#the fact that they have never been used again and only after 50+ years of cold war brinksmanship speaks for itself

[qqueenofhades]

Two genuine questions: was it REALLY necessary to bomb Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and were those two cities European ones (read: full of white people) do you think we still would've made the decision to bomb them?

People have been arguing from the moment it happened whether it was necessary, justifiable, or in any way required, when the war was almost over and Japan was going to lose anyway. My personal view is that it is and remains a completely indefensible action, especially since a) Hiroshima and Nagasaki were relatively unimportant civilian cities with only some military infrastructure, b) Japan was already under heavy conventional bombing that had devastated the mainland, and c) there was no way, ever, that the west was going to drop a nuclear bomb on mainland Europe. So yes, Japan's geographical distance and non-whiteness played pivotal roles in this, especially after American propaganda stereotyped Japanese people as wild yellow savages and, let us not forget, put Japanese-American citizens in concentration camps for the duration of the war. You can read the Wikipedia page about the post-1945 debate here.

[pedrospatch]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

[canthelpit0]

Cry Baby

Pairing: Matt x crybaby!popular!reader

Wordcount : 3.3K+

Summary: you were popular. The jester of the group. But atleast it was something. Nobody knew just how much you’d been struggling, until your secrets were exposed in the school cafeteria.

Warnings: swearing, angst, crying, mentioned of depression, Matt’s PoV, sensitive!reader, mentions of SH, SH mocking, humiliation, exposing secrets, fake friends, hurt/comfort, pet names (baby), use of y/n

(A/N: I wrote this based of this song. Bcs I was listening to it and had this scenario in my head, so I wrote it down.)

You had always been a bit of a crybaby.

You’re the oldest sibling. Your mother thought she couldn’t have any children, but she had. You were a blessing to her.

So after you were born you were never put down. Someone was always with you. To keep you from crying, entertaining you. Caving to your needs.

But once you got to kindergarten, it seemed that all those times your parents hushed you and made sure you didn’t cry had bottled up.

You didn’t speak a lot. You didn’t like socializing with people. You kept to yourself and that’s how you liked it.

You had severe attachment issues to your mom though. Because of her always being with you to soothe you, her not being there seemed like a nightmare.

So when she dropped you off at kindergarden, every day, you would cry, begging your mom to stay.

Eventually you got used to it, but you quickly found a friend to cling to.

Emma, was your one and only friend. The only person you talked to.

It was pretty much the same in elementary school. You’d trod around and talk to people. You were a bubbly social kid.

But you were also easy to break.

You didn’t have a lot of friends. All friends you had were only people you’d hang around in recess.

Emma stuck with you though.

Until, middle school.

In middle school you’d, for some reason, fallen into a depressive mindset.

Emma and you were in your awkward middle school phases. And in that time she’d become really rude.

And one day during a fight she told you how much she hated listening to your sobs.

You’d been vulnerable around her. You had trusted her.

And she’d broken that trust. By telling you that every time you had seeked her comfort she actually didn’t want to give it to you.

Your heart’s too big for your body.

You two stopped talking after that day. Until four months later Emma apologized for her words. You, being an empath, excepted the apology and went back to being friends with her.

Little did she know that her words rang through your head while you cut yourself.

A few months after you became friend again, she moved. She moved out of the country. You never saw her again.

So for high school you had taken it spoon yourself to mask your depression and ‘get over yourself’.

You started to dress more basic, learning to do your make up, hair, skincare. And basically everything to hide your miserable state the best you could.

Somehow it worked.

You had good facial proportions, and just a little bit of work you looked like a basic mean girl who is full of herself. But that was exactly the point.

Somehow, once High school started, you managed to get into the clique of the popular girls.

You were always so upbeat, cheery and talkative. No one could ever guess that you’re the most depressive mother fucker in a 50 mile radius.

Though as much as you would like the power of being the leader of the group, you were not. You were more like the jester of the group than anything.

You had held your mental breakdowns to a minimum. Holding back as much as you could. You only had Few panic attacks nowadays. And if you had one in school, you always had a touch up make up bag there.

Now it was senior year. You got ready like usual, not knowing that today would alter your life and the way people perceive you.

Matt’s PoV

I watch in horror.

Y/n is one of the popular girls in our school.

I’m not too popular. But I’m well known, all due to the fact that I’m a triplet. And due to the fact that Nick and Chris are really extroverted people.

Both of them are currently not with me.

Chris is sick at home. While Nick is in the library with some of our female friends.

I sit at my table with the lacrosse team around Me.

The entire cafeteria has their eyes focused on y/n.

She was arguably the prettiest out of all the popular girls.

But right now she was crying, Biting her lip. Her head tilted forward in shame at the claims her group was throwing at her.

The leader of the popular girls, Kelly, was accusing y/n of stealing her boyfriend at first, yelling right in her face. She yelled right back at Kelly though, not scared to stand up for herself.

But Kelly being the leader of the group, all the other girls sided with her.

I never understood why people would talk, or would argue, about stuff like this in public places. It was humiliating.

I was getting second hand embarrassment just watching.

The insults were getting more and more personal by the second.

Nobody was doing anything, captivated by the scene unfolding in front of them. Some people have their phones out filming for, ..who knows what reason.

I drown out most of the insults-

“IS THAT WHY YOU FUCKING CUT YOURSELF?” Kelly yells right back in y/n’s face.

The cafeteria had already been quiet. But with those words even the quiet conversations stopped. It seemed like everyone’s attention snapped back to the scene.

It was the passerby effect in full force. No one was doing anything, too shocked. Not even the teachers that were present said anything.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

My ear start ringing, my eyes staying glued on y/n.

To me, it was obvious that something about y/n was off. She was polished to perfection. To a concerning degree. Nobody was that perfect.

So the revelation didn’t necessarily shock me. But the fact that Kelly was heartless enough to air y/n’s business out like that.

“I don’t.” Y/n’s words cut harshly through the quiet cafeteria. Her words are insistent like she was telling the truth.

She was a great liar, yet everyone would believe Kelly over her. Even if it was a lie.

“Oh but you do.” Kelly scoffs looking at the people y/n used to call friends. They all nod at Kelly’s statement.

“You have those scars all over your wrists.” Kelly points out nodding down to y/n’s wrists.

It’s like everyone takes a collective look down at her arms to see if something is actually there.

Me being so far away from their table I can’t see it clearly. But I really don’t want to anyway.

I watch as Y/n lets her head fall forward letting out a small laugh, shocking everyone in the cafeteria including me.

Y/n’s hands are trembling and shaking. She purses her lips looking back up at Kelly who looks at her with superiority.

Y/n picks her head back up and leans her head up to readjust her hair. Her hands ball into fists before she crosses her arms, trying to keep her composure.

Even from being a few tables away from the scene i can clearly see the tears running down her cheeks.

She huffs a laugh through a sob.

“Some friends you fucking are” she says harshly her glare focused on the girls around Kelly that she used to call friends.

The cafeteria is silent again for a moment the only thing heard being y/n’s soft sniffles

“Crybaby” one of the girls huffs under her breath, but its loud and clear in the silent cafeteria.

“Fuck you Rebecca.” I hear y/n’s voice snap at the girl. Despite crying her tone was still sharp.

“What’re you gonna do about it, gonna go home and cut yourself some more?” Another one of the girls in the group scoffs.

Y/n lets out another miserable chuckle hearing the comment.

I purse my lips remaining seated. I probably look miserable right now. I don’t want to be watching this. Hell I would like to stop this, but I can’t.

Before y/n can fire back though more and more comments from all the girls pore out. And the more: “you gonna kill yourself?” “you gonna cut yourself?” remarks they make the more humiliated y/n looks.

By the end of their relentless comments and bullying y/n is crying sobbing. And as someone with anxiety I can see the inevitable anxiety attack, in the way her entire body shakes.

With a strong “fuck you all” to her former friends y/n turns in her heels and leaves.

The cafeteria is quiet for a moment before the room breaks out in conversation, everyone gossiping about the scene they just witnessed. Debating how much of what was said was true.

I feel sick to my stomach knowing I had watched a girl just get torn down by her own, so called friends, like that, and didn’t do anything.

I mumble an excuse to my friends leaving the table. They don’t even seem to care emerged in their own conversations about the ‘gossip’.

I speed walk out of the cafeteria to find y/n.

There are only two places I can think of her being at. The girls bathroom, wich is probably not the case since she looked like she wanted to get as far away as possible,

Or her car.

She’d parked next to my van today. So I run out of the school to my car, to see hers still parked next to mine. I glance into it and she’s not in the drivers seat.

I get closer, catching my breath. I look through the window of the backseat seeing her sitting there curled up in on herself.

I knock on the car window catching her attention. Y/n’s beautiful teary eyes meet mine through the tinted glass.

She presses on a button on her car keys, the car unlocking.

Immediately I open the car door and slide in. My gaze soft as I look at the hyperventilating girl in front of me.

I close the door behind me. I gently take the car keys out of her hands. She was clinging to it like her life depended on it. I lock the car again and then lean to the front of the car and toss her keys on the drivers seat.

I turn back to y/n, she had her legs up to her chest hugging them while she continues to sob.

“Matt” she breaths out my name so tenderly.

We weren’t friends. But we shared one class in which we partnered up sometimes.

“Sh, you’re okay y/n” I breathe out. In an instant, my arms wrap around her smaller frame pulling her into me. I hug her from the side, her sobs wracking her body.

“No, no it’s not okay.” She lets out an irritated sigh, her breath hitching as a sobs Tores through her body again. “I just lost all my friends.”

I purse my lips holding her head. I cradle her into my chest. She didn’t deserve to have her stuff aired out like that, but all she was worried about was loosing her fake ass friends?

“Oh baby.” I sigh out. The nickname slips through my lips so effortlessly I didn’t even notice.

I keep her head cradled into my chest while I feel tears start to form in my own eyes.

“They ruined it.” She chokes out again, her voice shaky.

I breathe in heavily. “They ruined what?” I ask gently.

“My reputation”

I pause. My lips quiver at the sound of her cries. I try to blink away my own tears.

“That’s all you care about?” The words leave my lips before they register. I know she cares about all the things others say to her. She just seems like the type to.

“Matt, I spend so much time,” she sobs through the few words she said. Pausing to cry some more at the thought of it. “So, so much time, perfecting myself.”

I hear her pause again, and by this point I can’t hold back my own tears. I let out a soft sob crying with her as I hold her even closer to myself.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s none of their business” her words are soft. But the more she talks the more quiet she gets.

In a way she was like me. Masking her sorrow like that. She always just seemed too perfect to be true.

Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect face. Great humor, nice, kind, popular.

But nobody ever questioned it. She had everyone fooled. She was a great liar. And even though I had my suspicions she never gave me a reason to believe I was right.

I just thought I was delusional for reading into things.

But I was right.

As much as I wish I wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper. I try to breathe hard as to not sob like she was. I wanted to comfort her not cry with her.

She pulls away slightly. I look at her. She still has tears running down her cheeks, not looking like it’d stop soon. She looks up at me through her tear stained lashes, her mascara only slightly smudged.

Her lips quivers as I see another wave of sadness wash over her. “Why are you crying?” She asks her voice shaky. She lets out another choked sob.

Her hands cup my cheeks as we both cry looking at the other. “Please don’t cry,” the sight of my tears only seems to make her more sad.

But seeing the way she looked crying, I only wanted to cry harder.

She still looked perfect. Though her makeup was smudged slightly, her hair messy, her perfect features stained with her tears.

I gently grab her wrists slowly pulling her hands off of my face. I pull up the sleeve of her longs sleeved shirt and flip her arm to look at her wrist.

My gut clenches at the sight of the tiny white healed marks. They were barely noticeable anymore.

I had noticed them before when we had partnered up for some project. But out of respect I didn’t say anything. Besides they weren’t that bad, thin, white stripes messily across her wrist.

For all I knew it could’ve been her cat. I don’t have a cat, and neither have I seen self harm cuts before, so I wouldn’t know the difference.

I purse my lips. I let my head fall forward slightly my eyes closed. I feel sick to my stomach knowing someone as perfect as y/n was, or had been cutting herself at some point.

I hear a choked sob fall from her lips. I feel her intense stare burn through my scalp.

I pick up my head again, my eyes immediately looking to hers. She was crying again. Making me also shed a few tears again.

I bring her wrist up to my face leaving a gentle peck on it.

She watches me. The sight only making her cry more. She closes her eyes briefly.

It wasn’t like she’d expected me out of all people to shame her for her scars. But she also hadn’t expected him to just kiss them.

“You didn’t deserve that sweetheart.” I whisper under my breath. I pull her back in leaving a firm kiss on her forehead before cradling her head back into my chest.

She breaks out into sobs again her arms going under mine and hugging me tightly.

She was clinging to me tightly, her sobs wrecking her body, and also making me cry.

I gently pat down her hair,as she keeps crying, trying to soothe both of us.

“Y/n.” She pulls back slightly, her arm still wrapped around me. “Do you still..” I trail off not wanting to say it. Because if I say it, it’ll be too true.

Her lip quivers as I see her glossy eyes shed tears again. She lets out a gut wrenching sob again pressing her face into my chest again, mumbling “I’m sorry”s over and over again.

I sigh sympathetically, rubbing her scalp. I knew from experience, that after crying so much, your head would hurt so bad. And even though she was still crying I wanted to soothe her.

“Honey.” I say gently pulling her away from me. Our eyes meet briefly before she looks down in shame. I gently grab her cheek again making her look back up at me.

“Where do you cut?” I ask softly. I grimace at the words leaving my lips. I calmed down not crying anymore, but my eyes staying glassy.

Her eyebrows are scrunched together as she slightly pouts. Her eyes were still glassy, threatening to break out in sobs again.

“I don’t do it often..” she whispers under her breath, trying to over herself. Her eyes close briefly shame written all other her face.

“Where.” My tone is still low, but more firm, demanding an answer.

“My thigh.” She lets one of her Chanda fall from around me resting her hand on her very upper right thigh.

My eyes soften even further. My tears had dried in my face by now, but I felt just about ready to cry again.

I shift slightly. Her hand that had still been around me going to the bottom of my shirt and keeping a firm grip on the fabric.

I put my hand on her waist my touch featherlight, not wanting to overstep. “Is this okay?”

She purses her lips. Her eyes stay locked on mine as she tries to read what I’m trying to do. But she ultimately nods.

I put both my hands on her waist and pick her up from next to me putting her on my lap. She lets out a shaky breath her eyes going wide.

“Is this okay?” I enquirer my tone staying low.

Her bottom lip wobbles again. She closes her eyes briefly. “I don’t wanna go anything.” She breaths out her voice small and almost afraid.

My own eyes widen for a second looking back at her. I just realized how bad this looked without context. But I’m not a dick. I want to comfort her, not get in her pants.

I take my hands from her waist putting them on my thighs. Yet she doesn’t make a move off of me. Her hand stayed bunched up on my shirt.

“God, I don’t mean it like that.” I breathe out. “Just, me comforting you would be easier like this?” I says slowly.

Her gaze goes up to meet mine again, her lip quivering holding herself back from crying again.

She leans forward resting her face on my collarbone. She puts her other hand on my chest too as she starts to sob again. my right hand goes to her back rubbing it gently. While my left hand goes to her thigh massaging where her scars presumably were.

Her crying makes me tear up again. So we just cry together. My hand rubbing soothing motions into her back, and my other hand finally going up to cradle her head into me further.

I whisper encouraging words. Until eventually her cries die down, and so do mine.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. The tip of her nose and her cheeks red. And her lips as puffy as her eyes. She is a pretty crier, but the sight still makes me feel remorseful.

I put my hand back on her right thigh gently rubbing circles on it. My other hand going to cup her cheek. She leans into my touch relaxing more. She looked more tired than anything now.

“You can always talk to me, you know that.” I breath out, finally feeling like the lump in my throat was gone.

Her hand cups my wrist keeping my hand in her face. I start to rub her cheek gently looking at her pretty face.

“You can stay with me, Nick and Chris. Alright?” She nods slightly in answer.

