression of Ike?” Nina asks.

What does she expect you to say to that one, that screens can’t capture how the sun glitters through his glassy green eyes? Hearing him say your name in-person sends shockwaves through your body? How you want to kiss every little freckle he’s never mentioned before and keeps hidden under long sleeves, even though it’s the beautiful skin he lives in daily?

“Same old Ike. He’s exactly like how I expected,” you say. A total fib.

She cocks her head. “Really? Even after all the time you’ve spent together?”

“I’m trying to hang out with everyone.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Cornered. Nina takes a long, slow drink from her glass as you scramble for a quick answer that won’t immediately out you. “Whenever I talk to Ike, he’s really emotive. You can tell what he’s thinking before he says anything. He also has a good sense of style, so he’s fun to go shopping with, and honestly, fun to do anything with. He’s someone you can always have a good time with, and always makes you feel so comfortable around him. Ike’s magnetic.”

Mika muffles a coo behind you. You’re going to kill her if you survive this stream.

“That’s very sweet, Reader,” Nina replies. “Hear that, Ike?”

“Yes, I did.” He sounds strained.

“Got any feelings about it?”

“Yes? I mean—er, thanks?” You feel Ike’s head rustle. “I, umm. What am I supposed to say about that?”

“I don’t know. I just think that about you, that’s all…”

“Aww, cute. I love that you love each other,” Nina muses.

Ike spits out, “It’s not like that!” Just as you admit, “Yeah, I guess so.”

You process his words too late, though, and even as you sputter the ukulele music cuts out just in time with Nina and Mika’s unfiltered fangirl squeals. Ren’s palms mute the chord as his eyes go wide. Aia is already on her phone with her jaw to the floor and Uki throws a look at Nina while he mouths, did that just happen?

“I-I mean!” Your throat goes dry and Ike lurches away from you when Vox gleefully shakes Nina like a rag doll. “I—wh—Ike, I mean, of course I love you—“ Mika screams again— “As a friend!”

When you turn to face Ike, he’s curled up into a ball on the barstool with his shirt collar over his face. Even as you feel the blood rush to your face, you keep shouting. That’s all you have left. You’re live. “Like, we’re best friends on and off stream and I love you!”

He mutters something, but you can’t tell what. Only his neck and the tips of his ears poke out from his shirt. Were they always that red?

You repeat yourself. “I said, we’re best friends and I love you, so much!”

“And I said, I know, thank you, I love you too, Reader!” Ike jerks out to face you as he cries. He looks like a tomato.

Then he buries his face into his hands and squeaks like how he always does when something’s too cute to handle, or he’s got too many emotions he needs to let out. “You can’t see me, I’m too embarrassed. I’m hiding forever and I’m never coming out.”

You hope the ground swallows you up and you never have to confront this moment again.

Uki hisses under his breath and muffles Ren's ukulele. You don't know what he said, but you realize all too late that the alien prince himself was laying down the first few notes of “Fly Me To The Moon.”

While you slump and fold your arms over your face on the counter in pure embarrassment, Aia stands up and commandeers the mic. She slaps a hand over Mika’s mouth to muffle the scream. “Man, bummer that Ike-senpai is gone from us forever, but you know what else might be gone forever if you don’t get it now? The sponsor for this stream, our current limited-edition Nijisanji voice packs!”

And as much as you could kiss her yet again for changing the subject, you can’t get over how everything blew up in the last five minutes, and groan into your arms instead.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The stream passed, luckily, without a hitch after that. No one asked any questions, but it was pretty damn clear everyone in the room had an idea of what just happened, and the impending shitstorm. In fact, it was so clear that when you stalked off to your room to sulk, no one made a fuss, and when you realized ten minutes into your sulking session that you left your phone on the counter, you figured it wasn’t worth it to show your face again until after you finished your pity party.

The entire time, you laid in your bed with a pillow over your face so you could pretend like you were being absorbed into the sweet embrace of death. Overdramatic, sure, but you figured you were justified.

Without your phone, you had no way to check exactly how bad the fallout was on Twitter. The poor Pen and Paper tags were sure to be flooded with fans imagining a happy ending to that stint you’d never be able to experience yourself, like salt in the wound. Not to mention, it was a huge seven-person off-collab! It didn’t just end with the Pen and Paper fans. No, it would extend past the Bookworms and the Quilldren, and certainly to the rest of the fandoms with an oshi in this Airbnb. Maybe even the offshoot viewers who don’t regularly watch your content, but made an exception for the off-collab, or, you know, the ones who have no idea who you or Ike are but can’t get enough of the whole accidental-confession-live-on-stream thing. Forget Nina; the entire Vtuber community is never, ever, ever going to live this down.

Ike sounded so distraught, too. You wanted to kick yourself for it. Not only did you make a fool of yourself, but he got caught in the crossfire just because you didn’t catch yourself slipping. Not like he’d reciprocate anyways. He’s always been bad at taking compliments, but you keep thinking about how embarrassed he was about you loving him.

All your frustration and humiliation coursed through the darkness under your pillow, and you stew so bitterly that you don’t even dream when you fall asleep.

You just wake up groggy and exhausted, but too restless to go back to sleep. You look out the window, and the stars have barely come out to play in the early night sky.

As much as you’d hate to admit it, that impromptu nap made you tired of brooding. Besides, you can’t hide from your friends forever. Hopelessly in love or not, they’re still your friends, and even if you decided to stream during the trip, this off-collab was always about spending time with them instead of worrying over your online presence.

It takes you half an hour to hype yourself up, but eventually, you open your door and step out into the hall.

You can already hear voices further away in the Airbnb. You place one of them as Nina, and after her, a baritone that could only belong to Vox.

“…Fuck Twitter, they’re going to forget about it in two weeks or less anyways.” You overhear as you walk down the hall of rooms and closer to the living room. You’ve heard Vox passionate before, but never this serious as well. “Besides, what exactly did they say?”

A mumble. You can’t place the words, but you bristle when you recognize the voice. That’s unmistakably Ike.

“See? Again, I’m so sorry. I was out of line, and I forgot my place. I shouldn’t have interrogated them like that,” Nina says. “But you’re overthinking what they said.”

Another mumble. By now, you’re in the kitchen. You lift your phone from where you left it, and hold your fingers over the half of the screen where your notifications appear as you check the time. It’s barely 11 PM.

The kitchen and living room are connected, with plenty of seating space all around. That was why Mika’s travel laptop was still on the counter and plugged into the wall from the stream earlier, but on the other side of the wall from the kitchen, you noticed an open window and silhouettes from it. Four people sat on the shallow roof overlooking the uneven ground plenty of feet under the building. A pair of fox ears twitch at the night wind as they watched the stars grow brighter in the sky.

You look through the fridge. You’re peckish, but if you were to be honest with yourself, you’re trying to stay quiet for a reason.

There’s a huff. “Oh my god, dude. Just tell Reader already.”

You stand up a little straighter. Mika was with them? Were they talking about you?

“There’s nothing to be said, Mika!” Ike huffs back. “I’m screwed anyways. Just drop it, okay? I don’t need this getting in the way of what was supposed to be just a normal trip.”

“You can’t keep running away forever. Just act like an adult and tell them. It’s going to be fine, I swear.”

“And how exactly do you know that?”

“Well…” Mika trails off. “I can’t say. I just know, okay?”

“Uh-huh. And I know I’m screwed.” The wind rustles outside. You stay motionless. “Just two weeks. Can I please just have two weeks where I don’t have to worry about this until the trip is over.”

It’s a question, but he says it with such exasperation that no one can consider any other answers.

“Fine.” Nina relinquishes. “Have it your way. I’m just worried for you two.”

“It’s going to work out, Ike. But I’m tired.” Vox stifles a yawn. “Tomorrow is going to be better. Let it go for the night and come back to it once you’re in better shape, and just remember. It’s going to work out.”

“Thanks, Vox.”

“Now get in here.”

You hear shuffling fabric before the two men start yelling. Vox cackles while Ike cries through gritted teeth. “Dang it, Vox, I’m going to shove you off this roof!”

“Get ruffled, idiot! That’s your fault for trusting me!”

“I just wanted a hug!”

You snicker under your breath. Vox loves to ruffle Ike’s hair despite the latter’s protests, though he tends to accept it instead of shove him off like anyone else that would dare. Besides, as dreary as Ike sounded during that conversation, he nearly sounded like his old self as Vox and the others laughed.

“I think I’ll go too. Mommy needs her beauty sleep.”

“Mm, I’m still pretty awake. Wanna keep looking at the sky with me, Ike?”

“Sure. Here, Nina, let me move out of the way…”

Shuffling turns to footsteps, and brings you back to reality. You busy yourself looking through the paltry groceries.

The sound of footsteps gets louder and louder, until they become a hollow click on the hardwood floor. Nina crawls through the window, but stops in her tracks with a startled noise.

You turn around and nod as casually as possible. “Oh, hey, Nina.”

Vox is also halfway through the window, and his eyes go comically wide as he forgets how to move. “Oh. Hey. Reader. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah! Um!” Nina coughs long enough to make you uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”

“Took a nap. Got hungry.” It’s not a lie. You grope around in the fridge and breathe a sigh of relief when you see a stick of string cheese in your hands. “You guys just hanging out?”

Nina nods. “Yeah, we were on the roof. It’s getting late, though. You should get some rest for tomorrow—“

Vox elbows her. “But not after looking at the sky for a little bit. It’s beautiful. Very clear. Romantic, even. The architects did a wonderful job placing this house right at the perfect angle to watch the stars rise. Did I mention it was romantic?”

You act natural and take a big bite out of the string cheese. “Once or twice. Is it the seniors’ bedtime?”

“You got me,” Vox says.

“I love going to sleep early and giving my kids private time before bed to reflect and hold deep conversations with one another about their feelings,” Nina says. “And also nighttime face masks.”

“Woo, skincare, what she said.”

“Hey, by the way, Reader, honey, did you hear anything we talked about?”

“No,” you lie.

“Cool,” Vox says. You eat the rest of the string cheese in one bite. “Good for you. And goodnight, Reader.” He dusts himself off before casting his golden gaze down at you. “Be nice, will you?”

Shivers go down your back. You have a feeling he’s referring to something unspoken. “I will.”

“That’s my sweet thing,” he purrs. “Anyways, I’m going the fuck to beddy bye. Honk shoo, Reader, don’t stay up too late.”

Vox struts off with dark hair flowing behind him and the scent of his aftershave in the air. He leaves you to stand awkwardly next to Nina.

Suddenly, she takes you by your shoulders and forces you in front of her. You blurt out an unflattering startled noise before she gets right up in your face and stares dead into your eyes.

“Please be good,” she says darkly. Was that a threat? “Please be so, so good to my baby.”

“I will,” you say, more out of fear than anything else.

She blinks once, then she’s back to the doting mother you know and love. She squeezes your shoulders. “Thank you, honey! Sweet dreams!”

And just like the Voice Demon before her, Nina bounds off to her room.

Huh. That was weird. Nonetheless, you’re alone in the living room, and you can see the outline of Ike and Mika sitting on the roof in silence.

You lightly knock on the side of the window. They both perk up at the sound. “Cool if I join you?”

Mika responds quickly. “Sure! Watch your step, Reader. The roof isn’t that steep but it would be awkward if you ate shit.”

“Agreed.” You step onto the tiling, and shift your body to match the angle. You feel like a newborn deer learning to walk. Luckily, Nina and Vox leaving meant that there was more than enough space for you right next to the window.

Ike sits between you and Mika. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

‘Pretty’ is putting it mildly. The stars are so clear tonight, and scatter across the sky like sequins. The Airbnb was located further away from the heart of the city, so the darkness only amplified how bright the stars shone against the stark night. A breeze drags through the air and fallen leaves rustle between the grass.

“This is so nice.” Comfort settles into you like the breeze in your hair. “I love it.”

Ike sighs. “Right? It’s so peaceful.”

“And there’s so many more stars out here than there are in the city.”

“It makes you want to just zone out and cool down.”

“Yeah, totally.” Mika coughs. “Huh! Cool! Well, I’m tired now. Just keep staying out here and enjoy the sky, I’m going to bed. Enjoy yourselves.”

Mika inelegantly shuffles around your bodies and slips back inside before either of you can properly tell her goodnight.

Ike cocks his head as he watches her stumble through the window. “She just said she would stay out…”

“Hm?”

“Ah, nothing. Just thinking to myself.”

With the extra space, Ike leans back and lays along the roof. The stars cast a dreamy glow over his soft smile as he continues. “It really is something that just makes you want to have a deep conversation, or just think, you know?”

You hum in agreement. You get what he means, but there’s only one topic you can imagine having a deep conversation about right now, and it’s the very one you brooded over earlier that day.

But Ike is Ike. He’s rational and calm and kind, and laughs at your stupid jokes, and texts you first before any of your other mutual friends. The night turns the tips of his hair bluer than usual, and the stars remind you of the freckles hidden along his creamy skin. His glasses reflect the galaxy above.

Even though today’s stream was embarrassing, you know Ike trusts you enough to tell you if you’ve ever crossed a boundary. After all, it’s commonplace to discuss limits on and off stream as soon as possible, and your friendship was so strong that you’ve both opened up to one another. He’d let you know if the whole cuddling thing was too much. Besides, he didn’t resist. He even rested his head on yours. That has to account for something, right?

You snap out of your thoughts when you feel a gentle tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. It’s Ike. He asks, “Lay down with me?”

A wave of fondness washes over you like the tide. He’s cute when he’s earnest like this. You get as comfortable as you can on the tiling, and when you still, you hear something shift before your hand grows warm. Ike scooted closer to you, and placed his pinky finger over yours.

This is bliss. A beautiful sight with a beautiful boy next to you. Your best friend.

“I do love you,” you say.

It just feels right to say.

Ike is silent. He doesn’t make a single sound as you stare up at the stars and the blackened sky. The breeze rocks a tree, and as the leaves part, you see the moon for the first time: one thin, waning crescent that blends into the darkness.

Ike’s head is turned away from you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.

“…I don’t know what you mean,” he admits. “You do? As a friend?”

“We’ve always been friends.”

“Just that?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking me, Ike.”

“N-never mind. I’m sorry, am I making it weird?”

“No, you could never make it weird.” The colors of the view gloss together. You feel like a balloon slowly deflating. “Feels like that’s all I’m doing lately, though.”

Neither of you say anything.

This was a bad idea.

You swear the rustling leaves mock you.

“Wait.” Ike practically snatches your hand up. “Wait, Reader, are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah. I’m saying that I love you.”

Ike stares at you, and if you had to choose just one word to describe his expression, it’s stricken. His mouth is slightly parted, and his shocked eyes drive holes through your skin, leaving you exposed. The brief stutter that escapes him sounds like it was dredged out from frozen, murky waters. “I—”

He drops your hand and turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, barely audible. “This is… this is a lot.”

“I’m sorry too, this was a stupid idea. What was I thinking?” You get on your feet, but the slope makes what could’ve been a fluid motion into a stumbling, slow rise, as if your legs weren’t jelly enough already. You inch to the window mortified. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you.”

You don’t dare to glance at him before you step back inside, not even when he calls your name halfway through the window.

Once you’re back in the living room, you cover your face, then drag your hands through your hair. You can’t even begin to describe how exhausted you feel. This is heartbreak, isn’t it?

You blink furiously, and the outline of a figure by the fridge comes into view.

“Reader?” Mika asks. She has a stick of string cheese in her hand, but walks to you. “Reader, what happened—”

You take her empty hand and pace to your room. You open the door. “Are you okay?”

The second it shuts, your breath hitches. Mika doesn’t hesitate to take you in her arms. She holds you as the first tear falls, and you begin to cry.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You wake up the next day sprawled in your bed, even though the blankets are tucked comfortably around you. On the floor is a pillow and another pile of blankets, and when you recognize the dark hair tied into a loose ponytail, the memories of last night come rushing back.

What an awful night. Awful decisions all day, really, and all of them ones you made. You really don’t know what you were thinking. You groan at the memory.

“Reader?” Mika perks up. Her phone is in her hands, but she sits up level to your face on the floor. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Another groan.

“Yeah, I figured,” she says. “Nina, Vox and Ike went out to do their own thing, and I think Ren and Uki are cafe-hopping. It’s just you, me and Aia in the house right now.”

You rub the sleepy out of your eyes. “That’s cool, I guess.” You cast a downward glance to Mika’s makeshift bed on the floor. “Sorry for being a nuisance.”

“You’re not a nuisance, Reader, don’t say that.” She nudges you. “We’re friends. It’s what friends do. Speaking of, do you want Aia to come by? And Alban’s online, so I can call him, too. If you want.”

“It’d be nice…”

Less than ten minutes pass before Aia shows up at your door with breakfast sandwiches and orange juice. All three of you sit on the blanketed floor while Mika voice calls Alban on her phone. A pot of coffee brews over speakerphone as you recount last night.

“...And to make things worse, we just streamed yesterday,” you explain. “God, I should check Twitter. There’s got to be a million people with eyes on our ship tag, and ugh, I hate thinking about how many weirdos are going to push a ship that can’t work out IRL.”

“I can check it for you,” Aia offers. You hand her your phone. “You remember your Twitter password?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Sorry in advance.” She deletes the app off your home screen.

You begin to protest, but she turns off the phone and sets it aside, out of your reach. “You’re off the clock, Reader! Work troubles can wait until you’re back online, and that includes doomscrolling. You can redownload it when you’re in a better headspace.”

“I really hate admitting you’re right.”

“Shit, Reader,” Alban finally says. “He seriously dropped the ball. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I really thought he would get it, but it took him so long to piece it together, like he never thought about us like that before. I should’ve known it was just me. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, you’re hurt,” Mika says. “It’s understandable, but that still doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Is it wrong that I feel like I deserve it? I mean, I knew day one that this wouldn’t work out. We work together online, and we have fans that ship us with each other and the rest of this company, for fuck’s sake. Getting heartbroken was inevitable and I still went for it. Either I’m a glutton for pain or I’m just plain clueless.”

Alban’s voice is distant from the phone as he messes with his coffee maker. You can’t properly hear him under his breath and over the pot, but if you could, you could’ve heard him mumble, Trust me, you’re not the only clueless one here.

But he returns back at the phone, and you’re totally oblivious. “You can’t choose who you fall for,” he says. “It was really that bad?”

“It took him like a minute to realize I was confessing. And then when he realized it, he apologized to me.”

Aia straightens. “Did he say no?”

“Not really, but why would he apologize if he reciprocated?”

Aia exchanges a look with Mika. Alban grumbles. “No fucking way.”

“Tell me exactly how he reacted,” Aia instructs. She plowed through her sandwich during the conversation, but she left the remaining half on her plate forgotten as she laced her fingers together and leaned forward like a calculated boss.

“It was like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying at first. He asked if I meant it as friends, until he asked me if I liked him. And when I told him I loved him in response, he was so shocked that he let go of my hand, so I left.”

“No fucking way,” Alban repeats, and groans as he drawls out his words. You can practically hear him drag his hands over his face. “No fucking way. Ikeeeee. He seriously dropped the ball.”

“I know. I can’t believe it.”

Aia takes both of your hands in her own. “Reader, I’m not even saying this to hurt you, but this is the clumsiest confession I’ve ever heard of.”

You squint. “Right, that makes me feel so much better.”

“I’m really not! You know what this sounds like? Miscommunication,” she declares. “You didn’t get a solid yes or no. So now it’s going to be awkward between you two until you get an actual answer to the confession, or at least some kind of resolution. You wanna know what I think? It sounds like he didn’t even believe what he was hearing before you left. Which, by the way, is a common response to not just confessions but other major news, so chances are you didn’t blow up your friendship as hard as you thought.”

“She has a point,” Alban says. “I believe you, Reader, but Ike isn’t the type of person to just crush other people’s feelings like that. You just woke up, right?”

“I haven’t even left my room yet. Mika says everyone else is out of the house. He’s with Vox and Nina, I think.”

“So then he hasn’t had a chance to talk to you since the confession,” he continues. “And those three are really close. I’m willing to bet they’re helping him manage it, ‘cause it sounds like he’s going through it just as confused as you are.”

You stare at the floor. Hope feels foreign, yet you can’t help but wonder. You struggle to remember the exact way Ike reacted last night, but you really can’t tell what facts were clouded over by the rejection. A rejection that possibly didn’t even happen, mind you. The confusion and regret blurs over everything like water on wet ink.

“You really think so?” You quietly ask.

Aia nods, and Alban agrees over the phone.

Mika pipes up, a glass of juice in her hands. “Here’s my take. We can theorize as much as we want, but none of us really know what Ike’s thinking about, least of all you. Especially since you didn’t actually resolve anything, and that tension is going to eat at you until you get an answer or it actually damages your friendship. You ask me, the next best thing you can do is bring it up.”

She takes a sip of her juice and leaves you to absorb her advice.

You mull it over along with the memory of last night. “He called my name as I left.”

Alban chokes on his coffee. “He called your name?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t respond.”

“Oh my God. READER!” He shouts so loud that Mika turns the volume down. “I’m going to lose it. I’m actually freaking it right now. Reader!”

“What?”

“Fuck what Mika said earlier, you are stupid!”

“Hey!”

“I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, you are so stupid. He was trying to talk to you!”

Your face goes through a handful of emotions as you sputter. “Are you serious, Alban?”

“Yes! Mika, Aia, back me up.”

Aia crinkles her nose. “I did just say it sounded like a total miscommunication.”

Meanwhile, Mika twirls a lock of red-and-black hair between her finger, distracting herself. She hesitates, trying to figure out exactly how she wants to say her piece, before she simply shakes her head and stills. “Just talk to him.”

“Which is easier said than done.” Your shoulders roll back as you stare up at the ceiling, your hands supporting you as you lean. Even with your friends’ encouragement, the memory of how hard you blew it last night still haunts you. It’s even worse than starting at ground zero; you’ve already tasted failure once, and you’re hesitant to embarrass yourself again.

That stricken look Ike gave you flashes across your sight every time you blink. What was he thinking when he stared at you like that? You can’t tell if the disgust is true or if your anxieties are getting the best of you.

The best solution to anxieties, however, is looking at the facts—or at least, what isn’t tainted by your bias. Your friends mentioned there was nothing wrong with a workplace romance, and as much as the stream made you want to cringe, no one seemed put off by it. Alban and Aia are set on getting you and Ike to talk, and so is Mika. In fact, Mika spoke with Ike as well as Vox and Nina last night before you entered, and even if you had no idea what those four were talking about, you still picked up your name and that apparently Ike had something to tell you.

Pieces start to fall into place when you consider the three around you, staging an intervention over a late breakfast. Aia always gets you in situations where you can be close to Ike and bails you out when it gets awkward, and as much as he won’t get off your back about it, Alban gave you great advice between all his teasing. Mika was nosy at first when she learned about your feelings, but now that you think about it, she’s been incredibly tactful ever since the off-collab began.

You can’t help but snicker as you connect the dots. “Is this the first time you guys actually started wingmanning for me?”

Aia purses her lips. “Hey, not the first. Remember when we made that group chat? We’ve always been your wingmen.”

“I know. But you guys are seriously helping,” you say. “Thanks. Though I do wonder, Mika…”

She perks up as you say her name. “Be real with me. Do you know more than you’re letting on?”

She flinches. Alban’s fingers snap over the phone. “Busted.”

Mika holds her hands up like a criminal caught in the act, but there’s a loose, sly smile hanging on her face. “I don’t think it’s my place to say.”

“What do you mean, it’s not your place to say?”

“I’m sorry, Reader, but I made a promise not to spill, and I’ve been doing way too much behind the scenes to break the promise like that. Just do me a favor and talk to the guy, will you? That’s the best I can tell you.” Mika rests her head in a hand, and the smirk looks even more knowing. “And if you can’t figure it out after that, then you’re definitely stupid.”

You bluster. “I’m not stupid!”

“Still remains to be seen.” Aia gently flicks your forehead. “But you do look a lot better. How are you feeling now?”

Aside from the fading pain on your forehead? You’re surprised at how much lighter you feel now that you unloaded all your worries with your friends. The rejection still stings, and you’re not exactly confident, but, well, you’re smiling. The clean, tangy taste of orange juice lingers between your tongue. Aia and Mika sitting on the pile of blankets reminds you that regardless of your love life, they’d stay by your side until the bitter end, and Alban’s voice keeps you connected with your friends no matter where in the world you are.

You snatch Aia’s half-eaten sandwich off her plate and sink your teeth into the bread. She cries out in protest. “Hey!”

“Better now.” You set the sandwich back where you found it. Even though your future with Ike looks cloudy, the smile doesn’t leave. “Don’t flick me.”

“Speaking of.” Mika picks up the phone and scrolls through her messages. “Nina just texted that she, Vox and Ike will come back in an hour or less. Reader, are you up for this?”

“What do you mean, ‘up for this?’”

“Just seeing Ike again. It was a weird night,” she says. “I stand by what I said, but if it’s going to be too much too soon, then Aia and I can cover for you until you feel better.”

“I don’t know.” That’s what gets your expression to sink from light to thoughtful. “I think I want to take your advice. I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk it out yet.”

“Still wanna hang out with us or take a moment to yourself?”

“I think I’d just go back to moping if I was alone,” you joke.

“Cool. Let me go grab some nail polish Nina gave me yesterday.” Mika rises and strides to the door. “You have a steadier hand than me. And Nina said the color suits me more than her.”

Aia’s face lights up. She happily cries ”Girls’ night!” even though it’s barely noon and Alban is decidedly not a girl, but then he croons something in a valley girl accent so strong you can’t even tell what he’s saying. Scratch that; he’s a girl by association.

When he drawls out one long “Yaaaaaas, bestie!” you can’t help but laugh. Your love life is in shambles, but at least your friendships are solid as hell. You’d give the world for these three.

Mika returns a moment later, travel-sized nail supplies in her arms and a totally unrelated topic on the mind. The sharp scent of the lacquer startles you out of your thoughts as you uncap the bottle and Mika splays her hands out, and Alban and Aia air their opinions on something entertainingly dumb.

Nina was right: this color is stunning on Mika. You paint Aia’s nails too, and halfway through her second hand, you hear the front door open, the end of an intelligible conversation, and telltale footsteps, each diverting across the house. The girls’ eyes flicker to you. You know they’re trying to read your expression, but you concentrate on how the brushstrokes pool together into one smooth coat. Your thoughts are a storm and you can’t even pick out the emotion commanding it.

So you keep joking along instead and focus on the nail polish, refusing to give the storm an opportunity to strike. Alban quips off of you, and the moment passes as Mika and Aia return to the conversation.

That is, until half an hour later when you hear a knock on the door. Mika cocks her head, a silent question, and when you nod she stands. Her nails dried when you finished Aia’s, and dot the doorknob as she cracks it open. A tiny margin of light from the hallway shines into your room, and you realize she positioned herself square in front of the threshold, shielding you from the person on the other side.

She talks evenly. “Hey, welcome back.”

“Thanks. Is Reader here?”

Your mind thunders as you register the voice. You can only see the leg of his jeans behind Mika, but you recognize Ike’s voice on the other side.

Aia shuffles by as a second shield. “Need them for something?”

“Kind of,” Ike says. “Do you mind if I talk to them?”

“I don’t know, what’s it about—“

“Aia, you can lay off him.” You call from your corner of the room. “You too, Mika.”

“Whatever you say. Just let me just grab my stuff…”

Mika grabs the nail supplies and deafens on Discord, but doesn’t even think to pick up the blankets along the ground. Instead, she glides to you and whispers under her breath. “We’re rooting for you. Send us a text if you need anything, okay?”

You nod. Aia slips past the threshold, but not without shooting you a thumbs up and mouthing ‘good luck.’ Not even a second later, your phone buzzes, and you catch Alban’s contact sending you an encouraging message in all-caps.

“See you later!” Aia chirps. “Play nice, you two.”

The scent of the lacquer follows them as they leave, and the sound of their footsteps fade in time.

Still in the doorway, Ike raises a hand to fidget with the chain along his glasses. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh! Come in. Sit anywhere, I don’t mind.”

You stay planted on the floor like how you were with your friends, and Ike sits next to you. You face the wall in front while he gets comfortable.

No words are exchanged as Ike maneuvers around the blankets, and eventually settles down with his back on the floor and head resting on a pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The light is off, but the blinds filter in thin beams of sunlight that cross over the room and the edge of his collar like a grid.

“Lay with me?” He asks. Then it strikes you like ringing metal; you sit next to each other in the same positions as that night on the roof.

Suddenly Ike raises his hands like static. “Not that you have to! I just figured it would be good to get comfortable and all, you know?” Ike hastily explains, then clears his throat. “I wanted to talk. About last night, I mean.”

Your chest flutters at the mention of it, but you remember all your friends’ encouragement. Here he is, the novelist of your (heartbroken) dreams, already bringing up the topic you dread to mention. You need to take this chance to face it head-on, now or never.

You glide down like the ceiling is full of stars. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“A lot, honestly. I don’t know how to go about it, but first of all, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms. “You said that enough last night.”

“Not like that! I mean I’m sorry I acted the way I did. I think I made every wrong choice once you said that you… that.” He shovels a hand through his hair. “I’m making it weird again. I should apologize for that, too, it’s just kind of embarrassing saying out loud that you, um, you loved me. Not that you should be embarrassed. I mean, I get it if you are, but that took a lot of guts. You should be proud of that. I admire you for that.”

“Slow down. What are you even saying?”

“What I wish I said last night. More than anything else, I’m sorry I got caught off-guard. I must’ve been so standoffish, because my idiot brain just didn’t believe what I was hearing until it was too late and the damage was already done.” Hair the color of ash and ocean falls over his face. “Honestly, I can’t believe it now.”

“I get it. Bad idea from me. Can we move on from that yet?”

“I don’t think it was a bad idea at all. I just had no idea that you liked me.”

“Give me some time and I’ll get over it, eventually. I’m not going to let it get in the way of working with you, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“No, that’s not it either! I—“

Ike’s eyes squeeze shut. His voice is so quiet, you can’t discern what he’s saying. “…Actually, I’m…”

“Repeat that?”

“I’m happy. Really happy,” Ike says. His pitch rises like a balloon floating up into space, struggling to stay composed. “I’m not good at saying it, but I meant it when I said… when I said it during the stream.”

You wave a hand in the air. “It was weird timing, and I know you mean it like a friend,” you reply. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into saying it, and just being friends is fine. Even though I’m a loser that messed up just about everything.”

The hand catches in midair. Doll-like fingers weave through your grasp, and turn your touch warm as Ike turns to look at you. “Not with me. Don’t say that about yourself, okay?”

You stare at how easily he held your hand, and how his fingers cradle your heart between the palms. The corners of Ike’s eyes are narrowed, two beads of peridot stone that can see through every little line of text between your pages, but there’s gentleness under his glasses. Something uncertain and fluffy. Softened like a lamb even though he leaves you defenseless.

You don’t know what to say. Ike is beautiful and kind and handsome and thoughtful when he’s earnest like this. He’s got you stupid in the head and wrapped around his pinky finger, and doesn’t have a single clue.

Peridot sparkles. “You’re so much more than that. You don’t mess things up, Reader. I’m in love with you.”