I move my hand from her cheek to her hair rubbing at her scalp slightly. “You want me to take you home pretty girl?” I ask softly.

After all we were still in the school parking lot.

“Please.”

Masterlist

A/N: I actually cried writing this. the first part was actually literally me. and i also used to cry a lot, and cut, so this just made me cry while writing, bcs i relate to it so much. i love you all, stay safe & clean <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh

[floralpascal]

The Best Lies

Summary: After you join the 141, Ghost does everything he can to fight his growing feelings for you. But during a night out with you, he finds it harder and harder to ignore.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: a little angst, Ghost agonizes over having feelings, canon-level violence, blood, alcohol/drinking, kissing, semi-public dry humping, fingering, unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), secret relationship

A/N: This truly is 50% Ghost trying to ignore the fact that he's down bad and 50% depraved smut. Writing Ghost losing his mind over having feelings is truly so fun. I hope you all enjoy!

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

Ghost had convinced himself that he had done more than just nip his issue at the bud. He thought he had pulled it out by the roots and set it aflame, never to bother him again. 

And why would he think otherwise? He had done that same thing time and time again, and it had always worked. This time, he thought, would be no different. He had washed his hands of the issue and could continue on like before. 

The problem was that he was dead wrong. This time was different. 

You were different. 

You were the newest member of the 141, a sniper and one of the best hand-to-hand combat specialists he had ever seen. You were a strong woman who fought hard and fast, with an eye for precision. Price had been trying to get you onto the team for months, telling Ghost that he was convinced you were the perfect addition. Price had been right; you were perfect. You fit right in with the guys, kept up with their banter, and were as tough as nails. When you worked, you had a focus that was so zeroed-in that Soap and Gaz had started to liken you to Ghost. 

By all means, you were the best addition to the team that they could have asked for. You weren’t the problem. Ghost was the problem. 

What had started as a small acknowledgment of your attractiveness had slowly grown into something more. It was your quick sarcastic quips that battled with his own, your soothing demeanor and featherlight touch as you patched him up, your ability to make a terrible situation seem better than it was - the list went on. There was something there between the two of you, a connection that he had never experienced before. No, his attraction wasn’t just surface-level, it was something deeper. 

It was something that he wasn’t supposed to feel - on many levels. 

Ghost never got involved, period. He could acknowledge when a woman was attractive, have a night where he gave in to the physical aspect of it, but it never grew to anything. He didn’t let it. He would dispose of those feelings as soon as he registered them. In his line of work and in his experience, feelings were a liability - a luxury that he would always pay the price for. They complicated everything and unusually ended in pain. In short, they were a weakness that needed to be disposed of. 

What was more, you were his subordinate, his teammate. He was a professional, he never let himself feel anything like that for his subordinates. Hell, he barely even had what could be classified as friendships with his subordinates. Soap and Gaz had been the first he had ever shown his face to, and that was after fighting by their side for years. 

The bottom line was that Ghost didn’t let himself get distracted, much less get distracted by a subordinate who was just doing her bloody job. Yet, in a few short months, you had flipped everything Ghost thought about himself on its head. It was disorienting. 

Once he realized what was happening to him, he tried to put a stop to it. He worked with you when he had to, interacted with you when he had to, but besides that, he largely steered clear of you. Whether it was downtime at the base or a night out with the other 141 guys, if you were there, Ghost wasn’t. It was the only solution he had. 

If only it had worked. 

Even staying clear of you couldn’t stop the spread of whatever had taken hold of him. He slipped one day, imagining what your lips would feel like against his while you talked to Price, barely even realizing that he had been staring at your lips the entire time. Not too long after that, you had tried to get his attention while on an assignment, opting to whisper a low, breathless “Ghost!” into the comm. Going straight to the comm in his right ear, the low drawl of his name from your lips was almost like a siren’s call, sending a shiver racing down his spine as he responded back to you. Another day, he caught a glimpse of you training with Soap, watching as you passed his guard and kneeled between his legs as you continued to fight. The sight shouldn’t have sent his blood boiling or sent his thoughts straight into the gutter - you were just training. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw you look up at him as he swiftly left the training room, your piercing gaze following him as you helped Soap up from the floor. 

He didn’t feel anything for you. He didn’t feel anything for you. He repeated it like a mantra, like he could make it come true if only he said it enough, with enough conviction.

So why did he still have a knot in his chest every time he saw you? Every time you spoke through the comms directly into his ear, your voice strong and smooth as honey? Every time your eyes locked with his, an unreadable expression on your face?

He didn’t feel anything for you. He almost made himself believe it.

“Styx, get the fuck out of here!” He bellowed at you. “Leave me! That’s an order!”

It was a stealth job gone south nearly a year and a half after you joined the team, their intel leading them into a pretty nasty situation. Almost everyone had long retreated to safety. 

Ghost was hit, blood streaming from his right thigh. The bullet was still in the wound, making it bad enough to where he could barely put weight on it, considerably slowing down the two of you. He was a liability now, putting you both at risk of being killed or captured. You stayed with him nonetheless, shoulders set with determination. 

“Like hell,” you scoffed as you crouched down to where Ghost sat. Your face was dirty from the fight, your clothes scuffed and torn with a slice cutting through your sleeve from a bullet graze. He tried to push you away, continuing to order you to fall back with the others, but you refused, your burning gaze snapping up to meet his. “Either I get you out of here or we keep bickering right here until they find us and kill us! Your choice.”

Of course you wouldn’t leave him behind. It’s who you were. It’s what made you you, even if it was infuriating to Ghost. Even if he would have done the exact same thing you were if it was you with a bullet wound instead of him. 

His head starting to go fuzzy from the blood loss, his focus wavered.

“Hey,” you called, snapping your fingers in front of him before you started to check his wound. “Eyes on me, Ghost. Stay with me.”

After examining his thigh, you clicked your tongue before finally deciding that the makeshift bandage he had fashioned would be enough to suffice for now. 

Ghost let out a groan, finally letting you pull him up and wrap one of his arms around your shoulders. You took some of his weight, helping him limp a little faster now. He was putting you in more danger, that he knew. If you would’ve just listened to him, your chances of going undetected and making it out of there would’ve been drastically higher. But your grip on the strap of his belt to help ease the weight off of his leg was firm, refusing to let him go.

That same feeling nagged in the back of his mind as you dragged him with you, the blood loss making it harder to ignore the thoughts that he usually shoved down. 

You murmured words of encouragement to him as you walked for what felt like a lifetime.  “Come on, big guy, just a little more. Just a little faster.”

Ghost huffed a small laugh. He was in a haze now, letting words slip past his lips that he would normally have guarded against. “Can’t be sayin’ stuff like that, love. Might give a man the wrong idea.”

Your head snapped to look at him, surprise written in the pinch of your brows. Ghost found enough clarity then to shut up, the reality of what he had just said slowly setting in. Not only had he voiced a sentiment he had barely been willing to admit to himself, he had voiced it to you. 

You examined him for a moment with a confused, analyzing eye. Finally, you huffed out a laugh, your grip tightening on his belt as you readjusted his arm on your shoulder. Your eyes slid over his masked face, a flicker of amusement creeping into your gaze before you turned to look at your surroundings again.

After that, Ghost tried to hold on to every bit of self-control he had left to keep his mouth shut.

You both made it out that day, the two of you banged up and worse for wear, but alive. Ghost had been pretty out of it by the time you got him back to the exfil point. How you had managed to drag the both of you out of there while holding up a man as large as Ghost, he could barely remember, the whole event becoming fuzzier in his mind past the point when he had let those words slip to you.

The shot to his thigh had been a nasty one, leaving him bedridden in the medical area for the next few weeks, per the doctors’ orders. Price made sure Ghost didn’t try to disregard them. 

Ghost told Price what you had done, wanting you to get the credit you deserved for your bravery. Still, it didn’t stop him from thinking that you very well could’ve gotten yourself killed for him. The thought pulled at the familiar knot in his chest.

“What’re you in for?”

Ghost followed the voice to the doorway of his room only to find you leaned against the frame, a small, teasing smile on your lips. You were cleaned up now. Having donned a fresh set of clothes, you now wore a plain black T-shirt tucked into camouflage tac pants. Despite your teasing attitude, your eyelids were heavy, like you had barely slept in the two days you had been back on base. A thick bandage poked out from under your shirtsleeve, covering the area where you had been grazed. Other than that, you seemed like you were in one piece from the entire ordeal. 

Why did that revelation alone release some of the tension in his chest?

“Jus’ a scratch,” he rumbled. He couldn’t help but humor you a little. He gestured to the hospital bed and monitors surrounding him as he huffed, “Bit of an overkill if you ask me.”

You chuckled, pushing yourself off the door frame before coming closer. Voice laced with sarcasm, you said, “Yeah, okay, tough guy.”

It was quiet for a moment, the silence thick and heavy over the two of you. Your eyes slid over him, taking in his condition, your gaze almost too much to handle.

He didn’t feel anything for you. Under the weight of your scrutiny, the thought was more like a pleading prayer.

“You should’ve left me out there,” he asserted, trying to ignore his own thoughts. “You disobeyed a direct order.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands moving defensively to your hips. “I made a call and saved your life. You’d think that would count for something.”

“That wasn’t your call to make.”

“Listen, just because you can’t stand me doesn’t mean that I can’t make a call. You-”

“Is that what you bloody think?” Ghost spat, surprise creeping into his voice.

For the first time, he saw you hesitate. You blinked for a moment. 

“How could I not?” You finally retorted, stepping closer to him, your tired eyes alight with anger. “You avoid me like the damn plague, it seems like you can barely stand me, and you second-guess every call I make. Yet you treat all the guys like your brothers. You trust them when they make a gutsy call. And what? I’m supposed to think you respect me at all?”

Of course that’s what it looked like to you. You had taken his distance to mean that he didn’t want you here, that he didn’t think as highly of you as he did the others.

“I’ll only say this once.” Ghost leaned forward, his eyes locking with yours through the holes in his mask. “You’re wrong. You’ve got my damn respect - have had it for a while, even before this mission. I think you’re one of the toughest people here. But I still gave you an order. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. And that would’ve been on me.”

Whatever you were expecting to hear from him, it wasn’t that. You appraised him, squinting a little as you did. When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter, but still even. Still strong. “I’d do it again.”

Now, it was Ghost who was at a loss for words. He tried to ignore the intensity in your voice, the certainty. As if that wasn’t exactly his issue - that you would be willing to put yourself on the line for him again.

“Y’know,” you mused as you turned and walked back to the door, “usually people just say ‘thank you’ when you save their life.”

With one last glance at him over your shoulder, you were gone. 

~~~

In the months following your confrontation, Ghost stopped avoiding you at all costs, letting himself be closer with you again. The fact that you had taken his distance to mean that he thought less of you gnawed at him in a way that was damn near painful. Ghost’s issues were his own - he wasn’t going to take them out on you anymore by avoiding you. He shoved those thoughts for you down into the recesses of his brain, thinking that this time, the tactic might actually work. 

You seemed happy about his change in demeanor. While you said nothing to point it out, he saw how you gradually relaxed around him over time. You were quick to joke with him now, your sarcastic quips as precise as your aim, as if you knew that your banter made it easier for him. You were lighter with him now, ignoring the weight of that mission. Most of the time, he could, too.

Most of the time.

I’d do it again. The words rang in his ears each time he saw you now. They dug at him, called to him. It was maddening. The weight of those words remained heavy on his chest, their meaning something he was wary to look too closely into.

Tonight, he found you at a small pub a few streets over from the hotel the 141 had been staying at in some small Irish town, your elbows resting on the sleek wooden bar as you swirled a whiskey in its glass. You seemed deep in thought, your eyes only half-watching the amber liquid spin under the pub’s dim, warm yellow lights.

“The guys all leave?” Ghost asked, pulling you from your thoughts. A small smile played at the edge of your lips as you turned towards him, gently placing the glass back on the table.

“Yeah, they all left me,” you sighed dramatically. “Price went to see an old friend here in town. Soap and Gaz wanted to go check out a pub a couple blocks over from here.”

Ghost paused for a minute to order a bourbon from the bartender. “And you didn’t wanna go?”

You shook your head. “The place sounded a little too loud for my liking.”

Ghost made a noise in solidarity, picking up the glass the bartender had placed down for him. Your taste in pubs, he had learned, was close to both his and Price’s: laidback and quiet. Sure enough, this pub was just that. It was an old vintage-style pub, one that didn’t attract a loud, rowdy crowd. The small number of patrons were mostly older people - locals, by the looks of them - laughing softly as most of them paid attention to the football game on the television. It was the kind of pub people went to when they were looking for a warm, peaceful night. It made it easier to relax a little in this strange pub in this strange city. In your line of work, that was a difficult feat to accomplish. 

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you for a while, both of you nursing your drinks.

But something was on Ghost’s mind, something that had been sitting with him for months. He broke the silence to say only, “Thank you.”

You turned to look at Ghost, an eyebrow raised. You hesitated for a moment, seemingly unsure that you had heard him correctly. “Huh? What for?”

“I never said it,” he explained simply, voice even and calm. “For savin’ my life ‘n all.”

You appraised him for a moment, taken aback by his admission. The two of you had barely talked about what happened that day. Finally, you nodded. “Still think I was wrong for disobeying your order?”

“No,” he admitted, quickly adding, “just don’t make a habit of it, yeah?”

You nodded, chuckling a little before you took the final sip of your drink. “Of course.”

It was quiet for another moment before you set your empty glass down with a clink. When the bartender came back around, you handed him enough money to pay for both your drinks and Ghost’s. Then, you turned back to Ghost and said, “You sure are… talkative when you get shot.”

Ghost averted his eyes from you at that, opting instead to watch the other patrons as they celebrated their team’s goal. His only response was, “It was blood loss.”

When he looked back to you, your piercing eyes were trained on his. You seemed like you were trying to piece him together, to figure out the puzzle of him. 

“Blood loss or not, I never took you as the kind of guy to have his head in the gutter like that,” you teased, your tone light. Underneath the teasing tone though, laid something more serious. Something Ghost hoped he was wrong about. 

“I’m not.” It was a lie. He knew it. The worst part was that you knew it, too. 

A smirk played at the edge of your lips at that.

“Sure you’re not, Ghost,” you teased. You stood from your seat then before you leaned in close to Ghost’s ear, your hand gliding along his shoulder. Voice near a whisper, sweet and honeyed, you added, “Can’t be saying things like that, then. Might give a girl the wrong idea.”

With that, you were gone. By the time Ghost turned around, you were halfway to the door, shooting him a sultry, burning look over your shoulder. It was a look he had never seen from you before, a look he was sure was aided by the whiskey you had been drinking. It was an invitation extended to him under the dim yellow lights of the pub.

It was the first blatant sign he had seen that you were interested in him like that - that it hadn’t just been him afflicted by whatever this was. 

In the split second your eyes locked with his, a million thoughts ran through his mind, all saying that he definitely shouldn’t take the invitation, shouldn’t follow you. For one, it would undo all the work he had done to ignore his own thoughts about you. Not to mention the fact that he was your superior and all the hardline rules that very clearly stated that he shouldn’t unless he wanted to risk his entire career. 

But what if he did? What if he gave in to you this one time? What if all he needed was a night with you to finally get you out of his damn head? He could have you once and finally be able to get over the hold you had on him. To let go, maybe all he had to do was give in.

Fuck.

Ghost abandoned his seat in a moment. Weaving his large frame through the tables and patrons, his eyes were trained on you as you slipped through the front door. He caught it right as it swung closed from you, hot on your tail. Pushing out into the cold, crisp night air, he found you barely two steps away from him. You turned when you saw him, a small smile blooming across your face.

Ghost was on you, his hands grabbing your hips as he pulled the both of you into the alley. Shrouded in darkness, he pressed your back to the brick wall of the pub before shoving the lower part of his mask just above his mouth. Before he could even move again, your hand came to wrap around the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a rough, messy kiss. 

It was better than he imagined. You were better than he imagined, the feeling of your plush lips on his almost making him forget why he had held himself back from you for so long. 

He caged you in against the wall, one hand grasping against the rough, scratchy surface as he leaned in while the other held your head in place. You pulled at him, fervent and insistent as you drew him ever closer to you. Shifting in your hold, he slotted his knee between your legs, maneuvering so that his large, muscular thigh rested against your clothed center. When you gasped against him, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue along yours, the thick, heady taste of your whiskey mixing with his bourbon. It was the taste of you, though, that was intoxicating. More so than any drink he could have ordered. 

As you ground down against his thigh, your tongue met his with equal fervor. And while you grasped the back of Ghost’s mask in your desperation, he knew you would make no effort to pull it from him. How he knew that was a mystery even to him. All he knew was that the way you tugged at his hair through the mask sent him careening over the edge of a chasm that he couldn’t see the bottom of.

His hand left the wall beside you to firmly grasp your waist, urging you to increase the speed of your hips against him. Flexing his thigh, another gasp fell from your mouth. It was maddening, a sound he knew he had to draw out of you again, only louder and unobstructed. The sound shot through him like adrenaline, fast and exhilarating. 

For the first time in a long time, Ghost felt truly awake. It was like a fire had been lit in his veins and you were the gasoline fueling the raging flames. 

Suddenly, a loud group of people passed by the alley on the adjoining street, voices ringing out in conversation. All at once, Ghost was reminded that you were both out in the open, albeit tucked into a dark alley. You broke from the kiss, your mind seemingly on the same track.

“My room,” you offered breathlessly. “At the hotel.”

“Lead the way, Styx.”

You made the quick walk back to the small hotel with Ghost in tow, winding through the dimly illuminated streets and alleys with an illicit sort of stealth and swiftness, the both of you keeping an eye out for any of the other guys along the way. While you both knew that you wouldn’t see any of them again tonight, neither of you could seem to help it. You both knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this. 

Yet, neither of you put a stop to whatever this was either.

Ghost had you pressed up against the door to your room the moment you locked it, your back to his chest and arms extended to brace yourself against the sleek black wood. His mask once again pushed to just under his nose, he lavished hungrily at your neck just below the ear, earning another sharp gasp from you. His hands dipped to the front of your jeans, racing to blindly undo them. Movements deft, efficient, and precise, his fingers were quickly past the undone line of your jeans and slipping under the band of your underwear.

“You want this?” he rasped, both because he needed the confirmation that you were completely in and because he wanted to hear the way you would sound.

“Yes,” you rushed almost immediately, a newfound desperation lining your voice. You moved your ass back against him, pressing yourself against his covered erection and he had to hold himself back from rutting into you. “Fuck, Ghost…”

Ghost nipped at your ear as he stilled your hips, his right hand drawing lower under your underwear. 

“Easy,” he warned. ”Gotta open you up first.”

With that, his fingers finally met your core, gliding through your soaked folds. He groaned at the feeling of you already dripping for him, your underwear even damp with your arousal. He dragged some of your slick up from your entrance until he found the small bundle of nerves that had you rolling your hips forward in his grasp. Completely encircling you from behind with his body, he held you flush to him while he rubbed hard and fast circles between your thighs. 

Melting into his touch, you started to move your left hand from the door to grasp for him. His free hand stopped you in only a moment, grabbing your wrist and replacing it back in its previous position.

“Hands stay there,” he ordered. For once, you actually listened, opting instead to claw your fingers against the wood as he slipped two fingers past your entrance and into your heat. He moved achingly slow at first, letting you feel the way his fingers dragged along your walls, filling and stretching your tight cunt already. You moaned, your head falling back to rest against his broad chest. 

“Ghost… Ghost, faster,” you pleaded, voice airy. The satisfaction he got from your desperate request was all too strong, more than he had ever experienced before. It shot through him like a drug, fast and disorienting. 

He picked up the pace, steadily building up to a pace that had your knees ready to give out. Wrapping his free arm around your middle, he held you steady while he wrecked you with his fingers. He tried not to think about the fact that it had only been a few months ago that it had been you holding him up, that now he got to return the favor to you in a much more pleasurable way. 

When you cried out for him, Ghost whispered into your ear, parroting your own words from that fateful mission, “Just a little more.” 

With that, he added a third finger, holding his blistering pace. The sounds you made were utterly debauched, utterly sinful. He should have been worried about how loud you were - surely others in the hotel could hear your moans. You would be lucky if there weren’t complaints to the management by morning. It was reckless… but Ghost couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too enraptured by the ringing of your voice as you fell apart beneath his touch. 

It only took another minute for you to come undone around him, your muscles tensing around his fingers, squeezing him as your mouth fell open in a silent scream while he worked you through it. 

After you had begun to relax, a sweet whine leaving your lips, he finally slowed his pace to a stop. He pulled out of you then, drawing his hand up to his mouth to suck them clean. Eyes blown wide with lust, you turned to watch him as he slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth, the tang of your cum one that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget. You watched his display until the tip of his middle finger left his lips. Then, you turned so swiftly he could barely register it and pushed up to kiss him again, your tongue dipping into his mouth to taste yourself as you threw your arms over his shoulders. 

A groan left Ghost, one that surprised even him. It was so much. The taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your body under his hands, and the way you grasped at his back to pull him closer all had his head swimming, his usual cool-headed clarity quickly becoming muddled. His heart was hammering in his chest, his cock so hard it was aching in his jeans.

Alarm bells rang in his head, telling him that he was in too deep. Never had he ever been this… wrecked from sex before he had even gotten his cock out of his underwear. Something was different this time. That feeling was back in his chest - the one he wouldn’t put a name to. 

But he couldn’t turn back now. His sense was far too gone for that. 

Ghost effortlessly lifted you up from the floor before carrying you to the bed. When your back lightly hit the mattress, your mouth open in a surprised oh, he was already on top of you. He helped you peel the clothes from your body, his own clothes soon joining yours on the floor, save for the mask. 

You looked so beautiful like this, spread out under Ghost like a dream. It was like every one of his long-ignored thoughts about you had come to life. Your hungry eyes, the way he could see every dip and plane and curve of your body like this, the way you practically glowed in the moonlight that poured into the darkened room… the sight made him finally let go of all his inhibitions about having you. He would deal with the consequences later. 

Suddenly, he realized that he had just been staring at you. 

You quirked an eyebrow at him, an easy smile on your lips. “Enjoying the view?”

In lieu of a reply, he leaned down, grabbed your chin, and smashed his lips into yours as he ground his hips against you, his cock sliding along your slickened folds.

“Ghost,” you breathed against him. He wished you wouldn’t say his name like that - like he was something good for you. Yet, it still only made his cock ache more. “Just - fuck - just fuck me already.”

“This isn’t gonna be soft, Styx,” he warned, lining his cock up with your entrance. 

You gave him a small smirk, eyes full of mischief as you replied, “Good.”

Fucking hell, you were trying to kill him. 

Ghost pushed inside of you slowly at first, reveling in the way you felt around him as you squeezed him, all molten heat and velvet. He draped himself over you, one hand planted on either side of your head, and watched as your eyes rolled back, your breathing becoming ragged once again. Your nails bit into his shoulder blades as you tried to adjust to him, the sting ever so satisfying against his skin. 

“You’re s-so - ah - so big,” you mumbled, almost to yourself. 

Buried to the hilt in you, he waited until he felt you begin to relax.

Then, Ghost threw himself into the flames. 

He almost drew out of you completely before slamming back into you. And if he thought your sounds before were something to behold, the moans you let out now were nothing short of divine. Again. And again. And again.

He fucked you into the mattress so hard the bed shook and groaned with the force of each thrust, devolving into one never-ending cacophony as his speed increased. Your tits bounced with each impact and he dropped his head to take one nipple into his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue before moving to the other. Using one hand to hold onto his shoulders for dear life, you roughly fisted the sheets with the other, searching for any point of stability you could find as your world rocked. 

When he lifted from your chest, he found your head tilted back on the mattress, neck outstretched and straining. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your face contorted in pure pleasure. 

Yet, something gnawed at Ghost, an urge so deep and so powerful he was useless to hold out against.

“Eyes on me, Styx.”

Your eyes blinked open, fluttering for a moment as you tried to refocus your gaze. Finally, your eyes locked with his, as piercing as ever. That feeling flared in his chest again, his next few thrusts even harder than before. It was like he was drowning, only in the best possible way.

He watched the force of each thrust as it rocked through you, every twitch of your face and desperate grasp of your hand in the sheets. He watched the way you drank him in, eyes hooded and hungry as they held his gaze. 

“Ghost.” 

It was a plea. A demand. One he was all too eager to give in to.

Connected your lips again as one of his hands wound up to the hand you had fisted in the sheets. His fingers wrapping around your wrist, he guided your hand above your head and pinned it to the mattress. He felt you groan into the kiss before you slipped your tongue into his mouth, heated and messy. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was all too much. He was enjoying this all too much. You were too good, too addicting. 

You were taking him deeper than he had ever been. Your cunt threatened to pull him under, the pleasure of your tight walls too intense. He was only a step away from the edge, having to hold himself back from going over before you. 

Ghost used his free hand to grab one of your legs and hook it over his hip.

Like this, his movement told you. 

Taking the hint through your haze, you brought your other leg up around his hip and locked them together behind him. 

Instantly, you broke from the kiss, a broken moan ringing in his ears and vibrating against his lips. They flowed freely from you now, the beautiful sound filling the room. He couldn’t hold in his own grunts anymore, one for every snap of his hips against yours. 

Ghost felt you tense a moment before it happened, your body going rigid and your moan abruptly cut. Then, you were squeezing him so tight, it ripped a deep, guttural moan from his chest. The force of your orgasm rocked through you, seeming like you were trying to pull him over that same edge with you. Surely enough, with a few more rocks of his hips, he felt that heat as he released, coating your walls with his cum, your release taking every bit of him with you. 

Before he could pull out of you, spent and panting, your hand found his covered cheek, the cloth warm under your touch, and guided his lips back to yours again. Your kiss was slow. Deliberate. Heavy. A hint of something deeper on your lips. 

And as he ducked out of your room that night, the moonlight seeming dimmer in his room than it had been when it was illuminating your face, Ghost tried to push all his thoughts of you away for good. 

He had his fill and now he was done. 

He could move on. 

He didn’t feel anything for you. 

They were all good lies. For the best lies were the lies he told himself. 

[sunny44]

All these years (Part 6)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend Reader

Warnings: a few conflicts and stuff

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

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The party was starting, and Arthur and Carla were having their slow dance as a couple. I was smiling, watching them until the music ended and another one started, and other couples hit the dance floor.

"Do you want to dance?"

"With you? No, thank you," I replied. He rolled his eyes and took my hand, pulling me. "Are you deaf?"

"Can you stop hating me for a minute and just enjoy the party?" I sighed and put my arms over his shoulders. "Your mother is smiling at us like a psychopath; I'd say the Joker's smile is smaller."

"I'm sure she is," I rolled my eyes, and he looked puzzled.

"Are you two okay?"

"We haven't been okay for years."

"What do you mean?"