Your mouth goes dry and your tongue is still tied. Forget speechlessness; the man took your own damn thoughts away. Your hand remains frozen in air with Ike’s. If it weren’t for the light drag of one of his fingernails along your skin, then you would have figured he took your senses as well.

But the drag ends, and the fingers unlace themselves, and chilled air fills in the gaps Ike once held close. The tips of his fingers rest at the curve of your palm for just one second more before they drift away.

The glint in his eyes dulls. His hand falls to his chest, over his heart, just as slow as he parted. The uncertainty took over, and now it’s like staring at a cloud that doesn’t know if it should rain. Ike’s gaze lowers to his heart. There’s a stretch of silence and motionlessness as he stares at where your touch once was, and you’re paralyzed where you lay.

Ike's hand curls in on itself, too loose to make a fist, and his lashes sink over his eyes. His mouth is set into a flat line, but the cheeks are dusted in pinks and reds and peppered freckles in-between, demure and shy all the while.

He turns his face away soon after that. Another break of silence, and he shuffles again, with your vision on his back as if it were a hiding place.

It startles you out of your stupor. The gridded sunlight lets you analyze what you missed. After months of thinking your feelings would never be reciprocated, Ike thought of you just the same. He’s always been in your corner, and you would go to the ends of the earth for him, and everything is in its perfect position. But his back is still turned, and the memory of last night—your confession, and his inaction—it rushes to your head.

So you reach out instead.

Maybe it’s a little selfish. You’re tired of bumbling around and concealing your true feelings, and now that everything's out in the open, you aren’t about to let go without resolution.

But Ike is your best friend, and the man you fell in love with. There was no way you’d ever let go in the first place.

You wrap your arms around his back and hug Ike.

“I think I get why you were so taken aback last night,” you whisper. Even though you’re alone with Ike, you still say it like a secret. “I can barely believe it myself.”

Your warmth is inviting, and every second that passes is another defense downed. Your head perches right above his neck and along his shoulder. It’s not your first hug with Ike at all, but there’s only been so many since you first met him in person that it still feels special, and with your bodies flush to the floor, it’s intimate. His eyes are averted and one cheek lays down on the blankets, but the tips of his ears glow scarlet under his jewelry.

“I’m glad you were patient with me. I really didn’t think I had a chance with you. You know, the long distance and the company, and you know, the standard pining fare. I’m really lucky.” A smile slips through your words. “I’ll stay with you, okay? So take all the time you need.”

Ike chuckles. Even his laughter is blushy-bashful. “I’m just so happy you feel the same, too. I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

His body curls as he lays, and your legs brush along his as you cuddle. Holding him makes it feel like he was made to fit in your arms. You sigh. “I love when you can’t contain it. It’s so cute.”

Ike squeaks at that, and unwittingly proves your point. “It feels so good to say that out loud. I mean, you’re okay with it, right?” A nod. “And you’re okay with… I don’t know. Are we still friends?”

“Of course we are, no matter what. You said you loved me first, so let me say this one?”

You have a feeling you know what’s coming next. You hug him even tighter.

“Reader, let’s go out. I don’t want this feeling to end,” he confesses, and your world turns into rose and blush. “Can we?”

Though you expected it, he still takes your breath away—until he taps you on the hand. “Come on, say something before my heart explodes!”

“Mine already did! I can’t even think straight, and—I’d love that. I really want this.”

Another squeal breaks out as Ike buries his head into a blanket, and your heart soars as he melts. He resembles a swaddled-up kitten, and the rays of sunlight line his silhouette. The fluffy blanket reminds you of an angel’s downy wings along his kitten features. You can’t even see his face between the blanket and his hair, but his squeal continues, muted through the blanket as he swoons.

Somehow that only makes you feel even more flustered. “No, don’t hide! I want to see you!”

Maybe it would’ve been better for your heart if he stayed put, because when Ike rises—with disheveled hair and glitter in his eyes the color of seaglass, and jewelry that frames his red face, and that galaxy of freckles you hold so dear and shine like stars between his blush—you feel your heart stop. Again.

“When did you start having this effect on me?” You ask, mesmerized, and before you know it you thumb over one of his rosy cheeks. “Your freckles are so beautiful.”

He sheepishly grins. “They don’t really show up online. They’re pale.”

“Never noticed them until I met you in person. I love them. I love you.”

The grin gets a little wider. One of his fingers grazes along the corner of your ear. Has his hand always been along your jawline?

Ike’s eyes are shining under the grid of sunlight. The lashes flit just a bit lower from your gaze. “Reader, can we…?”

You close your eyes.

And when Ike’s lips graze your own, you smile on instinct before you remember to kiss back.

Ike brings you near, searching for the taste of you as he continues. His touch lodges past your jawline and into your hair, and when one of the fingers grazes along your ear you’re reminded just how much you love Ike. All the yearning you hid for so long bleeds through as you sink down to his level with his head in your hand, gentle yet impassioned.

Then your face bumps against Ike’s glasses. The kiss breaks as you back away.

There’s a brief pause in the aftermath. Ike wordlessly adjusts his glasses, now knocked off-center. Despite finally getting on the same page on your relationship with Ike, you’re still as clumsy about your feelings as ever.

But the corners of your lips curve up as he inspects the lens you squished, then a barely-stifled giggle, and next thing you know, Ike’s laughing along with you, still underneath your body and with one hand in your hair while the other holds his glasses in place. He sounds as charming as he looks, and the fact that he joined you even when you chuckled out of the blue means that his mind is just as charming as well.

Not that it was breaking news. You know your best friend well, and now that you don’t need to deny your feelings any longer, you know you’ve got good taste if Ike’s under you with crinkled eyes and hearty laughter.

When you speak next, the giggles patter out between your words but the quiet delight hangs in your teeth. “Can we try that again?”

Then his lips are on yours again, and the laughter twists between the second kiss, and the third, and the fourth, all the way until you collapse on the blankets with arms around each other, staring up at the stars on the bland popcorn ceiling as adoration fills the space between you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

bonus.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Starting soon…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The chat flickers alive as a four-pointed flower, a diamond, and a thorned heart give way to the stream and the novelist behind the stinger.

Kaidororero: welcome back ike!

Min (Ikey’s Book): 💙 IKEY IS BACK 💙

A normal broom: HI IKE

lunasmortas: 💙💙💙

viperip: ike! :_heart: :_heart: :_heart:

Sun shines through a clear day in Ike’s room onscreen, but in reality, blackout curtains block out the day outside. A sweet smile graces both Ike’s face and his model as the Quilldren welcome him home.

He greets them, and cracks open a can of soda as he quickly scans through the chat. Obviously, the off-collab is on everyone’s minds.

juuuuuuuuuus: did you have fun?

Kaidororero: offcollab POOOG

lunasmortas: SO CUTE :_heart: :heart:

Johnclone: Hope you had a good time!

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER REAL

Hm. A mod will eventually bonk that message. But then again, it’s inevitable that the ship would come up in chat.

Ike takes it in stride and ignores it like any other shipper, but his heart still skips a beat. Nonetheless, he doesn’t call any attention to it. “How about that off-collab, right? I met up with my friends! Where do I even begin?”

Ike recounts his trip from the beginning, and the Quilldren react to his stories with interest. He was one of the last to arrive, so Nina, Uki and Reader picked him up from the airport, and met up with Aia, Ren, and Mika at the Airbnb. Vox was the only one to arrive after him, hot off the heels of a flight delay, but the demon was a welcome party all his own despite his exhaustion.

“We went to karaoke once Vox got situated,” Ike explains. “Nina put that song in first so we could all let loose, and so she would have a fun voice tweet for everyone. Might as well confirm everyone that showed up, right?

“But after that, we didn’t want to stress ourselves out to perform for voice tweets instead of just having fun, so that was the only song we recorded. I wish you could’ve heard Uki and Vox’s duet, though. And while we were singing, turns out Ren packed a ukulele with him! Sometimes he would learn how to play along by ear, like a jam session. Mika knows how to play ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ too, so everyone joined in singing that while she played it. It was so much fun.”

Johnclone: Everyone sounded great!

sunblast99: uki’s voice >>>>>> everything else 💜💙

haabinae: :_tskr:

Festersk: WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT 🗣🗣

A normal broom: what did you sing?

Ike leans back in his chair. He blows a lock of hair out of his sight as he tries to think. “I remember Vox sang something by George Strait, so then we all egged him on to sing ‘Country Roads.’ He only did it once I promised to queue up ‘Toxicity’ by System of a Down afterwards.”

lunasmortas: OMG 💙💙💙

gatamiizuus: ayo?

Y A M: YESSSSSSS :_tskr: :_tskr:

haabinae: I LOVE SOAD :_fanboy:

Thornmy: SO COOL 💙

“Thank you.” He says it out of obligation. If he thinks too hard about the compliments, he’ll get embarrassed. “What else was there? I think there was some Motionless in White, and Spiritbox. Oh, and My First Story. Can’t forget My First Story.”

K. K. Soda: ooooo

Alban Knox 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : what about mcr

asper ch.: METAL SCREAM?

deeboorgur: HI ALBAN

Y A M: MCR YEAAAAA :_glowstick_1: :_glowstick_2:

“I’m getting there, Alban!”

Ike takes a sip while the Quilldren greet Alban. He’s not too surprised Alban seems to know more than the other viewers. He’s close with almost everyone that went on the trip, and was super active on Discord during the off-collab. The novelist lowers his soda as the chat floods in orange hearts. He wonders how Alban learned so much as an observer. He should ask.

But that’s a question for after stream. Ike continues. “Thank Nina for that. She queued up ‘I’m Not Okay’ by My Chemical Romance, and then shoved two mics in my hands and Reader’s.”

And the chat explodes.

Kaidororero: OMGGGGGG 💙💕

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER SO CUTE :_tskr:

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER DUET

asper ch.: AYOOOO MCR

gatamiizuus: I LOVE READER

ystariya: PEN AND PAPER MY BELOVED

“It’s a really fun song! It’s almost all clean vocals, but there’s this scream in the middle. Up until then, we sang together, but then I screamed, and Reader picked up the slack and sang the parts of the verse I couldn’t. They’re amazing.”

gatamiizuus: READER SIMPS COME GET Y’ALL’S JUICE

Thornmy: THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD

lunasmortas: 💙💕💙💕

ystariya: READER KARAOKE STREAM WHEN

Kaidororero: AWWWWWWW

The model on the screen doesn’t have the same glint in Ike’s eye when he talks about you. That first day of the trip was all about getting comfortable after long travel hours, and the stories went on as the days went by. Sightseeing with Aia and shopping with Uki by day, and spending the night shooting the shit with Ren until it turns into the littlest hours of the morning.

“Vox wanted to try a bunch of different restaurants with me, but you know me, ya boi is not good with most foods. So Nina usually came along in case I couldn’t finish something. She and Vox would share my leftovers.”

Something fond crosses over Ike’s face. His eyes cloud over in fog descending over a clear-sky day. “We would always talk over food about anything. I appreciate it a lot. They really get me.” The fog stills. “And over breakfast one morning, they gave me some excellent advice over something I’ve been meaning to do.”

ver*batim: ❤️💙❤️

K. K. Soda: MILORDDDDD

nroneo: :_heart:

A normal broom: upcoming project? 👀

Johnclone: I love Nina Kosaka!

“Not a project, no. It was something I was really worried about, even when I was supposed to be taking a break with my friends,” he says. “But those two seriously helped me clear my head about it. Mika, too. Vox and Nina had a lot of nuanced advice, but Mika told it to me straight, and helped handle what I couldn’t. I’m really thankful to have them.”

His set jaw loosens. “Maybe I’ll talk about it one day.”

The model cocks to the side. Motion blurs the foggy sobriety away. With a lightness to his voice and a knowing gaze, Ike looks straight into the camera and smiles, sentimentality forgotten. The air clears. “But for now, it’s a secret~!

“Ah, now where was I? Spending time with my friends, right? Reader and I hung out often. Sometimes with others, but it ended up being the two of us more than not.”

Birds chirp outside Ike’s window in time with the hum of his PC. The backlit keyboard in front of the monitors glows the same color as the computer, a healthy blue light that tints the tips of his fingers. He usually sets it to a rainbow spectrum in his own time, but static blue is reserved for going live. It gets him in the right mindset for streaming, and makes his little apartment feel fantastical like the noble background that accompanies his model, even if it only reaches his fingertips.

He’s sure the Ike on the screen has fingertips tinged with blue just like him, an extension of the man outside the screen but without the grittier details. Smooth, pristine hands under gloves where his are callused from guitar playing. Nothing under the model’s eyes but lashes and a line of red that brings out the pink in his eyes, very much unlike the heavy bags and sunken face from an awful delay on his flight back home. No freckles, either, but even cameras rarely pick them up on video call. Nina cooed over them the first time they met, as motherly as ever, but behind closed doors Reader was utterly fascinated with them. They mentioned something about watching blush travel around his face with the smattering of freckles in-between once or twice… maybe more? Doesn’t matter when he’s never heard that before and it repeats in his head when he catches himself daydreaming. It’s one of the best things he’s ever heard.

Vtuber Model Ike’s face doesn’t heat up like how Real Ike’s certainly is now. He clears his throat. “The weather was really nice during the entire trip, so we would always get into good conversations while walking back to where we were staying. And sometimes we didn’t want to end the conversation, so we’d just keep walking past our Airbnb until our feet hurt or it got dark, whichever came first.

“Oh, here’s something funny. Uki really loves cafes, right? Usually he woke up early with Ren to go check out some cafes in the morning, way before the rest of us would even think of waking up. By the time everyone else woke up, they already finished their breakfast, and Uki would tell Reader about the ones to visit or skip. Whenever Uki recommended one, Reader always wanted to go themselves, so I went along to keep them company.”

Even as his skin returns to its original shade, the sweetness sticks to his throat like the soda he’s barely touched at all. He’s wistful. He didn’t expect to miss Reader this much; after all, his relationship with them has bloomed so much ever since you first started working together, but two weeks together (including mutual close friends) changes things. It’s only been two days since he returned home, but he feels out of rhythm with them.

He’s gotten too accustomed to them. Over the last few months, he thought he did a good job putting aside his feelings for Reader, even when Nina would tease him after every Pen and Paper collab and Vox and Mika would be right behind her, hyping him up to make a move. The fear of rejection was what motivated him to keep his close friendship with Reader without ever confessing to them.

“Reader…”

The world around him is nothing. Paused to buffer as he thinks. He can’t remember the last time he felt so happy. Just being in the same room as them makes him feel stupid, and surely he’s been acting like it. Everything he says sounds clumsy when he’s with them. After all, on that day when he owned up to the feelings he repressed for so long that he couldn’t properly react to Reader’s confession, he couldn’t say much more than how happy he was. Words fail to describe what Reader means to him, yet he’s a novelist, for crying out loud! How ironic!

“...Reader is so patient with me,” Ike says. “And they’re so considerate and dedicated. I wish I told them that earlier. It’s hard to say things out loud like this, but you only meet people like Reader once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and even then, there’s no one quite like Reader.”

ystariya: i love reader

Kaidororero: pen and paper awwww

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER

acklmystafoot: ike is so sweet!!!

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 💙

“Aaah!”

Ike recoils like his keyboard is flaming lava. The model on the screen leans back and freezes in place while he nearly throws himself out of his chair. “R-Reader! What are you doing here?!”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : FKJLJJSLKFJDKS LMAOOOOOOOO

Johnclone: Hello Reader!

Y A M: OMG

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : just wanted to say hi

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : hi!

Festersk: LMAO

Ike sputters out nothing but empty air and nervous laughter. “Haha. Um. Hi! Welcome!”

Stupid! He wants to kick himself. He’s made improvement on verbalizing affection, and he’s comfortable with Reader, especially now that there aren’t any secrets left, but he’s still so unfamiliar with affection being returned that his heart is still doing kickflips in his chest.

haabinae: :_blush: :_blush: :_blush:

juuuuuuuuuus: most normal pen and paper moment

Thornmy: AWWW

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : check discord

A normal broom: Oh?

“Ah, okay! Give me a second.” Ike keeps his Discord on mute, and usually disables desktop notifications when he’s live, so he’s not surprised to open the window to unread messages and some non-urgent pings. Sure enough, Reader sent him something.

Reader: because you were talking about cafes

Reader: image.png (3) | 💙 1 |

Me: Oh I recognize these from our first date!

It’s been over a week now, but just saying he went on a date with Reader has him squeezing his legs together so his feet wouldn’t start kicking in the air.

Reader: ahh you remembered!

Me: I should’ve figured you took more pictures than the ones you showed me

Reader: dw i have more i wanted to show you

Reader: image.png (8) | 💙 1 |

Me: Seriously how are you so good at photography I don’t get it-

Me: You’re really pretty in this one!

Me: UGHHHH WHY DO I LOOK SO WEIRD | ❌ 1 | 💕 1 |

Me: I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE YOU TAKE THIS ONE

Reader: WTH YOU’RE NOT WEIRD

Reader: YOU’RE LITERALLY SO HANDSOME WHY DO YOU T H I N K I TOOK THAT PIC

Well, great, now he’s actually kicking in his seat. Ike is inclined to disagree, but when Reader says it, it’s a super-effective attack on his poor little novelist heart.

Me: Akaslwdnja

Me: Thank you 😭

Reader: anyways i gotta go i stream in 20 min and i’ve barely eaten my food

Me: Go eat! Do you have enough water?

Reader: just refilled my bottle

Me: Good then don’t let me keep you! Have a good stream!

And before he can overthink it, in the moment—

Me: I love you!

His sights are set on his second monitor.

Reader is typing…

Reader doesn’t have to respond. Sometimes just saying it is enough.

Reader: fdsjdfkl.

Ike’s been trying to relearn that lesson ever since he realized everything he repressed was reciprocated.

Reader: i love you too, ike

Words heard across the world, one of the people he holds most dear.

His heart beats loud in his ears, but he can feel it slow, somehow. Reader is exhilarating, but there’s security in them, too. The nerves kick in until he remembers they’re just as exposed as the other, and the vulnerability generate a sense of comfort. Reader makes him feel understood like no one else in the world does, and he trusts them more than anything.

He does. He does, he does, he does, even if he only has the strength to say it one at a time. Ike is in love.

Reader: i’ll let you know when i’m done streaming, we can watch a movie together after

Me: It’s a date! | 💕 1 |

It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away from your messages.

His streaming monitor reflects his movements. The chat moves along. Blue light spreads through his fingertips, just like how he imagines Vtuber Model Ike’s hands resting on his own keyboard, an extension of the man outside the screen, proof of the fantastical.

“They sent me something.” Ike’s laughter is gentle. “I really do love them.”

The chat zooms past, as expected. Surely that would get clipped alongside the off-collab Q&A, but he can’t seem to care. He doubts the fandom would really understand how deep the connection goes, and if they do? Some things are just meant to be private.

Besides, on the day Ike and Reader get comfortable enough in their relationship to go public, he knows the Quilldren have his back, just like Reader and their Bookworms.

“Reader, if you’re still there, we need to meet up again,” Ike says. “I don’t know when, but one day.”

A flurry of messages, but only one truly matters.

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : i wouldn’t miss it for the world

The model onscreen grins. It pales in comparison to Ike himself.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊commentary ↣

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland fluff #ike eveland angst #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #4402 writes #🖋 anon #fanfic is unrealistic and i know this because clippers would NEVER use semicolons in their captions #eating string cheese wrong is symbolic. it represents eavesdropping and shitty lies that go unnoticed #i hope i never see a typo in this thing this fic is literally impossible to edit on mobile #update: there were typos. and i had to wait 3 minutes for the editor to load on my laptop before i could fix them. rip #pliskinverse

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alittledizzy · 6 months

Text

in relation to that post about writers who are sticking around, here's my ao3 and here are some of my fics. i made my friends and charlotte pick which ones i should rec so if it's a weird selection or you're offended by any of them, blame them.

all the little favors you do (1.1k, teen) - Dream barely registers George trying to prank him because he's just that fucking tired.

if you don't jump (7.7k, explicit) - George has a type, and right now that type is just one man. Unfortunately that one man is an idiot, as Larray is frequently willing to tell him.

one more round and you're down (2.8k, teen) - George finds hell, and hell is a hotel bathroom with a tiled floor he kneels on long enough to bruise his knees.

this is me trying (7.1k, teen) - George doesn’t want anything to be different, except maybe that he could walk into a room without Dream or Sapnap looking at him like he’s not who they thought he was.

i've developed a taste for you (3.8k, explicit) - George has an oral fixation.

never seen anything so obscene (7.2k, explicit) - An impromptu road trip to get Karl home after a missed flight leads to George realizing something very new about Dream (and himself).

one way ticket (60k, explicit) - George's family tells him he has to either get a job or go back to school... so in May of 2019 he applies to university in Florida and shows up on Dream's doorstep. Neither of them are really expecting Dream's youtube channel to blow up just after George moves in.

co-written with alisonsomething

post-it notes and loose change (37.2k, explicit) - It’s February 2022 and Dream can't stand to see George alone, waiting, and getting lost to the storm clouds chasing him. So he spends four days in London, trying to help George find the light.

let's make this night last forever (18.5k, explicit) - When the space between George and Dream starts to feel too big, they make it small.

praying for love in a lap dance (7.3k, explicit) - George is dragged to a strip club with his old uni friends. When he gets home, he tells Dream all about it. Every explicit detail.

burn bright (46.8k, explicit) - When their house catches fire, Dream and Sapnap are not home. But George is.

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five-and-dimes · 7 months

Text

Unsung Lullabies (Prologue)

The day has finally come- here is my piece for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang!

An attack on the Dreaming leaves Dream wounded and weakened in an unexpected way- physically, mentally, and emotionally, Dream is temporarily left as a child. Hob is given the task of watching over him until he heals, which seems simple enough, but slowly through their time together he learns more about the things his love struggles with and why. He learns more about Dream’s family, and the ways he’s been hurt that he won’t admit. But with Hob’s help, he may begin to heal some of his ancient hurts.

Warnings: Implied/referenced Child Neglect, Implied/referenced Emotional Abuse

Read the whole thing on AO3

I got so lucky and was paired up with @elliotsissues who did the most beautiful and adorable illustration for my fic!