"Since we broke up, she never treated me normally. She said I should have given up my job and stayed here, married you, and stayed home like a typical 50s woman, taking care of the kids while you work to support the family," I said, and he continued to look at me. "Her ideal family is one where the woman doesn't work, and the man provides, and that's definitely not for me."

"So, she treats you badly because we broke up?"

"Exactly. So, besides having to deal with what you told me, I had to deal with the fact that my own mother defends the guy I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with when, in fact, I was completely wrong."

"Sorry for ruining so many things in your life."

"It's okay. In the end, I got most of what I always dreamed of, so..." He agreed.

The music ended and dinner was about to be served, so we all went to our respective seats.

A few hours had passed since we were at the party; I danced until I couldn't anymore and went to change into a shorter dress and definitely put on sneakers. Then I returned to the party, and Carla was about to throw the bouquet. Of course, I didn't want to participate, but my mother pushed me, and since they were recording it for memories, I couldn't just walk away. I just needed to dodge it.

But, of course, it went wrong because instead of the classic back toss, the bride simply turned and threw it at me and out of instinct, I caught it.

"I think you should throw it again; I don't even have a boyfriend." I extended the bouquet to her, and she declined.

"You don't have one, but there are some who wish you did," she pointed to where Charles was smiling at me.

"You'll pay me for this," I muttered through gritted teeth, and she laughed.

"When you're marrying him, you'll thank me for this."

"Keep dreaming about that."

She laughed, and I went to the table to leave the bouquet, and when I turned around, Charles was there, and I bumped into his chest.

"I told you we'd get married."

"We're not getting married, Charles, we're not even dating."

"We've moved past the dating part."

"We've definitely moved on so much that we broke up," he rolled his eyes.

"That's just a technicality," I scoffed, and he took my hand. "Come on, let's dance again."

"Okay, let's hear the toast." their mother said on the microphone, and Charles pulled me closer to the stage. "Charles is taking care of this because I know if I do it, I'll start crying and ruin the party."

He let go of my hand and climbed on stage, adjusted his shirt; he had already ditched the tie and was only wearing the shirt, giving a glimpse of his chest.

"Well, I haven't rehearsed or written anything because I think there's nothing better than saying the words we feel we should say at the moment, so here we go," he took a deep breath. "The moment you meet the right person, your entire perception of life changes. A life that you had planned with what you want and don't want changes completely because you love that person so much that you include them not only in your life but in your purposes as well. You imagine celebrating life's small victories with that person, and the little things that you didn't care about before become significant when you have someone to share them with."

By now, I was already crying because to a certain extent, we had all that; the small things became huge when we celebrated them together.

"And many times, we only realize how important that person is to us when we lose them," he continued speaking, and I felt eyes on me, probably from our families. "So, it makes me very happy to know that my little brother Arthur found the right person to spend his life with and enjoy the simple moments that life offers us. TO THE BRIDE AND GROOM!"

Everyone applauded, and before leaving the stage, he looked directly at me; I could see that his eyes were also filled with tears, but the difference was that I was on the verge of sobbing.

I decided to go to the bathroom to calm down. I entered it and went into one of the stalls, sat on the toilet lid, and let all the pent-up sadness and anxiety pour out. I heard the door opening and suppressed my cries, placing my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.

"Hey, I know you're in here," the voice continued as I sat there. "Come out so we can talk."

I stood up and after a few seconds of contemplation, I decided to leave the stall, unlocking the door. He had a half-smile and hugged me. I buried my face in his chest, allowing all that agony and sadness I was feeling to spill out. He kissed my forehead, and one of his hands was on my back.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"The speech?"

"No, not the speech, why did you have to ruin the best thing that had ever happened in my life?"

"I don't know babe, I don't know," he kissed my forehead.

"I just wanted you to be happy for me. I wanted to come home and tell you that I had gotten the best opportunity for someone who had just graduated and all I got were screams and disapproval," he remained silent. "You treated me as if I were nothing in your life, as if I had meant nothing to you."

"But you were and tou still are the most important person in my life, and I made a mistake, a mistake in letting you walk out that door," I sniffed and let go of him.

"You don't know how many times I regretted letting you leave through that door or how many times I wanted to find you."

"But you never did."

"I did, yes," he looked at me. "A few months later, I went to Milan to find you, and I saw you smiling and walking with another guy, and I thought I had already moved on, so I decided not to ruin your life anymore."

"That was Benny, my college friend, and he's gay."

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. When Arthur told me he was going to propose to Carla and how he was going to do it, all I could think about was you and how much I thought about doing that with you. I love you, and I will always love you, Y/n."

"Sorry, but this is the women's bathroom." Charlotte entered and smiled when she saw us. "Hi again, Charles, your mom is looking for you and what happened to your shirt?"

"I accidentally got makeup on it," I said, wiping my tears.

"You were crying? My goodness, are you okay? Do you need anything?" She asked me and I smiled.

"No, thank you, Charlotte."

"I'll talk to your brother and see if there's any spare clothing."

"Don't worry about that; I can cover it with my arms and put on the blazer again."

He left the bathroom, and she smiled at me, turned on the faucet, and wet some tissues, passing them over my eyes, probably eyeshadow.

“I'll help you.” she takes the bag from me and hands me a handkerchief. “Are you all right?”

“I can't say, we have a bit of a troubled past.”

“It was you he was referring to in his speech, wasn't it? I saw that he was looking at someone but I couldn't see who it was.”

“It was about me, yes.”

“I'm really sorry and I don't know what happened to you but he seems really sorry." she says, rubbing something in my eyes that I think is a shadow.

“I know.”

After she helped me, I went back to the party. I don't think anyone had noticed that I was missing, which I was thankful for, because I didn't want to have to explain why I was different from before.

“Hey, are you okay?” Arthur appears with Megan.

“I am.”

“You sure?” I agree. “I'll be right back.”

“Charles was with you, right?” she asks and I agree.

“How did you know?”

“Because he went out and put his blazer back on and you're wearing different make-up, and I know when you're crying. Not to mention that Charles and you disappeared right after his speech.”

“Yeah, what he said got to me more than I thought it would.”

“He meant it.”

“I know he has.”

"Can I ask you two questions, and you answer honestly and without irony?”

I nodded in agreement.

"Do you still love him?"

"Yes." I answered without thinking twice

"Do you still think you can give him a chance?"

"I don't know; it's all so confusing. As much as I love him and want to go to him now and forgive him and never let him go, I also want to keep my heart away from him because I don't want him to break it again."

"Can I be honest?" I nodded. "I've lived with you both for years, I've seen you be everything to each other and I've also seen you become nothing afterwards. I've lived with you both all these years you've been apart and believe me, he's changed a lot. Charles is no longer the same guy he was when he said those things to you.

And you know that as your best friend I would never lie to you and as much as I love Charles I will always be there for you. Without you I probably wouldn't have met the love of my life who I'm married to right now. So trust me on this one and go after him, say what you feel and say what you're afraid of and be together again, you don't know how bad it is to see two people who clearly love each other stay away from each other."

"I'm just scared."

"I know you are, and you wouldn't be human if you weren't. But you might regret it if you don't try. You've been apart for years and it will be like starting over because, besides not being the same people anymore, you don't know what each other is like. This is your fresh start, Y/n. Charles is completely different from what you remember, so everything will be different."

I wiped a tear that had fallen, hugged her, and she smiled at me.

"I'm going to talk to him.” she said, excited, and Arthur appeared again.

"What did I miss?"

"Y/n is going to talk to your brother," she said, and Arthur did a little dance, making me laugh.

"I'm so happy about that.” he kissed my forehead. "Well, I think I'd better go after him because he's leaving."

"I'm going now."

I ran outside and saw that it was raining, and from a distance, I saw Charles heading towards his car. I started walking fast, but with those damn heels, I'd never catch up with him.

I stopped to take them off and started running; on the way, I shouted his name and he stopped, looking at me in confusion. I ran even faster and managed to reach him.

"What are you..."

"Just shut up." I said and kissed him.

I held his face with both hands after I left the heels on the ground; he didn't understand for a few seconds, but soon he reciprocated. Charles put his hands on my waist, squeezing it lightly, and we separated for lack of breath; our foreheads were touching, and I could see him smiling with his eyes closed. The rain was still falling and getting stronger.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why did you do that?"

"Because I realized that even after all these years, I still feel everything when you're near me, and it was just that quick 'hi' you gave me on the day we saw each other again, and in a second, everything I felt for you came back." He was still motionless, listening to what I was saying. "And you probably don't know this, but you're the only one, even after all these years."

"What does all this mean?"

"It means I love you, Charles Leclerc and I always will."

He smiled and kissed me again, and my God, how I missed that kiss and his touch.

"I love you too, and I always will, Y/n Y/l/n."

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[multifandom-pleasures]

shadow x reader

you walked into shadow staring intently at the coffee machine set inside the kitchenette of robotnik’s ship. he’d been recently freed from his cryogenic chamber and was growing accustomed to the more modern life; considering the time he was last roaming was 50 odd so years ago; and figuring out the functions of everything onboard. he always bragged of his power and intelligence, so it was quite humorous to see him grumbling to himself as he attempted to figure out the little machine that sat atop the counter.

“ figured it out yet? “ you called to him from the doorframe, the only signal that he heard you was a small twitch from his ear. after a beat of silence he spoke.

“ how long have you stood there for. “

“ long enough. “ he seemed annoyed at that, shoulders hunching for a moment before he crossed his arms and turned to face you, his constant face of stoicism remaining.

“ I have not. “ he admitted, looking like the statement didn’t affect him - even though you knew he knew that you’d seen him glaring at the coffee machine. a smile twitched at the corner of your lip as you made your way over to him.

“ have you ever even had coffee? “ you asked as you slipped beside him to open up a cabinet, stretching for a mug that lay on the shelf.

“ no, but it’s tempted me. dr. robotnik - “ he paused and grimaced, “ gerald, my creator, would drink it often when doing tasks and experiments on the ark. he would not let me try it. “

“ what, he said no and you listened? “ you teased, and he frowned at you, looking somewhat sheepish. it was silly through other’s eyes, “ well, anyways, I’ll show you how it works. wanna try a flavor or just plain coffee? “

“ flavors? “ shadow seemed intrigued, watching as you pulled over a little pod carousel. you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the way he peered over your shoulder to examine the selection, which caused him to promptly step aside.

“ yeah - there’s like.. caramel, vanilla, hazelnut, toffee nut, pumpkin spice.. and then just regular one without any flavor. robotnik likes that one. it’s gross. “ shadow gave you a pointed look and reached to nab a pod from the holder, giving it to you. you judged him silently for the selection, but obeyed and popped open the top.

“ you put this little pod in here, and then close it. “ you explained your actions as you did them, and then grabbed the mug to put into the slotted section in the machine, “ then, these buttons up top are for the size cup. always just pick the middle one, all our mugs are the same. “ you could feel the hedgehog’s body heat returning close beside you as he watched you, looking too intensely considering the fact it was just coffee, “ then, you press this big button and it’ll do the rest on its own. “

you stepped back as the machine began to make a subtle sound, and coffee began to drip into the cup. you looked over to shadow and smiled smugly.

“ can the ultimate life form handle that next time? “ he huffed at you, throwing a glare before his focus returned to the machine before you, watching the steady stream and the scent of roasted coffee beans beginning to fill the room.

“ and it stops on its own? “ you nod, and he looked slightly impressed. you both stood in somewhat comfortable silence as the machine worked, and as the final drips settled into the mug, you motioned for him to grab onto it.

“ it’s hot though, so careful - don’t burn yourself. “ shadow scoffed as his gloved hand reached for the ceramic.

“ I think I can manage it. “ he replied, bringing the mug up to his face in order to sniff, and when he seemed pleased at the aroma he sipped. you noticed his eye twitch slightly, and he turned away as he swallowed down the liquid. when he faced you again you held a smirk, raising a brow, “ shut up. “

you both moved to the little dining table - two chairs, one for each of you. there was never any need for more as it was only you and robotnik who ever used the kitchen. shadow had allowed his drink to cool down considerably before attempting another sip, and you watched as his eyes slid closed and a soft little hum rise from his throat. when he opened his eyes again, you gave him a smile.

“ like it? “

“ it’s.. pleasant. bitter but, not unbearably so. “ he replied, lifting the mug once more to drink from it. he nodded and sighed, “ yes, I like it. “ you gave a small, triumphed cheer as you rose from your seat.

“ great! now we can spend our morning making coffee together. “ you padded your way to make your own cup of coffee, unaware of the steely, red eyes following your movements, “ maybe I can get you to try the other flavors - they’re definitely better than just plain black y’know. and there’s soooo many.. “

too enraptured in your talking and moving, you didn’t catch the glimpse of a smile shadow wore, sitting patiently awaiting for you as he continued to sip from his mug.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Top 5 platonic friendship moments

Thank you SO much for asking me this, I love friendship!!!!

Nick and Sand Kissing in Only Friends, Ep. 9

gif by @aprilblossomgirl

I know you have your thoughts on Only Friends at this point because of how it ended, but there were a lot of things I do think Only Friends got right, one of my favorites being the platonic make out session between Nick and Sand. I mean, we talked about this before. It felt so queer, and it also did a really great job showing the difference between platonic and romantic feelings, because the kiss gave us nothing, and did the same for Team Second Option. I will forever love the fact that they made out, giggled, cuddled, and then giggled some more about it because it was kinda awkward and a little embarrassing, but they love each other as friends and that kiss changed literally nothing about their dynamic.

Porjai giving Mhok a Massage in Last Twilight, Ep 6

gif by @khaopybara

I like that some of the shows this year are starting to get in to the relationship dynamics of exes who stayed friends after. Like, listen, I've never been in a relationship before, and I know why it does happen where exes never really speak again, but it never made sense to me why 99% of the ex-partner relationship dynamics I've ever seen are bad. Like, this is a person who matter so much to you, and then you're just never going to see them or talk to them again? I love this massage moment that Porjai has with Mhok especially because it feels familial and familiar and friendly, and it is the scene that made me be like "man I can't believe they used to date" in exactly the same way that Porjai was confused when Day called Mhok her boyfriend.

Wataru Being a Little Shit on Shiro's Birthday in What Did You Eat Yesterday? Season 2, Ep. 7

Wataru is such a little shit, and I love him desperately, and his whole relationship with Shiro and Kenji is so strange. He's such a complainer, and while it can feel like the four gay men in this show hang out and are friends because they are the only gay people they know, it is moments like these that sell their actual friendship for me. Sending your friend a bouquet with a MASSIVE 50 balloon in it because you know it'll piss them off is pique best friend behavior.

Gay Boy Cuddle Pile in A Boss and a Babe, Ep. 9

gif by @paisky

I am not immune to a gay boy cuddle pile. I will never be immune to a gay boy cuddle pile.

Having had multiple conversations with a straight male friend about how much cis men lack platonic, physical touch from friends I now get emo about when boys hug, cuddle, kiss cheeks, hold hands with each other especially if they are not dating or hoping to date.

Rose Trying to Steal Charn's Phone in Laws of Attraction, Ep. 4

gif by @panncakes

It's such sibling energy, and I love it so much. As an immature adult, I love when adultier adults than me are shown being childish/immature themselves. No one should be expected to be put together all the time, and I moments like these show such a beautiful form of love.

and cause Laws of Attraction is technically a lakorn...

Sailom and Yiwa in the entirety of Wedding Plan

They love each other so much they were going to enter a Lavendar Marriage just so that Yiwa especially could be free. I can't say much about them because if I start talking about them I won't stop. But it is by far the most sacred form of platonic love we've had all year.

ASK ME MY TOP 5 OF ANYTHING BL 2023

[jeonscatalyst]

https://x.com/inkedjkk/status/1831670685305114941?t=JUfQ9UQXLYowW2zfP1KgUA&s=19

Mind you this is some 9k+ followers acct

https://x.com/pinkorangesun/status/1831647803803902094?t=Gl9Z92VsCpcCa5GBQKJdOw&s=19

https://x.com/jikookreports/status/1831664356150386976?t=bWMuICdCMpkc3t7MGBTZng&s=19

I actually don't wish to be like a Tkkrs even on my worst enemy cause the guarantee of you ever turning to a normal human is 0 % there.

You know why I would never take these people seriously? They don’t even believe the things they say. They have spent years calling us jokers, laughing at us for believing in what we believe in and thinking we are gullible and stupid for letting the “company narrative” cloud our judgement of reality but look at the things they do. Why on earth would anyone feel the need to intentionally manipulate sub titles just to make it seem like Jk didn’t want to be there unless they are mighty insecure? I swear I wouldn’t feel the need to do any of these unless I am seriously worried that Jk might have been there because he actually wanted to be and I need to convince myself and my minions that he didn’t want to so we can feel better.

The funniest thing is, taekookers will have a much easier time if they just accepted that Jimin and Jungkook are friends who love each other. Because even if you really believe taekook is real why do you need to try to hard to invalidate the friendship of Jungkook and one of the members he’s known for over a decade? Friends can travel and do shows together can’t they? We know that Jungkook has been on multiple private trips with his friends outside of BTS, they’ve been around each other so much in chapter so why can’t they continue believing in their ship and just regard Jimin as one of Jk’s other friends? Unless they can’t do this because there is a part of them that sees exactly what we see and that frightens them. I have recieved asks from people sending me what some of the taekook blogs on here are saying and it is beyond ridiculous.