For context, well, keep reading ;)

~~~

Hob is bored and misses his boyfriend.

There’s nothing unusual about that, and while in the past he may have held some embarrassment at the idea of missing his partner after a single day of not seeing them, Hob has grown well past such shame. Yes, he saw Dream at breakfast yesterday morning and that does not stop him from missing him now.

Even after over a year of dating, Hob still sometimes finds himself in awe that he ever managed to survive a whole century between meetings with his stranger- though he is certainly not a stranger anymore.

Hob remembers how much of his life was spent assuming he would never see his mysterious stranger outside of the White Horse. Even after Dream returned to him, a part of him assumed that he would only see Dream in the New Inn. And for a while, that was true. After receiving a name, and a declaration of friendship, and an agreement to meet more than once a century, Hob hadn’t felt like pushing his luck. So they had met at the New Inn twice a month, and Hob would drink and speak of his experiences since their last meeting, and Dream would keep a hand around a full glass that was never lifted from the table and stiltedly spoke of his own life.

It had happened by chance that Dream came to meet him during an unexpected dinner rush, the Inn packed with groups waiting for tables or a space at the bar. Dream had been so blatantly uncomfortable with the crowd that Hob hadn’t even though much before suggesting they head somewhere else.

Suddenly they were outside and Hob was blindsided by the fact that he was seeing his stranger- seeing Dream- in the hues of a fading twilight. Not low burning candles, not lanterns, not harsh light bulbs (not dark, unforgiving rain). Just the slowly fading light of the sun as it sunk to make way for moonlight.

And Dream was standing beside him, bathed in oranges and blues, blinking slowly and waiting. Waiting for Hob to show him where to go, waiting to follow Hob because he chose to trust that Hob would not lead him astray. And Hob thought “Oh, I love him so,” and was quietly grateful that it was not a daydream. It was just a fact.

After that they began to meet in other places, other cafes or bars, sometimes just walking winding paths through the city, and Dream began to visit even more frequently and Hob fell even more in love, which he hadn’t thought possible after 600 years. He supposed before he had only been in love with an outline, a paper-cutout that Hob could only see the shadows of. Now he sees so much more of him, sees him, knows the things that make him smile and the things that make him flinch and the things that make him slam shut like an iron gate and the things that coax him out again.

It was outside, in the dark of night when Dream was accompanying Hob back to his flat, when it finally happened. They were just outside Hob’s door, darkness hiding much of Dream’s face and figure, and maybe that was what allowed him the strength to reach out and take Hob’s hand before he could pull his keys out.

“Hob,” he said his name on a breath, and there was something sad there that Hob couldn’t wrap his head around, “You are. My friend.”

He said it as a statement, but Hob nodded in answer anyway, “Of course.”

Dream nodded in return, “And…” his voice dropped and his gaze lowered, “I love you.”

Hob’s only regret from that night is that he took so long to answer.

Dream had just begun to pull away, shadows shifting along his neck as he swallowed thickly, and then it all caught up to Hob and he was grabbing Dream’s other hand, tugging him close and placing a clumsy kiss against his lips.

“I love you too,” he whispered against his lips, and he wanted to say more but all he felt capable of in the moment was kissing Dream harder.

Now he has been spoiled, and Hob has become greedy for his lover’s time. Any moment he can spare Hob will grasp with both hands and still want for more.

But, he sighs to himself, Dream had been pulled away pretty suddenly during breakfast. Matthew had arrived looking ruffled and speaking of strange earthquakes, and Dream had of course departed swiftly to ensure his realm’s safety, giving Hob a chaste kiss before vanishing in a swirl of sand.

Well into the afternoon of the next day now, and still with no word from Dream, Hob figures it was probably a more complex problem that Dream will need to take some time to sort out. Hob understands his boyfriend has a great responsibility.

He still misses him though.

Nothing for it but to distract himself he supposes. He had done a light cleaning of the kitchen after lunch, and he didn’t feel like working, so instead he sat on his couch with an old paperback that had been recommended to him by one of the New Inn’s bartenders and figured it was a nice day for reading by the window, letting the sun illuminate the pages. The hours pass peacefully, just tea and reading, the sounds of the city a pleasant, muffled white noise through the window, and the book actually is quite fun- cheesy action and romance but in the best way.

Hob is just getting to the good part when there’s a knock on his door.

Whipping his head up, Hob narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Dream always just appeared in his flat, and his mortal friends always call or text before coming over. Door-to-door salesmen aren’t really a thing anymore, so that’s crossed off the list of possibilities. Standing slowly, he steeled himself to answer, trying to appear normal while also bracing himself for any sort of danger that might have found its way to him.

When he finally opens the door, he sighs in relief when he sees Death.

“Christ, I was nervous there for a second,” he chuckled, “What brings you here, Death? I certainly didn’t call for you,” he quipped.

But the joke fell flat, and he suddenly became aware of the tight, strained look on Death’s face, her smile clearly fake, “Hello Hob. Sorry to barge in like this, but. I was hoping you could help us out.”

Hob opens his mouth to say ‘anything, whatever you need,’ but the words die in his mouth as Death steps to the side, revealing a small figure behind her.

It is clearly a child.

And that child is clearly Dream.

(Read the rest on AO3)

#the sanmdan #dreamling #my writing #other people's art #centennial husbands #centennial husbands big bang

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the-dreadful-bard · 28 days

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The Dreadful Bard Rejanis Fics Masterpost

Last Updated on Sept 21st.

Guys, I'm going on a little break to focus on my mental health bc I'm going through a lot right now. I promise I'll be back as soon as possible. I'm likely going to run out of Rejanis memes on Sept 22nd as I have been temporarily unable to make more. I'll be back with more fics too, I just need some time. I appreciate your understanding and patience during this time. Thank you.

Hey! I've been writing a lot since the start of the year so I thought I'd make this post just for the sake of being well-organized. I'll update this as I write and post new things, both here and on AO3.

Adding a read more link because this is a long post. Here you're gonna find the links to all of my Rejanis works and the summary of each one.

Future works post (Please take a look at that if you haven't, I mention some stuff that's very important for you to know if you like ANY of my writing and want me to keep posting it)

TLDR: New installments of the series, new oneshots for the collection, multichapter fantasy/d&d au (summary for it on the future works post so check that out), 3 other multichapters that may or may not be written, plus a bunch of other shorter stuff as I get new ideas and inspiration.

ONESHOTS

Oneshot based on this:

Under the blossom tree

Summary: Collection of Rejanis oneshots inspired by songs.

stuck on you

Summary: Regina gets home sleep-deprived and exhausted after a hard day at the office, but realizes she forgot her keys at work. Too tired to drive back to fetch the keys, she tries to get in through the window but gets stuck. Luckily for her, the fire department sends her aid in the form of one Janis ‘Imi'ike.

lyrics for a misunderstood mean girl

Summary: Regina hasn't seen Janis in two years because things keep getting in their way.

the one where Janis and Damian write Mean Girls the musical.

one thing I can't lose (kind of my favorite oneshot)

Summary: Janis somehow finds herself at Regina's door after the girl gets released from the hospital. Regina recruits Karen to decode her complicated gay feelings.

The one where Karen is a genius who can do no wrong, Regina is a feral chihuahua wearing a cone of shame, and Janis can't say no to her former nemesis.

feline disposition

Summary: Janis disappears and everyone is having a terrible time.

Completely unrelated to that, Regina rescues a cat from the rain in the middle of the night.

the one where Janis is a cat.

Attempt #19

Summary: Janis and Regina have been meeting in secret for six months and their communication is... not great.

Regina wants them to go public and get serious but Janis, convinced she wants to break up, never lets her say it.

the one where they actually talk after months of miscommunication.

Happy birthday?

Summary: Regina gets bad news on her birthday, which pushes her into acting like her old self with her friends. Janis won't have it. She has a plan to set Regina straight, but for that, she's going to need her to be willing to follow her lead.

lights and sirens

Summary: “Oh no…” Janis whispers, grimacing.

Regina glances at her with concern in her eyes. “What is it?”

“I think—I think I'm hallucinating. I'm looking at you, and I- and I see someone who can't- can't be real. Oh my god, I might be dying. Am I dying?” She confesses, still staring at Regina in shock, her heartbeat skyrocketing.

Maybe the pain is driving her mad. Or maybe death comes for you in the form of the person who you would most like to see one last time, to make the passing easier. She never thought Regina would be that person, but now that she thinks about it, it couldn't be more perfect.

Old stuff from 2019:

Hair

Home

MULTICHAPTERS

threads, oil paints, and textbooks - COMPLETE

Summary: Regina George starts a new year as one of Elizabeth T. Richmond Public School's teachers and finds out that one of the new faculty members is someone she'd been hoping to run into since leaving Illinois almost 16 years earlier. A lot has changed since then, but as everyone realizes, Regina and Janis still have a lot of unexplored feelings for each other.

The ballad of Moonlight & Solar Flare (pls give it a chance i promise its really good) - COMPLETE

Summary: Regina and Janis, as Moonlight & Solar Flare, used to fight crime together until something drove them to opposite sides, and their relationship didn't survive. Now, three years later, they realize it's not quite so easy to get rid of the love they once shared when a chain of events leads them back to each other.

SERIES

you set my world on fire

Basically, it's a continuation of the canon universe, starting during Spring Fling.

Summary for part 1: After getting hit by the bus, Regina is forced to come to terms with something she'd been running away from since she was a kid.

you set my world on fire (Part 1)

there's an old song (i wrote for you) (Part 2)

timeless like you and me (Part 3)

can't help myself (when you get close to me) (Part 4)

say you'll always keep me (Part 5)

you're still the one (Part 6)

uninvited (Part 7)

one that makes me sing (Part 8)

nothing in the world belongs to me (but my love) (Part 9)

birds of a feather (Part 10)

PS: new installments in the future

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW

Please, if you like any of these fics and want more of them, don't only leave kudos on my stuff, leave comments too! I don't care how small those comments are, just please leave some, it means a lot to me <3

#rejanis #regina x janis #the dreadful bard fics

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op-fanwork-exchange · 2 months

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One Piece Fanwork Remix

Sign-ups are still open! Challenge yourself by re-inventing someone else's creation in your own style, and see how your own work inspires the other participants to do the same.

🦩Where do I sign up?

Here on Ao3! You need an account to be able to do so, contact the mods if you need an invite.

🍹What if my One Piece works are not on Ao3?

In the sign-up form you can link to any other site where you've posted One Piece fics or fanarts. Tumblr, Twitter, Google Drive files that have never seen the light of day, 10-year old posts on some dying forum...as long as the other participants can access, and you're okay with having that work possibly remixed, you can link it.

🐬How will the participants be matched?

We're prioritizing the relationship tags, to make sure everyone can match with people who are into the same ships or interested in the same friendships/familial bonds. You can also request or offer to focus on single specific characters. We're also matching on the right combo of requesting/offering art or writing.

🌴How to remix?

Are you still on the fence because you don't know how to remix? Let us give you a few ideas! We're using this fanlore page as a base to give you some inspiration, go check out the full article if you want to go more in depth.

Read all about it under the cut ⤵️

Writers sometimes incorporate dialogue, description, or other details of the original work into their remix story, but it's not necessary. Many remixes keep the same characters, ships, and basic plot, especially in remix challenges where there are often rules about what remixers can change.

A discussion on fail_fandomanon produced a list of possible remix techniques, most of them from one post.[4] The list has been reproduced and expanded on below.

POV flip — Retelling the same events from a different character's point of view or switching between first, second, or third person.

Role Reversal — If A was the bank robber and B was the security guard in the original, B is now the bank robber and A is now the security guard.

Sequel/prequel — The remixer explores what led up to the events in the original work, or what may have happened after. (The writer of this list noted that "There's quite a bit of disagreement about whether or not this actually counts as a remix," and suggested that "the best way to resolve it as an issue is to be certain the remix overlaps with at least a couple scenes of the original."[4])

New spin/tone shift — The same things happen as in the original fic, but they mean something different than they did in the original. For example, a happy time travel fic might be portrayed as tragic by the remixer.

Characterization shift — Similar to the above, but what's changing is the characterization. This "works quite well when you see the characters entirely differently than the person you're remixing."[4]

Genre change — Changing a western into a space opera or changing between slash, het, or gen.

AU to Canon — That modern/space/western AU now happens in the canon era/setting.

Canon to AU — That canon fic is now an AU.

Different place in canon — The same events happen, but they happen at a different point in canon.

Missing Scene — The remixer writes what might have happened in a scene that was not portrayed in the original work.

Expansion/Contracting — The remix expands a 200 word story to 5k or contracts a 20k story down into 1000 words.

For want of a nail — One small detail at the beginning of the story original story is changed, so events spin out differently in the remix.

Mash-up — The remixer takes two or more of someone's fics and combine them.

Based on the summary — The remixer reads the summary and writes what they think the original was about based on just the summary. (The list-writer notes, "I DON'T actually recommend this, but I've known people to do it that way, so."[4])

Changing the ending — Someone dies in the original, they don't in the remix (or vice-versa).

One crucial detail — The remixer pulls out what they consider to be the most important detail of the original fic, then lets everything else go in order to explore that detail.

Scope of events — The remix covers a smaller or larger scope of events than the original. For example, if the original focuses on the events of one day, the remix might cover the entire month that day takes place in, recontextualizing the day the original focused on by showing how it relates to what happened before and after, or it might focus on just one hour of that day.

Trope addition — An extra trope is added by the remixer, for example soulmates or wingfic. This is "similar to genre shift but not quite the same."[6]

Remixers may do several of the above at once, or just one.

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lucawrites11 · 4 days

Text

hi!

this is tough to write but i need to take a small step back from writing for a little bit. i don't have the inspiration. it might come back but i've editted parts of my ao3 series. technically, my only incomplete fic is never knew the best was yet to come. that fic is coming along but i don't think i will be able to post an update for between 4-6 months and it may never come

i'm sorry. there's not much i can do

my physical health has destroyed my mental health and i have no inspiration for anything at the minute apart from binging law and order svu and scandal in between watching football games (if you see new alex cabot/olivia benson or olivia pope/melody grant fics on ao3 that night be my actual account but the things i email to myself at 3am may also never see the light of day like most things i write because i can't be arsed to edit it but everything i have written for woso is now posted)

i can't do anything right now. i sit on my sofa all day and lie in bed all night. i go on one walk a day against medical advice and i wait for them to call me to tell me i can get the life threatening surgery but if i don't get it i will die (side note: fuck nhs waiting lists) and writing is something i need the perfect conditions for at the minute and i don't have them. maybe in the future but not.right now, probably not until i have rehabbed from the surgery which will likely be 4-6 months at best from now. i'm sorry. I hate leaving unfinished fics

#lucas asks #is forever enough?#missing pieces #hei!#luca writes

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psychologeek · 20 days

Text

Whumptober is coming soon!

Last year I started writing "Some of Them (want you)" (epilogue would be published this weekend!) and "Who am I? (to disappear)"

This year I take a note off @envysparkler 's book and decide to go on a little extras thing. writing little outtakes for my fics using the prompts.

These outtakes can include alternate povs, missing scenes, or scenes from the end notes, but the fill would only be one scene. Anyone is allowed to make a request, just send in an ask with the day/alt prompt and the fic you're requesting an outtake for!

You can include the specific scene you're thinking of if you'd like (I may or may not use this) and if I don't think a prompt fits, I'll let you know and you can choose another!

TLDR:

Send me an ask with the prompt + fic! Check the list below to see which prompts are already taken.

(fics can be from my AO3, for example "Lost&Found" series "Grave Promises", or from my Tumblr, like "Love and Protect" or "Wild Hearts" minifics.)

Prompts undercut:

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.) No. 2: TRUST ISSUES Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster) No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you." No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More) No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House) No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood." No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them." No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight) No. 9: OBSESSION Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible) No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight." No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs) No. 12: STARVATION Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more." No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime) No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn) No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?" No. 16: NECROSIS Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything." No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run." No. 18: REVENGE Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes) No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere) No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault." No. 21: BODY HORROR Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye) No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good." No. 23: FORCED CHOICE Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you." No. 24: RADIATION POISONING Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light) No. 25: SURGERY Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good." No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted) No. 27: VOICELESS Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.” No. 28: DENIAL CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed." No. 29: FATIGUE Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?" No. 30: RECOVERY Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?" No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.) Alternatives List: 1. Body Swap 2. Communication Barrier 3. Finding Old Messages 4. Forgotten 5. Friendly Fire 6. Motion Sickness 7. No-Holds-Barred Beatdown 8. Regret 9. Secrets Revealed 10. Shivering 11. Survivor's Guilt 12. Time Loop 13. Used As Bait 14. Venom 15. Vermin

#whumptober #batman #jason todd #red hood #batfam #robin #dc #dp #dc x dp #fanfic #fic prompt #requests are open

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djarrex · 1 year

Text

heartbeat

Captain Rex x f!reader

masterlist | read on ao3

Rex hears his baby's heartbeat for the first time.

pregnant!reader. dad Rex. this is so soft, y'all. there's also brief mentions of Rex feeling guilty, but overall, this is just a fluffy, self-indulgent fic. about 1.2k words.