Imagine claiming that Jk was on his phone alot because Tae wasn’t in this episode like we didn’t all watch Tae spend 3/4 of his time in episode 4 and 5 on his phone when Jk was seated right next to him. So by their logic Tae has another lover who kept distracting him right? Plus Jk was actually on his phone in the episodes in Jeju too but it wasn’t as noticeable because there were two other people we could pay attention to while he was a bit distracted on his phone but when have taekookers ever cared for logic?

Imagine them also saying that Jk looked like he didn’t want to be there with Jimin in Sapporo Lmaoo. I think these people are forgetting that the trip in NY was the only one Jimin himself suggested. The trips to Jeju and Sapporo were BOTH Jimin and Jungkook’s ideas and from the look of things Jungkook might have been the one who suggested they go to Sapporo together, I mean he said this….

They also seem to forget that Jungkook is the one who spoke about wanting to do this till they are 50 and from the look of things he wasn’t joking because after NY, they went on to shoot in 2 other locations and might have done more if they had more time. Untop of that Jk basically spent this entire episode saying this….

I know they have never been good at listening to Jk but isn’t it common sense to know that if someone really doesn’t enjoy doing something they wouldn’t wanna do it again? Plus this whole travel show wasn’t an idea that came from the company (because I jusy know they would throw in the contract bullshit) this whole thing was only possible because Jimin and Jungkook wanted it to be. Jimin pitched the idea to the company with Jungkook’s approval and they made it happen so if Jungkook didn’t want it in the first place, even the NY trip wouldn’t have happened and that’s a fact.

They can go on crying about how Jk didn’t wanna be there even though we know he was the one who wanted to go back, or talk about how Jimin and Jungkook have no chemistry (we all saw the great chemistry taekook had in the jeju episodes with Tae being more interested in his phone and bed than anything else while Jungkook kept talking and interacting with Jimin mostly) but at the end of the day, when they look at this picture they know Jk was happy af to be there and only wanted to go back with the same person he was there with in 2017……

So let the haters cry. Let them gaslight themselves the way Jungkook was trying to gaslight himself about not liking the spicy braised chicken in Jeju lol. Let them continue convincing themselves that Jk had an awful time and only did it because he was contractually bound to while they have to wake up seeing this big smiles on his face while he is having a kdrama moment in the snow with his Jiminie hyung😌

PS: Notice how Jungkook said he normally doesn’t like walking? But we know that the longest walk he has had in his life was in Japan with Jimin where they even had to walk slowly because Jimin’s feet hurt and here he is in Sapporo again walking with Jimin because he doesn’t mind walking in the snow with his Jiminie hyung🥰

[neyafromfrance95]

are we EVER going to talk about the ageism against women properly?

bc it has been growing rampant in gen z and the arguments against it aren't exactly addressing the issue through examining the double standards people have for women and men.

yes, ageing is a privilege but i don't think that this argument is doing anything to dismantle the patriarchal mentality that is ingrained in our culture.

in many ways, people's counterpoint to "women expire after the xyz age" is basically "well, ageing is a privilege and natural so you should be ok with being an expired undesirable grandma whose only purpose is taking care of children bc at least you're not dead". we are never going to actually dismantle the ageism against women if this is our only argument.

we have to address the fact that women aren't allowed the same standards that men are.

men are allowed to have two types of desirability - a boy and a man. we don't say that men in their 50s look good *for* their age, we say that they grew well into their age, we simply say that they are attractive 50 years olds.

but women can only be and feel beautiful and desirable if they are young. if a woman in her 50s is objectively fine, we say that she looks good *for* her age, insinuating that there is no way she could ever *just* look good at 50, no "for"s, since she isn't 19-25 anymore and that's the only age range when a woman is truly attractive and desirable.

isn't this actually abhorrent? the fact that people can live up to about 100 years but women are taught to believe that only in 6 of these years they are in their prime? that patriarchy tells women that after their early 20s they are expired and the only valid way for them to be desirable and beautiful is to try to replicate the qualities of the 20 years old version of themselves that according to the same patriarchy, older women can no longer posses?

and the argument that women should not wish to be desirable at all in the name of feminism is very faulty, imo. it often comes from young and pretty women who don't really understand what being deemed "undesirable" in society means. the assumption that women being ok with the patriarchy telling them that they should feel expired after 25, should feel like they looked better in their 20s even if they take a better care of themselves now, should just do the "grandma" stuff while their male counterparts still get to experience romance and the life to its fullest, is not going to be some kind of a feminism win.

the "ageing is a privilege" has started to feel like an argument for women to once again settle for the bare minimum (at least you aren't dead) and conform to the unfair limitations the patriarchy forces on women.

i think what needs to change is us giving these misogynistic double standards any sort of validation. they are not rooted in some kind of universal truth about the inherent difference between men and women, they are rooted in patriarchy. we need to stop acting like younger and older women are in competition and start acknowledging that both are desirable and beautiful in their own ways.

i know that this post won't get much traction, but i feel like we need to talk about this topic more bc the internalized ageism that gen z women have is going to mess them up and the counterpoints to their assumptions are sometimes weak and unhelpful.

edit: thanks for yall's input in the reblogs! i would love to hear more from people so please feel free to reblog and say all that's on your mind regarding this subject since we really need to start addressing this and keep the conversation going!

[afreakingdork]

Yeah, I'm not taking this sitting down. Man, I really am not trying to have beef out here, but I refuse to have my good fucking name tarnished. To make a public post about me? Yeah, I'm going to share my side. The facts are as such:

I approached wolf on 12/20/23 about a NSFW commission inspired by one of their works. It would feature my sona and an aged up Donnie. As they mentioned, our initial conversation was good. We went back and forth during the sketch phase and I requested quite a lot of edits. I asked if I could pay them for these corrections.

it was right after this that wolf asked about Donnie's battle shell since it wasn't illustrated.

After this message, I did not hear back from wolf after 2/9/24 until I sent them a follow-up message 3/27/24

I did not hear back from wolf until today 5/6/24.

Now I cannot share the images of the art I received because it is NSFW, but I can tell you that the grey from my sona's body appeared to be missing. The ears of my sona were grey, but the body only looked yellow. Donnie was missing his purple arm marks, and his knee pads were still the same only now they were colored in black along with his mask. From here I will just send the conversation in its entirety.

For reference, this was the reference sheet they had.

I was then sent two pieces where the grey on my sona was very obvious and Donnie's markings were now present with the following text.

Now again, I wish I could show you the pieces, but I can't. I was offered a 50% refund for my troubles, but I was not interested in taking it because wolf had already done all the work.

I will say that I was extremely frustrated with the whole affair so the next part I will admit was a bit salty because while corrections had been made, I wasn't able to give any input so there were still mistakes in my sona's colors (specifically the underside of the tail was yellow instead of white and my grey arm had one side yellow) and Donnie's mask was still black. The following is our last correspondence on my blog.

This would have been the end of it for me. Except, I did not get the email. I waited in hopes it would come in, but none did. Since I was blocked I was forced to reach out from one of my side blogs @thisgoesouttoyoubaby which feel free to check. it's my reblog sideblog that I use to send my bestie memes. It dates back YEARS and is not used for spam.

As you can see I was blocked here.

Now I have been refreshing my email feed waiting. I know emails can take time, but I have no way to confirm if I'm getting my work because I was immediately blocked on thisgoesouttoyou with no response.

So I used another sideblog, this time @plowingon which you can again, freely search, its not a spam blog, but a blog I once made to record the live of my old german shepherd I had years ago when he was getting older.

And wouldn't you know it, I got my first email from wolf at

Coincidentally, only after I sent my last message to them.

Now I'm not interested in hurting wolf's reputation. I think you should still commission them if you'd like. I still am a fan of their art. I have no ill will, but fuck if I will stand by as someone tells me that I won't pay an artist. I never even said i wouldn't pay. I was just frustrated because they wouldn't follow their own three correction rule. They allowed me no recourse, and then they were petty before I could even confirm that I received the email.

Could I have been nicer?

Of course.

Could I have been more clear?

Absolutely.

But there is no world in which I tried to gaslight anyone. I pride myself on my honesty. I was not shy when paying them. I sent payment before we even began. I offered to pay them more and acknowledged I was a needy customer halfway through. So I apologize for this long post, but I wanted to make sure all of this was visible because how dare you call me a scammer, wolf.

You disappoint me.

[bunnbam]

Guess I’m the bad liar

엔하이픈 ㅣ 심재윤

Paring: nonidol!Jake X Reader⋆⋆☆⋆⋆genre: angst ⋆⋆☆⋆⋆ cw: break up ⋆⋆☆⋆⋆ wc:700+ ⋆⋆☆⋆⋆ ib: bad liar by Selina Gomez

Synopsis: It’s been almost a month since you broke up, and Jake is somehow totally ok with the fact. But you’re still having a hard time.

This is for @bywons writing event! Hope you like it!

Ready for more?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────more under the cut!

You rolled over and checked the time 02:35.

It had been difficult to fall asleep for the last few weeks. It surprised you just how bad the breakup had messed you up. It became harder to fall asleep and wake up. You no longer knew what you wanted to do with your days. And your friends kept mentioning how you smiled less.

Your main problem was, why did the breakup happen? Just the week before everything had seamed great, just amazing. How and when did it go wrong? you just didn't know.

Your friends had asked you to talk with them about it, even his friends had asked you to talk with them about it. "It's never suposed to be an easy goodbye" they would say. "You were together for almost three years over all" they would say, as if you weren't aware of that already. How did they think that telling you things you already knew was going to make the breakup simpler to get over? But you didn't want to talk to your friends, let alone his friends. There was only one person that could help you move on.

Jake

the person who broke up with you. the person who left without another word and slamed your door. Was it really that easy for him? acording to his friends he hasn't been this happy since before you started dating. It was almost like you were the problem, as if you were stopping him in some form of way. But you cept thing how would that be fair on you? you were both starting arguments and being petty at times, how were you the only one to blame?

You desided to get up and go get something to drink, you were unable to sleep anyway. Even your own home became foreign. The sofa you used to cudle on now empty. The kitchen that was once filled with different sounds and smells from early in the day to late at night. And everytime you were suposed to sleep, you felt alone, the bed now too big, the space where he once slept now cold and abandoned. It sucked, it really did.

And just when you felt your head fog and the feeling of lonelyness filled your senses, you heard a knock. It wasn't a really loud knock, or a knock that sounded inportant. But it sounded familiar. You checked the time again, 02:50. Who knocks on someones door at almost three in the morning? You desided first to ignrone it, but then the person on the other side knocked again. And you couldn't help but feel like you had heard the knock before. So you decided to open the door.

You walked twards the door, feeling kind of uneasy. "maybe i should just ignore it" you thoght. but your body betrayed you, opening the door before you could think another thing. And right before you, stood the one person you thoght that you were never going to hear from again.

Jake

"Hey"

Hey? how could he just show up to your door and just say hey? after what he put you through? There he was, scratching that supid neck and with that dum smile plastered on his supid face. what did he want?

"Can we talk?" he asked.

without saying a word you moved to the side and let him in. You walked to the sofa and sat down, not caring if he followed you or not.

"Ok, listen. I know that I might not have left on the best note ever, but I need you to hear me out" He took your lack of awnser as a keep going. "I know I said that I didn't want tjis anymore. But I just can't help but regret everything that I said. I keep telling the guys that life is greater now, that it was for the better that we broke up, but I miss you, I miss us." His eyes started to tear up. "I won't beg, and i'm not going to stay. Unless you want me to."

You stared at eachother for a wile, not knowing what to say. So Jake tok teh chance to add on

"B-because I really want to."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Thanks for reading! This is my second story so I hope it’s good! And I promise I’m a really happy person though, I just really enjoy writing sad/ angsty stuff tihi

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 4 - Cherry Pie (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, slight language

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

[1] [2] [3]

A quick glance at the clock on the wall made you inwardly groan–how could it only be 11:23 in the morning? Work days were known to drag on, but this was overkill. You figured it might have something to do with the fact that you were just hours away from seeing Dean again. It had taken you far too long to fall asleep the night before; you couldn’t stop thinking about that damn kiss.

The way his lips felt against yours…the way it made you feel inside…

The buzz from your cell phone distracted you and shook you from your thoughts.

Dean Hey, Atlanta.

You didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the nickname. Another buzz caught you off guard.

Dean Or should I say, Hotlanta?

The text made you laugh out loud, which would have been fine had you been alone somewhere. Instead, colleagues that you hardly knew in this new office all turned to look at you.

“Sorry about that,” you said softly as you excused yourself from the cubicle you had borrowed. You wandered to the hallway and stood there as you typed back a response.

Hi, Dean…you’re ridiculous, but that still made me laugh anyway.

You nibbled on a pesky hangnail that had formed on your thumb as you waited for his text back.

Dean I do what I can. You still up for dinner tonight?

You hurriedly typed back before you hit ‘send’ and waited for his response.

100% yes! I can leave here at 4, but I’m driving to you this time. Just send me the address and I’ll meet you there. Besides, Salina isn’t really a lively city…

It didn’t take long for your phone to vibrate against the palm of your hand. 

Dean Just wait til you see Lebanon…

Dean had sent you the name to his favorite burger joint just outside of Lebanon. As you drove through the small Kansas towns, you felt the flutter in your stomach all over again. You really couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited to spend time with someone new. It was overwhelming, almost. Before you arrived, you decided to make a pit stop and pick up a cherry pie—Dean had mentioned pie was his favorite dessert. 

Just before 7pm, you pulled into the parking lot for Jiffy Burger. It reminded you of something out of the 50s; a diner, almost. It was cute, and definitely something you could appreciate. In the dating world, not that you spent a lot of time in it due to your focus on your career, there always seemed to be this draw to fancy restaurants where you never knew what fork to use. 

Thankfully, it seemed like Dean wasn’t interested in that kind of thing. Especially since he referred to the side salad you almost ordered in Atlanta as “rabbit food”. 

As soon as you parked, you spotted the Impala. You gathered your purse and the pie you had brought, and headed inside. 

A smile stretched across Dean’s face as soon as he saw you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled from your face down your chest to your legs. Heat pooled in your chest and cheeks as you suddenly felt slightly self conscious under his gaze. With your free hand, you tugged at the hem of your black blazer, but managed a smile back at him as you approached the table. 

“Hey,” you breathed as you finally reached him.

“Hey, yourself,” he smirked. He stood and with one hand, he reached behind you and pulled you closer to him. It felt exactly like you would imagine a puzzle piece would as it melded with the other. “What’s this?” His question pulled you out of your thoughts. 

You glanced down at the white grocery bag in your hand. “Oh!” You set it down on the table and opened it up to reveal the pastry you had purchased at the nearest bakery. “I know you said how much you love pie…” you gently held it up in the foil container. “I wasn’t sure which flavor you liked best, but I felt like I couldn’t go wrong with cherry.” 

He seemed truly surprised. “Damn, woman,” he breathed as his eyes grazed over the dessert. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” His words were so genuine, and he sealed it by leaning down and giving you a gentle kiss that only made you want more. 

“You’re welcome,” beaming, you felt accomplished as Dean pulled back the metal diner chair for you to sit. “This place is so cute!” You glanced around at the neon lights on the wall, red and white checkered designs and servers dressed like they had stepped out of the 50s. 

“They have the best burgers I’ve ever had,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “And trust me, I’ve tried ‘em all.” As he settled back in his chair, his eyes found the plastic grocery bag again. “I seriously can’t believe you brought me pie.”

“It can’t be that hard to believe,” you emphasized as you watched him. “I’m sure I’m not the first girl to bring you a pie…” you trailed off as you watched him contemplate. 

After a pause, “Nah, can’t say that’s happened before.”

It was a surprise to you; surely, you thought, Dean was a ladies’ man. He had all the markings of one, anyway: the leather jacket, woodsy vibe, muscle car… 

“You’re kidding,” you couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice. 

Dean chuckled softly. “No, sweetheart. You are definitely the first.”

His words were gentle, but true—you could tell. A small tug pulled at the corners of your eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised,” you said carefully as the waitress approached your table.

“Hi there, my name’s Alice. What can I get ya, doll?” She smiled at you with a grin that reminded you of how an aunt or grandmother might. 

“I’ll have water, please. I’ll just take a minute to look over the menu,” you smiled back. 

She nodded and turned to Dean. “You still doing alright, love? Need a refill or anything?” While her tone had been pleasant and kind with you, it really softened when she addressed Dean. It made you smirk. It only validated further that he was certainly a ladies’ man. 

“Nah, I’m alright, Alice,” he smiled back. “Thank you, sweetheart.” You could’ve sworn you saw Alice swoon, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. “How was work today?” Dean asked as he turned his attention back to you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, the smile completely gone from your face. “Same shit, different day, I guess.” You mumbled. Dean seemed interested so you continued. “I just landed a new project. It’s a new client, so there are a lot of growing pains.” You explained. “But it could always be worse, right?”

“I don’t know,” Dean said as he took a drink of his soda. “The more you talk about your job, the more miserable it sounds.” 

“Doing what I love doesn’t pay the bills, Dean,” you sighed but found a small smile again. “We can’t all be traveling exterminators.” You winked. 

Dean chuckled with a look down at his hands folded on the table in front of him, but then back to you. “Well, what is it that you love?” The way his eyes stared back into yours made your breath get caught in your throat. It was as if he wanted to see you—who you were, not just at face value, but deeper than that. 

You took a moment to gather yourself before you continued. “I love writing. I always have. I tried applying it to a career, actually,” your mind wandered for a moment as you remembered the girl you used to be all those years ago. Your gaze found Dean’s once more. He noted the slight sadness that had appeared there. “It just didn’t work out.”

Alice had returned with your water now, and you heard her voice ask if you were ready to order. 

“Go ahead,” you smiled at Dean. “I won’t take long.” You quickly spanned the menu as Dean ordered some burger meal in the background. 

After he was done, Alice turned to you. You ordered a bacon burger and tater tots. Alice smiled at you both. 

“I’ll get that out in no time,” she said. “You two need anything else?” You both shook your heads ‘no’. 

“I think that’ll do it, thanks, Alice,” a smile pulled at Dean’s lips once more. 

You noticed the way Alice’s red manicured fingers touched Dean’s shoulder. “You just let me know if you need anything else. Anything at all…” she trailed off with a wink. 

You pressed your lips together to contain the laugh that threatened to bubble up at how blatantly she was flirting with Dean. He didn’t seem to notice, or at least, didn’t bring any attention to it.

Once she had walked away, you noticed Dean’s gaze had returned to you. You cleared your throat and took a sip of water before you spoke again.

“So, what about you? I’m genuinely curious about this traveling exterminator business you’ve got going on,” the words felt a little silly as they came from your lips, but you were being honest. Ever since Dean had mentioned it, you were curious. Dean chuckled softly as he broke eye contact. He ran his palms down the thighs of his jeans before he looked back up. You weren’t sure, but you would have thought he looked nervous, which seemed odd to you. “Seriously, how do you love being an exterminator? And why is it the ‘family business’?” You used your fingers to air-quote the way he had referenced it before.

Dean shrugged slightly as it was his turn to take a gulp of his water. “Well,” he started slowly. “My, uh, my mom died when I was really young. I was four and my brother, Sammy, was six months old.” He explained. That was something you hadn’t been expecting and your eyes widened. You had somewhat assumed Dean’s parents may be deceased or out of the picture from the way he spoke of it just being him and his brother when you were in Atlanta. 

“I’m so sorry,” was all you knew to say. Dean’s forearms rested on the table now as he spoke. On instinct, you reached across and placed your hand just over his. “That’s awful. How did she…?” You trailed off, unsure if that was a question you should even ask or if he would be comfortable talking about it. 

“There was a house fire,” he explained softly. His eyes looked down at his lap. “But, uh, after that my dad kinda had a hard time.” Understandable, you thought to yourself but kept quiet to let him continue. “We ended up on the road a lot. My dad met up with my, uh, my Uncle Bobby,” he seemed to hesitate, but you still kept silent to allow him to work through what he needed or wanted to say. “They started up this traveling exterminator business. They’d pick up jobs to help people out. My dad just didn’t want to stay in one place too long, so we moved around a lot.”

It still seemed wild and wasn’t anything you were familiar with, but now understanding the loss of his mom made it easier to absorb. 

“I can’t imagine,” you shook your head as you looked down to where your hand still covered his. You pulled it back gently. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve been through, Dean.” 

“Ah, it’s alright,” Dean cleared his throat and it felt like he had almost pulled himself out of his feelings as he sat back in his chair. A smaller smile crossed his face. “We’ve all got stuff. We just gotta go through it, I guess.”

While you appreciated his ability to pull through it, you knew there were probably some underlying feelings there. Your mind wandered back for a moment and pulled out something he had said in the hotel in Atlanta to you: he’s terrified of being afraid.

It started to make sense. He was afraid of being afraid: at four, he lost his mother in a horrible tragedy. And by the sounds of it, he may have lost his father because he didn’t know how to be a parent in the face of tragedy. When he told you it was just him and his brother, he had meant it. Who wouldn’t be afraid of being afraid after living through something like that? 

“Here you are,” Alice reappeared with a sing-songy tune as she placed your burgers down in front of you. 

“Looks great,” Dean smiled down at his plate. You felt a twinge of sadness for him and all that he had been through, but you pushed it aside just as he did. 

“It really does, thank you,” you smiled back at Alice. But her eyes weren’t on you, they were all over Dean. 

“My pleasure, hun,” she practically swooned. “And I mean it, you let me know if you need anything else.” How many times has she said that now? You matched Dean’s smile. 

“Thanks,” Dean said as she nodded and turned to walk away with a long glance over her shoulder. 

It took everything in you to contain the laugh that threatened to emerge, the thoughts of your previous conversation fading. Alice walked back to the kitchen and Dean looked at you with a clear “what?” look plastered on his face. 

“Oh, nothing,” you smirked before you took a sip of your water. “It’s just that I bet you could get whatever you wanted with a charm like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Dean rolled his eyes, but still smiled, as he shrugged it off. 

“I’m serious. All it takes is a little bat of those lashes and she’s putty in your hands,” you teased. 

Dean leaned forward with his forearms flat on the table, his hands clasped in front of him. His face was close again—it reminded you of the Longhorn in Atlanta when he was so close, you felt like you could count the freckles that dotted his face. “And what about you, sweetheart? You turn to putty, too?” The playful grin that tugged across his lips made your stomach flutter. 

You leaned back a bit and took another drink from your water—it was for two reasons, really. It gave you a minute to gather your words, but it also cooled you off from the flame that burned so obviously in front of you. 

“Oh, no,” you quipped, as you attempted to seem unphased. The flirtatious notes from your tone came through, and Dean picked them up–the way his lips crept up in a small smile gave him away. “I’m immune.” A shrug raised your shoulders but you couldn’t help the pull of your lips as you caught the way Dean’s eyes glinted back at you. 

“We might just have to test that theory,” his comment made you slightly inhale the bite of your burger you had just consumed. Thankfully, your sputtering only lasted a second, but the gig was up and your cover had been blown. The heat that rose in your cheeks gave away that your stoic demeanor was just a ruse, and Dean was completely aware. 

There was something about the way his lips still curved upward, but his eyes bore into you–they were dark, but in a way that felt almost like you were caught in an electrical storm; the little hairs at the back of your neck stood to attention and goosebumps bubbled over your skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dean?” Your voice was low now, your eyes trained on his. As flustered as he had gotten you just a moment before, you forced yourself to stay strong as you stared straight back at him without even a blink. 

Without missing a beat, the muscle in his jaw clenched as he bit down with his teeth. The familiar upward curve up his lip made the dimple in his cheek pop as his eyes moved between your eyes and your lips. “Is it working?”

And just like that, you felt like putty in the man’s damn hands.

A/N: Well, hellllllo, Tumblr world! I know, it has been far too long. Things in my life are still hectic, BUT I'm back! I have missed all my reader friends, writer friends and writing in general.

I can't promise double updates each week (but I will when I can). Otherwise, new chapters will be posted on Thursdays moving forward.

I hope you all are well, and I hope you enjoy chapter 4!

PREVIEW OF THE NEXT CHAPTER:

You had never consumed (nor had you seen someone consume) a burger so quickly before in your life. It was a good burger, but that wasn’t what you could focus on.

When Alice came back to the table to check out–ahem, on–you (but mostly Dean), his gaze didn’t even move from yours. 

“We’ll take the check now, Alice,” he said carefully as he watched you. The way his eyes studied you made you feel naked. It was like nothing else existed in the world but you. Heat climbed your chest in blotchy patches until they formed puzzle pieces on your neck, your cheeks. The way your heart pounded against your sternum felt so loud, you could hear each beat in your ears. This man was doing something to you, and that was something you hadn’t experienced in too long.

“Here you go, sugar,” Alice gingerly placed the bill in the middle of the table. She watched Dean intently, certainly hoping for maybe one more look into those beautiful green eyes. He glanced quickly with a smile as he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. He tossed enough cash to cover the meal and the tip on the table, then back to you.

“Thanks, Alice,” he said, without missing another beat. He stood and held his hand out for you to take. “You wanna get outta here?”

Words seemed to fail you for a second, so you just nodded very quickly. Before he could pull you towards the door, he grabbed the grocery bag with the cherry pie you had brought.

“Oh, you forgot to eat your pie,” you murmured as you followed him through the diner.

“I was thinking we might have a different dessert tonight,” he paused at the door as his eyes looked over you once more. You realized he was asking if that’s what you wanted, too. Yet again, all you could do was nod.

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[joelslegalwhre]

"Stop flirting." "Then stop teasing." | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

word count //  2k

pairing // dieter bravo x fem!reader

summary // You're interviewing Dieter for his new movie, and no matter how many years you've been together - recently married too - he loves to flirt with you like the first time you've met.

warnings // age gap (reader is in late 20s, Dieter in his 50s but only mentioned once), Dieter flirting needs a warning, fluff, reader and Dieter are married, Dieters mind is pure smut who's surprised, allusions to smut, reader wears a dress and gets her nails done, use of the word "Daddy" like once (don't read it if you don't like it), use of nicknames (baby -like a hundred times, peach), also little disclaimer; I'm reading smut like my life depends on it but I've never properly written it so bare with me pls, not proofread

a/n // I saw a TikTok for this a while ago about Pedro (the account is pedritolovesu) and got super excited to write a little something for Dieter with it.. so have fun y'all

I'm a whore for age gaps, sorry not sorry

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the gif is by a7estrellas (I found it on Pinterest)

"First of all, thank you for your time, Dieter." You started the interview. "It’s my pleasure." He answered with his signature grin, his fingers playing with the ring on his finger.

"Tell me, what was your favorite part about filming the new Cliff Beasts movie?"

"Oh, there are a few," Dieter began to tell some stories from the set, stories you already knew about, because he had told you all of them right after they happened. Calling you late at night, during the day, or sometimes just right after you woke up. 

Interviewing Dieter was still something you found a little strange, but in a good way. 

It didn’t happen often, but when it did, work felt a little less like actual work. When Dieter was there, it was easier, and you instantly felt like you’re home again.

Today, it was just the two of you, no co-stars or other interviewers. Which also meant, no distractions from the looks Dieter gave you.

"Well, that sure sounds like a lot of fun." You smiled at him, when he had finished, "Oh it was." He grinned, but his eyes never left your lips once when he spoke. 

You tried to give him a warning look that said "stop it, concentrate", but you already knew it would do nothing to stop Dieter. 

The interview went on for a little longer, you asked him some fan questions you had gotten before the interview for him, which Dieter all answered perfectly. 

His flirting didn’t stop though. His eyes couldn’t stop wandering between your lips and your eyes, and the subtle winks weren’t as subtle as he thought. „Stop it, Bravo.“ You whispered in a short break, while the crew was angling the camera for another shot. 

"Stop teasing me and I might." He threw you an air kiss, jokingly, making you chuckle.

Not everyone knew that you were married to Dieter Bravo, although it was pretty obvious when you were in situations like this one. And your last name didn’t hide the fact either. 

Dieter managed to keep most of your relationship from the public. But of course the majority of people, especially his fans, knew. And there was nothing wrong with that, you didn’t want to hide anything. It was just nice to have some privacy then and there, so you didn’t make a big fuss about it.

The first time rumors had reached the media that Dieter Bravo was off the market, you had already been dating for almost a year. And the real shocker wasn’t the obvious age gap, with Dieter being twice your age, but the fact that he dated someone for longer than a month. 

"Sorry guys, the camera just stopped working, one second. Sorry, Dieter." Your camera man said all of a sudden. „Oh shit, okay.“ You nodded in surprise. "Yeah, no problem man." Dieter assured him. Not a second later, some of the crew was back around Dieter, to freshen him up. 

When he took something out of his pocket that suspiciously looked like the small box, he had his "drugs on the go" -how he liked to call them- in, you raised your eyebrows and shook your head, "No. Definitely not here". Dieter was down bad for you, and literally did anything that would please you, so to the obvious surprise of some crew members, he stuffed the box back into his pocket with a sigh. 

"Fine, fine."

"You know I don’t care, but not at work. Please?" you gave him your best pout, you knew he couldn’t say no to.

"Yeah, yeah okay, baby." Dieter looked up at the guy who was relatively new to the team that always surrounded Dieter.

What was his name again? He couldn’t remember.

"Happy wife, happy life. Isn’t that the shit they say?" He shrugs and goes on, "I’ll do what my girl wants. No one can tell me shit, but you bet she can."

The expression on the guy’s face changed from surprised to confused and then surprised again, making you giggle quietly. "Oh, you’re married?" He asked, eyebrows raised. Dieter shot him a lopsided grin, "Heck yes, we are." Dieters eyes locked with yours and you couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. There was nothing that made you as happy as knowing you’re married to him, his drug problems aside, being Mrs. Bravo was so different to anything you had imagined as a little girl. And you loved it. 

"Alright, cameras are working again, guys." The camera man announced, and the crew quickly left the two of you alone again. 

As the interview went on, you asked Dieter some more questions about the new movie, how shooting under quarantine was for him - horrible, he had called you what feels like a hundred times a day, whining about being alone and horny- and if there were any new movies coming up with him. Dieter answered everything you wanted to know, giving the fans some insights into the film and little sneak peaks. One being a short scene, which was currently playing on a little screen next to you. Later on, the video would be seen during the interview clips, but the screen was for you to know when to go on with the interview. 

Dieter had other plans, though. He didn’t pay an ounce of attention to what was playing on the screen, his attention on your nails instead. 

"Did you get your nails done?" He asked, leaning forward to hold your hand and inspect your new set of nails. 

He had only seen you when he fell into bed, the night before. He didn’t usually come home as late as he did yesterday, but the press tour has really been "kicking his balls", to quote him. So you must have gotten them done either yesterday or today, there hasn’t been a time Dieter didn’t notice a new set of nails. Not once. 

"Yesterday, after work." You softly smiled, showing Dieter the nails. So he was right. "They match the ring." He gave you one of his cocky grins. "That was the intention." You grinned back at him. Neither of you had noticed that the video was long over, and the camera was back on the two of you. Faces inches apart and both of you with a stupidly content smile on your faces. "They look fucking amazing, baby." He said, almost whispering in awe. "Thank you, Dee." 

"Uhm, guys." someone from the crew cleared their throat. Your head shot up, and you quickly slid back into the position you had before.

"Oh my- sorry, sorry," 

Dieter leaned back in his chair and grinned at you, again. And as much as you wanted to keep professional, you had to smile at him too. 

"You should see her nails, they match our rings." Dieter said straight into one of the cameras, a cocky grin on his lips once again. You shook your head with a little giggle. So much for being professional. 

"So, back to the movie, as we could all see right now, it’s very promising." You went on, trying to act like you didn’t just want to grab Dieter’s hand and drag him to your car. Driving straight home, laying next to him in bed, nice and warm, cuddled up in his arms. 

Only a few more hours, you told yourself.

Dieter had to hold back like hell not to kiss you senseless in front of the crew members. He’s had a shit ton of media work today already, now that you were his last interview of the day -only some minor things to do afterwards- his mood has changed for the better, drastically.

He wanted to throw you over his shoulder -hell, he starts to think like a fucking caveman- carry you out of here and rip that fucking dress off of you. He’d even be fine with cuddling, anything that involved having you close to him. Although he wouldn’t quite be himself, if he wouldn’t also think about dragging you to the next empty room and fuck your brains out right now. 

Dieter was down bad for you, and -a thing he never thought was possible for him- it only got ‚worse‘ when the two of you got married. Calling you Mrs.Bravo for the first time had him almost come in his jeans. 

The interview was finally done, and you got up from your chair to get rid of all the mics and cables.

"Do you know when you’re coming home today?" You asked Dieter, back still turned to him, untangling a cable that got stuck in the chair somehow. "Hopefully fucking soon." He’s had enough of behaving, he desperately needed to feel you, even if it was just a quick kiss, his cock already painfully hard in his jeans. 

"You look fucking beautiful today, baby. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen." Dieter whispered in your ear. He wrapped his arms around your waist, as he pressed your back against his chest. "Well, thank you, but I’m still working, you know." You chuckled, joking with him. You couldn’t care less that you were at work right now, and Dieter knew you well enough to know. 

"Yeah, working pretty hard, interviewing your husband in that tease of a dress, baby."

You grinned, the dress was one of his favorites, and it showed enough skin without being too exposing to wear it for work. 