When you come out from your room after changing into something more loose-fitting and comfortable, you see the new at-home fetal doppler device laying on the kitchen table just outside the box it came in, and Rex is sitting there with his face buried in the little instructions foldable that came with it. Ever the researcher, Rex more than likely has read every word since opening it, whereas you would have just skimmed to what looked most important. Or, rather, you would've looked at the pictures, using the visuals as the sole model. A hand on your belly, you let out a light laugh, making Rex look up from what appeared to be pretty intense reading.

“Tricky piece of hardware?” you tease.

“I like to be thorough,” he points out matter-of-factly. “Wanna make sure I do this right to get the best results.”

You plop onto the couch, the creak of the springs doing the tortuous job of reminding you of your changing body. “What’d you find out?”

Rex follows you over. “Well, we want to make sure we're not confusing your heartbeat with the baby's. There are a few other things we may hear too, like the movement of your placenta or arteries.” He pauses, placing a pillow at the very end of the couch and motioning for you to lay on your back. “You still have a full bladder, right?”

You scoff. “Yes. Remember you scolded me a couple hours ago into drinking all of that water at lunch, and then told me afterwards to not use the bathroom?”

“It was for a reason, love,” he reminds you with a teasing smile, lifting your shirt up to the slope of your belly. “A full bladder helps push your uterus out of the pelvic cavity, that way the fetal heartbeat is more easily detected.”

“Wow. You really did do your research. I like it when you talk medical to me.”

Rex chuckles at that and squirts a copious amount of lotion on your belly, rubbing it in gentle circles. “I’ve already verified the device is functional and sterilized the probe face.”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. “You used it to check your own heartbeat first, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he replies cheekily, deliberately avoiding your eyes with the response. “You ready, love?”

“Let’s hear what this little bean's got.”

Rex clicks the receiver on, a device that’s small enough to fit in his hand. A display lights up with a little beep, a flatline and a zero sitting stagnant. A cylindrical probe is held in Rex's other hand, and as he rests the face of it against your lotioned belly, you suck in a breath of air. Your own heartbeat thumps in your ears as you watch the focus creasing in Rex's handsome features. He’s moving the probe so slowly, so particularly, that you know he’s searching for something specific that he had to have read in his research. His hand turns the probe so that the face changes angles, starting low near your pubic bone up towards your navel then back down again.

This is a moment the two of you have waited for, for a while.

The beginning of this journey was rough, the first several weeks being nothing but bedridden illness and nausea that lasted longer than just the mornings. You stayed at home, too drained and lacking any energy to do necessary things, like go shopping or cook. A lot of days included you ordering food to be delivered, and groceries as well. It was hard to not have Rex there by your side, to help with things that would normally be a breeze for you – and you know he feels guilty for that, even though both of you are more than understanding that it isn't his fault. Still, in the odd hours of the night when he actually was able to contact you to check in only added to his needless guilt, upset with himself that he was never there laying beside you to rub your back or retrieve whatever it was that you required.

You’re a little more than a few months into this pregnancy and you’re not under any impression that Rex’s schedule will miraculously change to you and your unborn child’s benefit, but moments like this one now make it all worth it.

The quick thrumming of the baby’s heartbeat comes out muffled through the handheld over the whooshing waves in the background, the beats monitored on the display. The sound fills you with warmth and you laugh in astonishment, a choked sound as tears fill your eyes. Your hand clasps over your mouth and you look to Rex, who looks completely entranced and in awe – but there’s something else in those warm eyes of his.

The hand covering your mouth instead finds his wrist, fingers gently enclosing around it. His eyes are positively glowing as he watches himself slowly and carefully run the probe face in steady circles around a specific part of your protruding belly. Rex remains extremely silent, lips twitching in the most miniscule of movements as he concentrates.

An overwhelming sense of pride floods into Rex. He can’t believe he created this. Life – natural life. A clone soldier, a man bred for nothing more than to be fodder in battle, created life from love. It’s just beneath this device, growing in the womb of the one he loves. For the very first time he can hear it, the beating heart of it a flicker of sound that he’ll surely remember forever. The shame and guilt that he constantly feels for rarely being present to support you flees him in this moment, replaced with the overriding feelings of promise and joy.

You already know the answer to your impending question, but you want to hear Rex's voice, to prompt him after being silent since switching on the doppler.

“This is our baby’s heartbeat, what we’re hearing?”

Rex clears his throat, using the back of the hand that’s holding the receiver to wipe at the unshed tears in his eyes. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Eyes shimmering, he looks up at you, offering up the devices. "You wanna try?"

You nod, taking both devices from his hands and quickly placing the probe back where Rex just had it. It takes you a few tries to find it, but then the rapid little heartbeat is coming back to life once again.

"It's perfect," you say softly with admiration. "A perfect little heartbeat."

Rex's head lowers then, his forehead meeting your belly. He inhales and exhales shakily.

"Are you okay, Rex?"

When he looks up at you, a tear is streaming down his cheek. "More than okay. I'm so happy."

You laugh through a sudden sob just as Rex goes to kneel closer to you. He kisses you gently, a smile forming on his lips against yours. He folds his hands over your own and the two of you stay like that, foreheads pressed together and hands holding the doppler as one, the sound of your baby's heartbeat filling the room. It's just the three of you here and now, everything on the outside forgotten in this moment.

@pinkiemme @twistedstitcher27 @wild-karrde @rain-on-kamino @ner-runi @literallydontlook @rexxdjarin @rowansparrow @burningfieldof-clover @commander-sunshine

#djarrex writes #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #cw pregnancy #star wars fic

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absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Claimed {Alpha!Joel Miller x Omega!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.1k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, mentions of bonding/claiming, heats, suppressants, threats of death, cannon violence, fingering, begging, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, knotting, pregnancy, biting, oral sex (female receiving)

Comments: Saved by an alpha and his young charge in Kansas City, you are worried about the basic needs of your body when your suppressants run out. Leaving you to need an alpha, your alpha to claim you.

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

You’re shaking when the flashlight shines in your face. Your hiding place is now discovered by people you can’t even see due to the bright light. “Please. Please don’t hurt me.” You plead, you haven’t eaten for a few days, too scared to move since you came down into the tunnels. Since Katherine wanted you dead for your part in her brother’s death, you have been on the run. It’s been terrifying. Being alone since you separated from Sam and Henry. You had turned in Katherine’s brother to get the meds you so desperately need but that backfired since KC fell to the rebellion.

You smell them, sensing an alpha, two betas and a scent you’ve never smelled before, making your brow furrow. You’re terrified of the alpha hurting you, maybe the betas will harm you until you hear your name. “Henry?” You gasp, recognizing your friend's voice.

“It’s me. Me and Sam.” He tells you and the light is moved so you can see the group, and you struggle as you stumble to your feet.

Joel grips the gun even tighter, shaking his head half a motion before he catches himself. There’s something about your scent, or distinct lack thereof, that’s making him hesitate pulling the trigger. “Stay still.” He growls at you, watching in disbelief as Henry and Sam rush towards you as if you aren’t a threat. Why are you down here? Are you infected, are you hiding?”

“I- Sam! Henry! You’re okay!” You are relieved as you wrap your arms around your friend. “Thank God.” You sigh and stroke Sam’s cheek, glad he’s safe. You sign to him that you missed him, glad Henry had taught you some signs.

Sam beams and Joel growls, “are you fuckin’ infected?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No. No. I’m not infected. I was hiding here from Katherine. Henry and I- she wants us dead. I got separated from them so I came down here, knowing it was Henry’s plan to come to the tunnels.” You explain, still shaking from exhaustion. You haven’t slept, too scared that you’d be found by Katherine’s men.

“Fuck, lighten up old man.” Ellie rolls her eyes at the alpha who is in charge of her protection. She moves forward to greet the new woman that has appeared in front of her, it’s been awhile since she’s been able to talk to another woman. “I’m Ellie.” She greets you, jerking her head back towards Joel. “He’s Joel, he’s okay. He’s an alpha but he’s not one of those alphas.” She wants you to feel comfortable, given the uneasy expression on your face.

You’re confused by her scent, a mixture of alpha, beta and omega. Like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. “I-” You swallow harshly, throat dry, before you introduce yourself. Glancing over her shoulder to see Joel lower his weapon, his dark eyes on yours. You lick your lips, “I’m - I’m an omega but I’m on meds. Well, until they run out.” You confess, knowing it’s risky to introduce yourself like this but you need him to understand you, especially if you are to get out of Kansas City alive.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, looking away from you in exasperation because he knows you being an omega is a complication he doesn’t need. It’s risky, traveling with an unbonded omega, when you run out of meds, any alpha for miles will smell you in heat.

“She comes with us.” Henry immediately demands, making him roll his eyes and sigh after a long moment.

“Are you hungry?” Joel asks you begrudgingly. He might not like it, but he won't starve you.

“Starving. I- I ran out of food a few days ago.” You admit and he sighs, reaching into his pack to toss the jerky he has left over to you. You moan when you bite into it, uncaring of chewiness when it’s something to eat.

“She’s coming with us.” Henry repeats when he sees the look in Joel’s eyes.

It takes him a moment, but he nods once, “let’s get moving.” He says and you lift your backpack onto your shoulder, following the group through the tunnel you collapsed down in when the exhaustion becomes too much.

Stumbling upon the abandoned, underground housing seems like a godsend and Joel agrees to stop until nightfall. You look exhausted and you probably need some water. It irritates him that he’s even thinking along those lines but the alpha instinct to protect and care for an omega is strong with you for some reason. He grunts as you collapse into a chair, having polished off the jerky and shoves a water bottle into your hand. “You don’t need to fall behind later on.” He warns you. “I will leave you.”

You nod, knowing how harsh alphas have become in this new world. You know it's dog eat dog and your omega nature makes it harder to survive. A lot of your peers are under the thumb of an alpha, unable to survive alone. You are trying to be different and look how it's worked out so far. You gulp down some water and your eyes are struggling to stay open. "Sleep." Joel orders and you shift to stand, gathering the bean bags to create a safe area for you to sleep, surrounded and you feel safe with the alpha watching over you.

“She’s good.” Henri leans forward in his chair and promises Joel. “She’s a good person, a good omega.” He pauses for a second. “She doesn’t need to be treated badly, there was enough of that under FEDRA here.” He looks over at you, already asleep and then over at where Ellie and Sam are giggling together. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that sound.” He tells Joel, making the alpha glance over at the kids with a sense of melancholy.

Glancing back over at you before looking down at his hands, Joel sighs. There was a time when being around omegas was easier, when he was less abrasive, but that died the day he failed to protect his baby girl. The little girl who had just presented as an omega right before the world had gone to shit. “Once we get out of the city, what you do is up to you.” He tells Henry, frowning slightly at his own words. The smell of comfort and peace drifts from your little nest of beanbags and he wonders when the last time you exuded that scent was.

Henry sighs, telling Joel about Katherine's brother. "Sam had leukemia and I- I had to get him the medicine he needed. FEDRA wanted more. So I gave them Katherine's brother. He was a good man, a great man. She - she needed her meds to suppress her scent and she backed up my story. Katherine wants us both dead. Still think I'm the good guy?" Henry scoffs, crossing his arms.

Joel can’t answer that. Not realistically. Not when he knows he would have done anything to keep Sarah safe and healthy. Has already killed to protect Ellie. His eyes slide away from Henry’s guiltily and he taps his finger on the table. “We should go.” He huffs after a moment, watching as you continue to sleep. “We now have to sneak an omega out of the city too.”

You whimper when someone shakes you gently to wake you up. You look up to see Ellie standing there, her eyes soft and comforting enough that you aren't scared. "We are leaving." She says and you nod, sitting up. You feel rested despite the short amount of time you've been asleep. "Let's go." You say as you swing your pack over your shoulder. Joel swings the door open, walking ahead and you follow, trying to keep quiet.

Joel’s hackles are raised, eyes cautious for any sense of danger. Overly protective now that an omega is in the group. He huffs to himself, keeping himself closer to you and Ellie, naturally puffing up slightly. “How many pills do you have left?” Joel asks, knowing that his own rut is long overdue and if you are close to running out, he needs to get away from you as soon as possible.

You bite your lip as you stay close to him, instinct driving you to be with him. “About three months. I managed to ration them, cut them in half so my scent isn’t completely concealed but it keeps my heat at bay.” You reveal and Joel nods, knowing that it won’t last forever and eventually, you’ll have every damn alpha in the Midwest after you. You eventually come to the end of the tunnel and Henry is cocky as he says his plan worked…until the bullets start to fly.

“Get down!” Joel grabs you and Ellie, pulling you towards the abandoned cars for cover. Henry starts to freak out, taking Sam and trying to run away. “What are you doing? Get down!” Joel shouts, pulling his gun out and looking over the hood of the car. Bullets spray around Henry's feet and they run back towards you and the safety of the car.

Your heart pounds in your ears as Joel tells Ellie the guy has shit aim and he’s gonna go take him out. You are shaking, knife in hand that you grabbed from your boot, and you watch Joel ask Ellie if she trusts him. The girl nods and you know you trust him too. You swallow harshly, terrified as the bullets keep flying…until they stop. When you hear the cars, you barely hear Joel shouting “run! Run!” and you sprint with Ellie’s hand in yours, Sam and Henry not too far behind you.

Joel keeps his eyes focused on you and Ellie as the group with Kathleen pulls up. Chambering another round and keeping it ready as she makes her way out of the truck and implores you and Henry to come out. The truck he had killed the driver in is on fire, making him aware that his options for getting Ellie out of this situation are slowly starting to dwindle. He growls, narrowing his eyes as he focuses on Kathleen’s head. He’ll kill her. Then they will scatter.

You huddle behind the car with Ellie and Sam, Henry standing up and you can’t let him sacrifice himself. “Wait!” You stand up, holding your hands up. “You can’t kill Henry. He has Sam. He can’t - he has family. If you’re going to kill someone, kill me.” You order and Kathleen’s finger hovers over the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet, knowing that you have fared well for an omega in this world. Kathleen turns around when she hears the truck disappear into the ground and your eyes widen when the stalkers start to rush out. “Shit!” You shriek, running to grab Ellie and keep her safe.

Joel’s heart is pounding in his chest, firing shot after shot, afraid that he might not be quick enough. The group of soldiers that are with Kathleen quickly turn their weapons on the rushing horde, but there are too many of them. All manner of infected leaping out of that pit as Joel keeps Ellie and you in his sights and takes out the dangers around you.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You curse when you see Ellie trapped in the car. You are trying to open the door while trying to fend off any stalkers that come at you and when you hear the growls, you spin and see them taken out by a bullet from above. “Ellie! Quick, take my hand.” You order when you manage to get the door open and you’re running only to see Henry and Sam under the car. You drag the stalker off of Henry, stabbing it quickly and you push the body aside, trying to get to Sam. “Quick. Quick. Run!” You order when Ellie manages to kill the stalker and the four of you run towards the bridge.

Joel meets up with the four of you, checking to make sure that Ellie is okay before he turns towards you and the Betas. “Are you okay?” He demands, making you nod quickly. He ignores the need to reassure you, hating that he feels that way and looks back towards the flickering light of the fires. “We need to get farther away.” He tucks the rifle up on his shoulder and starts to move quickly, knowing its best to put distance between you and the horde of infected in case some came this way instead of going into the city. Kansas City is about to fall.

“Stop!” Kathleen approaches and you move to step in front Ellie. Joel’s fingers twitch and you try to be brave. Ellie and Joel don’t deserve to pay for your mistakes. She doesn’t get a chance to continue when she’s jumped on and torn apart. “This way now! Move!” Joel shouts and your heart pounds as you run away from the massacre.

****

You lean against the wall, exhaustion seeping into your bones while you listen to Ellie and Sam read the comic book together. Joel looks exhausted and Henry breaks the tension by asking “you think they’ll be okay?”

Joel nods, “yeah, I think. It’s easier when you’re a kid anyway.” Joel looks over at you, swallowing harshly before he looks back at Henry, “you don’t have anybody else relying on you. That’s the hard part.”

Henry nods, “well, I guess we’re doing a good job then.”

Joel nods, glancing back at you, “what’s that comic book say? Endure and survive?” He asks and Henry confirms it.

“That shit’s redundant.” You snort and Joel nods, “yeah, it’s not great.”

The quiet huffing of amusement passes and Joel sighs, “look, I don’t know how I’m getting to Wyoming, I’m probably walkin’ but, you know, if you want to.”

Henry nods, “yeah. Yeah. I think it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend.”

You bite your lip, “what about me?”

Joel frowns as he stares at you for a moment. His jaw tightening when he smells the wave of apprehension and fear pouring out of you. He knows what an unbonded omega can expect out here. You would be abused, mistreated by any alpha that came across you. You are capable, he’s seen that, but you need an alpha to protect you. He sighs softly after a moment. “All three of you.” He tells you. “I won’t touch you. Don’t worry. I don’t- you’ll be safe with me, with us.” He snorts. “Or as safe as you can fucking get nowadays.”

You can’t deny that you’re relieved and you nod, offering him a soft smile, “thank you, alpha.” You address him formally, wanting him to know how much you appreciate it.

“Get some sleep.” Joel says, his stomach twisting at hearing you call him ‘alpha’ and he watches as you lay down to curl up around yourself.

****

You wake up to Ellie screaming, fumbling to sit up just as she comes running out of the bedroom with Sam trying to bite her. “No!” You cry, hating that Sam was infected and you see the look on Henry’s face. He fought so hard to protect his brother, he did what he had to do, and in the end, it’s all been for nothing.

“Joel!” Ellie screams and Joel holds his hands up when Henry grabs the gun. Shooting the floor when Joel tries to help Ellie.

“Henry! Please!” You beg, knowing what needs to be done. Henry shoots Sam seconds later and you choke on the sob, holding your hands up when Henry aims the gun at you and then at Joel, switching between you.

His heart pounding, Joel hates that he can’t do anything. Helpless as Henry sways slightly holding the gun, eyes frantic. “Henry, give me the gun.” He urges quietly, edging towards him. He’s seen that look too many times. “Give me the gun Henry. Just give it to me.” His hands are still up and he’s trying to keep his voice calm, betas don’t respond to commands like an omega would.

“What have I done?” Henry asks, looking at you desperately, and Joel swallows.

“Give me the gun.” Henry shakes his head and lifts the gun up. “Henry no!” Joel cries right as Henry pulls the trigger and Ellie cries out again, making Joel close his eyes in defeat, failing again at protecting people.