"You know I fucking love it." He whispered, so only you could hear it. "Really? I had no idea, Bravo." You teased him with a grin, turning your head to see his face. 

You could feel his stubble on your cheek as he got even closer to your ear and pressed you tighter to his body. "Can you feel what you do to be, baby? I’ll rip that fucking dress up the second we’re home." His bulge was pressing against your lower back, and your body immediately reacted to it. 

"I thought you loved it? Wouldn’t wanna ruin it, would you?" You kept teasing him, feeling his grip on your waist tighten. "Don’t challenge me, baby."

"Or what?" You looked at him with a spark in your eyes. He nuzzled his nose in the nook between your neck and shoulder. You closed your eyes at the feeling, stopping a moan from escaping your lips. "Or I’ll take your cute ass to that storage room right now and let everyone hear how good your husband treats you." He said with a low groan, sending vibrations through your whole body, straight to your core.

It took you every inch of will power you had left, not to make a head start to that damn storage room down the hall. You could feel the wetness pool in your panties. 

Instead, you turned around in his embrace and slung your arms around his neck. Playing with the strands of his now almost salt and pepper hair, you got on your tiptoes, brushing his lips with your own. "I’ll be waiting for you at home, Daddy." It elected another groan out of Dieter, his eyes closed, probably imagining what he’d do to you later. 

You gave him another soft kiss, and caressed his cheek, running your finger down bis jawline. "I’d do something about that, if I were you." You smugly grinned at Dieter's noticeable bulge in his pants. "I’d be careful what to say, peach." He muttered into your ear. Oh, you couldn’t wait to get home.

Everyone had left the room by now, leaving the two of you behind. 

"I love you." you whispered, looking into his chocolate brown eyes. There was no more joking in your voice. No more teasing. 

"I love you too, baby." Dieter pressed his forehead against yours and his nose gently nudged against your own. "I love you." He repeated and closed the little gap between you. You smiled into the kiss, letting your hands wander from his soft tummy to his back.

"I can’t fucking wait to get home." Dieter grunted out between kisses. 

I had to include this Dieter picture because🥵

I have an update blog now, so follow @joelslegalwhrereads if you want to get updated when I post💗

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[tendaysofrain]

Random Stuff #12:  What is Simplified Chinese?

For people like me who grew up speaking and using Chinese in day to day life, the vast majority of us have at least a basic understanding of what Simplified Chinese is, but it wasn’t until some days ago when an English speaker asked me “what is Simplified Chinese?” that I realized not many people here understand what Simplified Chinese is.  So, I’ve gathered some misconceptions I’ve encountered both in real life and online, and I will try to answer them in a concise but factual manner.

But first, let us talk basics.  There are three things we must cover first before going into this topic.  The first is the fact that both Simplified Chinese (简体中文) and Traditional Chinese (繁體中文) used today are modern standardized systems of written Chinese, as in both were compiled within the past 100 years or so (modern Simplified from 1935-1936, then again from 1956 and on; modern Traditional starting from 1973), and the two currently widely used versions of both systems were officially standardized in the past 50 years (modern Simplified current version standardized in 2013; modern Traditional current version standardized in 1982).  However, since simplified characters already exist in history (called 简化字/簡化字 or 俗体字/俗體字/”informal characters”), and “Traditional Chinese” can be taken to mean “written Chinese used in history”, in this post I will use “modern Simplified/Traditional Chinese” or “modern Simplified/Traditional” when referring to the currently used modern standardized systems.  

Second is the evolution of written Chinese.  Usually when this is taught, instructors use examples of how certain characters evolved over time, for example one might encounter a linear diagram like this in Chinese class:

(Original picture from Mandarinpedia)

However, this diagram only gives a very general idea of how characters evolved from more picture-like logograms to the more abstract symbols we call characters today, and does not reflect the complexity of this evolution at all.  To get into these details we will need to talk about Chinese calligraphy.  In terms of the evolution of written Chinese, Chinese calligraphy--all those scripts like oracle bone script (甲骨文), bronze/Jinwen script (金文), Seal/Zhuan script (篆书/篆書), Clerical/Li script (隶书/隸書), Regular/Kai script (楷书/楷書), etc--they aren’t just calligraphy fonts, but actually change the way characters are written, and are representative of the commonly used forms of written Chinese at different points in Chinese history, as in the appearance of a certain script on a historical artifact can actually be used to estimate how old the artifact is.  Below is a (very) rough timeline of when each script appeared and when they are most popular:

Oracle bone script/Jiaguwen (甲骨文):  Shang dynasty (~1600 BC-1046 BC)

Bronze/Jinwen script (金文; includes Large Seal script/大篆):  Western Zhou dynasty (~1046 BC-771 BC)

Seal/Zhuan script (篆书/篆書; sometimes called Small Seal script/小篆 or Qin script/秦篆):  compiled in Qin dynasty by chancellor Li Si/李斯 around 221 BC, was the official script in Qin dynasty (221 BC-207 AD); popularity went down after Qin dynasty but was still in use for ceremonial purposes like official seals (the archaic meaning of 篆 is “official seal”, hence the English name); still in use today in very specific areas like seal stamps, calligraphy, logos, and art.

Clerical/Li script (隶书/隸書):  appeared in Qin dynasty, became the main script used in Han dynasty (202 BC-220 AD); popularity went down after Han dynasty but was still in use; still in use today in specific areas like calligraphy, inscriptions/signatures on traditional Chinese paintings, logos, and other art.

Regular/Kai script (楷书/楷書):  appeared in late Han dynasty, became the main script used in Tang dynasty and has been popular ever since (618 AD-present).

(Note:  there are other calligraphy scripts like Semi-Cursive script/行书/行書 and Cursive script/草书/草書 that were never mainstream yet were also significant, especially in the case of modern Simplified Chinese, but I will mention them later so this won’t become too confusing)

So if we plug the information from the very rough timeline above into the linear diagram, it becomes this:

But wait!  There’s even more!  Because there is a thing called variant Chinese characters/异体字/異體字, which basically means that there have been multiple ways in which a character can be written (“one character, many forms”/一字多形), and these can come about as a result of homophones, personal preference of historically significant people, historical trends, mistakes in the past that stuck around, or the result of stylized scripts like Cursive script/草书/草書, which simplifies and connects strokes in a liberal manner.  The reason Cursive script is important here is because of the logographic nature of written Chinese, meaning the simplifying or connecting of strokes actually changes how the character is written.  Because of this, 马 and 馬 were forms that have already existed before modern Simplified and modern Traditional were compiled.  A diagram that takes variations and evolution into account should look something like this:

And since the above diagram did not take Cursive script into account, here’s another picture of a myriad of scripts/fonts (not in chronological order) that includes 馬 in Cursive script (mostly on bottom left):

Now you may have an idea of where modern Simplified and Traditional Chinese came from:  they are both compiled from existing variants.  Since both modern Simplified and modern Traditional are supposed to be standardizations of written Chinese, they each set a single variant for each character as the “standard”.  Modern Traditional Chinese kept the more historically mainstream 馬, and modern Simplified Chinese substituted it with the simpler variant 马.  Taking all of this into account but still keeping it concise for our topic here, our linear diagram from the beginning should be modified to look like this:

And that’s just an example of a single character.  This evolution diagram can differ depending on the character too, due to there being other rules for simplifying characters.  This is why standardizing written Chinese is an immense amount of work, but once standardized, the written language will be streamlined and much easier to use in communication.

Finally, we are ready to clear some misconceptions.

---------------------------------------------------

About Common Misconceptions Regarding Modern Simplified Chinese:

“Simplified Chinese replaced all Traditional Chinese characters”. Untrue.  Modern Simplified Chinese only standardized 2274 of the most used Chinese characters and 14 radicals with simpler variants.  That’s really all there is to it.   For reference there are a total of about 60,000 Chinese characters, and about 3,500 of these are deemed to be often-used characters; so only ~3.7% of all Chinese characters and ~65% of often-used Chinese characters are simplified in modern Simplified Chinese.  Play around with any online tool that can switch between modern Simplified and modern Traditional, and you will find that many characters stayed the same.

“Simplified Chinese is the opposite of Traditional Chinese”.  Untrue.  Modern Simplified Chinese is just a simplified and standardized system of written Chinese.  Modern Simplified Chinese and modern Traditional Chinese are not “opposites” of each other at all, just different standardized systems serving different purposes.  Modern Simplified was compiled with ease of use in mind, since Traditional characters can be time-consuming to write, for example imagine writing 聲 (sound) when you can just write 声 instead.  Also back when Simplified was being introduced to the public, a huge part of the population was illiterate, especially farmers, poor people, and women, so Simplified Chinese was a great way to quickly educate them on reading and writing, and to improve efficiency in all aspects of life. Knowing how to read and write is key to education, and education is a must if people's lives were to be improved at all.

“Simplified Chinese is Mandarin”.  Untrue.  Mandarin is a spoken dialect that came from Beijing dialect, and both modern Simplified and modern Traditional Chinese are modern standardized systems of written Chinese.  One concerns the written language and the other concerns a spoken dialect.

"Simplified Chinese was invented by the Communist Party". Untrue.  As mentioned before, most characters used in modern Simplified Chinese are already present in ancient texts, artifacts, and inscriptions as variants.  Apparently the only character simplified by PRC was 簾 (blinds/curtain), which became 帘 in modern Simplified Chinese. History wise, Republic of China was the first to start compiling Simplified Chinese in 1935 and introducing it to the public, but this was called off after 4 months.  PRC modified and built on the original plan, and introduced it to the public again starting from 1956.

"Simplified Chinese is to Traditional Chinese as Newspeak is to English in 1984". Completely untrue.  Modern Simplified Chinese is just a simplified way to write commonly used Chinese characters and does not alter the meaning of the characters.  There are some Traditional characters that are combined as one simplified character in modern Simplified, but the meanings are not lost or altered.  For example, 發 fā (development) and 髪 fà (hair) are combined as 发 in modern Simplified, resulting in 发 having 2 different pronunciations (both fā and fà), and each of these pronunciations carrying their original meaning.  The meaning of neither 發 nor 髪 was lost, 发 will just have a longer dictionary entry.

"Simplified Chinese is a huge change from Traditional Chinese". Only partly true in that it is a change, but it is a change justified by the evolution of written Chinese throughout history.  The origin of most modern Simplified Chinese characters come straight from history itself, since many characters had alternative ways in which they were written (sometimes for convenience), for example these characters below.  Each row contains different forms of a single character (smaller characters indicate what time period these variants are from; ex:  汉碑 means the variant is from a Han dynasty inscription).

In reality, written Chinese has always been standardizing itself.  Less-used variants become forgotten over time, sometimes only rediscovered through archaeology.  Besides, effective written communication does partly rely on standardization of the written language (imagine everyone writing in the various variants...how horrible would that be?).  Modern Simplified just took this one step farther and made some characters easier to write.

“Traditional Chinese is no longer used in Mainland China”.  Untrue.  Modern Simplified is the commonly used form in Mainland China, but Traditional is still used in a variety of places, such as on store signs/brand logos, particularly for stores/brand that are old.  For example the old Beijing brand 天福号 below (est. 1738).  On their logo, 天福号 is written as 天福號 from right to left, which is the traditional way of writing horizontally.

Traditional Chinese is also used in the logos for many universities in China:

Another way in which Traditional Chinese is commonly used in mainland China are personal seal stamps.  Often times when people carve seal stamps for personal use (for example showing ownership on artwork they created or collected), they would put their name/courtesy name/nickname on the seal stamps in Zhuan/篆 calligraphy font, and Zhuan font use Traditional Chinese.  Of course, the ways in which Traditional Chinese is still used in mainland China isn’t restricted to these two examples here.  There are other places where Traditional Chinese is still used, such as traditional paintings/国画, calligraphy/书法, and many many more.

“People who grew up reading Simplified Chinese cannot read Traditional Chinese”.  Depends on who you are asking.  I grew up learning only modern Simplified, and I can read Traditional/modern Traditional Chinese just fine without having to actually learn it from anyone.  Most people who grew up with Simplified Chinese should be able to read at least some Traditional without help.  There are some people who say they can’t read Traditional without taking the time to learn it, but I doubt they’ve really tried, to be very honest.

---------------------------------------------------

And that’s it for the misconceptions!  

My personal philosophy regarding modern Simplified Chinese and modern Traditional Chinese can be summed up as 识繁写简, or basically “know how to read Traditional and know how to write Simplified”.  In a way, knowing how to read Traditional is a bit like knowing how to read cursive:  a lot of history could be lost if we completely stopped using/learning about Traditional Chinese, but to meet the fast pace that modern life demands, I think modern Simplified Chinese is the more convenient choice for writing for day-to-day purposes.  Since quite a few posts on this blog concern history, you will find that I usually use both Traditional Chinese and Simplified Chinese for historical things, since modern Traditional Chinese is closest to what people used in the past, and modern Simplified Chinese is more often used now.  If it appears that I didn’t put modern Simplified and modern Traditional side by side, that usually means either the characters stayed the same and there’s no need for me to type the same thing out again, or the topic does not call for both to be shown.

Finally, the fun part.  Here’s a Seal/Zhuan script calligraphy work by Mi Fu/米芾 (1051-1107):

Does something look familiar there?

[writing-whump]

Been here for a while, enjoying your fics. ❤️

Could you consider to write something including post - concussion emeto? Maybe with Matthew, because who else would be hit 😅

Greetings,

A.

Hello A.! I'm so happy you are enjoying yourself, that's super sweet! ❤️ Thank you so much for the request! Ran away from me a little but includes what you wanted :D I'm very honoured.

This one's crying, the other's sick

Seline is upset and crying. Matthew comforts her, when it turns out he came home with a concussion.

There will be no direct trains because of construction work. You can take the bus and the train connection, but we can't guarantee your way if either is delayed.

Just great. Exactly what she needed for the travel home to see her parents.

Seline knew she was freaking out for no reason. This fact didn't make it any easier to not do it.

Her life has always been divided into two places. Bratislava and Vienna. Home and school, parents and friends, Slovak and German.

She knew and her parents knew that her life was heading into the direction of Vienna - more money, more prestige, the use of languages. Slovakia was a nice home, but everyone who had any sense, ambition and knew just a bit of English moved out for college and never returned.

But Seline doubted as many people had such a good relationship with their parents. That's why she wasn't moving out even after 10 years of travelling. She even felt sorry for all her classmates and colleagues, many of which had to move to Vienna at 18 for university. Without parents and roots and childhood friends. Independence and adult responsibilities. Or were they proud of it? Was it a good thing they couldn't be children for that long?

When she asked her friends from countries farther away, like Bulgaria or Italy, they said it was fine. That they couldn't imagine living with their parents again or still. That it was nice to live alone.

Maybe they just didn't like being around them as much as Seline. Having such close relationship with your own mother was from what Seline could see, quite the exception. Her mother was her most trusted friend, her confidante, her idol and advisor. Seline's friends didn't call their mothers for two hours a day and they didn't visit every weekend and they didn't...

Seline wouldn't have moved out if it wasn't for the fights with her younger brother. And because she got good work at the university as an assistant, but that was running out. Every year was a risk of not getting the contract prolonged. She considered studying another master degree, cause as long as she was a student, they were more likely to keep her. Graduated non-students were more expensive because of taxes. PhD students were the most risky, cause they go no funding without an actual job at a project or faculty. And those were all temporary, only for a limited amount of years. Not to mention the law in Austria that you couldn't work at the same university more than 8 years on temporary contracts, which was supposed to protect university staff. Except the universities, instead of employing people without temporary contracts, didn't employ them at all, until they came with a few years of foreign experince. Go for a two years to England. Or France. Or anywhere else. Uproot yourself and maybe we will get you back.

Very family friendly.

So it somehow happened that Thursday morning she found out that her train for Friday to visit her parents would take 1.30h instead of 50 minutes and because the bus could be late and the train that you should change after wouldn't wait in the case it was, meant she would be straned somewhere in Parndorf.

So she would have to take the train before, that was direct and safe, which meant she would travel for an hour earlier, miss the connection she would have if the train were normal, wait two hours at the main station in Bratislava to get to her parents house. Her house. Whatever it was.

This would normally not anger her to the point of tears, but it was about a week before her period, so PMS was hitting her hard.

She didn't want to go to the train sooner. Or wait at the station because she missed the direct beautiful train that would get her to the home town near Bratislava.

She could take a taxi and pay more. Or take her own car. But Seline hated driving. It was stressful and fearsome and horrible responsibility and each bigger car or faster driving car made her jump in her seat in deadly fear. Her father would scoff at her for being so panicked about it. That she should drive more to get rid of it.

Well. Because of the fear, her main goal was not to drive.

Either with time with the train, with money with the taxi or with effort and nerves with the car. Nothing was for free.

She left her car at her parents anyway. Didn't need it in Vienna with all their great public transport connections. It was a relief she didn't gave to consider going with a car and no one could guilt her into using it.