You feel sick, losing your close friends in a matter of seconds has you rushing across the room to throw up, hands shaking and you know Joel and Ellie are affected. "Oh my God. Oh my God." You keep muttering, in shock as you stand up and you watch Joel make sure Ellie is okay before he's crossing the room to grab your shoulders.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asks and you shake your head, "I- I'm okay." You tell the alpha, his scent soothing you and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close so you can breathe him in.

Joel stiffens but he doesn’t pull away from you, knowing you need the comfort of his classification for the moment. Ellie is too shocked to smirk when he awkwardly puts his arm around you so he can rub your back. He feels guilty, wishing he had demanded that everyone be searched after the attacks, just in case. He could have talked Henry through the acceptance of losing Sam rather than the abrupt loss. “I’m sorry.” He manages, knowing they were your friends. “I- I’m going to bury them.” He promises, feeling the brothers deserve that at least.

You want to stay in his arms, feel that comfort that only an alpha can give you but he’s not your alpha, he’s stiff and awkward when you pull back. “Sorry.” You murmur and he clears his throat, turning towards Ellie to guide her out of the hotel room and away from the bodies.

****

You sniff when you see Ellie place Sam’s board down on his grave with the word ‘sorry’ written on it. You glance back to see Joel waiting for you and you wipe your eyes, adjusting your backpack as you make your way across the country to Wyoming.

Joel walks silently for a long time, everyone lost in their own thoughts as the miles from the motel increase. He has questions, plenty of them, but he doesn’t voice them. Knowing that right now isn’t the time. Instead he glances around, looking for signs of game. There’s another mouth to feed and he wants to make sure that you have enough since it’s been a few days since you’ve had anything more than the jerky he had tossed you.

The walk is long and you try to keep up with your meds, rationing them to stretch them as long as possible but as the days turn into weeks, you’re starting to panic. The fall turns to winter and the snow is heavy this year, making you shiver under the coat Joel had given you. He found another coat but you love this one, how it smells like him, giving you comfort during the arduous journey. The relationship between you and Joel is tense, both of you fighting your instincts and trying to keep your composure for Ellie’s sake. It would be easy to give in but it would only lead to complications. The alpha is tough, emotionally stunted, and stubborn, but you see how he is with Ellie. The softness in his eyes for the girl. You can understand it, having grown affectionate for her. She is a wonder. Not alpha, not omega, not beta. She’s a perfect combination of all three. Her scent is muted and she bears the best of each status, like fire and ice. A juxtaposition in one little girl who plans on being the solution to all your problems. A cure to your status. A world where every person is equal regardless of their composition. It’s beautiful and you hope she’s right, that she could be their cure to a never ending biological battle.

“We need to find somewhere to shelter.” Joel grunts out, feeling the temperature dropping. There is a storm coming, he can feel the heavy ache in his knitted together knuckles at the joints that remind him how fucking old he is. Too old to be your alpha, as much as he craves it. Every day it’s getting harder to resist the lure of your scent, to stay away from you. You are kind and gentle, although there is a stiffness to your spine that he admires. You ensure and bear the hardship of this journey without complaint, and he hasn’t missed you slipping Ellie some of your own meal when there’s not enough to completely fill the girl’s stomach. He watches you, while you’re sleeping, hearing your whimpers and it makes him want to crawl into the sleeping bag he had given you. The pride of you curling into his scent and being comforted by it makes his need to care for you roar to life. “We need a fire. Snow’s coming in.”

You nod, glancing up at the sky. It’s been a long day, the wind has been brutal, hitting you in the face, and Joel is quick to find a cave near the river for you to settle in. You pull the coat closer around you, watching Joel start the fire, and you remember you need to take your meds. Pulling the last packet out, you curse, fumbling with the packet to find one last pill. “Shit. Shit.” You hiss and Ellie looks over at you, “fuck. I- I’ve run out.” You want to cry, certain that you had another week if you rationed and you know you’re screwed. In the middle of nowhere, without your meds, and you know you’re going to go into heat soon. “Shit.” You sob, knowing this is going to a hellish time.

Joel closes his eyes, knowing he needs to find better shelter for you than this cave. If you are out of meds, you will have a hellacious heat the first time. It would beckon any alpha for miles. An open cave is not where he wants you. “Heat up some snow for water.” He orders Ellie, picking up the gun again. You will need plenty of nutrients for the heat and he needs to see if there is anywhere around that would be better. “I’ll be back.” He raises his eyebrows at Ellie. “Get your gun out. Anyone but me comes, you shoot them.” He orders.

You cry, hating that you have run out of meds. You feel vulnerable and you know you’ll be surviving this heat alone. “I’m sorry.” Ellie says, holding her gun as she keeps watch while Joel heads out.

“I- it’s okay. It’s just- I - I hate being an omega. I hate being this weak. I wish I could be stronger.” You feel sorry for yourself, knowing that you’ll need Joel’s sleeping bag and coat for his scent and you breathe it in from your coat, feeling a little calmer.

“What?” Ellie makes a face at you. “You aren’t weak. You are so strong.” She insists, turning towards you and cocking her head. “You have walked hundreds of miles with a strange alpha and even from the beginning, you trusted him. You take less food than you need when you think I’ll be hungry and you are not even a little irritated with me when I talk and talk and talk.” She rolls her eyes and grins at you. “Unlike him. But you are strong. You can’t help your heats, no more than alphas can help their ruts.”

Her words make your heart swell and you smile, “thank you, El.” You feel better from her words and you stand up, wanting to help by heating up the snow so you can have some water to drink. You pull Ellie in for a quick hug, “thank you, sweetheart.” You inhale her neutral scent and step back to get to work. “For the record, I think Joel likes your puns.” You tell her, making her smile and you are both quiet until Joel returns.

Joel has a pair of rabbits in his hand, holding them by the ears but there is something much more important. “Grab your packs.” He orders, immediately moving over to the fire to put it out. “I found a cabin. It’s- the roof is solid and the walls are thick.” He looks over at you with a knowing expression. “It has a bed and plenty of blankets.”

You want to kiss him in appreciation but you scramble to get your pack, Ellie following so you can make your way to the cabin. You can feel the tightness starting in your stomach and your clothes feel too tight, your brow starting to sweat as your heat starts to creep in, too long with too little medication has made it burn through your system. “We gotta go.” You rasp, needing to strip down and start nesting. “Now.” You tell Joel, knowing he can smell the change in you.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, nodding and picking up his pace through the snow as he treks back to the cabin he had found. He had already started a fire when he had checked it out, knowing it was perfect. The fireplace was in the middle of the cabin so it would keep the room you holed up for your heat warm. Now he just needs to get some food into you before you need to nest and he has to keep himself sane and try not to touch you. “Come on. It’s not far.”

You are feeling the ache, making it harder to walk, but you push yourself, knowing that you can’t just collapse in the damn snow. Joel’s back is rigid and you sigh in relief when you arrive at the cabin, entering and exhaling when the warmth of the fire immediately hits you. “I need to-” You shrug off his coat, working on stripping down to your t-shirt and leggings that you have on under your jeans. It’s still too many clothes but you can’t just strip off in front of Joel and Ellie.

“Ellie, go help her.” Joel urges, closing the door and barring it so he can get the food over the flames. You need to eat before it gets too bad. He knows he will have to go out to hunt often. For you, since you will require more food while you are nesting, and to keep from smelling your intoxicating pheromones all the time. “Get her ready. Take my sleeping bag too.”

Ellie is unsure of what to do but you are frantically pulling at your clothes until you’re in your underwear. Ellie grabs Joel’s sleeping bag and puts it down for you alongside your own on the bed. You grab the pillows, working fast to create a nest, grabbing Joel’s coat to put it in the nest. “I’ll be okay, El.” You promise, getting yourself comfortable.

“O-okay. I’m gonna- I’m gonna go out to Joel.” The younger girl is backing out of the room, unable to do anything more and she is wildly uncomfortable with the entire idea of a heat. Regular periods already suck, but she feels sorry for the pain you are going to go through. “I’ll get you water, too.”

As soon as the door is shut, you strip out of your underwear, your hand sliding between your folds to find you soaking wet and you can’t stop the moan of relief that escapes your lips when you rub your clit. Joel’s scent is surrounding you and while it’s not him, it’s enough for now. “Fuck.” You pant, rubbing your clit a little faster, wishing it was Joel, imagining his calloused fingers and his gruff voice telling you how good you are for him.

Ellie comes out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. “She’s about to get bad.” She tells Joel, making him grunt as he turns the rabbits over the flames. He can smell the arousal and need pouring off of you, making his cock harden even as he tries to ignore the way that your scent is calling to him. He had promised you that he wouldn’t touch you and he meant it. Even if he had to go jerk off every hour, he wouldn’t touch you.

You bite your lip to smother your moan when you cum from rubbing your clit. The relief only soothes you for a few moments before the need flares to life again. You hear the knock on the door and you cover yourself up so Ellie can bring in the food. “Thank you. I- I need you to go into the room furthest away from this one. I don’t want you to hear me. I- I won’t be myself.” You tell her and she nods, setting the container of water down. As soon as she’s gone, you force yourself to eat, your hands shaking and your cunt dripping as the urge to touch yourself is almost overwhelming. The rabbit bones are pushed aside and you wipe your hands before your fingers push back into your pussy, a loud moan escaping your lips as you fuck yourself with your fingers, your skin is gleaming with sweat and you swear your heat has never been this intense.

Joel clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, hearing the needy moan coming from the room and his fists curl in on themselves. Blowing out a sigh, he takes a deep breath, pulling the air in from his mouth so he doesn’t smell your pheromones as strongly. You are already filling the cabin with your mouth watering scent. “Shit.” He hisses, feeling his cock twitch again, already straining at his jeans. “Fuck, I’ll be back.” He growls, standing and grabbing the rifle as he flees the cabin so he can find some relief.

Ellie decides to take her leave in one of the back rooms away from yours, not wanting to invade your privacy. You pant, curling your fingers but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You need an alpha. You need Joel. You whine, reminding yourself that it won’t happen but your mind runs wild, imagining him coming into your room, stripping off and sliding his cock inside of you, knotting you. “Oh fuck. Joel.” You choke as you cum around your fingers, unaware that he’s jerking off outside in the freezing cold, having hoped the cold would get rid of his erection but he is still hard even as his cum spills onto the snow. “Oh God.” You whine, rubbing your clit while your fingers are buried deep, using two hands in hopes of satiating the heat curling in your belly.

Joel growls as he tucks his still hard cock back into his pants. It hasn't helped much but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to crawl out of his skin. Huffing from the cold, his breath shows in the air. He should hunt, but his instinct is to keep close to you so he stomps back into the cabin to shut the door and feed more logs onto the fire.

You’ve lost track of time. It could have been hours, maybe days. Ellie has brought you food and water, and cool rags to wipe yourself with, but the sweat still pools on your skin. You’re almost delirious with need, your hands aching and you can’t bring yourself to make yourself cum again. You need an alpha. You can’t deny it anymore. “Joel.” You call out, voice cracking. “Joel. Please. I need you.” You beg, needing to feel something, anything.

His chest puffing up in pleasure, Joel tries to deny that he had been anticipating this. He had melted more snow to bathe with, cleaning up for the omega in heat. Unknowingly preparing himself but still he shakes his head and closes his eyes. “You- you don’t mean that. It’s just the heat, omega. Be calm.” He orders you softly through the door, his fingers nearly digging into the wood as he stands there.

His words, his voice, soothe you for a moment until the ache flares. “No. No. Don’t go. Please. I- I need you. I need you so much Joel. Alpha, please. Please. I need you. My alpha.” You plead, thrashing in the nest you made as his scent lingers in the fabric.

Joel shudders, his entire body flooded with pleasure at being called your alpha. His control slips slightly and his hand moves down to the knob. “I- you don’t - you’re not thinking clearly.” He pants out, his heart pounding in his chest and his own pheromones flooding into the air. “I- I can’t- it’s been so long since I’ve had an omega.” He confesses, knowing he would never be able to pull out of you. He wants to knot you too badly, to fill your aching cunt with his seed.

“I know I need you. I need you now. Please alpha, it hurts. I can’t - nothing is working. My hands hurt.” You sob, growing more desperate for him by the second as you push your fingers back inside of you but your wrist aches, making it hurt. You know that Tess was an alpha, both of them taking their needs out on each other without the emotional danger. “Please Joel. Alpha. I need you.” You beg, smelling his pheromones and another wave of slick coats your hand as you try to make yourself cum.

His cock throbs in his jeans and his head hits the door with a thud. The sound of you whining is gorgeous, making him start to turn the handle but he stops. Turning around and making sure the cabin door is locked and barred takes precious few minutes but his entire body is primed, listening to the sounds of your fingers plunging into your cunt and your moans of his name. He grabs the water bottle and bursts through the door of your room.

When he enters the room, your entire body cries for him, aching and you keep pushing your fingers into your cunt as his scent floods the room. He slams the door behind him and tosses the water bottle down, striding over to the bed and he pulls your fingers out of your cunt, making you whine. When he replaces them with his own, you moan loud in relief, tossing your head back as you cry out, “yes! Alpha!”

Joel groans when he feels how wet you are, his fingers immediately soaked with you and squelch as he pumps them deep into your needy cunt. “I’m here, this what you need, omega? You need an alpha to take care of you? To fuck you until you scream?”

“Yes. Yes. I need you. I need you alpha. I can’t - it’s not enough. Never enough.” You whine, delirious as his fingers already make you feel better than you did before he came in the room. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” You whine, hips rolling up to meet his fingers as he pumps them faster. “I’m gonna - oh. Oh.” You gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he makes you cum for the first time.

Joel hisses as your walls clamp down on his fingers. You’re so fucking tight, imagining that you’re going to feel even better when his cock is inside you. When his knot is inside you. “Give me another.” He demands, pulling his fingers almost completely out so he can add a third finger. “Give me one more and I’ll fuck you.” Joel promises, wanting to make sure you are nice and prepared for his cock, “be my good omega.” He coos, watching you whine and preen when he calls you his.

It’s too much and yet not enough, making you pant as his fingers stretch you out like you’ve desperately needed. “Alpha. Oh fuck.” You whine, reaching up to squeeze your own breasts when he presses his thumb to your clit, those thick digits twisting inside of you. “Yes!” You cry, almost sobbing as you clamp down on his fingers again, soaking his wrist with your slick.

“Good girl.” Joel growls, curling his fingers one last time before he pulls them out of your warm, wet cunt. “Can I enter your nest, omega?” He’s aware that you are calling for him, but this is your space, your comfort is priority. Most alpha snow didn’t observe the customs of pre-outbreak but he wanted you to control this. “Will you let me take care of you, sweet girl?”

You reach for him, hands shaking a little with the need still overwhelming you. Yes, he’s made you cum twice but it’s not enough. You need to feel him surrounding you, inside of you. “Please, alpha. I need you. Come here.” You beg, patting the pillows and blankets you have gathered around yourself, most of it with his scent but it’s nothing like the real thing. He strips off and you eagerly watch, his shirt coming off then his jeans and finally his threadbare boxers. You are all wearing worn clothing now, but when he’s naked, your mouth waters. “So - so beautiful.” You gasp in awe of the strong alpha Joel is. He’s a paradox. A strong man, capable, and yet he asked to enter your nest when most alphas would’ve already been pushing inside of you. He’s soft and caring yet fierce and unforgiving.

Joel climbs into the nest of blankets and pillows you’ve created, groaning at how you are already spreading your legs and inviting him inside you. “I cleaned up, omega.” He promises, knowing that some might not have taken the time, but he didn’t want to risk your health. Hovering over you with his cock hanging between you, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair to try and pull him closer. His cock is pressed against your thigh and it’s not close enough. His tongue slides against yours and you reach between you to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him.

“Stop.” He commands, his tone rough. He knows he will cum if you touch him too much. It’s been so long since he has filled someone, even longer since he had had an omega. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. “Let me take care of you, omega. You just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

You nod, letting go of his cock and he shuffles to kneel between your legs, gripping his cock to guide himself to your entrance. He slowly pushes into you, making you moan at the stretch, the connection is instantaneous but you don’t mention it, knowing he will withdraw from you, physically and emotionally. “Alpha.” You sigh in relief when he is fully inside of you.

Joel groans, closing his eyes and feeling the shift in your pheromones. You change from desperate and needy to pleased, the sweet scent of it filling your nest. “I’ve got you.” He promises. “I’ll take care of you.” He grinds his hips deeper before he starts to slowly withdraw. He knows you need to cum again, your heat demanding it. His hand slides down your thigh and he pulls it up onto his hip. “Such a good omega for me. Letting me take care of you.”

You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he starts to move inside of you. "Oh fuck, alpha. Joel." You pant, feeling the fire that threatened to consume you dampen a bit. The slow way he moves inside of you is tearing you apart, piece by piece, and you tilt your head so you can kiss along his jaw and down his neck, wanting him to feel the same way.

He knows that it’s been a long time since you’ve had a heat, since you’ve had sex, so he keeps the pace slow. Knowing that he could easily hurt you and he doesn’t want to do that. Too often omegas get caught up in the desperation and the alphas are uncaring and they injure the omegas they are supposed to be comforting. He had never understood that mentality, while he was harsh in many ways, he would never abuse an omega like that. “Good girl.” He coos in your ear, voice slipping into something smoother, lower pitched. “You’re going to take my knot and then feel so full, aren’t you? That what you want?”

His voice makes you shiver and you wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck. Yes alpha. That’s what I- I want. I need it. I need you to knot me.” Your voice is whiny, displaying the need you have for him. “I need it over and over again.” You pant, his hips pushing against yours when he buries himself deep on each thrust. Your stomach twists as he pushes you higher, slow grinds making you pant, and you eventually fall over the edge with a soft cry of his name, clamping down on his cock.

“Shit.” He hisses, leaning down and pressing his nose against your scent gland, inhaling the scent of your pleasure as he rocks into you. Working you through the first of many times you will fall apart on his cock before you are done with your heat. Often days are spent in the nest when a heat is on, the alpha caring for the omega and making sure that they are not neglecting themselves. It’s been a long time since he has wanted to do that. Since his ex wife. He hadn’t bonded with her because they were so young and she had left him for another alpha shortly after Sarah had been born. He had never gotten attached to another omega since then. Until you.

You moan at how good it feels, the ache abading for a moment so you can properly breathe. "Fuck baby." You murmur, caressing his back, "alpha. Taking - taking such good care of me already." You sigh, burying your face in his neck to breathe him in. The smell of smoke and whiskey combined with the strength of Joel has you clenching around him, the need returning within a few moments of your orgasm. You won't be fully satisfied until he knots you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, sweet girl.” He moans, his tongue tracing your gland as he rolls his hips. Shifting onto his side so he can slide one hand between you. Finding your clit with the rough pads of his fingers to rub tight circles on the sensitive nub. “You’re doing so good. So good for me. Taking me perfectly. Gonna knot you, make you feel even better.” He rambles.

“Shit, I - I - fuck. Alpha.” You whine softly when he rubs your clit, making you clench around him, and you pant as he starts to rock into you once more, the new angle making him hit even deeper inside of you. “Oh God.” You moan, heels digging into his ass as you try to push him deeper with each rock of his hips, his hand trapped between you.

Turning his head, Joel kisses you. Absorbing your whines and mewls as his tongue slides into your mouth, loving how you are responding to him. A part of him had feared that he had changed too much, given up too much of his soul to be a good alpha for an omega. You are wonderfully pliant under him, giving him so much of yourself as he works his cock deeper and deeper, feeling the base of his cock starting to swell as he gets closer to knotting you.

You are getting close again, feeling his knot starting to catch inside of you, and you desperately want him to fill you up. Neither of you are thinking about the consequences of him fucking you raw like this but you can’t bring yourself to care, just needing him to fill you up. “Baby. Oh Alpha, I - I’m gonna -” You choke when he hits just right and makes you cum again, soaking him and making you throw your head back to expose your neck to him.

The urge to mark you, to bond you to him is nearly overwhelming. Making Joel growl as he picks up his pace. Instead of grinding into you, he starts thrusting harder, driving his cock deeper in an effort to push his expanding knot into your narrow passage and lock you together for the next hour.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You pant, pushed through your orgasm as Joel starts to fuck you, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Yes! Yes baby. Oh God. Alpha. Cum for me. Please, need you to fill me up.” You beg, closing your eyes as you are pushed over the edge again.

He knows the basic biology of this, knowing that in order to make your heat as comfortable as possible, your body demands his seed. Nothing but that would truly make you feel good. There are a million reasons why he shouldn’t fill you up, but he can’t pull out of you. Pushing harshly when the knot starts to swell, feeling it slip inside you with a groan of your name.

You feel the relief when his cum starts to paint your walls, knot catching to keep him inside of you as his cock pulses, a groan of your name and “omega” leaving his lips. “Fuck. Joel, alpha.” You murmur, pulling him close and you throw your head back again as you cum once more, triggered by his orgasm.

He cums forever, his cock pulsing and pumping you full of his seed. Knowing that his knot will be keeping you full and he will cum several more times before it goes down. “Good girl, oh take it.” He grunts, feeling better than he has in a long time. He kisses along your throat as you squeeze him tight again, shaking underneath him.

You want him to bite you, to claim you as his to every other alpha out there but you know it’s not possible. You pant, turning your head so you can kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth as his cock finishes twitching and you relax beneath him, legs lowering from his hips to cradle him on top of you.

Joel makes sure that he keeps his weight braces so he’s not too heavy on you, stroking your side and kissing along your shoulder. He feels a connection, one that should terrify him, but he just closes his eyes. Breathing you in with a soft sigh. “How are you feeling, omega?” He asks softly, opening his eyes as he pulls back to watch you.

“I’m feeling good, alpha.” You smile lazily, running your fingers through his hair. The need has been satiated for now and you are enjoying the feel of him surrounding you, his scent is comforting. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

“Good.” He hums, kissing your lips again before he slides his arms under you so he can roll you over on top of him. He can bear your weight better than you can his. Letting you sprawl out on top of him while he strokes your back. His knot is still firmly embedded inside you, so you aren’t going anywhere. “You can sleep, sweet girl. I know you are tired.”

You hum, closing your eyes as he caresses your back. You feel safe and satiated for the first time since you can’t even remember when. “Love you.” You murmur, falling asleep within moments of your soft confession.

****

“Fuck. Joel!” You squeal as he pounds into you from behind. He grips your hips and your body aches from the days of fucking but you are still needy for more. You need him to fill you up. “Fuck. Oh shit! Alpha!” You squeal, knowing that later on, you’ll cringe about the fact that Ellie is somewhere in the cabin, having to hear you, but you can’t stop yourself. He growls, jaw clenched and you look over your shoulder at the alpha pounding into you. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” You cry, falling forward onto your elbows.

“That’s it.” Joel hisses, feeling like he’s going to cum, but he needs you to cum first. You’re still so needy for him, and he’s doing his best to make sure you are looked after. Only leaving your nest a few times over the past few days to hunt and make sure Ellie is okay.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” You whine, clamping down on his cock as you cum, soaking him and your cheek presses into the blankets beneath you, the material permeated with your combined scents and it makes you shiver as his hands squeeze your flesh.

Every time he fucks you, he comes closer and closer to binding you to him, biting your gland and claiming you as his for everyone to know. Growling as he imagines it; he pushes his hips forward again, feeling his knot popping into your cunt as he starts to cum.

You whine when he starts to fill you up and you arch your back, loving the way his knot stretches you and his cum paints your walls. You moan his name followed by ‘alpha’ and you rest your cheek on the blankets, closing your eyes as you enjoy the feel of him filling you up. You’re not stupid, you know he’s likely gotten you pregnant during your heat with the amount of times he’s cum inside of you but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Panting, Joel collapses against your back, closing his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. Soon the three of you will need to move. To continue on to look for Tommy. “My good omega.” He murmurs softly, caressing your hip. He knows he needs to find a safe place for you. Somewhere that you can thrive, somewhere where omegas are treated with respect.

****

When the dog sniffs Ellie, your heart pounds in your chest, and you are glancing at Joel’s back, knowing he must be freaking out. Helpless to do anything when the alphas surround you. You close your eyes, not wanting to hear Ellie torn apart. She’s not an omega or alpha or beta like the dog is trained to identify, wanting to weed out the alphas who threaten most of mankind. When the world fell because of the virus, you knew that alphas had taken advantage, some feeling it was their right to take the world as their own, to bring society back to the old ways where omegas were second class citizens. When Ellie giggles, you relax a little and you sense the relief in Joel, connected after your heat. You’ve never spoken about your confession of love, just continuing your journey to find Tommy.

Joel feels lightheaded, heart pounding and he doesn’t know how you don’t smell the fear and desperation on him. Terrified that he can’t protect you, or Ellie from this group. He’s relieved when two horses are brought for the three of you to ride and he insists that you sit ahead of him, wanting you close.

You breathe Joel in as you enter the compound, wanting the comfort only he can bring and soon the horse is coming to a stop as he shouts his brother’s name. “Tommy!” He yells and you glance at Ellie, shocked to have found Joel’s brother.

After introductions are made, you are escorted to the cafeteria where the three of you dig into your meal like you haven’t eaten for weeks which is half true. It’s been too long since you had a proper meal and you are moaning when you shove the food into your mouth, feeling Tommy’s eyes on you.

Joel hisses at Ellie for being so crass, but he can’t reprimand you for eating vigorously. He knows you need the nutrients after your heat. You haven’t been able to properly have more than almost half of a rabbit or bird, Joel giving up most of his portions between you and Ellie. He’s stunned when he hears Tommy is bonded to the alpha at the table, Marie. His brother was never really cut out for the alpha designation and he frowns slightly at the two of them.

You want to comfort Joel, knowing it must be hard to know that the brother he has nearly died while trying to find is alive and well, thriving in a beautiful community. You want to reach for his hand but you aren’t bonded and you don’t want to overstep. Maria is quick to ask you and Ellie if you want to shower and you look at Joel for guidance, he nods and you all leave the cafeteria while Maria gives you a tour of the town. “Like communists?” Joel asks and you smother you giggle when his brother seems shocked by the phrase.

“Joel. Can we talk?” Tommy asks and Maria says “I can take them to clean up.”

You look at Joel who nods, “go on, omega.” You are anxious but you follow Maria to the house, glancing over your shoulder to see Joel one last time.

They have a bar. An honest to god fucking bar. Joel rubs the shiny, slick wood and shakes his head in disbelief as Tommy ambles behind the bar to pour him a drink. “Been a long time since we’ve done this.” He reminisces, unable to believe that he’s about to have a drink in comfort with his brother. Almost as if nothing has ever happened and the world wasn’t destroyed around this little community. “Surprising to see you bonded to an alpha.” He begins.

“Surprising to see you with an omega. Doesn’t look like you’ve bonded with her yet.” He says and Joel looks down at the bar while his brother pours a glass of whiskey with ice.

“It’s complicated.” Joel murmurs and Tommy sets the glass down in front of him.

“When isn’t it complicated?”

“She was with a couple of Betas in Kansas City. They- uh, when they were gone, I couldn’t leave her out there by herself.” Joel rationalizes. “You know what would have happened to her.”

Tommy nods, knowing how hard this world is for omegas. He barely manages as a beta and Maria saved him from the wilderness. “I can’t just leave.” Tommy says when Joel mentions going to Colorado, “I- I’m going to be a dad.” He reveals and Joel’s heart sinks, reminded of Sarah and how he failed her.

“I guess we’ll see.” Joel grunts after Tommy expressed that he’s thinking he’ll be a good father and that pisses his brother off. “We’ll see? I’m sorry about Sarah but-“ Joel’s heart clenches and he can’t even hear the rest of Tommy’s comment before he pushes away from the bar and storms out. Worried because he’s already failed once and there’s no way he didn’t get you pregnant when he worked you through your heat nearly two months ago.

****

You stare at the test in your hand, waiting for the result. When you walked into the bedroom to find the menstrual cup, you are reminded that you haven’t had your period for two months. Time tends to blur when you’re in the wilderness and you lost track, but you know it’s been about two months since you and Joel fucked. “Shit.” You groan when the test shows positive. You’d asked Maria for a test and her eyebrows had raised but she’d quickly located one for you and now it’s positive. You have to tell Joel.

Walking around has nearly ripped his heart out. Having a panic attack and Tommy finding him after he had seen a woman who from behind made him think of Sarah had been soul crushing. His fear of failure pulls tears out of the alpha and he feels like his designation had been wrong, he’s not an alpha. He can’t protect anyone. Tommy had talked some sense into him during his breakdown and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks to the house that he had been told that you and Ellie are in. Drawn back to you, and wondering how you are finding this little commune.

You look up when you see Joel walking into the room, your face stained with tears and you hold the test in your hand. His eyes flick down to it and he immediately knows. “I- I’m so sorry, Joel. This is all my fault.” You choke, knowing he won’t be happy about it. You’ve ruined everything. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want connections and you just created the biggest connection of all.

Joel closes his eyes, reaching for you blindly to pull you into his arms. “It’s okay omega.” He growls softly, aware that you were always going to end up pregnant after that week in your nest. Even if he hadn’t touched you since, he had filled you with his seed more times than he could count. “We knew it would happen.” He tells you softly, knowing you thought about it too, even if you hadn’t talked about it.

You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in, and you let his scent comfort you. "I know but I - alpha. I know you didn't want connections." You murmur, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I'm so sorry baby." You choke, feeling guilty for making him fuck you during your heat when he tried so hard to leave you alone.

“I-“ Joel stops, thinking for a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m not.” He swallows harshly and reaches up, pulling your shirt down over your gland and rubbing his thumb over the skin. “Do you know how many times I wanted to mark you in your nest? Make you mine?” He asks softly. “You were desperate, needy for me, begging me to take care of you but I didn’t want to claim you when you were so desperate.”

Despite Joel being such a hard man, rough in so many ways, he’s soft underneath. His dark eyes meet yours and you cup his cheek, “I want you to make me yours. I’m not in my heat. If you want me, I’m yours, alpha.” You tell him, rubbing his jaw with your thumb.

His chest puffs up in pride, pleased with your answer even as he searches your eyes with a need to make sure you really want this. “I want you, omega.” He growls. “I want you to carry my mark, for everyone to know who planted their seed in your belly.” He inhales deeply. “Take me to the bedroom you claimed as yours.” He keeps the command out of his voice, giving you the choice to lead him to your room.

There isn’t a choice to make, you’ve been in love with him since before he marked you. You take his hand and guide him to the room you claimed as yours, down the hall from Ellie. He swallows harshly when you open the door and you turn towards him, wanting to be a good omega as you work on the buttons of his shirt, working on undressing him.

Joel lets you undress him, aware of what you are doing for him. What you are trying to show him. Watching you as every article of clothing falls to the floor, until you reach for your own shirt. Then he stops you. Wanting to undress you himself, he slowly lifts your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “My beautiful omega.” He groans, kneeling down and kissing your stomach before he starts to unbutton your jeans. “Took my seed and gave me hope.”

You look down as he kneels in front of you, pulling your jeans down, and you run your fingers through his hair, loving how he’s kissing your stomach. “My alpha. So strong. So brave.” You murmur, caressing his cheek and you step out of the jeans as he pulls them all the way down. “I love you, alpha.”

He leans into your touch, knowing that you won’t think him weak for taking comfort from you. Some alphas think that finding comfort in their omega beyond just physical is weak but he doesn’t. “I- I love you, omega.” He murmurs before he whispers your name. Peeling your panties down and he licks his lips. “Put your leg on my shoulder, omega.”

You follow his order, body shaking slightly from the overwhelming emotion surging through you, and you stumble slightly as you lift your leg onto his shoulder. His nose trails along your thigh, pressing kisses on the flesh and you sigh, pulling on his hair to get him to move faster. When his tongue slides through your folds, you throw your head back with a moan of his name.

The entire time he had been in your nest, there hadn’t been time for oral. You had been too needy for his cock, tongue and fingers unable to do the job that his knot did. Now, he groans at the tangy taste of your cunt, enjoying the fact that you’ve showered and are ready for him. His nose presses deep into your curls as his tongue pushes into your soaked walls.

You whimper, looking down at him, and his eyes are closed as his nose presses against your clit. “Oh fuck, Joel.” You pant, moaning as his tongue pushes deep. You love the way he groans into your flesh and your heart pounds in your chest. “Oh shit. I- I need you inside of me. Please.” You beg, wanting to feel him.

Joel can’t deny you, not when he desperately wants to be buried inside you again. Taking one last, long lick of your cunt, he pulls away reluctantly. “Go lay down on your bed, baby.” He grunts, smirking up at you. “I want to mark you in a bed, be inside you when I claim you as mine.”

You nod, shifting to lay down on the bed. Settled against the pillows, you look up at him as he stands at the foot of the bed. “Do you want me on my hands and knees?” You ask, wondering if he wants you in the traditional claiming position.

His cock twitches, imagining taking you from behind as he bites into your scent gland, permanently bonding you to him. But he shakes his head, wanting to look at your face when you cum, watch your face as you realize that you are bound to him. “I want to take you on your back.” He tells you quietly, waiting for your reaction.

You nod, keeping your eyes on him as you spread your legs to show him your dripping folds, wet with your arousal and his saliva. “Take me, alpha. I’m yours. In every way.” You promise, caressing your stomach.

“I am yours too.” He promises, knowing that even if he claims you, you hold a claim on him too. He doesn’t want to just possess you, he wants to be possessed by you. He crawls onto the bed and drops another kiss onto your stomach, and he looks up at you. “You are mine and I am yours.” It’s the closest that he would get to marriage now, the institution didn’t exactly exist anymore but he knows he will try to find you a ring to wear. Something beyond his marks.

You smile, tears stinging in your eyes as you watch the man you love crawl up your body until his cock is sliding through your folds. “I love you.” You sigh and he starts to push into you, making you whimper and you caress his neck, pulling him close so you can press your lips to his.

You smile against his lips when he kisses you, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer, and you love how he pushes deeper inside of you. You feel safe, his scent making you feel protected and loved. “Oh God, Joel.” You moan when he shifts onto his elbows, adjusting the position so he’s pressing against your back wall.

He feels the way that you yield to him. The scent of your happiness unfurling around him as he starts to rock into you. He keeps the pace slow, aware that you are more sensitive now that you are carrying. He doesn’t want to hurt you or the baby for his own needs. “My beautiful omega. My love.” He moans, kissing along your neck, straying away from the scent gland.

His words make you preen and you slide your leg along his, wanting to feel closer as he rocks into you. Your hands caress his back and you whine when he pushes deep, “baby. Oh baby.” You pant when the hairs at the base of his cock brush your clit.

“Hmm.” Joel smirks against your skin, happy he can make you breathless. “You like that don’t you? Like the way I take care of you?” His tongue presses against your gland and he licks the clean skin and groans at the way you taste. The burst of pleasure flooding from your pores. “Always gonna take care of you.”

You whimper, loving his words, the comfort coming from his scent, and you love his accent seeping through as he gets lost in the pleasure. "Fuck. I- I love you." You moan, so close to your orgasm. The pregnancy has made you sensitive. "Fuck, I - I'm gonna - Joel." You moan as you clamp down around him, your cry going silent from the pleasure coursing through you.

Joel groans, closing his eyes and shuddering as you clamp down around him. “Perfect.” He hisses. “My perfect omega.” His hips rock forward more eagerly, chasing his own orgasm as he lets his teeth scrap over your gland.

"Do it." You beg breathlessly, "make me yours. I'm yours alpha. Show the world who I belong to." You want him to sink his teeth into your gland, to claim you as his forever because you already belong to him in every other way.

Joel growls, pulling his lips back and with a sharp snap of his hips, he buries his cock deep inside you. Sinking his teeth into your gland and breaking the skin to mark you as his. Filling you with his seed as he groans and the coppery taste of your blood hits his teeth.Joel growls, pulling his lips back and with a sharp snap of his hips, he buries his cock deep inside you. Sinking his teeth into your gland and breaking the skin to mark you as his. Filling you with his seed as he groans and the coppery taste of your blood hits his teeth.

You cum again at the feel of his teeth in your neck, claiming you as his. You whimper, clinging to him as his cock pulses inside of you, filling you up, and you know this is where you've always belonged. In his arms. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel safe, protected, and loved. Something you never imagined before you met Joel.

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