She had two roomates who liked driving and cars. But she couldn't exactly ask them for a 1 hour long drive on the highway to Bratislava to see her parents.

Isaiah didn't complain about her visiting her parents during weekends. Since their schedules at university weren't packed, they had most Mondays free and other days during the week with only one seminar or online class here and there and could be together.

Seline loved not having to commute. To stay in bed until 11, talk with Isaiah over lunch, take a walk in the park or by the river and go to a seminar at 5 in the evening, meet with friends after or a bit before. Leisure nice days. Working 8-5 terrified her. She loved the flexibility, the way she could rule her time, do homework or write essays whenever she felt like, write stories and her poems whenever she was inspired, listen to music till 2 in the morning or binngewatch series all evening.

Though evening were usually reserved for movie nights with the whole trio. She loved those too.

Standing between two worlds was always a trait of hers. Something she was at peace at. But deciding between one home or the other, one city or the other and the time between pained her still, or even more so, after 10 years of back and forth.

If she could just buy that two generational house somewhere close to Vienna, on the fringes of the city and have them all there. Travel would take 20 minutes with the subway, her parents and her pack would be at the same place and they could have a view on the fields and not on the people and noise filled buildings of the city...

Except her parents still worked in Bratislava, and her grandmother and her uncle lived there and their families lived there and...and her parents didn't even speak German.

She could go back and live in Slovakia. She would get a high paid job just for speaking German and English so well. Lots of her friends from primary school did that. Those that didn't leave for France, US, Belgium or as far as Australia, that is.

She never saw her future in Bratislava. Not with the communist looking buildings and shabby streets and corrupt government and horrible health care. But she grew up around fields, open sky and on the train. City life was culturally shocking.

Seline walked back and forth on her floor, stamping her feet in anger. She let the frustrated tears loose, no one was home. Updating her train app if the connections didn't change after all didn't bring any new results for the 5th time.

She ended up in the hall, by the stairs, leaning against the wall. Today was a good day to wallow in self-pity as any. Hugging her knees, she cried quietly, half-realizing she was just being dramatic and the situation wasn't half as bad as her riled up emotions would have her believe.

"Whoa, hey. Are you crying for real?"

Seline almost jumped out of her skin at Matthew's tone, shooting up to her feet. "W-what are you doing here?!"

Matthew stood on the last step of the steps next to her. His knuckles were still wrapped in white bandages, so must have been boxing and returned sooner. He was gripping the railing tight and looked pale and tired, but the sarcastic tone and raised eyebrow chased her worries away. "I live here. Duh."

"T-that's my floor." She hurriedly rubbed at her face to get rid of the moisture. "I didn't hear you arrive."

"You were...preoccupied," Matthew said dryly. "So what's up? Did something happen? Should I go beat someone up?"

Seline chuckled despite the tears and her emberassment for him to catch her like this. "No. That's really sweet, but not at all necessary."

Matthew gave her a dubious look, then crouched down on the ground next to her, sliding down the wall slowly. "Something must have happened."

"Nothing happened. I'm just being silly." She waved his concern away, trying to smile.

"Uhm. Do you want me to call Isaiah?"

"No!"

Matthew blinked at her vehemence.

Seline ran her hands through her hair and sat down back next to him, back against the wall. "Nothing happened. It would just worry him."

"If he could comfort you, I'm sure he would be happy to worry. Maybe I just can't say what you need to hear."

"It's fine. Seriously. I'm overreacting because of hormones. Nothing is wrong." She flushed a little, realzing she said hormones, but when Matthew didn't laugh or say she was a hysterical girl, her shoulders slumped in relief and she relaxed a little.

"I didn't realize you two were so similar. Always such a put together front," Matthew commented, looking away with a sigh.

"You really want to hear my stupid reason?" She showed him the screen of her phone, too quickly for him to focus without realizing. "The trains won't be running at the time I wanted to go home tomorrow. I will have to leave early and wait up till my parents come home for them or take a risky train-bus connection that doesn't have to work out."

Stunned silence. "Can't you just drive?"

"No, I can't just drive," she said, annoyed. "I hate driving and I don't have my car here and you can go and say how this is my fault for not overcoming myself with the car and-"

"Fine, I give up." Matthew put his hands up in surrender. "You have a total right to hate driving. You want me to drive you?"

"I-" Seline spluttered for air. "I-I can't ask that of you-"

"Well, you aren't asking, I'm offering," Matthew said with a shrug. "I can drive you to your parent house and then go back. Your trains will work on Sunday, right? I can pick you up at the station."

Seline crossed her arms on her chest, avoiding his gaze. "It's just this one time. I can take the trains normally, the timing fits well, with them coming home and all. Just this once." Shouldn't she invite him over when he drives her that long? She didn't invite him or Isaiah to meet her family yet.

"It's no problem," he said tiredly. "Stop defending it like I'm moving a mountain for you. If you told this to Isaiah, even hinted at it, he would offer the same."

Seline nodded, eyes overflowing with tears again, this time from how touched she was. Seriously, today was such a stupid day. She was crying for everything. "Thank you."

"Oi. What now?" Matthew said, a little exasperated. He turned to her, wrapping his bandaged hand around her elbow and then pushed her forward against his chest.

Seline melted at the contact, pressing her crying face against his chest. Matthew enclosed his arms around her, practically dragging her to sit in his lap as he held her. She sat with her side and arm against his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is just over emotion. Don't worry," she said reassuringly as his hug tighthened.

He sighed into her hair.

She laughed nervously against his ear, chin on his shoulder, wanting to fill the silence with something. "No way I want Isaiah to see me like this. Giant minus point, to have such an emotional girl on his hands. He would be running for the hills."

Matthew snorted. "But you don't mind me seeing?"

"You won't break up with me," she said with a half-broken smile.

"He wouldn't either."

"Not on the first time. But on the fifth time? Tenth time? I better not give him more difficult times if I can help it, before he starts counting."

Matthew shook his head. She could feel the movement against her face as she closed her eyes. "No one is counting. That's not what couples do."

"Oh really? It's all I'm doing. Counting how much we are giving each other and if it's still ends up in mutual benefit."

She could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice. "I don't think it's supposed to work like that. It's not a business deal."

"It's very similar. I have to be pretty enough, attractive enough, smart and entertaining so when I really really need something, I can get a favour and not waste on something stupid and minor like this-"

"Isaiah would run himself to the ground caring for you and never think of something like that."

"Well, that's just because he is kind and selfless and so self-sacrifacing towards everyone. Doesn't make me any special."

Seline frowned. "I love you."

Matthew leaned forward, his face in his hands, leaving her with the view on his back. "You think emotion doesn't play any role? People aren't just a list of plus and minus traits. You feel something about them too. If everyone was so strick as you say, I wouldn't make the list for anyone."

There was a beat of silence.

Matthew jerked underneath her, looking up, face going all red. "What? Where did that come from?"

"You are right." Seline shrugged. "I'm very rational about the whole dating thing, comparing and counting things, because I don't want the pink glasses to blind me to our compatability. But when it comes to friendships or family or...well, pack, it's all about feelings and I know what I feel. I love you. In the family sort of way."

Matthew rubbed his forehead, unsuccessfully trying not to blush. "You have never said it to Isaiah, you can't blurt it out like that to me."

Seline suspected there hadn't been enough people saying it to Matthew in general. "I love him too. But if we work out as a couple, I have to love him in that other, romantic way too. I'm not sure we are that far yet."

Yes, she was attracted to Isaiah. It's been very hard for her to fall in love, to respect let alone to admire someone else, so she was very happy she found him. And he was intelligent, thoughtful, considerate and he put so much effort into everything and she admired him for many things...but she never had such a long relationship, as she was not interested in dating in her teen years, and the inexperience was making her cautious.

Matthew shook his head, burying it in his hands once again. He was breathing all harsh and fast. She could feel his chest heave underneath her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, suprised at how sweaty he was and how weirdly pale...was he like that from the start?

"Hey, Matt-"

"You two should really," he gulped loudly, shuddering, "have a talk. Being this tense and counting around each other can't be- hrrrk-" he burped loudly, slamming a hand to his lips.

Seline retracted her arms back, putting one gently on his chest and the other on his stomach. He was still breathing so fast and his stomach was heaving, like it shriveled under her palms...and suddenly Matthew leaned to the side and gagged violently over her arms on the floor.

"Matt!" she yelped as his stomach heaved and he gagged again, this time bringing a mouthful of water. Seline rubbed his stomach, feeling it contract as he heaved the third time, this time bringing up a big wave of water. "What's wrong with you? Are you- did you- you were feeling sick the whole time?"

Matthew spat onto the ground, giving a full-body shudder. "Sorry. I just..."

"Is this some kind of flu? Did you eat something bad?" Crisis always brought a calm over her, making her practical. She could feel her mind clearing from trivial concerns, emotions in the backround.

"Not really. My sparrring partner got a really good hit to my head today...I guess I was feeling a little light-headed since then." He blurred his words together a little and he was still that sickly pale.

"Wait, you mean to tell me you are concussed?" She tried to scramble away from his lap, not wanting to add weight to his misery. He was feeling sick and dizzy from a hit to the head and let her blabber on?

He tighetned his hold again, squeezing her against him, hanging his head on her shoulder. "Sorry...can I just...I don't really want to move." He smiled crookedly. "I can't believe I survived climbing up the stairs."

"Matt, you silly fool. You should have said something." She threaded her fingers through his hair, looking for a bump. "Did you heal yourself?"

"A little. Didn't really stop hurting all the way. And my, ehmm, ears are ringing a little." He winced at her touch but didn't pull away.

"Come on, you should get some sleep." His head was basically limp on his neck, barely holding himself up. She figured he could sleep since he healed himself with this shadow. It must have been the symptoms that remained. "You can stay in my room, I can't really help with the stairs like Isaiah can. You will be more comfortable there, okay?" And they would get away from the mess on the floor.

Coaxing Matthew to unwrap himself took another 5 minutes. She held him under the elbow, trying to stabilize him, but they both knew he was too big for her to hold his weight, should he fall. He stumbled the few steps to her bedroom, holding onto the wall and her for support.

He basically collapsed on her favourite pillow, squeezing his eyes in a painful way that cued her in on the light. She closed the curtains on the windows and fetched a wash-basin from the bathroom, then climbed into the double bed with him.

"Hmmmm...Do I have too many minus points for vomiting to get another hug today?" Matthew mumbled sleepily, rolling to his side as she adjusted the covers over him.

"You are such an idiot," she said fondly, wiggling herself under his arm, face against his chest. It was a warm, comfortable position for her too.

"You sure Isaiah won't mind?"

Seline chuckled. "From you, he won't. My guess? He will end up sleeping here today too." She kissed the top of his forehead. "The basin is right next to you. Tell me if you feel sick again. Should I get you a painkiller?"

"Nah. Can't stomach it right now. Just stay."

It warmed something inside her that he wanted her so close, that he might have hugged her the first time for his comfort as well. Or maybe just for her. He was such a marshmellow, it was a shame it only came out when he was feeling sick.

@bellysoupset

[svtminji]

what were the members reaction to jeongmi’s relationship? were some members rooting for them since the beginning or was totally shocked by the news

omg! this was something i’ve been meaning to start writing, esp. for the jeongmi files, but didn’t really know how to expand from it. the ask really drove me to write this.. so thank u anon !! 🐈‍⬛🐈🤍

٩(^‿^)۶ SEVENTEEN’S REACTION TO JEONGMI’S RELATIONSHIP !

pairing. jeonghan x oc — seventeen x oc

date set. late 2020 / november 2020

word count. 1.1k

warnings. foul language used, one mention of their engagement, mutual pining omg 😫

an. again.. thank u to my anon for asking this ^_^

anon asks related to this. mingyu reaction

LEAST SURPRISED — “oh, okay. yeah we could tell you two liked each other for a long ass time already. i’m surprised you didn’t get together sooner.” ->

seungcheol/s.coups & joshua

ok this two men were like.. thankful that the pair finally had the balls to ask each other out after like 2 years of painful flirting omg. since the 95 line are usually closer to each other, the jeongmi couple had their designated person that they talked to about their love problems. sc&js definitely heard both sides of jeonghan and minji about their “undying love” for each other but didn’t know if it really was that for TWO YEARS STRAIGHT. #1 WINGMEN—“oh hey jeonghan, why don’t you go help out mizu with her tasks. i’m sure she won’t mind you” or “oh sorry about that mizu, but i’m sure jeonghan can help you with that task”— and they would SET THEM UP on dates omfg. the news wasn’t surprising to them at all. to them, they were already a couple with the way they acted towards each other tbh. — “god fucking FINALLY!! it’s about damn time!”

seungkwan & chan/dino

seungkwan. kwannie. chan. channie *violently sobs*. these men rooted for them like children of divorce who went through hell and back to get their parents back even though they never had a divorce but they were just not together or married. in satirical forms, they would ironically call them mom and dad and only to please their ideals, they would respond to it. literally pushed the jeongmi agenda—“ah minji-noona, when are you going to date jeonghan-hyung? what do you mean ‘no?’, he literally throws heart eyes to you whenever you have the chance to speak and you do it as well..”— and they did not fail! news wasn’t surprising, they literally raised seungkwan and chan.. — “see! i told you they were going to date. now give me those $50 bucks right now.” “hyung, are you serious right now..?”

SEMI SURPRISED — “oh, i mean i expected it but i didn’t think it would be so early.” ->

wonwoo

just because this man is quiet, DOES NOT mean he doesn’t enjoy the drama 🙄!! one of the first people to realize what was going on between jeongmi, excluding the fact they smashed before dating each other. actively had told minji to ask jeonghan out but wonwoo never saw it happen rip 💔. he was more worried about the articles that would come out once they were either: 1) exposed, or 2) came out themselves and said it. — “ah. see! i told you everything was going to be alright! i literally told you to ask him and boom.. he beat you to it.”

minghao & vernon

these two could see that jeonghan & minji would eventually get together some day but they didn’t know when. unlike sc, js & chan, they didn’t push much thought into it but supported the jeongmi agenda. they’ve seen the signs of a future relationship, given how minji would act with jeonghan. minji also brought a side out of jeonghan.. ❪ like being babied ❫, and to be honest, hao and vern were like .. “tf when did he get all mushy mushy with mizu..?”. they were surprised to say the least but it wasn’t the biggest news to them ❪ like jeongmi getting engaged ❫.

SURPRISED — “how long did you guys know.. and why didn’t you tell us beforehand!!!” ->

hoshi/soonyoung

he would see the sneaky glances between them during any sort of dance practice. during dance practices, soonyoung is on HIGH ALERT all the time and frankly, he does not want anyone messing up, including his main dancers chan and minji. seeing minji distracted during practice was pretty rare and seeing her this distracted because of jeonghan was even WEIRD. did some investigation but later gave up because he forgot. didn’t help that he got frequent visits from jeonghan ❪ same dorm building in 2020 ❫ and jeonghan would as him some questions about minji. — “what do you mean they’ve been dating? oh, is that why you asked me if minji was talking to anyone?”

dk/seokmin & mingyu

these two were surprised. seokmin was shocked and mingyu fell to his knees ❪ not clickbait, see image at the end ❫. mingyu couldn’t believe he was flirting with a taken woman, still did afterward. they couldn’t believe their eyes and had to take breather. — “so you’re telling me that you two are together? okay. that’s reasonable considering you two were always together. right mingyu? mingyu..?” image at the end.

MOST SURPRISED — “WHAT THE FUCK.” ->

jun/junhui

oh this man LIVES on his phone, spends most of his off days catching up on whatever he missed. sure he’s heard a thing or two about them, especially from minji, and shrugged it off. he always thought that it was weird that minji had a certain feeling for jeonghan but honestly, who wouldnt? so whatever was said about him from her, he honestly did not give a f.. until they announced it. he’s literally the shocked cat meme or wtv cat memes there are now 🙀🙀🙀 literally him. ngl.. he’s the type to forget their dating because he’ll pop in the room and see them pdaing and boom! “what the fuck is going on??” — “what do you mean they’ve been eyeing each other? HOW?”

woozi/jihoon

this man LIVES in his workplace. what makes you think he’s going to understand the emotional love from these two..? though he did find it weird that minji was asking his opinion on love songs she wrote, but didn’t mention it. and why was jeonghan so keen on wanting to learn more japanese..? on the dates they were busy with either music shows or gose, he did notice that they were closer to eachother and found it extremely strange. #was the last one to find out — “so you’ve been telling me that you two have liked each other for how many years? TWO? oh my god.. you better be fucking with me”

EXTRA BONUS: PARENT’S REACTION

DOI HOUSEHOLD ->

mom and dad were NOT surprised at all. the calls made from minji to her parents always ended on a strange note: “so when are you going to ask out jeonghan?” or “are you and jeonghan finally dating or what?”. minji had enough during the early months of 2020, and kept her secret when they finally started dating. — “mariana mizuki cortez doi. why did we have to hear it from the agency that you were finally dating jeonghan..? oh, you better pray that you are not home til the next year.” — though afterward, they were extremely supportive of the young couple.

YOON HOUSEHOLD ->

just like minji’s parents, the yoon parents were NOT surprised. they always regarded minji as a sweet girl and had always told jeonghan to bring her home more often, without the rest of the members. they also pushed the jeongmi agenda onto jeonghan in hopes he would ask out minji sooner or later. after a month or so of dating, jeonghan would eventually tell his parents on what their newfound relationship was built on.

some were short due to the diverse set of reactions!! but here’s jun’s reaction and mingyu’s reaction.

svtminji est 2023